#now i'm wanting to read more... but i'll have to write it first! ;)

[karikitdemonrp]

Kari sniffled, looking into her papa's eyes, tears rolling down her cheeks as she just sniffled and listened. She looked down for a moment, processing what the hero said and gave a nod while her eyes narrowed a bit in thought. "I... Think I get it." She muttered, voice still slightly trembling as she spoke. She looked back at the projection and sighed. The child slowly backed away from Hawks and went back to look at the journals again, one last time.

There she read a few more journals from her mother. A few from when she was pregnant with her siblings.

"Today is September 29th, I gave birth to my little boy Kitearo a few days ago. It's been exhausting but he's worth it. Lynx has been a huge help in taking care of our son. I looked into Kite's future and I saw he was going to have a lot of siblings. Not my first choice honestly. If you asked me five years ago I would have said two or three kids would be enough, not seven. But it feels right at the same time. While I saw his whole life unravel I couldn't help but feel helpless... But a part of me knows it can't be messed with, even though I want to save my son from an early grave. I'll have to wait until all my kids are born to get the full picture."

Kari frowned, figuring out pretty quick that her mother knew the whole time, or at least had an understanding.

"It's Febuary 23rd. Flo and Fino are a few days old now. I got a bit more of the picture since seeing Kitearo's future. They meet a similar fate. It hurts, but seeing them work hard to protect their youngest sister, a little girl with white hair, something isn't adding up. I know I can't stop it but that doesn't mean it doesn't hurt a whole lot."

"It's been a rough few weeks, Shade has been a bit of a handful. Always curious but always quiet which is a bit unnerving. Sure she cries and makes noises but she's more quiet than not. The doctor says she has nothing wrong with her but I still worry. I was able to see into her future. Lynx has his work cut out for him that's for sure. So far I know all my kids and my husband die on the same day, doing the same thing. I can't say for sure where I am but I can make a few guesses. Again that little girl with white hair makes a big appearance. I'll name her Kari. Kari Kana Lee Himura, long name but it looks like it suits her. When she's born I'll hopefully get all the answers and try to write them down."

"Another pair of twins. I'm not super surprised, Lynx had twin younger brothers after all so I think that runs in the family. That and I saw them while looking into their siblings' futures. These two look mirrored, it's kinda cute. I've named them Boom and Beats cuz the symbols on their cheeks are cute music notes. They are the loudest that's for sure, it's funny. I've had so many kids and all of them are so different even though they're under the same roof and have me and Lynx as their parents. I know why they look so different and why their quirks are different, it's a side effect of my quirk after all. But their behaviors and personalities aren't tied to it, I don't think. It's so fascinating to watch them grow and develop... I know I probably only have a few more years to live. I've concluded I die in child birth when giving birth to Kari. I know I'll be leaving behind my family and my friends... But I noted that my nephew is the one responsible for the deaths of everyone, under the control of my sister given his pupils... Something isn't adding up but I'm guessing Kari develops my quirk. If that's the case then she needs to exist. It strengthens our quirk and hopefully she'll be able to help others like I did, in someway. Though that's her choice and I don't want to force it onto her. I'm glad dad talked me into writing that one entry about my quirk, I hope she can read it one day so she can meet me... Well, a snap shot of me. It won't be the same I know but it's better than nothing. I just hope she doesn't hate me or get mad. It's kind of a selfish reason but there's so much going on... I just hope she understands."

Kari sniffled, rubbing her eyes. "I... I don't hate you mom." She whispered after a few moments of silence, hugging herself. "I just wish I knew you." The child gulped and moved to look back at the journal about All of the Above and began taking notes. "But yea, I'm glad grampa talked you into writing about your quirk too... It's gonna help me a lot." She muttered then looked at Hawks. "You think we can go somewhere I can train? I... I wanna try doing this thing mom talks about. I'm not sure if I can get back into that weird mind space thing but... But if I can maybe you can meet my siblings, well a snap shot of them... This is kinda confusing." Kari puffed out her cheeks then went back to writing. "But we don't have to do it today if we can't."

Hawks didn’t speak at first. He just let Kari cry. He didn’t try to hush her or pull her away. He dropped down to one knee so she could lean into him easier, wrapping his arms around her small frame like he could shield her from every painful word she had just read. His wings even curled in slightly, a quiet gesture of shelter.

He held her gently as the sobs came out in waves—her pain wasn’t small, and it didn’t deserve to be treated like it was.

After a long moment, his voice finally came—soft, steady, low enough it didn’t try to overpower her crying but just… sat with it.

“I know, kiddo. I know it hurts. It’s not fair. None of this is. You didn’t get a choice in any of it.”

He tightened the hug slightly, one hand cradling the back of her head.

“But I need you to hear me when I say this next part, okay?” He pulled back just enough to look her in the eyes, his own golden ones steady and full of something more than just compassion—it was conviction. “She didn’t die because of you. That’s not how this works. She died for you. And that’s something only someone who loves their kid more than anything in the world would do.”

His thumbs gently wiped her tears.

“Your mom knew the risks. She was a top pro. She wasn’t someone who walked into things blind. She fought to bring you into this world anyway, Kari. That means she wanted you here. She made a choice—and that choice was you.”

[delilahsturniolo]

— 𝜗ৎ the greatest . . . m.s

in which . . . you want something more with fwb!matt, but he shuts you down, turning it into an argument, so he decides to “make it up to you” and you can’t help but give in

warnings . . . fwb!matt, smut, arguing, crying, unprotected sex, unresolved angst, use of pet names, fingering, multiple orgasms.

written by @delilahsturniolo. do not copy, steal, or modify my works. if you are taking any inspiration from this, please ask me first before posting and credit me in your description. happy reading! :)

HIT ME HARD AND SOFT WRITING MARATHON . . . fic #6

there's something about matt that just drives you wild. maybe it's the way he looks at you with those piercing blue eyes or the way his hair falls perfectly into place. whatever it is, you can't get enough of him. but the problem is, all he wants from you is to fuck, and nothing more. a real relationship is where he draws the line. you've been friends with benefits for a while now, but lately, you've been wanting something more. you want to be able to call him yours, to have him hold you close and tell you that he loves you. but every time you bring it up, he shuts you down.

"matt, we need to talk," you say, tangled in the sheets. "about what?" he asks, pulling on his shirt and avoiding your gaze. "about us. about what we're doing here."

"we're having fun, aren't we? i mean, the sex is amazing. what more do you want?" you take a deep breath, trying to gather your thoughts. "i want more than just sex, matt. i want a relationship. i want to be with you." he sighs, running a hand through his hair. "i can't give you that. i'm not the relationship type."

"why not? why can't you just give us a chance?" you plead, matt snaps back. "because i don't want to hurt you. i care about you, i do. but i'm not capable of being what you need." you feel tears prick at the corners of your eyes. "how do you know what i need? you've never even tried."

"look, let's just drop it, okay? we're good together, let's not ruin it by trying to make it into something it's not." you shake your head, wiping away a stray tear. "i can't keep doing this, matt.." he looks at you then, really looks at you, and for a moment you think he might actually be considering it. but then he leans in close, his breath hot on your neck, and whispers, "let me make it up to you."

and just like that, you're putty in his hands. he knows exactly how to touch you, how to make you moan and writhe beneath him. he trails kisses down your neck, his hands roaming over your curves, and you know you should stop him, should tell him no, but you can't. you need him, need this. you can’t resist going back to him. you love the way he makes you feel and you will never escape that.

he pushes you back onto the bed, his body covering yours, and you wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him closer. he thrusts into you, filling you completely, and you cry out, your nails digging into his back. “you feel so good," he groans, his hips slamming against yours. "so tight and wet for me."

"matt, please," you whimper, not even sure what you're asking for. "i've got you, baby. i'll take care of you." and he does. he fucks you hard and deep, hitting all the right spots, until you're a writhing, moaning mess beneath him. and when you finally cum, screaming his name, he follows right behind you, spilling himself inside you.

but you’re not done yet. matt leans in, his hot breath tickling your ear, and whispers, "you want this, don't you?" you can only nod, your heart pounding in your chest. his fingers brush against your panties, already damp with your arousal. he chuckles softly, a sound that sends a jolt of pleasure straight to your core.

his fingers deftly push your panties aside, revealing your slick folds. he runs a finger along your slit, gathering your wetness on his fingertip. he brings it to his lips, tasting you. "mmm," he hums, "you taste so sweet, can’t get enough of this pretty pussy..” then, without warning, he plunges a finger inside you. you gasp, your back arching off the sheets. he pumps his finger in and out of you, adding another when he feels you're ready. his thumb presses against your clit, rubbing circles around it.

your hips buck wildly, meeting his thrusts. you can feel your orgasm building, coiling tighter and tighter. "that's it," matt encourages, "cum for me again.” and you do. your orgasm crashes over you like a tidal wave, your walls clamping down on matt's fingers. he continues to pump them in and out of you, prolonging your pleasure until you're left a quivering mess on the couch. he withdraws his fingers, bringing them to his lips once again. he sucks them clean, his eyes never leaving yours.

afterwards, he holds you close, stroking your hair and whispering sweet nothings in your ear. and even though you know it's not real, that he's not really yours, you can't help but bask in the afterglow. you know you shouldn't keep doing this, shouldn't keep falling back into bed with him, all he wanted was to see you naked. but the truth is, you're addicted to him, to the way he makes you feel. and as much as you want more, you're not sure you're ready to give this up just yet.

© delilahsturniolo

💌: MAN AM I THE GREATESTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT

[man-i-love-fanfiction]

Dead Dove (Do Not Eat)

- Hozier x Fem!Reader

Summary: You, Andrew, and the band get together and play a drinking game involving fanfiction. what could go wrong?

Tags: Fluff, friends to lovers, drunken confessions, drunken kissing, no use of Y/N, FIC DOES NOT CONTAIN DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT CONTENT, it was just a title i swear, written for fem!reader but could be gender neutral

Word Count: 3139

Author's Note: THEY CALL ME A CHIROPRACTOR THE WAY I'M BACK‼️‼️‼️ like for realsies. i know i keep coming back like once a month and saying "i'm back" but i mean it now. anyways! i wanted to thank @cervidaewasteland and @sillycartoonhozier for coming up with this concept, as well as @deprivedmusicaljunkie and @uprightpillar for betareading!!! hope you enjoy because this is lowkey a crackfic. also yes i know the format of the texting is weird, tumblr hates me

read on ao3!

as always, fic under the cut :3

Touring with your best friend since your late teens was genuinely a dream come true. The moment Andrew first offered you a spot in the band, over ten years ago when his debut album was released, you’d said yes. Your love of music (combined with your looming crush on Andrew) made the job as easy as breathing. You wouldn't trade this job for anything, no matter how routine being on the road might get.

Another concert wrapped up. Another mostly flawless performance (Andrew flubbed the words to Cherry Wine, but what else was new). Another stay at a hotel that you never would've picked if you had the choice. And most importantly, another bed with too-soft pillows that was calling your name. That was, until Larissa called it first. You turned to look at her from down the hallway, pausing as she sped up to meet you. Once she reached you, you continued your pace towards your hotel room.

"The band’s gonna go to Andrew's room, have a little celebration since we don't have to hit the road until the morning. Are you coming?" She walked beside you as she explained. You could hear the eagerness in her voice at the possibility of your presence. However, at the moment you were much more enthralled with the idea of getting a good night's sleep.

"I think I’ll have to pass. I'm pretty tired, I —" your sentence was cut off by a yawn, like your body was proving your point. "I might just turn in for the night.”

"Please? We're playing your favorite game!"

You stopped in your tracks upon hearing the teasing of your favorite pastime on tour: an admittedly juvenile game that the band had dubbed “Fanfiction Book Club”. One member of the band would find some outrageous fanfiction written about Andrew — usually one written with grammar mistakes and plot holes galore — and take turns reading it aloud. You laugh, you drink. More often than not, it resulted in tour buses full of hangovers the next day, but you never regretted a second of it.

Your favorite part was the fact that it made Andrew squirm. It was consensual, of course; half of the time playing the game was his idea, and you were sure that tonight was no different. He seemed to enjoy it as much as anyone else, laughing and blushing and sometimes even muttering an That's actually a good line.

"Hmm... oh, alright. I'll be there in a few minutes, just let me get changed so I'm not still in my concert attire.” You finally gave in, gesturing to your all-gray outfit left over from the performance less than an hour ago. Larissa didn't seem to care when you showed up, her eyes gleaming with excitement the second you agreed. You said farewell for now and rushed back over to your hotel room, texting Andrew on the way there.

Hey. U ready to read some teenage girl’s flawless writing about u?

This is what i was born to do

Of course I’m ready.

I’ll bet you € 20 they misuse Gaeilge

I’ll bet you €30 there’s only

one bed

You got changed into a much more comfortable outfit, a simple old t-shirt and some shorts, something you knew you'd soon change out of. It seemed that by the time you entered, all the other members of the band had already arrived, and you took the only empty spot. All squished into Andrew's hotel room, you were all sitting in a makeshift circle, going across the floor and onto his bed. Everyone already had a drink in hand, and feeling a little left out, you went to grab a can from the room’s mini-fridge. Andrew was already sitting in front of it, ready to distribute drinks to those who asked. He handed your drink to you instead, and you wanted to kick yourself over the fact that your heart fluttered when your hands brushed.

You quickly scanned the room, noticing the only empty space to sit was between Alex and Melissa. Sitting criss-crossed on the carpeted floor between the two, you watched as Alex stood up from his spot, commencing the events of the night.

“Welcome to Fanfiction Book Club, my fellow musicians. I found tonight's selection on the modern day Library of Alexandria: Wattpad.”

Alex was almost always the ringleader, being an absolute menace and finding the fanfiction. Andrew supplied the drinks and the hangout space. Everyone else brought their spirits. Everyone had their small habits to make the reading more enjoyable. Deepening their voice drastically whenever they had to read for Andrew. Making sure to pronounce every spelling error just as it's spelled. Giving “Y/N” the most outrageous name possible, so that Andrew was about to go on a date with “William Shakespeare”.

The story of the night featured the main character being Andrew's backup singer who was a decade younger than him. They hated each other at first, but after a night in which they shared a hotel bed (you owed Andrew that money later), feelings were beginning to be reconsidered. The band especially had fun with tonight's pick, with jokes ranging from cradle snatching to HR violations. Andrew laughed along with them, taking everything in stride and even taking quite a few drinks of his own. The phone got passed around, and you had made your way through more than one drink already from the sheer amount of fun you were having.

Andrew seemed especially flustered when the phone got around to you. You read out loud about how the main character had confessed her undying love for Andrew in a rainstorm, despite only knowing the man two months. Her pining couldn't even compare to yours, you thought as you read. Two months versus almost two decades. Unfortunately, there was also a pang of discomfort you could feel, as some of the words you were reading aloud actually resonated with your situation. It almost gave you shivers to read someone describe how “in love” a character was with Andrew, and express thoughts that had crossed your mind daily. I love your smile. Your eyes are the most gorgeous thing I’ve ever seen. Your kindness is overpowering. How dare words on a screen — likely written at two in the morning by someone with nothing better to do — relate to your situation so deeply.

You were able to keep it together and not laugh, likely thanks to your comparison between the fanfic’s story and your own. You passed the phone back to Alex, who was much more inebriated than he was at the beginning of the game. By the time his phone got back to him, his words were slurring.

"Everybody listen! Here's where it gets good," Alex yelled, effectively shushing the room and capturing everyone's attention. You leaned over his shoulder, trying to get a sneak peek at the next few words as Alex read them. You couldn't resist a laugh as Alex read. "'Andrew leaned in, and as his lips met yours, he kissed you with the burning passion of a thousand suns—' Oh my god," Alex read before being stopped by his own chuckles. Poor man couldn't even finish the sentence. When your gaze jutted over to Andrew, he looked like he wanted to crawl into a hole and die. He had thrown the hood of his zip-up over his head, like his thought process was if you all couldn't see him, he couldn't feel the shame. Alex had no aversion to making Andrew cringe like this, and a shit-eating grin was plastered on his face as he read out the next segment.

“‘You never would have known it, but Andrew could touch a woman just how she wanted to be touched, and look at her like the way she's always wanted to be looked at.’ Want to teach me your ways, there, Andy?”

“That's kinda hot, actually,” you joked, turning to Melissa as you took a voluntary sip of your drink. Andrew coughed, followed by dropping the hood and taking a deep breath. This caught your attention; you assumed he had just had a moment where he was choking on his drink. You raised an eyebrow, wordlessly asking Are you alright? He held up a thumbs up to reassure you, using his head to nod back towards Kellen, whose turn it was.

“Okay, here we go. ‘Your kissing quickened, until eventually his large hands were…’ oh, I don't think I can read that aloud,” Kellen said. He flashed the cellphone screen to Alex, who scanned the words on the screen, his eyes getting cartoonishly wide at the contents.

“And then they start having sex, so that, my friends,” he said, snatching up his phone from Kellen’s hands, “— is where we have to cut the story off.” This was met with groans, everyone upset that the game had come to a close.

“Additionally, if we go any further we run the risk of Andy turning the same shade as a stop sign,” Alex teased, gesturing to Andy who, true to Alex’s word, had now turned a bright shade of red. Eventually, the group conceded and began to leave the room, congratulating each other and laughing on their way out, sometimes mumbling a witty remark.

“Same time next week?” Rory asked as he left, followed by an agreement from Andrew. His exit meant you were the only two people left in the room. In the moment, you decided to make yourself at home, sitting at the foot of his bed and plopping your back onto the mattress.

“So… that was… quite the story, huh?” you said, stretching your arms out before crossing them over your chest. Andrew chuckled, nodding as he walked over and sat down beside you.

“Tell me about it. That had the grammar of someone who’s never heard the words ‘spell check’ before.”

"Plus, the way they wrote about you? It was like some... some cheesy BookTok romance novel."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

You scoffed, accompanied by an eye roll. Maybe it was his ego, or his intoxicated state, but he really couldn't see how absurd those words were.

"C'mon, Andrew. 'Kissed you with the burning passion of a thousand suns'? Be for real. You would not kiss like that," you explained. Your sentence dissolved into a chuckle towards the end, likely because you had been made more giggly thanks to the alcohol in your system. Your laughs subsided when he asked you a question that was without a doubt a result of the alcohol in his system.

"Wanna put that to the test?"

You laughed again — now from nerves and not from amusement — and shook your head in disbelief. Did he actually just say that? Fully sitting up now, a confused look came across your face.

"Andrew, what do you mean by that?"

"What I mean is that you keep saying those descriptions are inaccurate. You don't know that.”

Could he really not see that those words were completely asinine?

“You really believe you… what was the line… ‘touch a woman just how she wants to be touched’ and all that crap?”

“Well, y’know, any man would like to believe that. Won't know until you try,” he said with a nonchalance to it that made you almost angry. It felt like a life or death decision was being thrown into your lap, and he couldn't care less.

You thought for a moment, weighing your options. It was just one kiss. Just to prove some stupid point. If anything more happened, it would be blamed on the alcohol. Even the worse outcome to saying ‘yes’ still meant you got to kiss the man you had been longing for. What did you have to lose?

“Fine, Andrew. You can kiss me.”

He nearly lunged at you, grabbing the sides of your face and smashing his lips into yours. You felt a jolt down your spine at the sudden sensation, kissing him back.

Holy shit, he really was kissing you with the passion of a thousand suns.

Kissing Andrew, your best friend as well as your boss, was, to put it lightly, playing with fire. There was something about his lips on yours that felt like burning. You were more than willing to step into the fire and let it consume you.

His tongue ran across your bottom lip, asking you for permission to enter, which you happily gave. His tongue explored your mouth, hungry to memorize every inch of you that was available. You relished in the feeling of his touch, letting him pull you closer. He grabbed onto your hips, your lips still interlocked as your hands made their way to his untamed curls. Trapping his legs between yours, you accepted as he pulled you into his lap and let you straddle him. A soft moan escaped you as you felt Andrew's sudden grasp of your ass, and you wanted to do something in return, but you came to a realization.

Andrew probably thinks there's no feelings involved.

As much as it pained you to do it, you leaned back, pulling away from the kiss.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Wait.”

Andrew blinked up at you, his lips now red and slightly swollen. If you didn't know any better, you’d say he looked a little worried.

“What's the matter? Did I not meet your expectations?”

“No, no. It was great, but,” you watched his lips curve into a cheeky smile. Grabbing the sides of his face was the only way you could get him to focus. “Andrew, wipe that smirk off your face. I’m trying to be serious here.

“I’m sorry, but it's hard to be serious in this position,” he replied as you looked down at him (for the first time, thanks to your height difference now being reversed). You paused in hopes of taking a mental picture of the image to save it in your psyche forever.

“Yeah, well, try your best.”

A sigh left you. Your brain tried to articulate how to tell him what you needed to get off your chest. Thanks to the alcohol, even when you did speak, it came out much more simplified than you had hoped.

“Okay. I like you. I really like you, and I have for a while. I feel so stupid for saying it, but I do. I couldn't let this continue without letting you know that.”

To your shock, Andrew's reaction to your confession was to… burst into laughter. It felt as though your heart could escape your chest at any moment, the nerves now hitting you all at once. Hastily, you said your thoughts out loud.

“You're laughing. Oh no, you're laughing. Shit, I’m an idiot, aren't I?”

“No, no, you're not, I promise,” Andrew replied, shaking his head. He took a deep breath, composing himself before meeting your gaze with a new sincerity in his eyes. “I’m only laughing because I’ve felt the exact same way. Also for a long time. Just never knew when the right time to tell you was. And tonight… the opportunity just arose.”

You gave him a calculating look, like you were trying to make everything make sense in your head.

“So we’ve both liked each other for close to a decade, just said nothing about it for years, basically wallowing in our own self pities, until you decided you had enough liquid courage in your system to finally hit on me? Because of a fanfiction?”

Andrew exhaled, giving you a defeated nod after essentially he had been called out.

“Sounds about right."

The situation was almost comical. Really comical, actually, and you now understood why Andrew’s first instinct was to laugh. Your forehead rested on his shoulder as you laughed into his hoodie. Of course he had liked you the whole time, how could you have been so oblivious? Once you fully composed yourself, you pulled away, shaking your head in disappointment. “God, what a couple of idiots we are.”

“A right pair of knobheads.”

Andrew smiled up at you, a dumb grin like an idea had popped into his head. When he spoke again, his voice was lower.

“I wanted to ask you this when we were much more sober, but I guess no time like the present, right?” Letting out a small sigh, he continued. You could see his cheeks flush again, like whatever he was going to say would make him more flustered than the fact that you were sitting in his lap. “Would… ehm… would you want to go out sometime? I don't need an answer now, if you want to just let me-”

“Yes. Yes, please. I would want nothing more than to go on a date with you.”

The goofiest grin spread across Andrew's face. You couldn't help but think he was adorable.

“Grand. I don't know what I would've done if you said no.”

“Shoving me off of you would've been the best option.”

“Yeah, probably.”

You both laughed together once again, before your giggles where cut off by a yawn. Seemed that the tiredness you were feeling before the whole ordeal was beginning to catch up to you.

“I guess that's a sign I should retire to my bed chambers, huh?” You lifted yourself off of him, moving so that you were now merely sitting next to him. Looking over at Andrew, you could tell he had an idea forming.

“Maybe you could just… sleep here tonight? No one needs to know, and if they question anything, I’ll just say you passed out and I didn't want to wake you.”

Another way your night began to overlap with fanfiction: there was only one bed. Sharing a bed with Andrew was an offer you simply couldn't refuse. You nodded.

“Let's get comfortable, then,” you mumbled, shimmying back until you took up one side of the bed. Andrew maneuvered himself backwards to get comfortable. You watched him lay down, both of you on opposite sides of the bed. Buried underneath the covers, you gazed at him as he did the same; he looked perfect. He raised an eyebrow at your staring and gestured for you to come closer. If you nodded any quicker, your head would’ve fallen off. You let the both of you get fully comfortable with one another, shifting to find the best position to cuddle in for the night. Once you found a way, Andrew made it work. He enveloped you, holding you to his chest with one arm and cradling your face with the other. You placed a hand on top of his.

“I always did like when they mentioned how big your hands are,” you murmured jokingly, your eyes already fluttering. In reply, Andrew rolled his eyes before placing a kiss on your forehead.

“Good night,” he whispered.

“Good night, Andy,” you responded.

You had never felt more at peace.

[alexanderlightweight]

Hi! I'm a huge fan of your writing(you're low-key why I downloaded Tumblr so I could read more)! If you were up for it I'd love to read more from your to be or knot to be universe, or literally any of your freak4freak stuff! Thank you so much for writing, and I hope you're having a good day<3

hi! that is very sweet and i hope you're enjoying it! and i'm still just very happy and a little surprised how much people enjoy my malec verses (it's not a self-confidence problem i promise! i'm just still surprised ppl like the same stuff as me)!

i also hope you are having a good day too!!

here is some more of to be or knot to be last part here'

i hope you enjoy it and i am having a delightful time because i have a puppy who keeps pretending to get scared by something out the window so he has a reason to come climb in my lap (he doesn't need a reason? but like he's very particular about how things are done and he especially likes it when i comfort him if i think he's been scared?) but it did take me about 6 different instances to realize he was laying down sleeping, would wake up and feel lonely, boof at nothing and then look to see if i was watching him and then run to me 'so terrified!'

now that he's laying next to me, i'll sometimes kind of watch him and he'll wake up, look to see if i'm paying attention and most of the time he can't tell i can see him? so then he'll boof first and then jump up like he had a nightmare.

it's really ridiculous. i love nightshade so much tho

<3 lumine

Magnus pulls Alexander to him, enjoying the hitched groan as metal tightens and Alexander’s forced to come closer. Nephilim blood is a potent ingredient and yet instead of collecting it for use, Magnus licks it away.

Alexander’s fingers are covered in blood and under that are small, tiny little cuts. Magnus sucks each digit into his mouth to carefully clean away the blood and viscera, letting magic heal the wounds.

“You took too long.”

Alexander’s laugh at his reprimand is breathless, the look in his eyes wild and his boy swallows heavily against the martingale chain. The hunger in Alexander’s eyes only grows as the metal around his neck bites further into his skin and Magnus is tempted, so very tempted.

Yet warlocks have certain traditions that Magnus wants to follow.  Not only to give Alexander every legitimacy and protection as his mate, but also to ensure the Clave has as little authority or ways to meddle as possible.

Magnus has no interest in shadowhunter politics, except in the ways it will help his own people.  The kind of influence and access to information he’ll have thanks to a shadowhunter mate isn’t something to be taken lightly.  Alexander is a threat for the Clave and they’ll know it immediately.  Even if Alexander never expressly commits treason, just going against them as publicly as he’s doing makes Alexander dangerous.

If his mate gets to keep the Institute, then Magnus will do everything in his power to support his boy. Including join Alexander not perhaps in an official position, but even just as his mate,  supporting him and being seen around the Institute.

Alexander has certain privileges as a shadowhunter Commander that won’t disappear simply because the Clave hates his mate. Magnus has seen some of the papers and strategies that Alexander has gone over and they’re good.

Good enough that Magnus can boldly state that it’s better not to have his mate for an enemy, simply by the measure of Alexander’s own merits. The Clave probably know that, which is yet another reason they’ll be both  furious on wary.

“How long is your leave?” Magnus asks and his voice is hoarse with want but he holds himself back, managing not to twist the loop of Alexander’s collar and instead just leaning forward.

Alexander meets him, their foreheads pressing together as they both sigh in the relief of being close enough to share breath again.

“A minimum of three weeks. I wasn’t sure how long warlock mating instincts require so I set the maximum at five.  If you need longer then I’ll take sick leave or resign if they refuse.”

The steadfast way Alexander makes it clear that Magnus is his priority has Magnus sighing with delight and nuzzling Alexander as he pulls him closer.  The blood grows tacky between them and the thrill of Alexander being covered in it turns into disgust that his boy is still covered in such unworthy filth.

A snap of his fingers and Magnus cleans and strips them both, it probably isn’t needed and he could have simply cleaned their clothing — as evidenced by the fact that Alexander’s collar remains and is now pristine — however he wants to.

Alexander grins, something delighted and awed in his expression as he brings one of Magnus’ hand up to nuzzle and then kiss his palm.

“There are a few rituals we need to do, before we share a rut.” Magnus rubs his other hand down the curve of Alexander’s arm and then tangles their fingers together. “So while I will share a bath with you, I’m afraid as tempting as you are, I cannot fuck you just yet.”  Magnus can’t help the chuckle he lets out at Alexander’s bewildered and crestfallen expression.

“Don’t worry kitten, we can start the rituals tomorrow. It won’t be long Alexander, I promise.”

AN:

alec: ... i should have left the institute even quicker. this is terrible. my self-control is going to be both better and worse being around magnus

magnus: oh he's so cute when he's flustered. this is going to be delightful.

magnus is 100% treating this like foreplay and alec is too caught up in the shock/whiplash to realize he's getting played (in a good way and magnus isn't lying about the rituals he's just also enjoying himself) and alec's still getting used to Magnus and Magnus' scent and him and his magic and he's catching up but it'll take him a little bit. like he'll definitely figure out how to tease magnus but he's still learning how to breathe around magnus atm so... he needs a bit.

alec is going to be suffering... but like, not in a bad way

alec wants magnus there, as his mate, as his alpha, respected and capable of ordering (and being obeyed) by alec's institute because it's another way for alec to show that he belongs to magnus. so completely that what is his to rule also belongs to magnus to a certain degree. like obviously magnus can't tell them orders contradictory to the claves or alec's, but yeah. alec basically has a set of standards and if clave cant meet them, he wont stay. magnus is more important to him than that. and so are his own persona priorities and instincts

[tofics]

I finally made time to listen to this and I am so glad I did. Let's dive straight in, shall we?

This was my very first time hearing your voice, and I feel the need to point out what a pleasant voice you have, Alex! And I do mean this in the most sincere way, coming from someone who can be very very picky about what voices to listen to. I know this wasn't the point of the podcast, but I had to let you know :)

I took notes while listening, so I'll just be going through them and kind of sort them into something more tangible as I go.

It was awesome getting to hear so many "behind the scene" thoughts from you about your writing. There were a couple of small things you mentioned that I wanted to comment on just for the fun of it:

Something that draws you to a fanfiction is if characters are canonically written. It's funny you should say that, because your characters are some of the most in-tune-with-canon characters that I have ever read. I've mostly consumed your Dean stories, and even in an AU setting (I'm looking at you, Smoke Eater) he is 100% Dean as seen on the show. As far as fanfiction goes, that puts yours on a pedestal imo.

You considered doing something with Dean and Yellowstone for the Jacklesverse Bingo. (insert gif of me hysterically crying and hyperventilating) I've only just started watching Yellowstone this year and I am obsessed. I think you would have fried all my synapses if you had gone down that road, in the best way possible 😁

Hearing you talk about your friends on Tumblr and knowing you've included me in that group felt so so special! I'm so proud to be able to call you my friend on here. 🥹🫶🏼

But now! On to the actual topic of the episode :)

First of all, I found it very interesting that despite your own heritage, you grew up with a white reader in mind. Just goes to show how predominantly a white person is and has been the main character in so much of media that that's what your brain defaulted to.

I also thought your discussion about what makes an OC an OC and where a reader insert stops being a reader insert suuuper interesting. Because that's a genuine question! Where does a blank slate stop being a blank slate, and how much character do you have to give to the reader role in a reader insert fic for the story still to work, right? I loved to hear your take on it, especially where you said that writing reader inserts is basically like writing OCs without giving them a name. - I had never thought about it that way!

But of course, you're right. Because a reader that is an active participant in a story can't be a completely blank slate. They have to be assigned certain traits, not necessarily body-wise but character wise - if you're doing more than a drabble, imo. For there to be dialogue and a story that feels full, that feels alive, the reader has to have some sort of character to be a character.

Which brings me to my next point: projectability is always a thing of perspective and the ability to put yourself into someone's shoes. As far as fanfiction goes, the reader insert genre tries to make that as easy as possible by offering a mostly blank slate (that is very often white-coded, unfortunately, but that's not the point I'm trying to make in this paragraph). I have seen people complain more than once about the character!reader being unrelatable because of certain character traits and/or backstories that were assigned to them, and I wonder: people, where has your media literacy gone? Do they not teach to adapt to a person's perspective via literature in schools anymore? Must all media cater exactly to your every taste, down to each very nuance?

And I write all of this distinctively separating characteristic traits from body traits. I am not at all talking about the lack of ethnic representation within the x reader genre.

I love how you give personality to your reader characters, Alex. Especially when it comes to your own representation. You said in the podcast that you were worried about how the traits you assigned to your reader in the Midnight Espresso-verse would be received by your audience and that you received great feedback. I want to reiterate that by saying how despite myself not having the same background as you, I could absolutely relate to the plus-size aspect of the reader, as well as her love for cooking. You said it so beautifully in the podcast, that this version of the reader is one that came from the intent of Dean having a (Latino) girlfriend that nurtured him in the same way he nurtures the people around him, and I fully 100% could relate to that as well :)

Which might be my very complicated and long way of saying: Please do not worry about how much the reader can adapt to the traits you're giving to the character!reader. If most character!readers have been predominantly white for the longest time and so so many people that where not white made it work, then so can we white folks when we are given a reader that does not fit all of "our" typical criteria.

It made me very happy to hear that you're seeing more and more diversity within the SPN fandom these days. I've spent most of my time in the PPCU fandom this past year and all across it, but specifically in the Joel Miller fandom, there have been too many racist instances. It's great to hear that it's going better in other fandoms!

Which brings me to my next point - the anon request you got that led you to writing Unravel Me 👀 Wow. I haven't read it yet. It was on my TBR list anyway, but hearing you talk about how it came to be and how much thought you put into it (understandably so) it's now an absolute must-read for me. (Sort of unrelated but still related: I've seen your playlist covers for the story, and - wow??? A masterpiece??? Visually, I mean?! The EFFORT. I'll be speaking about this in a second, but I needed to mention it now in case I forget! Gorgeous!)

Another point that had me thinking a lot was the question about how much of an immigrant's identity should be kept and how much should be adapted to the country they've moved to also captivated me. I know US politics in regards to immigrants are ""problematic"" atm to say the least, and it's been a widely discussed topic over here in Germany for years now as well, especially with the heavy influx of immigrants over the past years. I can't imagine how complicated it must be, figuring out a sense of self that both fits to where you live and still keeps the core parts of who you are and were before coming to said country.

I want to wrap this up by saying how incredibly impressed I am every single time I hear/read about how you prep for your stories. I think you are by far the most in-depth fanfiction writer that I know. You put so much research into it, and not just for The Honorable Choice, but everything you put out. I'm struggling to find the correct words to properly express how admiring I find it, especially for a story like The Honorable Choice where you take on the perspective of someone of a different ethnic background than you.

You are an inspiration, Alex. Truly.

Thank you for welcoming me into the writing space when I came back. Thank you for answering every question I had, and thank you for the work you put into all of your stories.

To you, to your talent, your inspiration and work ethic, and to many more stories to come! 🩵

Racial & Ethnic Representation in Fanfiction

[🎙️ Podcast Interview]

Hey, friends! Sandra and Kasey, the lovely hosts of @idlingintheimpalapodcast — the podcast for all things SPN and fanfiction — invited me back on the pod for an interview on a topic that's very close to my heart…

With @rubyvhs, we talked about the fun moments and challenges about reading and writing fanfiction that represents specific racial and ethnic cultures, being bicultural/multicultural, the immigrant experience, and much more.

I offered my own experience as a Latina POC writing in the fandom space, specifically Supernatural and The Boys (and adjacent Jackles fandoms).

Check it out here: ⤵️

Interview Timestamps –

(Plus fic recs, SPN writer/reader shoutouts, and more! Links to all the fics we mentioned are at each time stamp.)

2:54 – When did you start writing fanfiction, and when did you join SPN fandom?

⟡ You can check out my first author interview with Sandra and Kasey over here. We chatted about Dean Winchester and Jensen Ackles�� early roles, the best and worst seasons of SPN, the joys and pains of writing Soldier Boy, and much, much more. For all the timestamps of key moments, fic recs, and SPN writer shoutouts, see this post (you'll find the link to the video there too).

6:18 – What is your ethnic, racial, and cultural background? (And how me and Sandra bond over “food and family” ties between Hispanics/Latinos and Italians.)

13:05 – The immigrant experience in America, what you take with you from the “Motherland,” the struggles of bicultural identity, my personal experience being a second-generation child of an immigrant family, and Sandra’s experience as a first-generation child of Italian immigrants.

16:58 – What do you look for when you’re reading fanfiction? (Canon-compliant, AU, romance, etc.) Does the length of a story matter?

19:52 – Bonus: The merits of drabble writing vs. long-fic writing.

25:54 – Have you ever actively searched for fanfiction that represented your ethnicity? (Whenever I do, it’s like finding gold.) Plus, the challenge of writing reader characters, the “gray area” of writing reader characters like OCs.

32:38 – The inherent “bias” of reading and writing reader characters as White. The concept of diversity being “cool” in popular media, TV shows, and movies is still pretty new.

36:36 – Why I started writing reader characters that might have a specific body type, race, and/or ethnicity.

Examples:

⟡ Midnight Espresso – Dean Winchester x Plus-size Latina!Reader

⟡ If I Stay – Dean Winchester x Plus-size!Reader

⟡ 10 ‘Til Midnight – Professor!Dean Winchester x Plus-size Grad Student!Reader

⟡ Unravel Me – Soldier Boy x Afro-Latina!Reader

⟡ The Honorable Choice & Outlander – Cowboy!Dean Winchester x OFC

40:14 – The fun challenges: like giving Dean a partner who takes care of him as much as he takes care of others in Midnight Espresso.

45:28 – The BIG challenges: like writing Soldier Boy being himself with a “person of color” (POC) in this new series, Unravel Me. What even is a POC? Where do you start with Soldier Boy, the Sandra-proclaimed “bowl of fishhooks?"

51:38 – Is there ever an element of fear when you publicly post a story that represents your culture, which is something very personal to you? What happens when you get haters in the comments?

1:05:33 – When and how did you begin to break out of the “ingrained biases” in your writing? (AKA: Always assuming my own characters are White.)

1:08:04 – When did you decide to explore writing plus-size!readers?

1:13:20 – What has your experience been in writing a race/culture outside of your personal experience? The Honorable Choice and Outlander, a western AU where Dean Winchester falls in love with a Native American Lakota Indian. (Shoutout to @jacklesversebingo!)

Plus, the ethical responsibility to “do no harm” when you represent different cultures, and answering question of not only can I write this, but should I write this?

1:32:42 – What advice would you give a writer interested in writing about a culture outside of their own that they don’t have first-hand knowledge of? How can a writer avoid cultural appropriation if their goal is cultural appreciation? How important is a sensitivity reader/beta reader for this effort?

1:40:35 – Final thoughts on diversity and representation of culture in fanfiction, whether it’s your own or someone else’s:

“Write what you know. Write what you can research. Write what you’re interested in. Remember that words have power, so be careful how you use them.”

1:45:30 – Sandra and Kasey’s outro: The importance of representation and diversity in fandom.

I hope you enjoy the ride!~ 💜

💗💗💗 Shoutouts to some of my beautiful friends and lovely readers who've supported my attempts to explore ethnic and cultural diversity in my writing:

@luci-in-trenchcoats @lamentationsofalonelypotato @waynes-multiverse @rizlowwritessortof @roseblue373

@tofics @deanwinchesterswitch @deanbrainrotwritings @deansbbyx @waywardlatina

@supernotnatural2005 @wayward-dreamer @spnwoman @waywardxwords @mostlymarvelgirl

@chevroletdean (shoutout to your 500 follower fic challenge at around 19:52 😘) @siampie @bettystonewell @wvffles

@iprobablyshipit91 @my-stories-vault @littlesoulshine @thatonewriter15 @jessjad

@deans-spinster-witch @winchestergirl2 @kazsrm67 @chernayawidow @jackles010378

@jollyhunter @leigh70 @foxyjwls007 @beakaleak32 @alwaystiredandconfused

[creature-wizard]

There's this bit of alter programming conspiracy mythology lore that goes around in a lot of places, and for awhile now I've wanted to talk about it - where it comes from, and why resonating with it doesn't mean what conspiracists say it means.

Specifically, it's this claim that cultists program young children with "the steps of discipline," which look something like this:

To not need

To not want

To not wish

Survival of the fittest

Code of silence

This bit of lore comes from Svali, first published November 2nd, 2000. For those who haven't heard, Svali is a woman who claims to be a former Illuminati programmer. Her claims are very obviously influenced by the writings of Fritz Springmeier and Cisco Wheeler. (Svali has also influenced professional therapists who purport the reality of alter programming, such as Dr. Alison Miller and Dr. Ellen Lacter, and self-proclaimed Monarch survivor Unwelcome Ozian.)

So getting back to the alleged steps of discipline, I'm going to look at some ways these things can develop in a child without the kind of programming proclaimed in alter programming conspiracy theories.

All it takes to crush a child's ability to acknowledge their needs and to want and wish is a pattern of neglect coupled with adults invalidating, shaming, and perhaps even punishing a child for expressing themself.

(Content warning for specific examples of things adults might say ahead, including food shaming and slut shaming. Read on at your own discretion.)

For example, let's say a small child sees a toy and expresses wanting it. An adult might say in a very harsh tone of voice, "You have enough toys already and that one's so expensive. You should be grateful for what you already have instead of always asking for more." The child learns that wanting things is bad.

A child might tell a parent that they're hungry, and the adult might say "Oh my god, you literally just ate. You're always eating, eating, eating so much." The child not only learns not to ask for food, but also learns that their desire for food is bad.

An adult might see a child looking at a fashion magazine and say, "Wow, look at those girls all tarted up like whores. It's disgusting that they put this kind of filth in magazines. Why are you even looking at this garbage?" The child, who was secretly wishing to look as cool and grown-up as the models in the pictures, learns that their dreams are wrong and shameful.

Simple passive neglect and ignoring also alienates children from their needs and wants, because they eventually learn that asking is futile and wanting only leads to disappointment.

What Svali calls "survival of the fittest" programming appears to describe a state where children take out their frustrations on others. Children who are neglected and invalidated inevitably have all kinds of pent-up feelings, and if they see their parents commit violence, they are very likely to channel their rage in the same way and take it out on other children. It does not require any programming at all.

What Svali calls "the code of silence" reflects how children in dysfunctional homes rarely talk about what happens at home. But this is not at all unusual and it hardly requires the elaborate tortures she describes.

For one thing, children don't usually see adults talking about their dysfunctional behavior with others, and so they often implicitly learn that this just isn't something you bring up to other people.

Adults can also use fear and guilt tactics, telling children something like "If you tell anybody about what happens at home, they won't understand that I do this because I love you, and they'll call the police and I'll get taken away and you'll never see me again."

Adults can also just punish children for talking about stuff at home - not with the ridiculously elaborate ritual punishments Svali describes, but with the usual kinds of punishments abusive and negligent adults come up with.

This is kinda how the whole alter programming conspiracy theory works - it describes real ways people can be impacted by abuse and neglect, but it ascribes unnecessarily elaborate and deliberate forms of abuse and neglect instead of admitting that these things are usually utterly banal in nature, and admitting that seemingly extreme symptoms of trauma do not imply seemingly equally extreme forms of abuse.

For more information on the origins of the alter programming conspiracy theories and how we know they're conspiracy theories, click here.

[maidragoste]

Gender Revelation

Frank Langdon x Wife!Reader

Hi, I'm back with more of Langdon's Wife! Reader. I hope you like it, even if it's short.

I remind you that my commissions are open, or if you enjoy my reading, you can support me on Ko-Fi to help pay for my cat's veterinary bills. Despite the commissions, my inbox is also open in case you want to share headcanons or ideas for me to write about 🤗💖

As I always say, likes, comments, and reblogs are greatly appreciated because they motivate me to keep writing 🤭💖💖

Disclaimer: English is not my first language so I apologize for any mistakes.

I hope you have a good reading!

Frank and you wanted to do something special to find out the gender of Langdon baby number three, but you didn't want to do anything big. Not after the disaster of your previous pregnancy's gender reveal party.

So this time, Frank and you asked the doctor to write the gender on a piece of paper, and when you left the clinic, you went to your favorite bakery and ordered a gender reveal cake.

Now, a day later, the cake sits on the dining room table. Frank is preventing Tanner and Luke from getting their hands on the frosting and revealing the inside while you take one last picture of the cake before it's cut.

“It looks so pretty I feel bad cutting it,” you sighed.

“Mom, I want cake.” You could tell from Luke’s tone of voice that he’d soon throw a tantrum if he didn’t get a piece of cake quickly.

"Just wait a little longer, Luke,” you said as you handed your husband the other plastic cup and placed Tanner’s hand in yours so he could cut the cake with you. You watched Frank do the same with Luke. “Are we all ready?”

“Yes!” the kids shout excitedly, Frank and you smile at each other. You can see in his eyes that he's just as excited as you are. He'd really made an effort not to find out the gender early. He accompanied you to your doctor's appointments but avoided seeing the ultrasounds at all costs so as not to ruin the surprise of finding out together.

“Good. Then on the count of three,” announces Frank “One.”

“Two. Three,” all finish counting together, the kids practically screaming in their ears, but Frank and you are too happy to be bothered.

You help Tanner maneuver the cup and laugh when he rushes to remove the cup before Luke so he can see the inside of the cake first.

Maybe it's the hormones that make you sensitive, but the moment you see the pink cake and the pink sprinkles inside, your eyes start to water.

“I knew it! I told you it was a girl!” your oldest son shouts. Of the boys, he's the most excited about the baby; not a day goes by without him asking you questions about his new sibling.

Seeing how moved you are, Frank rushes to give Luke a spoon so he can do whatever he wants with the cake and focus on you. He hugs you and kisses your head several times until you seem calmer.

“We’re having a girl!” he says, still smiling, gently caressing your face. “You have no idea how happy I am. I can’t wait for us to meet her.” He kisses you wanting to show you even a tiny bit of all the love he feels for you, how grateful he is that you’re a part of his life and for everything you give him. “Now we can choose her name and start putting her room together. Tomorrow we can go to the paint store to pick out the colors, and then…”

You cut off Frank's chatter by placing your palm over his mouth.

You know you chose the right man to marry when you see that he looks just as happy as he was when you found out you were having boys. You know your husband and he'd be happy no matter the gender of the baby, but seeing him puts you at ease.

"Why don't we enjoy some cake first and relax a little? There's no rush to get the room ready, honey, we have time," you say, taking your hand off of him.

"Good. Cake, and then I'll start bragging to everyone that I'm going to be a dad to a baby girl," he declares, making you smile.

[thekittyokat]

you ever just have a lot, a LOT of feelings all at once about a character and not even remotely enough words or brainpower to FORM the words to describe everything you're feeling. so it feels like you may explode. yeah

[13eyond13]

love it when a character that's hard to read intuitively for you has like a dedicated fandom interpreter who can just glance at their blank face in a panel and then give you a 3k word essay on their innermost thoughts & desires & fears and neatly tie it back into the themes & whatnot as if it's the most obvious thing in the world

[britishchick09]

me when i finish reading rewrite erik's mystery:

[sskk-manifesto]

Ep 6!!!

[blizzardfluffykpop]

alright~ a few updates about everything! so this weekend I'll be seeing changkyun in chicago- so I prolly won't be posting until after I'm alive again from that 😂😅 (I am vv excited about it- I just know I'll be vv tired when I return home). Anyways, I have a few fics in the works~ one of them that is a request 🤭 I'm vv excited to work on them! But I think I'm going to change my masterlist a bit when I come back. I'm going to retire a few groups from the main masterlist and I've been debating for the past year about it... But I think I'm going to add a yearly masterlist- So it would go from most recent to the beginning of this year~

I'm also thinking about changing my pfp- I haven't been really into stray kids for uh... years- But I will be sure to make an update about that if I go thru with that too- (It may be ji changmin next 🫣🤭)

Anyways those are my few updates 🥰💖

[ceramicbeetle]

officially 10K into this fic and having a realization about where I'm at on characterization so far, so i'm wondering:

[bitegore]

baru cormorant seems to me to be a series that suffers miserably for me having read machineries of empire first. unfortunately everything BC is doing strikes me as something MoE did better and more believably and with much a greater and more grounded eye for how systems, complex system interaction, and oppression like. work

[kakusu-shipping]

The Fight

Trying to pick up the pace a little bit, but I'm not very good at writing action so this might be a bit clunky. Please excuse me.

Mountain's Peak (Part 1)

Nepal Sanctum (Part 2)

Talk it out (Part 3)

In which we let it all out

Ramattra found his brother exactly where he expected to; Tucked away on the highest roof top of the Monastery's temples, an old withered place few monks visited simply for the egregious amount of single wide stairs clearly poorly placed by the original builders.

"Brother Mondatta is looking for you," Ramattra spoke with no worry of startling his brother, positive Zenyatta had already sensed his approach at least three levels down. The fact that he hadn't run was a good sign.

"He can look a while longer.." Zenyatta replied, relaxing from his curled up position to allow his legs to dangle over the edge of the building.

Ramattra sat himself down beside his brother, taking a moment to appreciate the view. The sun was setting, stars had started to dot the soft pink sky. From this high up, one could truly see on into forever if they desired to.

"You hit the human..." Ramattra finally pressed, giving a glance to Zenyatta, who curled back in on himself slightly.

"I did."

"You said you would only use what I taught you in self defense."

"I did not use what you taught me, dear brother. I used my fist."

Ramattra couldn't help the slight chuckle hearing his elder defend himself so sharply released. If he could still shoot back, then he couldn't be all that tore up about what he'd done.

"Mondatta will expect an apology when we finally return."

"I did nothing to him." Zenyatta once again uncurled himself, his legs once more dangling over the building's edge as he relaxed into the flow of conversation with Ramattra.

"To the human, Brother."

Zenyatta released a loud, dramatic sigh noise, clunking his head into Ramattra's shoulder. "I would rather be placed on cattle clean up for the next 7 years."

Ramattra chuckled once again, "And I would love to assist you with such chores, but that is not Mondatta's way."

"No... I suppose not..." Zenyatta's voice softened as he once more pulled his knee to his chest, placing a hand on the ground next to Ramattra for balance.

Ramattra found his hand placed gently over his brother's, keeping his sensors locked to the stars as he leaned his head atop Zenyatta's.

With the sunrise the brothers would make their way back down to the village, they'd catch Master Mondatta on his way back from his morning meditation, when the monastery is silent and the human is still asleep. Zenyatta would give his apology, and be given laundry duty in return, with Ramattra would happily assist with despite Mondatta's preaching on how one must face their misdoings on their own.

That would all come tomorrow. For tonight, the two sat peacefully on the temple roof top, hands intertwined in a painfully human way, counting stars until the sun arose the next morning.

That stare made everyone in the monastery uncomfortable. Bright red eyes that only ever saw the monks as who they were, what they had been made for, how they'd failed or succeeded at a task that had been forced upon them.

It was sickening.

Across from Zenyatta stood the human, shouldering off thick layers of cloth and robes and scarves until only one remained, tied tightly off at his waist by a cream orange cincture belt. He then removed the thick, straw woven snow boots Mondatta had made for him, stepping bare foot into the chalk drawn circle of the training area, holding his hands up in a ready pose.

He'd kept his eyes locked on Zenyatta, not in a glare of malice, or even his usual annoying fascination, but a neutral look that challenged him without words.

Ramattra's hand grabbed tightly to the back on Zenyatta's upper robe. He was shaking. He was going to stop this.

Zenyatta shoulder off his brother's grasp and the robe along with it, leaving him in only his pants and the red cloth he'd kept tied around his waist.

Stepping into the ring, Zenyatta stood wide and placed his palm against the human's, keeping their gaze locked.

"If you win, I'll leave. Permanently. And I'll tell every human I meet they're not welcome here." Emile spoke evenly, despite the rapid pulse Zenyatta could feel coming from their freezing fleshy hand.

He tilted his head in amusement, "And what will you get if you happen to win?"

This was the sort of confrontation that would usually draw this particular human to tears, so it was quiet the shock to see him hold together while speaking. "You can decide that when it happens."

'When' Zenyatta thought on, wrapping his fingers around the human's small hand. It was cold, and soft, and easily crushable in even the flimsiest of Omnic hands.

"Usually a match is called when one is forced from the ring, but that feels a touch too easy, wouldn't you agree?" The human nodded along with Zenyatta's proposal, "So we keep going until one of us taps, agreed?"

Zenyatta watch the human give a small nod once more

And then kicked them as hard as he could right in the stomach

Emile flew out of the ring, scratching to a stop along the stone flooring. He hacked and coughed, gripping onto his stomach. If he'd eaten anything for the past few days he surly would have hurled it up.

"Get up." Zenyatta spoke from the ring. The human did as commanded, pulling himself up on shaky legs. He did not glare at Zenyatta for landing the first blow, he did not look on in fear for how much stronger his opponent was, he did not bask in awe at how mighty a kick it was. He kept his neutral expression.

And that pissed Zenyatta off worse than anything else.

Blow after blow, the human continued to get back up. Even after he'd started spitting up blood. Even after his glasses were shattered on the stone ground, rendering him near blind. Even after he'd stopped being able to feet his fingers in toes in the cold and after his arm stopped moving and after his ankle had made such a horrible crack and swollen to the size of an orange.

And even after Zenyatta still stood perfectly pristine.

Emile hadn't landed a blow on his opponent. Zenyatta was starting to doubt he was even trying to. Had he even raised his hand once to the monk? Had all he done was stand there and take Zenyatta's blows?

Zenyatta clenched his fists, "Get Up." He demanded, as he had over and over again, to the human laying still on the stone before him. "Get Up and Hit Me."

Emile's form shook as he pushed himself up with only one arm, his white hair dangling before his face, tips red from his own blood. As commanded he got up on shaky legs once more and looked to Zenyatta with those red eyes that pierced into his history, a history he'd been trying so hard to ignore, to hide and run away from.

"Get up." Zenyatta demanded again after landing a hard hit right into the human's nose. It was broken for sure.

Emile did as commanded.

"Brother, that is enough-" Ramattra reached to grab Zenyatta, to put an end to this, but stopped inches away.

"It's not enough..."

The human's voice was ragged, breathless and broken and shaking. He sounded on the brink of death.. He very well might have been.

"It's not... enough...."

Blood mixed with tears down Emile's face, big wet eyes stared at Zenyatta, making the Omnic hesitate.

Ramattra wouldn't dare touch a human, but he made a motion like he was going to either way, "Human you cannot take much more, please just call it-"

"I CAN'T." Emile's voice cracked, he coughed, and took a step just to keep himself from collapsing, "I can't... it's not... enough... yet...."

The human but his hand on his wrist, and Zenyatta found himself mimicking the motion. His finger tips touched delicately at his exposed arm wire, one of many fragile pieces of himself he'd been forced to show to the world after nearly loosing his life before coming here.

He could still feel the human's cold finger tips on it...

"it's not... enough... to... ma...ke up.. for what... i..."

His body was too heavy, everything hurt, and the world was spinning.. In his last few moments of consciousness Emile braced himself for one more cold embrace from the stone steps of the battle field..

And instead found warmth...

[loverboybrightsideghost]

the dream is to one day write a fic series of a show i love that is, because of current harmful breeding techniques for tv shows, far far too short, and to make that fic the written equivalent of ten seasons of television. that's the dream.