#He's also probably not completely dependant on his crutch all of the time

[onemorestrangeronthestreet]

To add a point to the "crutchie is an asshole and will beat you up" thing thats been going on:

He has been using a crutch for who knows how long. Do yall know how much upper body strength that kid probably has? If he wanted to give someone a black eye (and maybe a broken nose) he would probably be more than capable of doing that

I feel like people underestimate him because of his limp/crutch and don't know what kind of a bloodbath they're getting themselves into should they pick a fight with him

He will also undeniably win every arm wrestle match the boys hold

[lgcyubin]

here to present (bad trumpet playing noises) the illustrious kim yubin whooohoooo (crickets chirping) please like this post if you're down to plot and i'll mosey over to your tumblr ims. i have a discord if that's easier (tho i am slower on it) - just lmk and we can swap usernames :) also clearly bandwagon-ing so i may be even slower here, but i made a twitter since it's come up a few times! i'm also still (slowly) reading through event stuff but to the extent anyone's still looking for event partners please hmu!

better known as jamie (not james) kim, kim yubin's a california boy who's found his way to seoul with lukewarm dreams(?) of becoming a kpop idol.

quick tl;dr of his relevant journey: joined lgc in july 2021 by sheer happenstance. it's been two long years and he's still not sure if this is what he's allowed(?) to do, but for now he's trying to dabble in a little bit of everything to figure out what he likes, and works his ass off regardless of what he does bc it's in his nature. he doesn't have a self-declared focus, but his (current) penchant is for rap.

vs. what he'd put on his hinge profile: fluent in english and korean, the proud owner of two on-and-off dimples that may as well be a craters, and his t-shirt's made of boyfriend materi—

family bg: born to an affluent family of doctors. literally. all doctors, all successful, all brilliant. he's the youngest of four (three older sisters) and the black sheep of the family because he's... well, not exactly studying for the mcat right now. he's smart and hard-working, but certainly doesn't think he is - growing up in the shadows of steep expectations will do that to ya.

for as critical of himself as he is, however, he likes to keep most of his neuroses strictly to himself. you will not get him to be vulnerable without an ample amount of kicking and screaming.

self-inflicted mental saw traps aside, yubin comes across as remarkably... well, unconcerned on the outside. he's a flippant person who has zero issues making small talk with complete strangers. he's candid, straightforward, and he's got a wicked sharp wit and a penchant for dramatics. he's a funny guy! sarcasm is his crutch! and he'd much rather you laugh at or with him than see him cry.

WANTED CONNECTIONS

in desperate need of: friends. and specifically: friends who will put up with him whipping his head around dramatically every time you whisper "look at the hot person behind you but don't make it obvious" (he would be such a good wingman fyi)

best friends! but just a couple, max. he's a closed off person so if he did have any best friends that might have a better grasp of the inner workings of kim yubin, it's a limited number, and you've probably known him since he joined lgc (or longer—he's not a seoul native, but he was in town most summers). fair warning that he will be calling you his work wife/husband (it's a show of affection).

at the back of my mind, he is very loudly like "i would rather die than have feelings for someone" so naturally i feel inclined to write out a terrible ex plot. or a crush plot. or both. any breakup with him was probably messy and might be accompanied by some resentment (at least from his end), and any crush he could possibly have will be saddled with internal conflict. let's give it up for being unlovable!

no one's seen him cry except maybe a close friend or his sisters but you happen to catch him at the worst possible time and he is now avoiding you like his life depends on it. even if it means hiding behind a potted plant the second he sees you down the hall.

someone go on a perilous hike with him where you end up terribly lost and start to think you may have to spend the last moments of your life in each other's company so you might as well dish out all of your regrets and dashed hopes, right? it's not like you're just meters away from the path you were supposed to be on, right? good thing neither of you are drama queens, right???

if you would like to entertain the idea of having an inconsequential crush on the most charmless guy alive, please do so because he'd be so so uncomfortable with the concept of it and it'd be funny.

familial connection — he joined lgc back in july 2021 with his cousin (female), and she is 100% the reason why he's here. he's all about tough love and being mister sass pants so no one figures out just how much he cares about them, but he would do just about anything for his family and he's especially close to her.

[flyersheartbreaker]

Forever By Your Side| Isaac Ratcliffe

a/n: this is my first imagine that I am officially publishing! I am very excited to share all of my writing content and series with you guys :)

Pair: Isaac Ratcliffe x reader

Summary: Watching your boyfriend Isaac get seriously hurt during one of his home games and watching him battle through the toughest injury a hockey player could battle, so he can continue on with dream playing in the NHL

Warnings: Hockey Injuries, Cussing, Cute Fluff

Word Count: 3,321 words

It was just another ordinary Sunday afternoon watching a game live from the PPL center here in Allentown, Pennsylvania or so I thought. The game was going really well with the Phantoms up 3-1 on the Hershey Bears half way through the second period. There was your beloved star-studded boyfriend number 19 carrying the puck up against the boards through the neutral zone when suddenly bam everything went to complete silence, except for that shear sound that you wish you could so badly get out of you head.

I jumped out of my seat and darted up the stairs from the lower-level seats that I was sitting in with some of the other girlfriends. I can hear the god-awful scream ringing in my ears over and over again that was coming down from ice level. The crowd was silent, so quiet that you could probably hear a pin drop and when that happens you know for a fact that it isn’t good. Nothing ever good comes from silence at a time like this and I needed to get down to the locker rooms as quick as possible.

Isaac got hit hard up against the boards and fell awkwardly down to the ground, and his right foot looked like it twisted the wrong way. He's had rough collisions before, but never like this. Isaac is a big dude that you surely didn’t want to ending up colliding with, but this time it looked like Isaac got the wrong end of the play. I never in my life ever heard him yell in absolute pain like the wat he was when the trainers and his teammates were trying to help his 6-foot-6 body off of the ice.

My heart was in my stomach as I was racing down the stairs that would lead me to the home locker rooms. I quickly flashed my team badge to the security guard Frank without saying a word. He must have known it wasn’t good either, as he told me to breathe and be careful myself as I jumped down the last few steps.

If Isaac had a season ending injury, it would kill him. He was just heating up and playing his best hockey yet and working his ass off day in and day out so he could eventually make the Flyers roster within this season or even next season for sure. But if his season is over that means his chances of getting to the NHL level could be too and that would just destroy him completely.

As soon as I rounded the corner to the trainer's office, I saw him being helped on to the examine table. His face was as red as a cherry, and he was in a lot of pain. The trainers quickly started icing the area the best that they could as they slowly untied his skate and too it off of him.

“He is definitely going to need some X-Rays done immediately and possibly an MRI as well depending on what the results of the X-Rays are.” The Phantoms trainer Brian Grogesky said to Neil who was one of the Phantoms physicians.

“Jeff and Robert are on their way down from the press box and getting the emergency X-Ray equipment ready. In the mean time you need to relax the best that you can Isaac.” Neil said to Isaac as Isaac tried his best laying down comfortably on the examine table.

Both Brian and Neil noticed me standing outside of the door of the trainer's room and signaled me to come on in, in hopes that Isaac could ease up and relax a little bit more with me by his side.

“Hello, y/n! Looks like we got a live one here and that big boy landed pretty hard on that ankle of his.” Brian said trying to make light of the situation.

Isaac sat up on his elbow and looked me dead in the eyes. I can see and feel the pan behind them, my heart sank even more for him. I just want him to be okay, I want him to be able to play the rest of this season, he worked way too fucking hard for this to happen to him.

“Hey babes, how is the pain?” I said walking over to Isaac and grabbing his hand while kissing him ever so lightly and carefully.

“It's a bitch babe if I am being honest. I’m trying not to think of the worst, but I can’t help it. This isn’t fair, why me? Why fucking me?” Isaac said in more frustration.

“Isaac, don’t get too far ahead of yourself. We don’t know the actual results just yet. But whatever the outcome is you can come back from it stronger than ever. Hockey injuries is sometimes apart of the game as silly and stupid as it sounds, but you’re a fighter and you got this.” Neil said as he placed another bag of ice on Isaac’s ankle.

“They are right babe, your team trainers, physicians and any other doctors have your best interests. Let’s get you into the X-Ray room and then go from there okay big guy.” I said while planting another kiss onto Isaac’s lips.

Jeff brought in some crutches for Isaac to use, so they can take him down the hall to get the X-Rays taking care of. I am hoping that is all that Isaac is going to need and that whatever it is, it's a quick recovery.

After a few short minutes Isaac was crutching back out of the X-Ray room with a look of disappointment on his face.

“Oh no babe...how bad is it?” I asked him while he collects himself.

“It’s not broken...but they are sending me for an MRI early tomorrow morning to see if that shows up with anything and then go from there.” He said in a low tone.

“Well, that is a plus sign that it isn’t broken. You got to be positive about this honey, you need to be optimistic. You can't be negative. Everything is going to work out for the best. Hopefully it's just a minor sprain and you will be back on the ice in no time.” You told Isaac as you wrapped yourself around his side.

All of Isaac’s staff and trainers helped Isaac out of the arena and to his car and safety got him into the passenger seat while, I got into Isaac’s driver's seat.

“Alright, make sure when you get home you put more ice on that ankle for at least 15-20 mins on and then same time off. Do it throughout the night if you can and also, make sure you are using the crutches as much as possible and for the love of God Isaac do not put any pressure on that ankle until after we get the MRI results and see exactly what is going on. We don’t want to make the injury any worse than what it could already be. Try to get some much-needed rest and we will see you in the morning.” Brian said closing the passenger door.

The ride back to Isaac’s apartment complex was extremely quiet. I didn’t know what to say or what to do, so I just let Isaac sit there and pounder in his thoughts alone without me distracting him. Which probably wasn’t a good idea, because I know my boyfriend, I know for a fact that he is thinking the worst possible scenario that he could think of right now.

I helped Isaac out of the car and into the elevators up to his apartment and got him comfortably settled on the couch with his foot/ankle elevated and two ice packs placed on the injured area.

“Do you want or need anything? You want me to bring out another pair of comfy clothes for you?” You asked Isaac as you placed a pillow behind his head/back and placed a blanket right by him as well.

“No, I’m fine...” He whispered as scrolled on his iPad to rewatch the ending of the game and rewatch highlights and the moment of his injury.

You so badly, wanted to say something along the lines to him like "babe don’t be watching that now, it wasn’t your fault, there was nothing that you could have done to prevented that from happening, so on and on.” But deep down you knew nothing would make him feel better until he knew what the main results were. And as the night went on, you could see the realization hit him that this was going to keep him out for a while. He just looked sad, and drained.

After a couple of hours, another X-Ray, and an MRI later, you and Isaac were sitting there waiting in the trainer's office for the results from both the trainer and team doctors.

Both Brian and Jeff walk in with a folder which I assume held the test results for Isaac’s ankle/foot.

“Well, the good news is the second X-Ray that we took this morning once again showed that there was no brake in both the ankle and the foot.” Brian said.

“And what about the MRI? What did the MRI show?” Isaac asked nervously.

I grabbed Isaac’s hand and interlocked his fingers with mine. I could see the look on both Brian’s, Jeff’s, and even Coach Gordon’s face that this news that they are about to give doesn’t seem to be very promising.

Jeff cleared his throat ever so calmly and spoke. “The MRI came back with a high ankle sprain injury which means we really don’t have a timetable for you to return to at this point of time. This type of injury is extremely difficult to recover from quickly. So, with that being said we need to place you on injury reserve indefinitely until we get more of a clear view on this injury.”

“Out indefinitely...so that could mean that I might be done for the season?” Isaac ever so softly spoke.

“Unfortunately, yes Rat...I am so sorry and with it being late into the season already we don’t want to risk anything further and do anymore damage to the ankle. Brian, Jeff and myself all agreed on shutting you down for the remainder of this year. So, it’s better for you to take this time to heal carefully and properly and then eventually rehab it back to full strength without any other necessary tests or worse case scenario surgeries. Then once you have healed properly, we can train and get you back to 100 percent for next year's rookie and training camp.” Coach Scott Gordon said while looking at both Isaac and myself.

My heart broke ever so much for Isaac, this isn’t fair. I know injuries can be a part of the game sometimes, but why did this have to happen to Isaac and why now?! He has been killing it day in and day out since being drafted in 2017. He deserves his chance at playing at the NHL and now with this setback is he ever going to make it to that level?

The ride to Isaac’s apartment was once again a quiet one and this time I don’t blame him. I mean how is he supposed to react to something like this? What is he supposed to say or do when your head coach, trainer and team doctor shut you completely down for God knows how long.

Isaac settled down on the couch and tossed his crutches to side and unstrapped his high ankle boot so he can comfortably rest his ankle on the pillow in front him.

"Baby, I am so fucking sorry that is happening, it’s not right nor is it fair to you." I said, resting my head on his shoulder while getting cozy next to him.

"What if this is it for me? What if I can't play anymore after this?" He asks, eyes filling with tears.

"Hey, hey, hey, don't say that.  You being negative will only make that happen. You are a fighter Rat...you are one tough, strong as hell hockey player who will power through this. I promise you that." I said grabbing his hand and interlocking our fingers together, while placing a kiss on his hand.

A tear rolls down his cheek ever so slightly. "All I wanted to do was be that excitement that both the Lehigh and Philly fans need. All I wanted ever so badly was to have my chance to make it to the NHL level and it got taken away from me. Why do bad things happen to good people?" Isaac asked broken and frustrated.

Once he started crying, I had lost it. Nothing I could do, or say would take that pain away from him and it just broke my heart. I went into the kitchen and I just cried as grabbed him more ice packs from the freezer. How am I supposed to look at the man that I love, and not have my heart shatter like glass when I look into those eyes that were once so shiny, and bright, but now shows nothing at all?  I have no idea the pain he is going through or the frustrating emotions he is now going through as well and I feel terrible.

I eventually collected myself and walked back out into the living room and ever so easily and softly place the ice packs on the injured area and took my seat back on the couch next to Isaac.

"That's the crappy thing about life.” I breathed as I took a deep breathe myself and continued on. “For some reason, it always attacks the good ones, and praises the hell out of the bad ones." I sob, wiping away not only my own tears but also his tears once again. "We'll get through this. I promise. It'll be hard, and it'll be long, but we're going to pull through this." I tell him as I run my hand through his hair.

He squeezes my other hand tightly. "What if during my time out things don’t get better and I need to get surgery, and it's worse than they thought? That could happen. What if they see that my injury is worse than what they thought and that I am out on the shelf even longer and I completely miss this upcoming season as well? Or worse they tell me that I can't do this anymore?" He asks, gasping for air. "I don't want that to happen and I'm scared to death that it will."

I snuggled beside him even more then I already was, resting my head on his chest, sobbing harder than I was before, because I honestly hate when he thinks that he isn’t good enough or he thinks his career is over because of a minor setback or in this case a possible major setback. "Then we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it, okay? Just for now, it's a bump in the road. No journey to greatness is a smooth one Isaac. Whatever the hell happens next, we'll face it together as a team, because I am not leaving your side and letting you fight this injury alone. I know that you so badly want to break and that you feel like this the end of the road, but you need to keep pushing and listen to the training staff and follow their instructions."

"I love you so much." He tells me, sniffling. "Thank you for helping me with this, baby, I couldn’t do this without you" Isaac said while planting a soft and slow kiss on my lips

"I'll help you through anything. No matter what." I said while smiling and kissing him softly back.

It was battle to get Isaac’s ankle back to a healthy, normal, and stable ankle for a hockey player at his height and weight but we were able to do it. It was a long road and journey until Isaac was back out on the ice skating again and preparing himself for this upcoming training camp season.

Isaac looked and felt good, until one day right before the Flyers condensed training camp something didn’t seem right with him.

Isaac met up with Flyers trainer Jim McCrossin and after a deep examination we found out that Isaac was suffering from a fractured rib and a collapsed lung. We don’t know how exactly this had happen or when it happened. It could have been from when he fell during his ankle injury or from being hit during Rookie Camp, we don’t have the answers right now. And once again, here I am watching my boyfriend being completely destroyed and devastated all over again.

Isaac became instantly depressed, and much worst this time around because he knew there was no chance of making the Flyers squad this season and who knew when he could lace up for the Phantoms season as well. But thank God for Jim McCrossin who helped Isaac get the right and special care that he needed and got him completely healthy so he could play for the rest of this Phantoms season as well.

Isaac was getting game day dressed for a home game here in Allentown. I sat on the bed and watched/admire him as he fixes his tie in the mirror.

"Try not to worry about tonight so much baby, you are going to absolutely kill it out there like always. Once you get out on that ice, I have no doubt in my mind you will play just like how you used to before all of these setbacks. And just remember that no matter how easy, or how hard tonight’s game is going to be I'll be here for you always. But also, please promise me one thing, that if you don’t feel right to let your staff know immediately because I never want to see you get hurt like this again.” I said walking up behind him and wrapping my arms around his torso.

"I promise babe, I know that I need to take my health more seriously and whatever happens, happens. One day I will make my dream a reality and officially play in the NHL, but for the time being I got to focus on the now and my health." He said as he spun around and kissed me.

Watching Isaac warm up made my heart race and beat fast. But it was all worth seeing him back out there skating with the team and his boys. He looked so good and happy out on the ice and that is all that I could ever ask for.

The journey was extremely hard and long this past summer and fall for both Isaac and I, but in the end it definitely made us a stronger unit in our relationship and it has totally made Isaac a stronger hockey player both physically and mentally.

After the game, I bolted down to the locker room this time excitedly to see my boyfriend, not in a complete shear panic like last time and waited for Isaac to come out after he was done with the media.

The door swung open and I immediately saw Isaac and jumped right into arms like a little high school girl. “Babeee, you were beyond amazing tonight! I am so very proud of you, how are you feeling?” I asked nervously but giddy at the same time.

Isaac picked me up and kissed me ever so passionately before answering any of my questions that I just threw at him. “I felt good and still feel good. It was awesome to be back out on that ice again playing with the boys in front of our home crowd, their excitement and energy helped out a lot. But truthfully, I couldn’t have done any of this without you, y/n. I love you so much and I can’t wait to continue this amazing hockey journey with you right by myside.”

[lyssismagical]

dependent and fair

my first ever commission !! Thank you so much @wombatking I hope you enjoy! 

tw for broken bones 

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If there’s anything MJ hates, it’s having to be dependent.

Living with only her father and her three younger siblings, she’s always been a caretaker, not someone to be taken care of. It makes her uncomfortable whenever she’s in a position where she needs help from others.

Her father works ninety percent of the time to singlehandedly afford four children, leaving her to do most of the parental things like cooking and cleaning and helping her siblings with homework.

When she gets together with Peter, they’re definitely a work in progress.

Neither of them know how to accept help, be taken care of, and they both like to take care of others. There’s a lot to learn, but they’re willing to learn together.

As a show that she’s learning to let him take care of her, she lets him take her out to dinner, his treat.

It’s not like either of them really have money to spend on things like dates in New York – neither of them have jobs. Peter’s a full-time superhero and MJ watches her siblings every evening, but May gives Peter twenty bucks, Delmar gives him another ten for cat-sitting, and a grateful civilian gave him fifteen.

Sure, they can only get the cheapest things on the menu at the decently nice Italian restaurant Peter chooses, the salad and the pasta without any add-ons, only water, and a shared dessert.

But they have a wonderful time, and that’s really all that matters.

They have to walk home from the restaurant, no leftover cash to spend on a taxi, but the night is warm with a gentle cool breeze, and Peter wraps his jacket around her shoulders and holds her hand, swinging between them as they walk leisurely through the streets of Queens.

MJ turns down the alley she normally takes on the way home from school, a decent shortcut to cut the trip in half. Peter stops her just as she gets her shoe into the first rung of the tall, black wire fence separating the alley from the street.

“Are you sure this is safe?” he asks. His hand has gone clammy in hers, nose twitching in the telltale way it does whenever his anxiety spikes. She can’t help the small, gentle smile that tugs at her mouth, a smile she normally reserves for only her little sister.

She tries to keep up an impassive, cold expression as much as possible. The idea of showing any vulnerability makes her shudder. But Peter’s always been so open, so genuine with everything he does, it makes MJ more open to trying.

“I take this shortcut twice a day,” she says, it really isn’t a big deal to jump a fence. Especially not when she has a literal superhero at her side. “It’s not a big deal, c’mon, we’re going to miss my curfew if we don’t take a shortcut.”

Peter makes a face, shaking the fence like he’s testing its sturdiness. And then he jumps, casually, easily, right over the fence.

“Show off,” MJ says, starting the slow, human, climb over the fence.

The one thing she didn’t take into consideration, however, is the pair of slightly heeled flats she’s wearing. It’s a little more complicated than her regular pair of old sneakers.

She slips and Peter can’t move fast enough to catch her before she hits the ground, ankle rolling and making an awful crunching sound, cursing under her breath.

Peter, however, does catch her before her legs give out, slowly helping her to the pavement.

“Are you okay? That didn’t sound good. Do you think it’s broken? I should call your dad, or my aunt, or maybe Tony. I should get you to a hospital, right? Are you feeling okay? I-”

“Woah, hold on a second,” she says, cutting off Peter’s rambles before he can devolve into panic when she needs him to level-headed. “Help me up. It’s probably just a rolled ankle.”

He keeps a strong grip on her elbow and waist as he pulls her up off the pavement, but the moment she puts any weight on her bad foot, she’s crumping into his chest, gasping in pain.

“Shit,” she goes like it’s any help at all.

“Let me call your dad,” Peter pleads, lowering her carefully back to the ground. “And then I’ll swing you to the hospital. Even if it’s nothing, I’d feel a lot better if you got it checked regardless.”

She lets out a huff, reluctantly nodding in agreement.

Peter steps a few feet away to call her dad, explaining the situation quickly but efficiently. He promises three times that he’ll get her to the hospital safely, and that he’ll call the moment they have news.

When he turns back to her, he’s already pulling his Spider-Man mask on.

“Up you go,” he says, lifting her into his arms bridal style. “To the hospital we go. Maybe, if we’re lucky, May will be the one to see us.”

“Go slow, okay?” She’s not nervous. She would never admit to anyone that she’s nervous of swinging with Peter. But last time she went, she puked the moment they hit the ground.

“Your wish is my command, princess.”

“Queen,” she corrects half-heartedly, shifting in his grip to make her ankle twinge a little less.

Peter grins, pressing a kiss to her cheek. “Of course, my queen.”

She barely remembers the trip to the hospital or the wait to be seen by a nurse, she keeps her head tucked against Peter’s neck, blocks out the pain as best she can.

Before she knows it, she’s seated on the edge of a bed in a hospital room, Peter at her side, hand still in hers, a nurse coming in.

“Didn’t expect to see your name tonight, kiddo,” May says, offering a sweet smile. “Let’s get that ankle checked out.”

X-rays are taken of her ankle, May gets her a cup of water and a few snacks from the vending machine, and she’s told to rest until the imaging is done. When it is, she’s shown the photographs of a clear break in her ankle. Peter looks like he might cry when he finds out she broke a bone on their date, but he doesn’t say anything self-deprecating or guilt-ridden, just squeezes her hand a little tighter and presses his mouth to her shoulder.

May’s the one who wraps her ankle in a cast, gives her plenty of instructions, and then gives her a pair of crutches.

Peter’s hand gets clammier and tighter the longer it takes, and by the end, she’s a little worried she might’ve broken a hand bone too with how much worry is seeping into the grip he has on her. She stays entirely calm, almost careless the whole time, because she knows if she shows pain, Peter will probably fall apart. He’s seen enough hurt, enough breaks, enough injuries in his lifetime, she doesn’t have to add hers to the list of things he blames himself for.

And either way, she doesn’t need his sympathy or his worry. She’ll be fine. She doesn’t need him to look after her.

MJ’s dad is there by the time they’re done, and she doesn’t have to prove anything to anyone. She kisses her boyfriend goodbye and that’s it.

  On Monday, she walks – or well, crutching – into school like nothing is different.

Peter’s waiting for her at her locker, empathetic frown on his face. He lifts his wrist, also bound in bandages.

“We match,” he says, lifting an eyebrow. “Patrolling mishap last night.”

“At least you heal in like two days. I’ve got to keep this on for like six weeks.” She struggles to balance her crutches and open her locker at the same time. Peter watches her carefully but doesn’t move to help her for now. She’s already irritable and he knows what buttons not to press.

She balances her books in her arms and then huffs in irritation when she realizes she won’t be able to carry them all and crutch to class without risking falling.

“Will you at least let me take those?” Peter says, already reaching to stack her books on top of his. “I feel awful. I shouldn’t have let you climb that fence.”

“I don’t need help,” she mutters. She doesn’t want to need Peter’s help. “And don’t coddle me. I made that decision.”

“Then let me carry your books because I’m your boyfriend and I like doing nice things for you.”

She rolls her eyes. “Just this once.”

For the rest of the day, Peter persists on doing nice things for MJ, completely unrelated to her injury, he says, like carrying her books and opening her locker and pulling out chairs for her. She doesn’t say anything, if only because she doesn’t want to make a fool of herself when she struggles to do it on her own.

By the end of the day, she’s beyond grateful for the help Peter’s given her without any expectations of anything in return.

It’s simple how nice it is to be taken care of.

She’s spent her whole life being the caretaker, and now, she’s been gifted somebody who will stop at nothing to take care of her.

She’s not exactly sure how she got so lucky, she doesn’t feel like she’s done a whole lot of good to deserve such wonderful karma, but she’s going to do everything in her power not to lose it that’s for sure.

  They’re lying in Peter’s bed, door open with May’s voice drifting into the room where she’s humming in the kitchen, when she finally voices her thoughts.

“Thank you.” It’s not as elegant as she thought it would be, but it conveys her gratitude just as well, she can’t remember the last time she said those words.

Peter’s arm tightens around her waist, pulling her in without jostling her leg. “You don’t have to thank me for doing the bare minimum.”

“You put up with my stubborn ass, I think that’s more than doing the bare minimum.”

“I just wanted to help, that’s all. I’m sure you would’ve done the same if it were me.”

She pokes his injured wrist. “Except I didn’t.”

“I’m a superhero, Em. I don’t think it works exactly the same.”

And it doesn’t, he’s right.

He’ll help her take her books to class, find a safer shortcut, take her on a redo date, carry her up the stairs so she doesn’t have to try with crutches, help her in anyway she can throughout this.

And she’ll hold him when he wakes up with a cry of misery, nightmares of how he got his own injury plaguing his sleep. She’ll kiss his forehead and promise him that he’s okay, that she’s okay too, that he’s safe and sound with her. She’ll pull him close when the tears cease and hum to him, the same songs May does, until he falls asleep. And she’ll be there every time after the first too.

Relationships might not be equal. She can’t tend for his wounds because he heals at lightning speed, he doesn’t have to soothe any nightmares, she doesn’t need to help him with his family, and he doesn’t need to her worry about her every evening. But it’s fair. She’ll be there for him in any way she can, and he’ll be there for her in anyway he can.

“Thank you,” she repeats nonetheless.

“I love you,” he says.

She smiles, leans into his warmth the same way she’s been leaning into accepting his help. “I love you too.”

[redswanned]

Always Together pt 1; Porco x reader

Porco Galliard x reader

childhood friends to lovers, canonverse

word count: 2,510

no warnings, some minor swearing

omg this is my first aot fic ever ahhhh!! I didn’t mean for it to be this long haha but here we are. I hope you all like it! 

_________________________

A life without Porco Galliard was a life you couldn’t imagine living. Ever since the two of you were in diapers you’ve been the best of friends, which was a pleasant outcome considering both of your parents were close. Every Sunday night you and your family would have dinner with the Galliards. While you played with Porco and Marcel, both of your parents always talked about moving forward in life.

You realized early on that this meant both you and Porco’s parents shared the dream of becoming honorary Marleyens, which was common amongst Eldians. However, in order to achieve that goal, both of your parents as well as Porco’s signed you all up for the warrior program. They were too caught up in the dream of living a life where they were not oppressed, at the cost of their own children. 

          The training was brutal for mere children, and you felt like you were training harder than actual soldiers. Sometimes it was just too much. As hard as you tried, you noticed yourself falling behind the other kids in training. Hell, even Reiner was better than you by a long shot.

One day, you injured your ankle during the running exercise. Ironically, you weren’t crying from the pain of your swollen ankle. The thought of being ousted from the warrior program and disappointing your parents scared you more. Unlike Porco, you were an only child so your parents were depending on your successful completion of the program entirely to become honorary Marleyans. At this point, you didn’t even bother to reach the finish line. Instead, you wandered off to a more secluded part of the training grounds, an all too familiar tree stump inviting you to rest after a long day. Warm tears flowed down your flushed cheeks as you heard laughter amongst your fellow warrior candidates. 

“They’re probably happy that they’ll be selected for a Titan,” you thought sadly to yourself. You sighed as you realized they probably didn’t notice you were even there. As you tried to hold back sobs, you noticed the sound of running footsteps.

“Hey, Y/N, why didn’t you complete the race? Even that dumbass Reiner beat you!” Called out Porco.

Upon hearing his comment, you began to cry more which stopped him in his tracks. Sure what he said was kind of rude but he didn’t want to make you cry!

“Whoa, calm down! Why are you crying?” He yelled out of concern as he kneeled beside you.

“It’s nothing,” you replied as you wiped your tears.

Porco only stared at you frowning slightly. “Y/N, I’ve known you my whole life I know that something is up when you cry.”

Despite his concern, you didn’t feel like telling him the truth behind your tears. “When I was running I tripped and hurt my ankle,” you said as you sniffed back some tears.

Though he didn’t completely buy your reasoning, he did notice how inflamed your ankle was. He’d ask you about the true reason why you were upset later, his first priority was to get you some help. 

“Here,” said Porco as he reached his hand out to you, “let me help you get to the clinic.”

You took his hand and felt yourself blush as he wrapped it over his shoulder. “Don’t put pressure on that foot,” he warned as the two of you trudged towards the clinic. 

On the way there you saw your fellow warrior candidates conversing amongst themselves. 

“Y/N! Are you alright?” Asked Marcel as he and Pieck quickly ran up to the two of you. 

“Yeah, I just hurt my ankle back there,” you said sheepishly. 

“That doesn’t look too good Y/N, it’s already so swollen. Are you sure you’re okay?” Asked Pieck. 

“Um, yeah I’m fine!” You quickly replied through the pain. 

“If you were fine I think you would’ve crossed the finish line by then,” said Reiner, more concerned than anything.

However, Porco took this as Reiner insulting you. “You know damn well Y/N would’ve beat you on a normal day!” He spat back.

“Hey that’s enough Porco, go help Y/N to the clinic,” said Marcel trying to diffuse the situation.

Porco just frowned at the crowd and pulled you along. You knew he would always defend you, but lately, he’s been getting more mad at Reiner for even talking to you. 

“Porco it’s okay, I don’t think he meant it in a bad way,” you said as you cling to him since he started to pick up the pace after that incident.

“You never know these days Y/N. We’re all competing against each other. He probably feels lucky that you got hurt today since him beating you only boosted his score,” he said as he held the door open for you. 

You decided to let it go as you trudged towards the bed and sat down. The burning pain in your ankle wasn’t getting any better as you slipped off your shoes. Definitely sprained, broken at the worst. You sighed at your predicament, knowing that you’d never become an honorary Marleyan like your friends and their families. Porco ran off to tell commander Magath, who then told Zeke to deal with you since he had some experience patching up wounds and since he was the oldest candidate. 

“Hey Y/N, Porco told me you hurt your ankle?” Asked Zeke as he began to gather some bandages to wrap your injured ankle in. 

You simply nodded before Zeke examined your ankle. 

“Ouch!” You squeaked after he tried to move it sideways.

“Sorry, but I think it’s definitely a bad sprain at this point. It looks like you’ll have to use crutches for the next few weeks,” he said as he frowned slightly. He knew the selection of the candidates among the younger bunch was coming up soon, and this injury didn’t rule in your favor.

“Are you sure Zeke? Can’t you just wrap my foot back up and I can resume training?” You asked tearfully.

The older teen felt sorry for you as you were still determined to work hard for the selection. There was no way you could continue training like this, and your physical test grades weren’t even that high, to begin with. There was no doubt you would not be receiving a Titan. 

“That will only set you back, just focus on healing, okay? The Marleyan trainers were kind enough to give you a break from training to heal,” said Zeke as he finished wrapping your ankle and grabbing the crutches for you. 

You didn’t say anything after, the pain in your ankle was nothing compared to the disappointment and hopelessness you felt knowing you had no chance to improve your training scores. Zeke pat your head as almost a condolence and left the room. As you sat there contemplating your situation yet again, a familiar boy opened the door and took a seat next to you.

“I know you’re not okay and it’s not just about your ankle,” said Porco bluntly as he faced you. You didn’t dare look him in the eyes.

“Y/N, you could tell me. Please?” He said as his face softened. 

You might as well get it over with. “Porco, at this rate I am never going to be chosen for a Titan. You know this too. I’ve tried my hardest but I am nowhere on your level or anyone else’s! I’m pretty sure my marks are the lowest out of us. And I’m going to disappoint my parents by not inheriting a Titan! They will never become honorary Marleyans because of me,” you cried. 

Seeing you cry was difficult for Porco. He always had a soft spot for you and he immediately pulled into a hug. It was rare that he gave out hugs but you were an exception. 

“Hey, don’t cry Y/N, okay? You never know what could happen. You’re way stronger than you think and I mean that. You’re even stronger than that loser Reiner! Don’t give up just yet. You heard Zeke, you need to rest. An injury like that proves you’ve been working hard so maybe those in charge will notice that too,” said Porco as he tried to comfort you. A part of him knew that there was a chance you wouldn’t inherit a Titan, neither would Reiner since there were only five titans available to inherit. Still, you could always work your way up as a soldier and earn merit that way. It was rare though since Eldians are not allowed to order Marleyans. There had to be another way.

His words comforted you a little. It was nice to see someone have faith in you for once. Maybe he was right, there could be another way you become an honorary Marleyan. 

Several weeks passed by and the selection for inheriting Titans was revealed. It stung when you realized you were not selected a Titan, but you had prepared yourself for this revelation for the past few weeks. Your jaw dropped when you heard Porco was not chosen either. You stood with the rest of the group as Porco lashed out at Reiner, him yelling in disbelief that someone who he believed performed worse than him was chosen instead. Marcel pried his brother away from Reiner as Porco sobbed in defeat. The whole scene was heartbreaking to watch. You knew how hard Porco worked all these years, but you were also surprised that Reiner was able to get a Titan. That factor made you think that you had some of the necessary skills to inherit a Titan since you were not that far from Reiner. 

All of the other chosen candidates left the room for the festival and left you and a sobbing Porco. It was now your turn to comfort him. “Hey Porco, I know you tried your best out there. It’s okay though, you still get to be an honorary Marleyan because of Marcel!” you said trying to cheer him up.

“It’s not about that,” he sobbed, “I can’t believe I’m this weak! I thought I was so strong but clearly, I’m not!”

“Remember what you told me the day I hurt my ankle?” you asked and he looked up, “You told me that I am stronger than I think I am and I think that also applies to you. Don’t give up hope just yet, I think you should stay in the program. You have what it takes to inherit a Titan in the future!” 

He wiped his tears and simply nodded, listening to your words. Maybe they’ll hold some truth one day, but he will keep training to get stronger. This time, you brought him into a hug which he returned. “Thank you,” he whispered. 

“What are you going to do since you also weren’t chosen today?” asked Porco. 

“Be a disappointment to my parents,” you said sarcastically with a small chuckle. 

“Don’t think that way, Y/N. There’s always so much more than their opinion of you,” he said frowning.

“Oh I know, it’s just I’m prepared for the guilt I’m going to be feeling. But I’ll probably try studying to become a nurse. At least then I can be useful on the battlefield,” you replied.

Porco’s eyes lit up as you told him of your prospective plans, “I wouldn’t mind having you as my nurse one day,” he said as he blushed. 

“I hope for your sake that you aren’t my patient, because well, that would mean you got hurt,” you chuckled blushing as well. 

Unfortunately, that was one of the last conversations you had with Porco for a while. Since you didn’t have Marleyan citizenship, you were moved back to the internment zone which showed you how hard life was for your kind. Your parents didn’t help either, they seemed eternally disappointed in you since they relied on you for Marleyan citizenship. You spent your days working at a small restaurant, which was tough since the management was pretty rude. Not to mention that the pay wasn’t great either but it was more than nothing. However, the shunning you felt from your parents was unbearable. Every time you were in a room with them the overwhelming feeling of your failure haunted you. All you wanted to do was to see Porco, but he was too busy continuing training. 

Occasionally, on both of your rare days off, Porco would come to visit the internment zone where you caught up on life. You both confided in one another about being perceived as failures, which was not true at all. Without the other trainees around, you and Porco became much closer over the years. You’ve never been able to open up to anyone else and vice versa. 

          One day Porco came to you and tearfully informed you that Marcel had died early on in the mission to receive the founding Titan. It was one thing losing a friend, but you understood that Porco was suffering the most since Marcel was his one and only brother. Your arms became his safe haven as he sobbed away, missing his older brother and wondering why he had to leave this world so young. You cried with him, you had known Marcel since childhood too and he was suddenly gone. As much as Marcel’s death hurt both of you, it brought you two even closer. Recounting the good times you both had with Marcel was healing for both of you. And when Porco found out Reiner and Bertolt brought back the girl who had inadvertently killed him, Ymir, he knew that it would be his duty to consume her in order to obtain the Jaw Titan. You could not be happier for Porco in that aspect; his dream of inheriting a Titan was finally coming true. At the same time, this also meant he would have to leave you for military duties. As much as you hated that harsh reality, you were happy that his skills were put to use. The news broke out about the new war with the Mid-East Alliance, and you knew it would be a while before you saw him again. 

After his parents said their goodbyes to their only son left, you approached your best friend tearfully and embraced him. 

“I’m going to miss you Porco, please stay safe,” you cried into his chest. 

“I will don’t worry about me Y/N,” he said as he returned the embrace. 

You pulled away from him and he frowned at your tear-stained face. “Come on Y/N, you know I hate seeing you cry,” he said with a slight blush. 

“I can’t help it,” you giggled in between tears, “Promise to send each other letters?”

“Of course I will,” he said as he grabbed your hand and squeezed it comfortably. 

That was the last time you saw Porco Galliard for four years. You didn’t know it at the time you stood on the dock, but your life would change drastically in a way that would change you and Porco forever.

[sneezyminniejo]

All in the Timing

This was requested on AO3

Felix gets injured during practice

TW injury

The members of the Mayfly dance unit were gathered in KQ Entertainment's practice room eating the ice cream Peniel ordered. They were also beginning discussions on what they wanted to do for their performance.

"I think it would be awesome if Peniel hyung is like commanding a bunch of dogs on leashes." Minho said. The others were quick to agree.

There was a whole host of conversation on the choreo, when San chimed in "What if one of us jumps off a platform and lands in another's arms." Everyone started to murmur in excitement at the thought of the stunt and immediately began planning out the details.

After some deliberation, it was decided that Felix would be the one to jump, while Wooyoung would catch him. The nine members then began discussing the logistics of the jump.

They decided that Wooyoung would be braced by four or five dancers, while Felix would get a running start before jumping into the older man's arms. It was also decided that four dancers would prop Felix up until he could practice on the actual set.

The practices at the studio had been going swimmingly. There was one moment where Wooyoung nearly dropped Felix, but no one got hurt. It just caused the duo to be more determined to practice the jump.

After another long day of practice, the five Ateez members invited the other four over to their dorm for dinner. Peniel declined, as he needed to get back to his own apartment for some rest before recording his podcast. Minho and Jeongin also declined, having already made plans with some of their friends. Minho merely told Felix to be back at the dorm by a reasonable hour and left it at that.

When the six men arrived at the Ateez dorm, they all got comfortable on the couch as they discussed what to have for dinner. Seonghwa insisted on making something and eventually got Felix to choose what. Seonghwa then moved to the kitchen to begin making dinner.

As Seonghwa was preparing dinner the other two Ateez members returned home and were equally ecstatic that Felix was joining them for dinner. “I know Minho hyung said that you should get back to your own dorm at a reasonable time, but you guys were also talking about how your first schedule is coming here for practice, so why don’t you just sleep over? It’ll save you the headache of travelling.” Jongho had said at one point. Soon after the others were humming in agreement about how it made more logical sense to just stay over.

Felix pondered for a minute. “I would need to borrow some clothes, but as long as I text Chan-hyung, I should be able to stay the night with no problems.” He quickly texted Chan and Minho just in case Chan was too absorbed in his own work and quickly got a thumbs up emoji in response from both of them.

“Hyung says I can stay the night, but I’m going to need to borrow somebody’s clothes for the night, and tomorrow.” Everyone was excited and the others were quick to figure out who’s clothes Felix could borrow and the sleeping arrangements for the night before they continued to eat their dinner.

At some point after dinner, Hongjoong and Seonghwa had decided to go to their rooms. Hongjoong to get some writing done, and Seonghwa wanted to continue reading a book he was in the middle of. That left the 99 liners and the 00 liners in the living room.

The six men were sitting in the living room chatting and the five members of Mayfly’s dance unit started to tell Jongho about the jump they had planned for their choreography.

“I almost dropped him last time Jongie. I feel like we need more practice, but we need four people to hold me up and four more to prom Felix up since we don’t have the platform yet.” Wooyoung pouted slightly as he was complaining to his dongsaeng. Jongho was listening intently to his hyung then got an idea.

“Hyungs, we have enough people to practice the jump right here.” The others stared at him a moment, then San motioned for him to continue. “ We could all hold up Wooyoungie hyung, and Felix could run off the couch.” The first person to move was Felix, who immediately jumped on the couch and started making power stances. The others moved some things out of the way then worked together to figure out how to properly brace Wooyoung.

One the 99 liners and Jongho were confident in having Wooyoung properly braced, Wooyoung gave Felix the go ahead to run off the couch and jump into his arms. Felix made sure he was on the opposite end of the couch from where he was going to jump, then he started running.

When Felix jumped off the armrest of the couch, his foot slipped, making it so he didn’t have a firm stance when he leapt into the air. Since Felix didn’t have a firm stance when he jumped, he was also unable to properly land in Wooyoung’s arms.

It almost happened in slow motion. Felix felt his ankle twinge weirdly when he jumped, and again when it accidentally hit Yunho’s side. Wooyoung is holding onto Felix’ shirt as if his life depended on it. However because Felix didn’t land properly, Wooyoung didn’t have a proper grip on the younger, practically taking off Felix’ shirt in the process.

Wooyoung quickly got out of the grasp of the others, and they all went to assess both Yunho and Felix. Yunho wasn’t very hurt. Felix hadn’t kicked very hard at all. It was more of his foot digging into his side a little as he fell than it was a kick. Felix on the other hand was sitting on the ground holding foot up to his chest.

“Felix-ah, are you hurt?” San asked, somewhat rhetorically since the younger was cradling one of his feet. Felix nodded as tears began to emerge from his eyes. “I think I twisted my ankle.” Yeosang quickly ran to the kitchen to get some ice, while San and Jongho helped Felix stand up. As soon as Felix tried to put some weight on his foot, he hissed in pain and brought his foot back into the air as he was helped to the couch. Meanwhile Wooyoung went to go get Hongjoong and Seonghwa, so they could be informed that their guest was injured.

Hongjoong and Seonghwa were quick to leave their rooms to see what the damage was. Seonghwa took a look at Felix’ ankle and agreed that it was most likely sprained. Wooyoung was messaging Minho to tell him Felix was injured, while Hongjoong was doing the same thing with Chan.

Hongjoong and Wooyoung both assured Chan and Minho respectively that Felix had ice on his ankle and that they had bandages to wrap it up in later. The two Ateez members sighed as they put down their phones and went to help out. 

Wooyoung went to the bathroom to get the bottle of paracetamol and a glass of water. When he returned to the living room, he handed the medicine to the younger and began propping his foot up on the throw pillows that had been thrown to the floor when they practiced their stunt.

“So all Wooyoung told us was that Felix had injured his ankle. He didn’t tell us how. Would anyone care to enlighten us?” Seonghwa asked the group, giving them a very stern look, daring them to lie to him. Felix was the one to confess. “We were practicing the stunt for our Mayfly performance. I got the timing wrong when I jumped off the couch.” Seonghwa just about face palmed upon hearing what happened. Instead he sighed exasperatedly and sat down next to the younger.

“We need to keep your foot elevated tonight, and you probably shouldn’t put any weight on it for the next few days.” Seongwha paused and gave everyone a stern look before continuing, “That means no practicing the choreo or the stunt for Felix.” The others were quick to nod their heads in understanding. Satisfied, Seonghwa turned on the tv and told the others to get ready for bed. Hongjoong had just returned from their storage closet holding a pair of crutches from the last time one of them had injured their leg.

“Here Felix, this way you can get around our dorm without having to put any weight on your foot and no one will have to carry you.” Felix thanked the older, glad that he wouldn’t have to be carried around until he got back to his own dorm. It wasn’t long after that the others returned to the living room. They watched tv for a little while before deciding that it was time for bed. The members of the dance unit were all thinking similar things, ‘dance practice will be interesting tomorrow.’

The following day Felix, Seonghwa, Yunho, Yeosang, San, and Wooyoung guiltily waited for the others to arrive. Minho and Jeongin were the first to enter the room. Both members went over to Felix to see how his ankle was. “Hyung, I’m fine. It doesn’t hurt as much today as it did yesterday, and I can move my ankle just fine. It primarily hurts if I try to put weight on it.” Felix demonstrated by rotating his ankle, showing zero discomfort. Minho sighed in relief, as that meant it wasn’t a severe injury.

A few minutes later, a completely oblivious Peniel entered the practice room. Peniel felt the tension as soon as he walked in. “What’s with all the tension? I could cut it with a knife.” Peniel joked before he zeroed in on Felix’ propped up ankle with a set of crutches at his side.

“What happened to Felix?” Peniel asked Minho. Minho shrugged, “Ask him, he slept over with Ateez last night and we got a message from Hongjoong and Wooyoung saying he got hurt and he probably wouldn’t be able to practice for a few days. Peniel looked at Felix, Concern etched on his face.

Felix Sheepishly looked down at his hands as he answered. “Funny you should mention practice. We decided to practice the jump last night at the dorm and my timing was a bit off. When I jumped off the couch, my foot slipped and Wooyoung wasn’t able to catch me.”

“Felix, did you learn nothing from the monkey’s who jumped on the bed?” Peniel asked. Felix chuckled a little at Peniel’s joke. “Nice one, but in my defence, I was jumping off a couch doing a stunt, not jumping on a bed with no regards to my surroundings.” Felix then high fived Peniel, glad that the older wasn’t mad at him. The others were a bit confused at what the two native English speakers were talking about, but decided not to question it in favor of practicing.

The day of the Kingdom performance, Felix’ ankle was almost completely healed. Throughout all the preparation Felix and Wooyoung decided that they were going to do the stunt, even though they hadn’t had as much practice as they would have liked. Felix had been dancing just fine throughout the entirety of the performance, but when it came time for his stunt, he had become nervous and hoped he wouldn’t re-injure his ankle.

As Felix was running across the platform, he hoped with all his might that he would get the timing correct and land safely in Wooyoung’s arms. Unknowingly to Felix, Chan had been watching worriedly in the SKZ waiting room and had actually worriedly said Felix’ name out loud in concern when it came time for the jump. To his, and everyone else’s relief, Felix landed squarely in Wooyoung’s arms. The members of the other three groups didn’t know that Felix did the stunt on an injured ankle and were even more impressed when they found out.

After Mayfly was done with all of their performances, Eunkwang bought ice cream for everyone.

[duckprintspress]

Synonym Stumpers: Walk

Sometimes, finding the perfect synonym can feel impossible, especially since a thesaurus (or a synonym post on Tumblr) will list words that have similar meanings without providing information on how similar those words actually are. Figuring out the nuances and subtle variations between umpteen words that all mean almost-but-not-quite the same thing can be one heck of a stumper but never fear: you want to find the perfect word and we are here to help!

On this edition of Synonym Stumpers - Walk! How many times can you say someone walked across a room before it gets boring? Fortunately, there are lots of awesome words that mean “walk.” Unfortunately, they all mean something a smidge different - and those variations can mean the difference between an evocative turn of phrase and a clunker that makes your readers go, “put away your thesaurus already!” Here’s our handy-dandy guide to our favorite synonyms for “walk,” and what each means!

Note that no one list can be exhaustive, and in certain contexts all of these words make sense, can be used, and might have subtly different meanings. In the end, the best way to learn the nuances of words is to read extensively. No thesaurus or list of synonyms, no matter how thoroughly annotated, can give a complete sense of all the possible usages of a word! 

Note the second, the writer of this list primarily speaks US Northeast English. Other dialects may have subtle differences in these words.

Words on this list: amble, ambulate, constitutional, go on/by foot, hike, hoof it/leg it, limp, lumber, march, meander, mosey, pace, pad, plod, saunter, shamble, shuffle, stalk, step, stomp, stump, stride, stroll, strut, toddle, traipse, tramp, troop, trudge, turn

(read more)

amble: ambling can have a few different implications. It suggests a certain aimlessness - “she ambled around the garden” - or, alternatively, a casual attitude - “we ambled through the mall.” Ambling is the opposite of purposeful or rapid walking - if someone is described as ambling, they are unhurried, calm, at ease, likely not walking in a straight line, and probably easily distractable (eg, by seeing a pretty flower or a store they’d like to visit in the mall). When someone ambles, nothing is urgent and all is well. Alternatively, in specific instances, ambling can imply that something is wrong with a person - for example, they may be drunk or wounded. It’s a close synonym of meander and stroll, and related to shambling.

ambulate: yes, ambulate means walk. No, you shouldn’t use it in most cases, unless having your character sound like a thesaurus is intentional, or you are describing certain kinds of limited motion, especially those involving a movement aid/assistive device such as a cane or a foot scooter. For example, a character walking with crutches might ambulate across a room. A robot might self-describe their movement as ambulation. However, in most contexts it will sound stilted, old fashioned, or weird.

constitutional: a constitutional is a type of walk specifically undertaken to improve or maintain health - exercise, but specifically walking as exercise. The term is dated, but would be appropriate in many Western historical settings in the 18th and 19th centuries. “The professor left to take his daily constitutional” is an example of usage. 

go on/by foot or travel on/by foot: one of our relatively straightforward synonyms. It specifically implies a mode of travel. It would be odd to say someone “went by foot across the room,” but more appropriate if describing how a journey is undertaken. It can be a little stilted, though, or old-fashioned. In a lot of contexts it’s probably better to just say walk. “How did you go to the store?” “I traveled by foot.” That sounds weird. “How did you go to the store?” “I walked.” That doesn’t sound weird. “How are we getting to the show?” “Oh, we’ll go by foot.” That also doesn’t sound weird. Just pay attention to your context.

hike: hiking always means the same as walking, but it implies a slog or a trek - a certain ruggedness, if you will. The most obvious context is when one is walking in the forest or climbing a mountain, but “hike” is also appropriate when the destination is far away or off the beaten track - for example, “yeah, I went down to Sal’s yesterday, that was quite a hike!” A person might hike around a lake, hike up a mountain, or hike at a state park, but unless the purpose is intentionally ironic, no one would ever hike to the local corner store or across a room. It is a close synonym to striding.

hoof it or leg it: these are both colloquial ways of saying walk, and make the most sense used in dialog, rather than in description, though it would depend on the point of view character and the type of narrative (as in, first person versus third person). Both imply a certain haste, while still meaning walking. “She legged it to the barn to keep up with the horses” would potentially make sense as a description. Alternatively, “should we drive to the store?” “naw, let’s just hoof it” would be a common way to use this.

limp: limping specifically indicates that someone is having trouble with one of their legs and is therefore walking unevenly, perhaps in a stumbling fashion. They might be injured, or have long-term damage, or use a movement aid, etc. Limping will always imply unevenness of gait. Be very careful using limp as an adjective to describe a person (“the limp man”) as this is increasingly considered ableist, similar to the words “lame” or “gimpy.”

lumber: not to be confused with “lumber” as in wood, lumbering is a plodding, heavy way of walking. It also implies that the person doing it is large in size, and sometimes has a negative/stereotyping connotation that the person doing it is a little dull/unintelligent. Because of that negative (and unreasonable) implication that a large person is automatically stupid, use this one sparingly and only in contexts where it’s clear that the second isn’t the intention (unless your goal is to show that your narrating/PoV/speaking character is the kind of jerk who would describe someone that way, in which case...go for it.) Lumbering is similar to plodding, trudging, and shambling.

march: marching, in its more obvious usage, refers to the way that soldiers in rank walk - high, purposeful steps. However, it can also be used in more casual contexts to suggest a certain type of obstinate stomping. “Furious, he marched across the room and slapped his hand on the table,” is an example of the second usage. In the second usage, march is a close synonym of stomp.

meander: meandering is specifically aimless, casual wandering. It also suggests that a person isn’t going in a straight line. Think of meandering in the way it’s used to describe a stream - a meandering stream has a slow flow in a course with many twists and turns and no purpose behind its course. When used as a term for walking, that’s what meandering implies - a lack of intentionality and haste. It’s a close synonym of ambling and similar to strolling.

mosey: moseying is similar to sauntering, and suggest a certain casual way of walking and an easy attitude. This word is specifically associated with the Old West and cowboy stories, and it’s easiest to imagine it in those terms - when someone has spent a lot of time on a horse, there’s a certain loose-boned way of walking, shoulders back, torso relaxed, pelvis scooped forward, legs a little bowed. That’s a mosey. In most other contexts, mosey would be a very odd word choice. Even other settings with many horses (such as a fantasy or medieval or Mongolian environment) using moseying would be out of place. In most contexts, it would be more appropriate to use sauntering or strolling.

pace: pacing, when used as a movement word (as opposed to its meaning of “keeping pace”) refers specifically to walking back and forth through a regular course. Pacing is most often associated with someone being deep in thought, anxious, or anticipatory - when someone walks back and forth repeatedly across a space, that’s pacing. It can also be used to refer to, for example, a guard walking an established, consistent patrol. “Paces” is another word for “steps,” though it’s a little old fashioned - in this regard, it’s similar to strides.

pad: padding is specifically walking softly and carefully, and also usually implies that the person who is padding is either barefoot or in socks. It would be pretty odd for someone to pad while in shoes, since it’s very difficult for someone to move quietly in shoes. However, unlike stalking, padding has a benign implication. Someone might stalk to quietly sneak up on someone, whereas they’d be more likely to pad if they’re trying to be silent so as not to wake up a friend. 

plod: plodding is a heavy step, often associated with drudgery and exhaustion. For example, a manual laborer carrying a heavy load could be described as plodding, or someone whose steps have slowed as they come near the end of a long journey might be plodding. It’s a word with weight to it, and fatigue, and slowness bourne specifically of being so loaded down that one can hardly go farther. Plodding also has a hint of determination in it - “even though they were exhausted, they plodded on.” It’s similar to lumbering, trudging, and shambling.

saunter: while a lot of words for walking imply a certain awkwardness or fatigue, sauntering is the opposite - a saunter is a cocky, confident, pleased way of walking. It might be accompanied by a saucy wink. The implication to “sauntering” is that the person doing it is carefree, unworried, and unhurried. It’s similar to strolling, but with the addition of utmost self-assurance.

shamble: there’s a good reason shambling is the word we use most for zombies - it heavily implied disordered, clumsy movement. Consider the other meaning of shambles - that someone or something is a mess - and translate that over to a type of walking, and you’ll have the right idea. Shambling communicates hunched shoulders, uneven steps, and difficulty moving - that can be due to undeath, or old age, or injury, or fatigue, but whichever one the writer intends, shambling will include those connotations. It’s a close synonym with shuffle and similar to plodding and lumbering.

shuffle: similar to shambling, shuffling is a slow, stilted way of walking that suggests the person moving is having difficulty. Further, shuffling also specifically means that the person is not lifting their feet. They’re walking by kind of...sliding forward...and going very slowly, taking small steps. It’s most commonly associated with old age, and people who shuffle tend to have poor balance and to be easily challenge by obstructions, such as dips in the roads or stairs. Shuffling can also be caused by injury or extreme fatigue. It’s a close synonym of shambling.

stalk: stalking is a creeping, stealthy way of walking, most commonly associated with sneaking up on someone or something. It also often (but certainly not always!) has a negative connotation. In the same way that a criminal might stalk their victim (as in, following them, scaring them, calling them, doxxing them, etc.), a person who stalks as their way of walking is most likely trying to ambush someone or something. When it’s not directed at one person stalking another, it’s often linked with hunting - a hunter will stalk their prey. In its most benign, stalking could be someone trying to scare a friend; at its most violent, assassins stalk their victims.

step: this is one of the closer synonyms for walk, but it does have some subtle differences. Saying “she walked into the sunlight” would imply someone walked from a shadowed area into a brighter one and then continued; saying “she stepped into the sunlight” instead implies that someone emerged from a shadowed area into a brighter one and then stopped. That said, stepped is probably the most interchangeable with “walked,” though in some contexts it’ll sound awkward or overly formal. “She walked across the room” sounds more casual and modern than “she stepped across the room,” and while it’s hard to define the exact difference, the second suggests a certain intentionality and carefulness that just using “walked” doesn’t.

stomp: stomping is a lot like marching, but without the same military-precision connotation. A soldier marches; a toddler stomps. Stomping is also most likely loud and communicates anger, unhappiness, or frustration. Someone might stomp their feet to disperse some anger during a fight, for example. That said, as I indicated - the standard usage of “stomping” has a connotation of youth and unreasonableness, so if it’s used to describe a grown person, it can imply a certain juvenile inappropriateness to that person’s behavior. As such, use it carefully when describing an adult. If you don’t want to convey that the person is being petulant, it would be better to choose a different word. Stomping is similar to marching and tramping.

stump: though spelled very similarly to stomping, stumping is actually closer in meaning to limping than to stomping. Like stomping, stumping is a loud, heavy way of walking, but like limping, it implies some kind of balance issue that’s causing someone to walk unevenly. Stumping could, for example, apply to someone who has a club leg or peg leg or another historical form of prosthesis. Stumping also implies clumsiness, though, so be careful using it to apply to certain types of people because it could come off as ableist depending on the context.

stride: striding is a specific long-stepped way of walking, and includes the implication that the person who is striding is most likely tall. When used as a verb, striding will always suggest that a person is taking large, rapid steps within a deliberate way, most likely towards a destination (rather than aimlessly). When used as a noun, though, it can be a close synonym for step - “she took two steps” and “she took two strides” mean basically the same thing (though a stride is still longer - two steps would be shorter than two strides). As another way to consider a stride - in some fantasy and historical settings, “one stride” is used as a unit of measurement roughly equivalent to a yard in modern Imperial usage. It is a close synonym of hiking.

stroll: much like ambling, strolling is a casual, easy way of walking. Strolling is a little less aimless than ambling, though - “she strolled through the park” suggests that, even though she is not in a hurry, she’s also following a path and perhaps has a destination in mind. It’s still not very purposeful, but it’s a little more purposeful than meandering or ambling are. Because of how “stroll” has been used historical, it sometimes can conjure up an image of luxury and privilege - imagine an English gentleman, with his arm looped around his wife’s, and her other hand bearing a parasol. This doesn’t mean strolling shouldn’t be used in other contexts, but note that depending on those contexts, it can potentially be a little subversive - to suggest someone poor or who works very hard is strolling is to imply they have a leisure that they may not usually have access to. Strolling is a close synonym of ambling and similar to meandering.

strut: peacocks strut. Strutting is a cocky, over-confident way of walking and includes the connotation that the person (or animal) doing it is trying to show off. In that sense, it’s also often used insultingly - “just look at that jerk, strutting about like he owns the place!” However, it’s not always negative, and can be used to suggest someone is showing off in a more positive sense, like they’re proud of an accomplishment - “she put together an outfit she loved and strutted her stuff at the club.” When used as a direct replacement for walking, it would also connote a higher step, a stiff back - a certain formality (potentially to the point of ridiculousness) to the way that the person is moving.

toddle: intentionally similar to the noun “toddler,” toddling is most closely associated with the way young children or animals move when they don’t quite have control of their limbs yet. It’s clumsy, stumbling, and the person toddling likely falls a lot or needs to be supported. When not used in the specific sense of a youngster, it can apply to (for example) someone who has just stood after a long time bedridden, or who has woken up and hasn’t gotten their bearings yet. When used specifically as “toddle off,” it can be used in dialog (or, in rare instances, description, depending on the point of view character) to say someone is leaving. “Well, if we’re done here, I’ll just toddle off!” is a usage that doesn’t imply clumsiness, but rather suggests someone is leaving casually and in an unhurried manner.

traipse: traipsing is a light-hearted, fleet way of moving, closest to skipping, which isn’t on this list because skipping isn’t walking. Traipsing is bright and happy, casual and a little quick but not in a hasty/hurried sense. It’s often associated with youth. When I imagine someone traipsing, they’ve got a bright smile, a swinging skirt, and maybe a balloon - they’re joyful and spirited and their steps are carefree.

tramp: tramping is a close synonym for stomping, and suggests heavy steps. However, it doesn’t have stomping’s connotation of petulance; instead, tramping is more focused on the firmness and volume of the walking. However, because the noun “tramp” refers to a vagrant, homeless person, or someone very messy, it’s wise to use this word carefully where it’s clear that’s not the intention. While that kind of messiness is not part of the meaning of tramp as a verb, the words will still potentially evoke each other when used in narrative, so it’s best used sparingly.

troop: while it can be similar to marching - especially when used to apply to a group of people - trooping doesn’t have as much of the military implication (even though it’s the same word as “troop” = “soldier). Trooping is a steady walk, and implies covering some distance - it’s similar to plodding, though with less implication of fatigue.

trudge: trudging is very close in meaning to plodding, though it has a slightly greater implication of effort. For example, “he trudged through the deep mud” gives the sense that it’s very difficult, slow going, whereas “plodding through deep mud” would sound a little off because plodding lacks the aspect of the walking itself being a slog (Neither would actually be wrong, though, trudged would just be the better of the two to use in that context). It’s a close synonym for plodding, lumbering, but unlike those, it’s farther from shambling.

turn: “take a turn” is another historical term similar to constitutional. It’s dated for modern usage, but to “take a turn” is to go for a walk, though instead of having health-related implications, turns are more for pleasure.

Words I excluded from this post because they’re a little too far from “walk” but may still be a good word for you: advance, canter, escort, exercise, file, foot, go, hit the road, jaunt, knock about, lead, leg, locomote, parade, patrol, perambulate, promenade, prance, race, ramble, roam, rove, run, schlepp, scuff, slog, tour, traverse, tread, trek, wander, wend one’s way. All of these are great words but they’re not close synonyms for the literally act of walking.

(and a final apology...this is our first synonym stumper post and it got significantly longer than anticipated and I don’t have the brain to edit it right now...let me know if you see any mistakes, disagree with my personal sense of these words, want to add another word, or have any questions!)

[sonnetthebard]

This is kind of an extension from a headcanon I sent a while ago about Owen's superiors not being the best people and not really caring about their agents, just that they get results, but it should be fine on its own. I'm just thinking about it again and want to talk about it more

You mentioned before that they don't usually pay his medical bills, but they also don't usually let him leave the field when he's injured unless it's something life threatening. That's one of the few things Owen doesn't get much slack on from them. He's gotten results while injured before, so his superiors don't see why he can't do it again(he usually can, but that's not the point). He'll usually get a bit of time to recover, a few days to a week depending on the severity of his injuries and the importance of the mission he's on, but he's still in the field and working during that, and he's still expected to complete his mission with the same standards as if he wasn't injured. It's not too bad(in his opinion, but he's also kind of used to it) when Owen's not hurt too badly, but it can get a bit messy when he is -S

Guess what, S? I'm back at it again. You gave me so much info here that I just... had to. Genre: Romance/ Angst Words: 957 TL;DR: Curt discovers how terrible Owen's superiors are. TW: Mentions of injury, swearing, abuse

This one's a bit shorter, but that's ok.

______________________________________________________

Owen limped into his hotel room. He'd gotten shot in the thigh during their latest mission- stealing military secrets from the Russians. He had been sloppy, really. That's why he had gotten shot to begin with. He couldn't be angrier at himself. But he'd gotten to a hospital in good time, and luckily the price for having the bullet removed and the wound tended too wasn't too steep here. He couldn't afford to stay the night at the hotel, though, and a crutch was just a bit expensive. he was trying to budget himself so he could afford to eat. As soon as he got in, Curt frowned.

"Hey... hey, O, you okay?" Curt asked.

"I'm fine, Curt." Owen grumbled.

He was far from fine. His leg had just been stitched without anaesthetic. It was sore, but sterilized. He probably shouldn't be walking on it, but he'd spent his cab money on the stitches. His superiors made him pay medical bills, so... he had to skimp on some things. Which wasn't great, because he also knew he'd be expected to be back at work tomorrow, to the same standards he usually worked at. He just needed rest. He needed to stay off his feet for the night. Come tomorrow... he'd still have a limp, but he was sure it would be manageable.

"What's with the limp?" Curt prodded.

"I got shot." Owen sighed.

"Woah! Woah, why aren't you at the hospital?" Curt's eyes widened, walking over and taking his boyfriend's arm, leading him to the couch to sit. "You should be somewhere with doctors to take care of you!"

"Relax, doll. I already went to the hospital and got the wond tended to." Owen soothed him, chuckling.

"Then why aren't you still there?" Curt blinked.

"I couldn't afford to stay the night." Owen shrugged casually.

"What?" Curt froze, confused.

"I couldn't afford to stay the night." Owen repeated.

"No, I heard you." Curt clarified. "Just... what do you mean?"

"It's pretty self explanatory, Curtis." Owen rolled his eyes. "I didn't have the money to stay in one of their cots."

"Did they budget your mission or something?" Curt furrowed his brows.

"No... I did." Owen explained. "The only thing that my superiors pay for is my room. And even then I think they let your superiors pay for it most of the time."

"They don't pay your medical bills?" Curt's jaw fell slack.

"Certainly not." Owen scoffed. "Do... do yours?"

"Um... yeah? All of them." Curt blinked. "Alright. Okay. Well... I'll see if I can get Barb to tell me how to tend to it..."

"No thank you." Owen started to laugh. "Love, if it means that much to you, I will call her myself. I trust myself more than you- no offense meant, darling."

"None taken. There's a reason I'm not a doctor." Curt chuckled. "Okay. Well... while we let that heal, I'll handle recon tomorrow."

"No." Owen shook his head quickly. "No... if my superiors were to learn I shifted my responsibilities to you, the punishment would be severe."

"Punishment?" Curt scoffed. "O, babe... you got shot!"

"That doesn't matter. I'm a spy. A bullet shouldn't take me down." Owen scoffed.

"Okay... um, I hate to tell you this, but I get at least a week when I get shot." Curt bit his lip.

"What?" Owen blinked.

"Mostly so that I don't do more damage, or... you know, die." Curt nodded.

"Valid points... but how do you get the missions done?" Owen asked.

"We usually send in another agent." Curt told him.

"Right..." Owen sighed.

"How long have they been doing this?" Curt asked. "Sending you out into the field injured with no support..."

"Well... as long as I've been a spy..." Owen shrugged. "It's simply the way things are done where I'm from."

"Right. Well... my people don't. And I don't want to risk bringing an injured asset into the field. You understand, right?" Curt tried to speak Owen's language. Owen nodded reluctantly. "So you're going to rest tomorrow, and my people will make sure that your people don't find out. I swear, Cynthia is going to lose her shit when she finds out about this... don't be surprised if you show up to work and find a new boss there because honestly Cynthia might kill them."

"Let's hope not." Owen chuckled. He sighed. "You're sure Cynthia will make sure I'm safe?"

"Babe, she's basically adopted you." Curt teased him. "I'm not letting you go out there wounded."

"Fine." Owen relented. "Thank you, love."

"Now... let's get you to the bed, and I'll get you dinner." Curt soothed him. He scooped Owen into his arms gently- which shocked him. He didn't think Curt could carry him that effortlessly.

"Should I be scared?" Owen teased.

"Of what?" Curt blinked.

"What you're about to try and pass as food." Owen rolled his eyes playfully. "My humour is wasted on you."

Curt made an effort to take care of Owen the next day... and, with much persuasion, the rest of the week. The Americans sent another agent to cover for Owen without telling the Brits. Curt was right to say Cynthia would be pissed. She'd already started the research process on how to get Owen transferred to A.S.S.- even if there was likely no workaround for that. They would at least try. And... it made Owen feel incredibly valued. Something he didn't feel a lot of the time at his own workplace. It made him want to be an American- even if they had butchered the English language. Because they may not be as sharp as the Brits, but they made up for it in heart, and Owen was beginning to see just how valuable that was.

[ratsoh-writes]

Okay this is totally random and i literally just had this dream so I had to wake up and ask (if your comfortable with it, of course) how would you think the main ten would react at their S/O recently losing a limb? Mostly after the actual loss if your okay with that

Sans: he’s as helpful as he can possibly be. He takes all his built up sick hours for your recovery and will basically do all the house chores for you. Sans will even cook. That’s a big deal. You’ll never hear an arm or leg pun until much much later

Papyrus: he also takes time off work, leaving his beloved escape room to a manager. Papyrus will do his absolute best to keep your spirits up. If the crutches or wheelchair becomes to unbearable, he’ll happily carry you.

Star: when he isn’t doing what he can to make your recovery confertable, Star is doing his best to adjust the house to make up for your lack of limb. Lost an arm? Now all the cups have handles. Lost a leg? Star is gonna teach himself how to give the stairs a lift!

Honey: he’s not an expert, but honey has a little skill in healing magic, so he uses it to help the pain and bump up the recovery process. Honey will also do what he does best. You’ll be stuffed full of your favorite meals during your recovery

Red: cars aren’t the only thing red is good at. Of course he’s taking care of you, but you catch moments where he’s deeply concentrated over something that he won’t show you. A couple months later, red will present you with a prosthetic that he made himself, and it’s much more confertable and useful than anything the healthcare system could’ve made

Edge: he basically babyproofs the house the best he can. Edge isn’t tying to be demeaning but the last thing he wants to happen is you tripping or dropping something and accidentally hurting yourself. Plus edge’s healing magic is a great comfort for soothing your nerves whenever you feel phantom pains

Mal: his main goal is to help you get your independence back. Mals worst fear is becoming completely dependent on someone else and he doesn’t want you felling into that, even if he was the one taking care of you. Mal will be your biggest cheerleader during your recovery and will be a good blend of helping when you need it but also giving you the space to relearn yourself

Cash: he gets extremely protective. It’s rare that you get to be anywhere without him. Despite that, he’s still his joking goofy self. Cash hopes that by staying positive, you’ll eventually feel better too. And of course he’s going to do his best to take care of you.

Oak: he does the best he can to help take care of you, but you both wind up having to rely on willow for a lot of things. At the very least, you’ll never be bored during recovery. Oak is more than happy to keep you company the whole time

Willow: he’s going to be in an eternal state of exhaustion, because willow doesn’t just have you to care for. Oaks head injury isn’t going away anytime soon. He would never hold that against your though. Like papyrus and cash, he does his best to keep you positive and stay positive himself. He’ll even carry you if you want, even though he probably shouldn’t

[mamamittens]

Long Awaited LoZ Thoughts

I’d like to start this off by explaining my background. I have a BA in English with a minor in Humanities. I have lived all my life in the Bible Belt of America, so my PoV of this series is inevitably going to be, at least in part, from the perspective of a Western-centric, Christianity-influenced woman. I have grown up with a deep interest in folk tales and mythology though, and took several classes on ancient cultures, so my base knowledge of religion all over the world is broader than what you’d probably expect. I am not religious myself, I’m actually agnostic. And this is just an in-universe look at the very strange religion of Hyrule. So, to make things easier, let’s just put aside the obvious meta issues with this world. The wonky timeline, complex lore changes between said timelines, and the fact that the whole series has clearly grown wildly over the course of its development without an overarching plot. The game mechanics being game mechanics. All of it. This whole thing will just be me trying to make sense of the world without the ‘it’s just a game, bro’ crutch. I will be drawing on what I know from the many games I’ve played myself, so if I don’t mention a big piece of lore from a specific game, it’s because I didn’t play it. Go ahead and rule out the early games before Ocarina of Time, as that’s the first game in the series I can remember playing. I was legitimately too young to have ever played anything prior to that, having been born in 1996. Now let’s get started, shall we?

 So, obviously everyone knows that the LoZ world is said to begin with the three goddesses. Din, Nayru, and Farore came together to create the world and before they yote themselves out of the narrative as direct players, they created the Triforce. A powerful artifact capable of granting a wish and giving their respective bearers undefined power. This is directly from Ocarina of Time and we see their symbol, the Triforce, all over the many games with very few exceptions. Now, to be clear, having a polytheistic religion with three main gods is hardly new. Hinduism has three main gods after all (Brahma, Vishnu, and Shiva), and depending on your flavor of Christianity, you have the holy trinity (God, Jesus, and the Holy Spirit). There’s even the Celtic goddesses that come specifically in threes (collectively called The Morrigan; Eriu, Fodla, and Banba). This isn’t an exhaustive list of three divine beings, by the way, just know that three is a weird trend in western-centric stories, including religion. But what’s different about the three Hyrule Goddesses? Well, they’re weirdly small for big shot gods. Let me explain.

        So, the three Hindu gods I mentioned earlier each handle a specific aspect. Creation, destruction, and preservation, not necessarily in that order though (which god does what isn’t the point, so just roll with me here). These are very broad and powerful subjects. Christianity is much the same, even though it’s a monotheistic religion. God is literally an all-powerful, omniscient, omnipotent deity. Jesus is his son who gave his life to basically forgive all sin. And I’m not totally clear on the Holy Spirit, but these three are clearly Big Deals with Big Ideas behind them. A good rule of thumb for old religion is that the older the deity, the wider the scope of their job or what they represent. Which makes sense. If you had to personify the forces of the universe, you’d probably start with the sun instead of like… whatever god is responsible for the creation of rice specifically. The bigger and scarier the natural force, the bigger deal that god usually is, putting aside politics and cultural trends. Egypt is a good example of this, as their roster of gods tended to change a lot depending on who was Pharaoh at the time and wherever the city center was. Horus is the god of the sun, or at least one of them, and is generally considered king of the gods. Which makes perfect sense for a land largely made up of a desert.

But what are the three goddesses’ rulers of? Power, Wisdom, and Courage. Each with clear elemental associations and people that are obviously affiliated with them. Nayru, Goddess of Wisdom, is clearly associated with water and likely has a close connection with the Zora. Din, Goddess of Power, is associated with fire and has clear connection with the Gerudo (unclear if the same goddess as the one present in the desert temple in Ocarina of Time). Farore, Goddess of Courage, is associated with all things green and of the earth, including the child-like race of Kokiri who perpetually inhabit the forest. Sure, these are broad topics, but not really… the first thing you’d think of for creators of the universe, are they? And it raises the question about the Hyrule people, who are said to be able to hear the gods due to their pointed ears… let’s put a pin in that and move on.

So, we know there are many gods in this universe, primarily because we meet them. For example, Zephos, God of Winds, in Wind Waker. But he’s clearly a fairly forgotten god, as he shares a shrine with Cylcos, God of Cyclones, which is about as bare as it can be. Just what appears to be a Tori gate with two stone monuments with the simple notes to summon them, almost completely out of the way. Which… I mean, I don’t know many gods with their extension number written on their monuments. That would kind of like going to church on Sunday and seeing “Hit me up if you need me, J-Boy 555-TAKE THE WHEEL” written on the podium. And remember, this is a world and game where the gods actively flooded the world and would therefore hold or have held enough power to directly interfere with Hyrule.

And Skyward Sword clearly has divine beings, one of which even flooded a whole area, though they’re subservient to Hylia. Who we will get back to later, I promise. The three dragons (again, that magic number), capable of divine power, though where that power comes from in unclear. The dragons are of a high status though, as evident by their servants and clear reference to high-class dress of their clothes. These dragons are revered, but clearly not worshipped, much like nobles in that regard. A curious note is the parallels to the three goddesses, and how the symbols are muddled and mixed for these dragons.

Lanayru clearly has the symbols associated with the Zora, and by extension Nayru, but is yellow. He also is saved by time travel used to grow a magic fruit, which Link often uses (time travel) in many games to advance the plot himself (and wouldn’t you know it, but mixing blue with yellow does produce green. Weird). Faron is the water dragon who flooded an area, and she is almost entirely blue (as well as unsettling to look at), surrounded by a species clearly related to the Zora though closer to octopi. But her name is Faron, which is weirdly close to Farore’s name, not Nayru. I mean, they are close to locations that resemble their names of course, but it’s still an interesting note. Finally, there’s Eldin, clearly bearing a symbol associated with the Gerudo without any strange mixes of symbols for the series. Oddly, he’s also the most open of the three dragons, especially considering the Gerudo’s traditional stance of being a ‘no-sausage’ club. Not terribly relevant, but I just thought it was interesting to point out. You can consider the Giants in Majora’s Mask on the same level as them, though their status is unclear (Since they’re summoned by a song and can stop the moon from falling, they probably straddle the line between mortal and divine).

Now, spirits also exist in this world, both as the ghostly variety and the more pseudo-divine. Not to be confused with actual divinity. Divine being can be spirits, but not all spirits are divine. In this context, spirits can be defined more as being of power capable of granting aid in return for something. Zephos can change the winds if called upon, but you don’t need to feed him, for example. But the spirits in Twilight Princess need aid before they can help you. And they’re also not very independent and are able to be fooled easily, which isn’t usually a god-like quality. While more physically present than the three goddesses, they’re also not strictly tangible, and seem to be extremely limited to their location. At best, these spirits could be classified as minor deities below the gods we see in Wind Waker. They also share the same abilities in keeping the realm of Twilight from falling over the land of Hyrule, as well as their weakness to parasites of undetermined origin. An interesting note is that they all seem to live in bodies of water. Let’s put a pin in that one too.

Someone that also counts as a spirit would be Fi and her counterpart, Ghirahim. Literally two halves of the same coin, these two are both very limited in power and function. They don’t represent anything on their own and are very dependent on others to achieve results. How or why they were made is unclear, but it is obvious that both were forged at some point, and clearly gained sentience. Even their personalities and allegiances are a bit odd. Fi for her sci-fi appearance and calculating personality in a fantasy land, and Ghirahim for his… well, everything. I don’t know why the root of all evil would make his weapon a full-tilt diva, let alone on purpose. Ghirahim always struck me as odd since his bombastic personality seemed to clash with his ultimate fate of just being a weapon for Demise.

Okay, so the Great Fairies are weird, okay?! Like, really weird. They act as spirits (I can’t think of any that aren’t restricted to a body of water in some form), but are very independent. They also don’t necessarily need anything from Link to offer assistance. Sometimes, just opening the fairy fountain is enough to gain items needed to progress. And there’s also the fact that fairies heal you upon ‘death’, though with a limited heart capacity. Sometimes they need you to do something though, like the Breath of the Wild fairies need rupees to function or items to upgrade equipment. They also usually look human, like Majora’s Mask Great Fairies are clearly just… giant women with color coded accessories. But like, they float. Where Great Faires come from, or even just regular fairies, is unclear. Until Wind Waker, Great Faires were adults. But when you finally meet the real Great Fairy in Wind Waker it’s… a child. With a doll that looks just like the ‘Great Fairies’ you’ve seen along the way. This sort of implies that Great Fairies age and die, though clearly with a different lifetime than most races in Hyrule (the child Great Fairy also only looks somewhat human compared to other Great Fairies, so make of that what you will). And it also implies that all the adult Great Fairies are dead (you’re welcome for that depressing thought), with the last one trapped in a hollow tree only accessible by the power of a God.

In Breath of the Wild, the Great Fairies are both diminished but more powerful. They literally are stuck in a giant flower with water in it, with few fairies around them, and require riches to get stronger. The connection to their new restrictions to this need for material wealth is unclear. It’s also interesting to note that their fountains are no longer places that appear to be man-made holy temples and they seem to be out of the way… well, for a given value of ‘out of the way’ (looking at you ninja village). These fairies can accomplish more tasks, but certainly won’t be doing it for free or with minimal effort. A far cry from their first appearances (no, I don’t consider using explosives a difficult task).

But Fairies are also companions with nebulous tasks, such as in Ocarina of Time, where Tatl follows Link until the end of the game. And Kokiri have their own fairy as a sign of whatever accounts for adulthood in their race. The Skull Kid in Majora’s Mask has two fairy friends who seemed to have been either lost or abandoned. Who or what gives them purpose and life is unclear, though the Great Deku Tree from Ocarina of Time can give commands, it doesn’t seem to be something he does normally? As a side note, it’s really not clear what, if anything he can actually do. Though the relative safety of the surrounding area is clearly tied with his wellbeing in all iterations, he doesn’t seem to directly influence it, or be capable of self-defense.

Now, onto the elephant in the room! Hylia! Who the hell is this?! A more recent entry to the series, her divine roll is unclear (though she clearly guards the Triforce in some capacity). It can be assumed that she’s somehow a goddess tied directly to the Hylian people, but when she appeared is up for debate. Timeline wise, it’s almost like knowledge of her was suppressed for some reason, giving rise to the Triforce mythos we all know and love without hide or hair of her seen. We know that she favored the original Link greatly, enough to shed her divinity to be reborn as a mortal and assist him. How or why is also unclear, though it wouldn’t be unfair to assume she loved him, as divine ladies holding an affair with a mortal isn’t uncommon in mythology (or even male gods doing the same, before anyone brings up Zeus). But she makes a resurgence in Breath of the Wild, with statues and everything, with the three goddesses left to only vague references in the background. Which is super weird, though not uncommon for places like Ancient Egypt. The fact that the ruling family was literally descendant from a goddess is what makes it weird though, since any monarchy worth their salt would milk that until the peasant folk revolted and made a new religion to justify killing a god.

Zelda in every incarnation is literally descendant from the original and still held at least a fraction of that divine power. So much so that a cornerstone of a powerful religious artifact inevitably ends up in her hands (or on the back of her right hand, as it were). But what is Hylia a Goddess of? We don’t know. It’s never said. Anywhere. And that’s super weird, even for a ubiquitous deity. Sure she’s a Goddess of Hyrule but… what does that mean? That can’t be all she is? Her reincarnation is literally locked in a generational struggle against the forces of darkness! What can she do as a Goddess? Well, she makes Link stronger in return for items, but that seems to be it. In Ocarina of Time, Zelda was capable of sending Link back to the past, but that was with a magic item. And we know Hylia isn’t the Goddess of Time, because Zelda references her in Majora’s Mask (sequel to Ocarina of Time, therefore implying that there are more gods unmentioned at that time), when Hylia should be mortal or at least fragmented (because Zelda exists at the time with powers and a Triforce piece). The Guardian of Time in Hyrule Warriors also fell in love with Link before splitting into Cia and Lana (and was unable to fuse back together again), so it’s unlikely that she’s the Goddess of Time Zelda was referring to, though that detail is interesting to note. No, I will not discuss if Hyrule Warriors is canon (either game), as this is already long enough as it is.

So, that brings us to Ganon, or in his original form, Demise. Which… what’s up with that? Who is this guy? He directly opposes the gods and just… gets away with it! Repeatedly! Sure, he loses most of the time, but still. It’s unclear where Demise came from, or even what he is, though judging by Ghirahim’s ‘Demon Lord’ title, it can be assumed that he is some type of demon himself. And that the many monsters we see are also considered demons, which makes sense with how they always work for Demise (or his many iterations) in some form or another. Considering how much it takes to simply seal him away, he can’t be just a demon though.

        Demise obviously pulled the same trick Hylia did, which directly sets him up as a counterpart to her, but what does it mean? Why would he do that? What is Demise that he can’t be beat with the power of a Goddess alone and needs not only a brave knight but a blade literally made to counter him? Within the context of religion, the best guess I can make is that he’s some form of a God of Darkness, possibly also Temptation, Greed, and Pigs Corruption. It fits within the narrative since power is often the strongest form of temptation and we know that demons capable of opposing the gods exist. The Horned Statue literally takes Hylia’s blessings in exchange for wealth, and was turned into a statue for it. What it stands to gain from any of it is unclear, but interestingly enough, Hylia doesn’t mind that it closely resembles her own statues. So, this raises the question… why isn’t Demise a forgotten statue somewhere along a dusty road? How did he curse(?) both a reborn goddess and a human in an eternal struggle for the fate of Hyrule?

        Being a god is about the only explanation for why he can do the things that he does. It explains why, in every incarnation, he ends up a rule (like Zelda). How he controls so many different species with ease. He corrupts the conflicted as easily as breathing. An interesting note is how Demise in his many forms usually ends up corrupting once good forces in some way, typically with parasites or evil spirits. And with this context, Hylia must be a Goddess of Light, and possibly some form of Will and Purity to oppose Demise’s power. It would also make her a good candidate for looking after the Triforce in that case. And yet we don’t know any of this for sure either, which is, again, very strange considering their presence from the very beginning. Literally.

Now, I want to mention the temples as a last point before wrapping this up, because it has bothered me since I was a wee little whipper snapper. For a place of worship, they sure are hard to navigate, even when they’re empty of monsters. And it’s not like Hyrule doesn’t get this, because the Temple of Time in Ocarina of Time is straight up a church. Just… without pews, so clearly not perfect, but it is possible for people to come in and… worship time, I guess. And no, not the Goddess of Time, because there’s no statue for that. I mean, I know it’s secretly hiding the Master Sword, but it is definitely a church otherwise. What a normal service looks like I can’t say for sure, but it’s definitely not like literally any other temples we see.

        Now, I know it’s a little hard to remember, but temples are usually places where one goes to worship the gods (or even just a god). And we know gods exist in a very real way in Hyrule! They still manage to name Zelda the same thing despite having seemingly buried their divine origins, so some knowledge of gods walking the mortal realm exists. But the temples/dungeons we see usually don’t have much in the way of religious iconography, with a few exceptions (interestingly it’s typically the desert area that actually has statues and could feasibly have had a real capacity for worship). You want to be a devout follower of a god anywhere else? Well, fuck you. Hope you brought a sword and a good pair of boots. If you’re allowed inside at all, since it’s usually the local leaders that are only allowed inside for some reason. And most games don’t seem to have very religious people, despite all the references to divinity. Not like we’d expect them to, at least. And I personally can’t blame them. If I tried to join a religion but found only a wall as an entrance, I’d be pretty disheartened too. Then I’d be pretty pissed to find out I needed not only a royal instrument handed down the monarchy, but their freaking lullaby to even get in to the place of worship. But we know they pray to the gods at least semi-often, since that’s one of the inciting incidences in Wind Waker. And they have offering to statues of Hylia.

        The temples suggest the bar to impress the gods is pretty high, and not in a ‘sacrifice your eldest child’ kind of way. To even get the chance to reach the inner chambers you better hope it’s been kept well and that you didn’t skip leg day recently. Something I didn’t really mention before is that usually, the less involved the gods are, the more independent the people are from worship. If you worry that your local deity will flood your fields, you’re probably leaving regular offerings at their nearby shrine or temple. But if you know that the gods don’t care about literally anything you do, why worship them at all? Why make statues, art, or temples? Why bother with any of it? The answer is you don’t. So these highly selective temples are pretty weird unless you go with the idea the gods are just really done with people and never want to talk to them unless absolutely necessary.

So, I’ve rambled for over twelve pages now. What’s the point? What does any of this mean? I’m honestly not sure, but I have a sinking feeling that there’s some serious shit going on in the Hyrule pantheon. Mortals have been mostly abandoned to their doom. Gods cast out and forgotten entirely. And somehow advanced civilizations keep forming and getting destroyed with only remnants left behind with zero explanation. Assuming the original gods are even alive at this point, which I’m not entirely certain of. Their death certainly explains how Demise/Ganon keeps getting stronger, looking less and less Hylian as time goes on, if he looks humanoid to begin with.

I wouldn’t even assume it’s entirely voluntary at this point either, as Ganon clearly doesn’t have the same motivations in every incarnation (see my previous post about Wind Waker). I’m rather excited about Breath of the Wild 2, as the implications of dehydrated husk Ganon is compelling. Particularly in light of the character development Link and Zelda have received in the first Breath of the Wild. I wouldn’t be surprised if Ganon/Demise turns out to be a fallen god trying to get back home (a nice parallel to Wind Waker, actually), cast out as a scape goat. Blamed for every form of corruption and greed that naturally follows in his wake. I think I said this before, but it is interesting that he is always reborn among the Gerudo, a race famously all females. Sometimes thieves, but nearly always in a position that would naturally crave power to take control of their lives compared to Hylians. Regardless of the consequences.

Is it true? I don’t know. Probably not, but the fact that I can draw these conclusions in three hours of writing is pretty neat. I have a lot of feelings about this franchise, having grown up with it, but I eagerly await what comes next. And I should probably go to bed. Make of all this what you will.

[letsloveimagines]

Title: One kiss or your soul

Pairing: Modern AU! Ivar the Boneless x female!demon!reader

Prompt: Where Ivar decides to my a deal with a demon.

Word Count: 4520

Warnings: a little swearing, satanic rituals, mention of monsters and death

Note: The images doesn’t belong to me, all the credits go to the respective creators. I only made the collage. Also,the rituals were based on Supernatural.

                                                          ♦⋅☆⋅♦ 

He tried to take a short walk that day, for the first time in months... His skin was now bone white, and Ivar knew he needed at least about ten minutes of vitamin D.

What he did not expect was the huge crowd that was on the street that blessed day; families gathered to talk animatedly, children playing with each other to discuss the disguises they would wear and all the sweets they would eat. The city appeared to be decorated with bats, cobwebs, scarecrows and zombies, lanterns and pumpkins. It was then, while he was surrounded by people everywhere and feeling his heart thundering, that he remembered it was October, Halloween more precisely, and the whole community was getting ready for the fun of that night.

The pain in his legs was already characteristic, his gait was sloppy and lame, and crutches were his longtime companions. But that never failed to attract attention as always, and that happened at that moment. The children who played looked at him laughing and pointing, talking to each other, the adults whispered and looked at him with pity.

Ivar hated pity.

And he hated even more how the attention of those shitty people made him feel, even though he was already used to it.

With a strong desire to vomit, feeling the sweat running down every corner of his body and trying to breathe, Ivar looked for any corner where he could take shelter. The small library across the street that seemed to be the only establishment without the festive theme appeared to be the best option. He was quick to cross the street - as fast as it was possible for him - to enter the establishment, greet the lady with the half-moon glasses behind the counter (who chewed blue bubblegum while filing her nails), and hid in the most distant place possible, among several decrepit shelves almost falling with the weight of dozens of books.

Ivar had sat on the floor, his back against the books and shelves, his head hidden in his arms and knees drawn up just trying to remember how to breathe. He was at the beginning of a panic attack, and being aware of it only made him even more distressed. He hated that it happened because of his useless legs and because of people he didn't care about. Why couldn't he have been born healthy like his brothers? The air did not seem to reach his lungs fast enough, leaving him almost choked and trembling all around, and with the world spinning around him over and over again.

It took a while, but it ended up after a few minutes of breathing exercises. The frustration remained, however, leaving him so enraged with himself and the world, that he punched the bookshelf behind him in an abrupt gesture. This hasty action caused so much noise that he was sure that the children across the street had been able to hear. In silence, swallowing hard and fearing he would be expelled to face the crowd outside, Ivar peered slightly at the librarian trying to see if she had heard it too. This one, however, had her back to him with the phone between her ear and shoulder, talking animatedly while continuing to take care of her nails, without paying attention to what was happening around her.

"No..." she exclaimed, certainly wanting to sound shocked, but looking completely delighted by what she had just heard. "Don't tell me that she really said that to you?"

More relieved, the boy leaned back against the bookshelf perhaps with more force than was necessary, as he immediately felt the wood behind him creak and the piece of furniture rocked from side to side. The dark-haired boy was quick to grab it, managing to keep it from tipping over, but not without a few books falling to the floor raising so much dust that it left his black pants almost gray. One of those books, due to fate, had not joined the others on the wooden floor eaten by the termites immediately, but had fallen on top of him, the hardcover hitting his head hard. Thankfully, the boy had been born with a head full of rich black hair capable of supporting the impact, or he could now have a bruise to take care of later.

Curiously, still rubbing his head with the free hand of his clutch, he looked at the cursed object. It was a book with a brown cover and black insignia and broken in the corners. In large and dark letters, in a font that looked like a victorian one he could read 'Monsters in the Darkness'. Interesting title, Ivar thought, quickly putting the other books on the shelf and flipping through the one that had caught his eye.

Looking at the watch on his phone that said it was still 2PM, and listening to the conversations outside, he thought why not.

He found himself a chair, shook off the dust with the back of his hand and began to read. The pages were turned quickly while Ivar, frowning, realized what the book was really about.

"What the fuck?" He asked in a low voice, amazed.

His hands held the book tightly, his eyes skimming over the yellowed and gnawed pages. Or maybe it was the mice, this place seems to be full of them, Ivar thought. It was true. That library was old, smelled of mold and looked like it hadn't been cleaned in years. But that was a good thing, at least for him, because it meant it was almost always empty. Whoever wrote this must be on drugs.

But he still didn't stop.

The more he read the more confused he became. The names and notes changed as well as the images, but they were all on the same theme: dark creatures and reports of sightings. Vampires, werewolves, spirits... creatures with claws and fangs, ferocious and with the ability to kill as easily as breathing.

The younger Lothbrok was confused but immensely interested. He didn't believe any of that, but it helped to pass the time. The boy always liked scary things, but he liked the real ones better, and those creatures that the book addressed had no way of being real. However, he was unable to drop the book.

His fingerprints passed smoothly through the written words and the drawn figures, feeling the depth of the ink on the paper. The words registered in his mind quickly as he read page by page, practically devouring the book in what seemed to him mere minutes, but in fact it was already three hours straight sitting in a corner of the moldy library, with a weak lamp beside him illuminating his reading.

He read so much until his blue eyes got tired and he was forced to rest for a few minutes, and until he was at the end of the book. The last theme was demons, but as soon as he turned the page to continue reading, he found… nothing, just the back cover of the book indicating that it was over.

Strange, he thought absently. And that page was even stranger, a few millimeters thicker than the others... almost as if it were glued.

He should? Looking again at the librarian who, admirably, was still distracted on the phone after three hours, Ivar grabbed the knife he always carried with him, opened it and carefully took it to the paper, making a small cut. As he suspected, the previous page was actually many more, and Ivar was eager to find out what it was about and why those pages seemed to be a secret.

> Of all the inhuman creatures that walk the earth, demons are the most evil. They desire nothing more than death and destruction, and not out of desperation or need as is the case with vampires who need blood to survive ... Demons kill and torture simply because they want and can, because they love the pleasure that the chaos of humanity brings them. There are those who say that they were also mortal once, but that their souls were corrupted so perversely in the depths of hell that they ended up becoming what tortured them. Blood, pain and death are all that are left behind when they pass.

> They are faster, more beautiful and stronger than should be possible. They are attractive and charming, in a way that hypnotizes a human. But they are evil, above all. Demons are separated into different sections depending on their personal power, or at least that is what we think. They are able to make a deal with a mortal, give us what we want for a while, but take away something they want afterwards. They are deadly dangerous… She, above all.

Ivar didn't even realize he was reading aloud until his voice started to crack, and he had to clear his throat so much that it looked like his throat was scratched. He wanted water, but he didn't have it, and he was not going to stop reading his interesting book now to fetch it. Frowning, he looked back at the page.

> It is not really known who she is or when she was created. Some say that she is Lilith, the first demon known by men and the mother of monsters... Others say that she is even older and her real name is lost, or forgotten by those who fear her. Now, she is known as Y/N, and as her there is no equal. Dark and deadly, she is Lucifer's right hand. But she is the most qualified to make a deal with, if they are brave enough to do so, and if they have something she wants.

Deal? What kind of deal? Ivar asked himself, and at that moment his cell phone vibrated in his pants pocket. When he pulled it out and unlocked it, a message from Alfred appeared on the display.

Alfred: Hey man, are you sure you don't want to join a horror movie marathon? It was going to be fun.

Oh, Ivar had completely forgotten about that. Alfred had already invited him a few days ago, but the long-haired boy hadn't given him the right answer since he was working on one of the chapters in his new book. He made a point of ignoring his family's thousands of missed messages and calls, however.

Ivar: Nah bro, I still haven't finished the chapter and I have until Thursday to deliver. I will probably be busy working on it for the next few hours. Sorry…

That was what I had to do as soon as I got home. It didn't take long to receive an answer.

Alfred: There is no problem, but you will have to compensate me. The marathon is next Saturday, okay?

Ivar: Yeah, sounds good to me!

He received a "Cool" as an answer and returned the phone to his pocket.

> Generally summoning a demon requires several ingredients: a devil's trap, fire (white, black or red candles), bowl with red-hot charcoal, salt, summoner's blood and the summoning words.

Ivar then proceeded to read what the ritual was like, along with the necessary Latin words.

> However, it is not advisable to do this. Once a demon is summoned and on the human floor, they are freed from the restrictions of hell. There is nothing to stop them from doing what they want. And if you try to summon her... Well, may God have mercy on your soul.

And so the book ended, with a phrase that at that moment seemed so scary.

His throat was dry, his hands were shaking again and for some strange reason he felt the sweat on his forehead and neck, the fat drops escaping the hairline running down his neck and back.

Should I? He thought, confused, it's freaking stupid, I know.

Ivar was a man of science, he believed in the real facts. Yes, he liked scary stories and mythologies - after all, one of his books dealt with Norse mythology - but he didn't really believe in it. And everything in that accursed book that had fallen on his head addressed unreal things, fictional things... Monsters created by the human imagination, by humans who wanted to blame their own evil on creatures that could not exist.

He was already closing the book and getting up to replace it, when he stopped and looked at his left hand, opened his palm and saw the half-moon wounds he had done with his nails in one of his attacks of anger.

He sat down again, staring at the yellowed pages. The dark, sharp letters and monstrous figures, with horns and cat-like eyes were everything he could see... that and his hands, always injured.

The earlier panic attack came back to him, his mind working at full speed. Frustrated, he ran his hands through his dark hair making a mess of locks fall onto his forehead and into his eyes, and he felt like pulling out each one.

The librarian was still talking on the phone, the children outside were playing, but all Ivar could think about was how hard it had been to breathe, and how much the walls felt like they were going to close and crush him in that moment when he was curled up on the floor hours ago, with useless legs at his side and that characteristic pain.

Why couldn't he just be normal?

"Fuck it." He grunted then, tearing up the page that contained the details of the ritual while making sure he was not seen, folding the paper and putting it in his pocket. He closed the book, got up, grabbed his crutch and went to put the book in a random place on the shelf where it belonged.

Without further ado, he passed the librarian who looked at him strangely again, still in that conversation (what kind of work allowed her to be on the phone for hours with no end?), And left the place that had been his hiding place in the last hours.

It was night when he returned home. The full moon shone overhead, and the children and their companions were already spotted in all kinds of disguises ringing the bells and knocking on the doors.

Upon entering his practically empty apartment, with only the minimalist decor here and there, he placed the bag from the convenience store on the couch, and pushed it away. The feet of the couch squeaked as they were dragged across the wooden floor and left a prominent mark.

He turned on the TV on a random channel and turned the sound down, just to feel a presence and have a light to illuminate, and closed the curtains on the window that was always closed too. He would never again make the mistake of leaving it open, the last time that Mrs.Rose's cat on the third floor entered the house in search of food, and left a mess of scratched furniture and broken cushions.

Taking a deep breath he took the materials he bought, and prepared himself.

Even though Ivar didn't believe it was going to work, he was still willing to try it, at this point he was desperate… The prices of medicines were high, the hospital bills were even higher, and even with his writing career going well, he continued to lose hundreds of dollars a month. Ivar was too proud to join his father's company, contrary to what his brothers had done. He wanted a job that was his own, and guaranteed on his own merit and not because it was in the family.

And he wanted to go outside and not worry about people seeing him because of his disability and dragging legs... he wanted to be able to live, not just survive.

For once in his life Ivar wanted normalcy.

He opened the box of chalk, took the page he still had in his pocket, and with the red chalk he drew the pentagram shown on the paper on the floor. The lines were more crooked than they were supposed to, but it should be enough to work.

He took the black candles, placed one on each of the five ends of the star, and lit them with a lighter. Then he put the charcoal in a bowl, lit it and watched it burn for a while.

He took the knife in his pocket, took the sharp blade to the index finger of his left hand and pressed hard, breaking the skin. Ivar saw the red drops begin to fall into the bowl, the blood sizzling as it came in contact with the burning coal.

And then he did nothing more than take a deep breath for a few good minutes.

Before being too afraid to continue - he wasted too much time and energy to stop now - he spoke, pronouncing each word slowly and correctly, in a calm tone.

"Daemon, esto subjecto voluntati maea. Te invoco apro funus inferni, Y/N." 

For a moment nothing happened it was just him there, in the middle of the living room, with a number of absurd things around him that if anyone saw him, he would be immediately sent to a hospital.

But suddenly he shivered. The floor shook, the walls shook, everything shook. TV and appliances, furniture, lamps, everything. The plates and glass bottles on the kitchen table rattled, toppled and broke into a thousand pieces as it fell to the floor. The windows seemed to want to open with the force of the wind outside that wanted to enter, whistling furiously. Ivar had to hold on to something when the earthquake suddenly got stronger.

And then…

The flames went out, leaving the wax to melt and hit the floor, he wasn't sure how he was going to explain it to the owner, the shaking stopped and the wind calmed down.

Ivar was left in darkness and silence, with blood dripping from his index finger to his pants, and breathing so fast that he had to open his mouth and inhale as deeply as his lungs could take to try to breathe.

Blood was pumping through his veins and hitting his ears, preventing him from hearing.

"You are such an idiot." The man said frustrated with himself. It was just an earthquake, which came just in time to almost make me believe. Later, when I turn on the TV, I’m going to see that all over the news.

He shook his head, and looked once again at the destruction in the kitchen and confusion in the living room. He was getting ready to go clean up the mess when the candles lit again - alone this time - they went up so high that they looked like they were going to reach the ceiling, beautiful dancers in red, orange, and yellow dresses. The firelight created strange shadows in every corner, tall and small, thin and wide.

And there, in the middle of the chalk-drawn pentagram, was a woman.

Ivar gasped in shock, stepping back several steps, almost falling into the sack of coal left there. The woman looked at him and he looked at the mysterious woman.

"Mortals." She almost spat, full of disdain. "Always so bold and wishing for more than they are due."

He didn't know what to say or how to react. He had hoped it would work but at the same time he didn't really expect it to actually work!

"So what do you want, human?" She said disinterestedly, looking at the chalk-drawn pentagram that held her in disgust.

"I want to make a deal."

"Oh really?" The way she spoke suggested that she thought the boy was stupid. "What is your name, mortal?"

"Ivar Lothbrok." He replied proudly, because as much as he hated his life, he could not hate his name.

"Cute." Y/N commented with an eyebrow raised in clear disdain. "Now tell me what you really want."

Ivar tried to swallow his anger, tried not to let it show on his face and mannerisms, but he couldn't. His eyes and jaw narrowed, his nostrils flared in fury, and his hands gripped the clutch so tightly that for a moment he was afraid to break it. "Look at me and tell me what you think I want!"

And she looked. She looked from head to toe, passing through his long dark hair, blue eyes and facial features, over his body and legs... those damn legs.

"I don't see anything too much."

If it were possible, Ivar would now be smoking his ears. The veins in his neck swelled and bulged, and his cheeks flushed with anger.

“All my life I have always been different from everyone else. If we still lived in ancient times, my parents would leave me in the forest for the wolves when I was born. My whole life has been a struggle, I am the youngest son and the one who had the misfortune of being like this. I'm not normal, I'm not like my brothers, and as much as everyone tells me that it doesn't matter… I can't help being angry all the time.” Ivar confessed, forcing his grip on his clutch. “I was born with broken legs, I spent my entire life in hospitals and being inspected by the doctors. And now they said they think that I will get worse and stop walking completely. Being healthy is what I want.”

There was silence for a long time, while the human and demon looked at each other.

"Yes, that is possible."

"Then give it to me!"

The demon's laugh was loud, hoarse and cold, and her face was full of disdain. But then it changed in front of him, becoming something out of a horror movie. The beautiful woman was gone and now there was something much worse. It was an almost grotesque sight in his human eyes. A dark and without beauty female figure. A pale face and half cadaverous; black lips and sharp teeth like a dagger blade. Completely red eyes shining with hunger and malice. Two long horns protruded from between the hair with something sticky like blood.

Ivar's extremely blue eyes widened, he backed away almost falling again in that damn night.

“Honey, this is not how it works. Do you really know who you are talking to? Do you think you can boss me around? Do you expect me to do something to you without giving me something in return?” She said in an ugly, guttural and chilling voice, smiling devilishly revealing a long, almost snake-like tongue.

"As long as you're in that trap, you'll have to do what I want." He tried as hard as possible not to let his voice falter, but he still couldn't.

"Oh really?"

And as if just to prove her point, she took a step forward, approaching and crossing the crooked lines that formed the pentagram leaving the trap completely.

“Deary, you should have done your research better. With a normal demon, perhaps this lowly trap could have worked, but with me? I am something much worse than a simple demon, and by invoking me you have left me completely free to do what I want. ”

"I'm not afraid of you."

"You should be."

Ivar's heart was pounding in his chest, almost as if it was about to explode at any moment, and his fragile legs were shaking so much that he didn't even know how he was still standing.

"I want to be able to walk freely, run, jump... Do everything I can't right now. Please..." She seemed to want him to beg, but Ivar didn't. He could put aside some of his pride, but not that much.

They stayed close to each other, he deathly pale looking in amazement at the bottomless red pits that were her eyes, her sharp teeth, her black lips full of darkness... Until she opened a toothy and devilish smile, and little by little her demonic features retreated, disappearing into her skin again and making her look like a human woman again… and a beautiful one.

She walked away still smiling amused, letting out a little laugh. "Usually I give you what you want and you have ten years to enjoy it."

Ivar's heart gave a huge leap in his chest. "What happens at the end of the ten years?"

"I keep your soul…” Y/N shrugged, assessing her sharp nails before looking at him and raising her left eyebrow, still with the crooked smile on her lips. “Which means that at the end of these years, you die. "

Ten years, thought Ivar. I always knew that I wouldn't live long, anyway. But...

"Usually?" He gave voice to his thoughts.

“I liked you, you seem to have courage... You were brave in trying to challenge me, stupid, but brave. I'll give you what you want, in exchange for... ”The woman seemed to think for a while. “… a kiss.”

"A kiss?" The young man thought surprised and in other words, extremely incredulous. With everything she could ask of him, she just wanted a kiss? The book should have been mistaken, it was impossible for this demon to be so dangerous if Ivar is the one that actually wins with the agreement between them.

"A simple and small kiss." She repeated, seeing his puzzled expression. "It's one kiss or your soul, you choose."

"We have an agreement, then." Ivar said.

"Great." Y/N smiled, making her eyes blood-red again.

She came over, put her hand on his neck and pulled him forward until their lips were timidly shocking at first, but quickly turning into a fleeting and toothy kiss, with their lips moving in sync and their tongues caressing one another. She tasted like danger... And it was a good taste.

When they pulled away, Y/N still had the smirk on her mouth when she snapped her fingers, causing him to make a huge cry.

He felt excruciating pain like never before, his legs seemed to be on fire, they burned so much, the pain was horrible. It felt like all of his fragile bones were breaking and growing, only to break again. Ivar fell to the ground screaming so loudly that his neighbors probably thought he was being murdered and would be ready to call the police at any moment.

It hurt, but it passed. Sweat ran down his face, his hands were shaking, his body was shaking. But when he got up again without the help of a crutch, he had never felt better, his legs were… healthy, normal, complete… healed.

"I- I can't believe this..."

"You have what you want, and I got what I want. "

Something about her facial expression seemed wrong, Y/N seemed too delighted just for the simple reward she had won.

"The kiss wasn't the only thing you wanted, was it?"

"No, it was not."

"We had an agreement! What do you-"

"Has anyone ever told you not to mess with things you don't understand?" She stroked his face, with a smirk on her lips. "Honey, you belong to me now."

[herb-whump]

'Don't ever get far away, Precious'

Finally made a playlist to write whump to and its working wonders hell yea

taglist: @albino-whumpee  @torture-as-lovely-as-you

CW/ pet whump, medical procedures, death mention, implied grooming, implied whumping of minors, implied torture and abuse, collaring, branding mention, human trafficking, dehumanization

Days were passing, while Lucius was accustoming to his new master and his daily routine, his outbursts, and slowly getting introduced to his other subjects. "You're special though" Sir Azel was repeating to him almost every day. Dressing him up personally, with beautiful clothes and accessories, almost like Lucius was a doll to him. He was more than happy to get all this attention though.

Ezekiel noticed, since Lucius came, Doctor was more occupied with him, than his experiments, more distracted. It resulted in more and more failures, and failures meant more pain for him, not Lucius. At least maybe not right now.

The intern was walking with crutches nowadays, always with his head down, yet still working hard to satisfy Sir Azel. If he was satisfied with his work, he would beat him lighter. Maybe not use a whip, sometimes only using his fists, maybe just starving him for a few days.

Ez sat down, setting his crutches aside, on the chair in the plain gray office. He grabbed a few papers from the drawer below the desk he sat at and looked at them. Five deaths in the last two weeks was a new record for Azel. He got more reckless. Two of them of infectious diseases.

- Why did he do that again...? -  Ezekiel sighed, grabbing his head with his hand, tired. His eyes were slowly closing, until a knock on the door, woke him up. It was Nancy, she was holding a bunch of new papers and photos in her hands.

- Azzie did some shopping. Mostly discounted and already in bad shape, but you have to make their catalogs, Ezekiel. Here. - She gently put them on the desk - They all are branded with numbers, so it's gonna be pretty easy to catalog them. Known medical history is also there, but honestly, considering how cheap these were, I wouldn't trust that. - Nancy chuckled, looking at the intern. He sighed and took the papers.

Nancy soon left, leaving the brunette to deal with the papers. He decided to do the new arrivals first. He slowly took out some new file organizers and started from the youngest.

Number 341, nineteen years old, blonde male, limbless, but healthy organs. That's probably why Azel bought him. "Won't last long" Ezekiel thought.

Number 363, twenty-one years old, ginger female, deaf and completely traumatized, most of the time unable to communicate.

Number 682, twenty-one years old, another blonde male, malnourished and paralyzed waist down, almost completely dependent on the owner with basic needs.

Number 734, twenty-three years old, brown-haired male, left eye missing, right arm missing below the elbow. Except this one was weird in the picture. Usually, the people in the photos were cowering, scared, but he wore a sad smile on his. Not a force one, Ezekiel knew how a forced one looked, more than he would like to admit.

The boy grabbed his history, interested. You wouldn't usually find pets in captivity that look... somewhat hopeful, after a few years. But the more Ezekiel read, the more he was intrigued. He's been in captivity for 7 years now, but the trainers couldn't break him. He has been through several owners, hence missing arm and eye. Due to the owners' frustrations with him, since he was defiant, and wouldn't obey at all. "It's advised to be culled", written at the end of the paper.

The doctor didn't like defiant subjects. So why did he buy this one? Ezekiel scratched his head nervously. "I'm gonna be cleaning it up, aren't I..." he thought, putting away the new catalogs.

He took out the catalogs of subjects that have passed this last two weeks, marking off things regarding their deaths, and putting them away on another shelf. Ezekiel sighed, looking at the clock.

- Shit. - He was late. The doctor told him this morning, that he will help with medical evaluations at four today, but the papers took him too long, and it was past four already.

He slowly grabbed the crutches, he had to get to the other end of the floor. The more he was late, the more fucked he was.  At least he probably won't break his arms, and his leg is already broken.  Ezekiel bit his lips, trying to get to the common room as fast as he could, dragging his leg behind. He finally opened the door to the common room, cold sweat run down his back, awaiting a harsh response.

Except Sir Azel wasn't next to the door, waiting to yell at Ezekiel. He was on the couch, petting Lucius, who was sitting next to his legs, while laughing together, while new purchases were sitting on the cold floor almost naked, about a meter away, still held by leashes connected to their collars, by the Doctor.

[author-a-holmes]

Yooo, for the writer asks: 1, 21, and 23? :O

Evening darling, thank you for the asks! ^_^

Answering asks 1, 21, and 23 from this ask list.

1. Is there a story you’re holding off on writing for some reason?

Yes, actually! Right now I'm holding off on completing my Stolen Stories.

In the previous ask I mentioned that I completed the first draft of Book One in my Stolen Stories series between May and October of 2020.

My plan was to continue with that series and write Book Two while doing the first round of edits on Book One, so that I'd be writing Book Three while sending Book One out to Alpha/Beta readers. There's a full 6 books planned for that series, so I wanted to overlap them all slightly, and then eventually publish Book One sort of around the time I started writing Book 4.

But...

When I started looking into the publishing side of actually being a self published author, the reality of the process kind of hit me a little harder than I expected.

The first time you do something, anything, you're bound to make mistakes. I only have to look back at my first story to know that and, for all my years of writing practice, I've never hit the publish button on a book.

And 'Stolen' is my baby, for lack of a better term. Stella Korazon and Reilly Mosswolf are the darlings of my heart. I'd die for them, I'd kill or them. I do not want to "practice" the art of publishing a book with their story.

So Stolen, and it's sequels are currently on hold, and that's why I'm working on the Fey Touched novels right now. That's not to say I love Lizzy and Andric and Booker any less, but I have to split my mind into author and self-publisher. As an author, I love Fey Touched just as much as Stolen, but as a self-publisher a trilogy of 90k books failing is better than a 6-book series where each book is 140k+ failing.

Fey Touched is where I will hit publish for the first time and, hopefully, discover all the mistakes I'll inevitably make so that I can more effectively promote and market Stolen, when that monster of a series is ready for the world at large.

21. What do you think when you read over your older work?

That entirely depends on how old the work is :D

If it's something I've written within the last 1-5 years, then most of the time my reaction is something along the lines of;

"Oh wow, that's pretty good."

"Damn, that's an evocative line. Did I actually write this?"

"I FORGOT ABOUT THAT PART!!"

If, on the other hand, it's something like my first manuscript from when I was age 8 or 9, my reaction is usually something closer to;

"Oh no... that's... oh dear."

"Oh gods, please tell me I didn't say that..."

"Umm... That word doesn't mean what I thought it meant..."

"Bloody hell, I'm glad no one else will ever read this."

Having said that, @faelanvance takes great delight in digging through my old manuscripts and reading them back to me aloud for my ultimate mortification :D

23. Any obscure life experiences that you feel have helped your writing?

Probably too many to fit into a single tumblr post, honestly.

I'm constantly drawing from my own life experiences to put my readers into my characters positions. I can take pain and terror or Joy and Laughter from one set of experiences and then Copy/Paste it, for lack of a better term, into a different situation, but that direct knowledge lets me bring the descriptions to life for the reader. At least, I certainly hope it does!

As for specific situations that I feel have helped my writing... Let me just pick a couple.

(A) My Terrible Health

I mentioned in the previous ask that I was born with congenital talipes. Anyone can google it if they want more information, but it's also known as club foot. As a child, all this really meant to me was that I was constantly in and out of hospitals for operations and physiotherapy and that I wasn't physically able to run, jump, climb trees, or even walk long distances without my feet and legs hurting.

Also, because of the operations I spent a great deal of time in bed, or sitting in wheelchairs, while I recovered.

None of this is said in a negative light, in fact, in terms of my writing I'm rather grateful for all that free time to sit and think and imagine. I was and am a voracious reader. I was reading Tolkien's Lord of the Rings, and David Eddings' The Belgariad by myself at the age of 7 and 8. If I was only going to be allowed one book in hospital, I was going to make sure it was the longest book I could lay my grubby little hands on.

I could lay for hours on the children's ward while other patients yelled and fought over the single playstation or the jigsaw puzzles, and I could create entire worlds in my head. I could bring to life characters that could explore Middle Earth or go on adventures with Belgarath, and I only needed myself and my mind.

Books were a popular gift for me, because I was physically restricted, and then once I began picking up a pen, notebooks, journals, and fancy pens were quick to follow.

I think I would still have found writing, I can't imagine what my life would be like if I hadn't discovered this passion, but I'm not 100% sure I'd have discovered it as early as I did if I'd not been forced to stay still for so much of my childhood.

(B)

Another specific scenario that I feel really helped my confidence in my writing was my High School English teacher, Mr Reck.

I was bullied through most of my schooling, mostly for being on crutches, but this really didn't bother me. I just ignored them.

But one day we had been given a task in class, and I'd already finished, so as I usually did I pulled out my notebook and started writing a story while I waited or the next task.

One of the students thought to get me into trouble by telling Mr Reck that I wasn't doing the work. He came over, looked at my completed work, looked at what I was actually doing (writing an original story), and then told me that if I ever wanted someone to read over my writing and check it, I could always leave it on his desk during lunch... and then he calmly walked away.

This was, for 14-15 year old me, mind blowing.

I didn't care about the bullies, they really didn't bother me. I also wasn't self conscious about my writing, both my parents are and have always been strong supporters of my creative work. The reason this stood out to me at the time, and continues to stand out to me as one of the defining moments of my high school life was because it was the first time someone outside of my immediate family not only read my work, but thought it was good enough to actively encourage.

Mr Reck also got me into a writing workshop that year, that was only supposed to be available to graduating students. I've no idea how he managed it, but he did and I'll be forever grateful to him. I intend to add his name to the dedication page of the first book I publish, and I'm in the process right now of trying to track him down to send him a copy.

I think I've found him, I've just got to get the nerve up to send a private message to confirm!

If there are any teachers out there reading this though, please take note of this final story. I don't know that some teachers realise just how important one, single, non-family member showing a genuine interest in a students work can affect that students entire life.

[blursed-ninjago-ideas]

I deliberately left some scenes out because I didn’t feel like writing them, and other things I just took shortcuts on cause I have a huge headache, but I want this done.

Hydra is Nya’s hero name with the dragon miraculous. 

--

He was debating what to name his latest Akuma. A jealous girl that resented her best friend’s boyfriend. The two were having a very explosive fight in the middle of the park by Collège Françoise Dupont.

Honestly Hawkmoth wasn’t sure which one he was going to get. They were both pretty upset. His little butterfly was heading straight for the fight, until it suddenly turned and changed course.

Sighing, Hawkmoth was pretty sure he knew what was happening, again.

Kai Smith happened to be walking past. The boy was a walking Akuma trap. It was a frustrating waste of his time and resources. If he could just figure out how to harness Kai’s emotions, the boy would be the most powerful weapon against the heroes. But Kai was too stubborn and spontaneous to control. He was so easy to akumatize. Hawkmoth didn’t have to do hardly any work to get him to surrender. He was just so set and focused on his own goals that Hawkmoth couldn’t get him to bother with the miraculous.

The Akuma settled itself into the pendant of a necklace Kai was wearing, and Hawkmoth was already calling the day a wash, but then the empathy link showed him something new.

It was a different than usual.

Kai felt…fragile. He wasn’t focused on any sort of goal. His emotions weren’t from worry or ambition, it was just raw and directionless.

It wasn’t like he had anything to lose, and it could turn out to be a worthy experiment.

-

Kai fiddled with his pendant again. It had become a handy fidget to have. Chloe had made it for him, it turned out she really loved making jewelry and seemed to have a knack for it. He was so proud of her and seeing how excited she got to show off a new piece made his heart melt a little. There was no pride or approval seeking, just pure excitement. She didn’t do it for attention, just to share the happiness she had for it.

It was a far cry from her old attempts at creative pursuits, only doing things she thought would impress, regardless of her own feelings.

Course all the growth on Chloe’s part came at a price, and Nya was the one that paid it. Kai hadn’t meant to neglect her. He just didn’t think she still needed him that much. Chloe was so young and in need of guidance, he had thought Nya was mature enough to not need him. But he should’ve really thought about how much it would hurt to not see him as much. Nya may’ve not needed his care or guidance, but she still needed his company. He was her big brother and the only constant she had growing up; it was cruel to take that away from her. Even if it wasn’t on purpose.

And Lloyd of course would always need Kai. That was his job. It was literally a written destiny that Kai would be there for Lloyd while he fought to protect others as the green ninja. Lloyd had suffered plenty and would probably always need Kai as an emotional crutch. He faced trauma and near-death experiences on the regular. If Kai and the others weren’t there to help him feel safe and loved, there was no way anyone, even Lloyd, could go through all that and not break.

But that left three people that needed Kai to be there for them, and there was only so much of him to go around.

He didn’t want to make that their problem. He toughed it out. He pushed himself. He could keep it up for a little longer. He could do a little more.

Nya had ideas for some new vehicles and wanted Kai’s help with them. It was a good way to spend some quality time and, her own confession, Kai was the better welder

Chloe wanted him to set up a challenge for her to test how far she’d come. It was a good idea, a concrete way to self-reflect and a tangible show of progress.

Lloyd had talked him into helping with a school project. It was nice to see Lloyd doing something that wasn’t life and death stakes.

He didn’t know how in the world he let Adrien talk him into modeling, but that was also on his plate.

It felt like there was a deadening static in his head that he had to force all his thoughts through, a buzzing not unlike an alarm. He had noticed his hands had started to spasm at random points. He wasn’t sure how concerned he should be about that.

Like many things, Kai ignored it. He had things he had to do and people that were depending on him. He had no time to deal with it. It could wait.

He was on his way to meet up with Lloyd, but he had to leave in time to make lunch with Nya, and he had to figure out what to do for Chloe, not to mention he had an early morning photoshoot the next day so he needed to get some sleep for that and probably should shower before it.

His hands found their way to his pendant again. He was pulling it back and forth on the chain, making a rhythmic zipping noise as it pulled on the chain links.

“I’M A PERSON! I DON’T HAVE TO BE AT YOUR BECK AND CALL!”

Kai cringed.

“IS THAT WHAT YOU CALL MAKING TIME FOR ME? ANY TIME! AT ALL? I’M SO SORRY IT’S SUCH A CHORE TO HANG OUT WITH ME.”

“Please don’t make an Akuma” Kai though to himself as he passed the fighting girls.

The shouting back and forth was not doing good things for his nerves. He was trying to take even breaths to counter it, but they just kept screaming.

Kai squeezed his eyes shut and pressed forward. He’d get away soon enough, go help Lloyd, maybe help the heroes if that fight attracted an Akuma, meet up with Nya, then head back to Le Grand Paris and brainstorm with Chloe, then hopefully go to bed, then get up, shower, go model for a while, he should probably take the opportunity to talk to Adrien about Chloe, the backstory someone that grew up with her would know might help him with her, and maybe ask about how Lloyd is doing while he’s there.

Probably should do a quick evaluation of Adrien’s mental health too. From what he’d heard from Lloyd, Adrien may need someone to be there for him too.

AND THE GUYS!

He had completely forgotten to check in with the others! Zane, Cole, and Jay! He needed to check on them too, plus he wanted to see them!

Kai was so busy planning out his tasks that he didn’t see the uneven sidewalk. He realized that he’d tripped as soon as he started to fall, but instead of catching himself, his brain decided that it wanted to do nothing instead. The wind got knocked out of him when he limply hit the ground.

Kai opened his eyes and started at the ground ahead of him. Normally he’d get up and brush himself off, and he would in a minute, but some reason he just kept staring ahead. The static stopping him from making any movements.

He felt like screaming, or even crying. He was in pain and he had just fallen down. It wasn’t a big deal, but it felt like Kai was fighting to keep himself in check and not have a full meltdown. The static in his head was blocking any attempts to steady himself.

He was gathering his courage to stand back up and keep going when a familiar butterfly flew to him.

Kai breathed rapidly, trying not to panic, or breakdown, or cry.

“A bit stressed are we?”

Kai didn’t respond, he just kept trying to breathe.

“Stretched too thin. Too many things you have to juggle. There’s nothing more to give is there?”

Kai felt like he was drowning already. Hawkmoth’s intrusion was pushing him passed his breaking point.

“You know who I am and what I want. I’ll give you the ability to make everything go away, all I ask for in return is Ladybug and Chat Noir’s miraculous. What do you say, Burnout?”

Kai’s eye twitched at the name. Why did it feel right? Why did it feel right? He was drowning under his own emotions and Hawkmoth already seemed to have a handle on it all. There were two options. He could continue to fight and struggle, or he could just give up and have some relief.

There was nothing Kai could tell himself that would make the fight look worth the effort.

“Yes Hawkmoth.”

-

Adrien ducked behind another tree, hoping to get the opportunity to transform, but the tree vanished into smoke against his back, leaving a nasty scorch mark behind.

Adrien had barely got a look at the new Akuma, he couldn’t tell who it was yet, but they knew his name.

Black smudges came down from his eyes and stained his dark grey, ash colored skin. He was wearing a long smokey cloak that seemed to be made of the stuff at the end, a small gold pendant in the shape of a small flame clasped it closed at the neck. Fingerless gloves shot out black fiery blasts and he was slightly blurred with his edges ending in smoke trails.

He looked like the personification of the aftermath of a forest fire.

Adrien jumped behind a bench and coughed from the smoke.

“What’s your deal? Campfire go out?” Adrien tried to taunt, hoping to get the reason for the akumatization out of him.

“I’ve burned too bright for too long and given too much of myself. Well now I’m going to make everything go away.”

Adrien finally caught on to the fire symbolism. It was too strong, even for Hawkmoth. Something was wrong. One more look at the spikey hair Adrien had written off as part of the costume and it clicked.

Adrien knew he recognized the clasp on the cloak. It was the pendant he’d seen Chloe working on. Adrien knew exactly who she made it for.

“Kai.” Adrien said, dodging the next blackened blast.

“It’s Burnout now.”

Adrien tried to get out of sight a few more times, but Burnout just blasted every hiding place he found. He only could grab a few seconds out of sight, if he was lucky. Not enough to transform, but maybe enough to do something else.

“Plagg.” Adrien said, lifting his shirt to let the kwami out.

“What are-“

Adrien cut him off, taking his ring off.

“Find Lloyd. We need Ninja Noir for this.” Adrien said, handing the ring to his kwami.

Plagg almost argued but thought better of it.

“I guess he’d be better for this job anyways.” Plagg said, darting off.

-

Lloyd managed to get away from the panicking crowd, wondering if he needed to help out with this one, when Plagg floated right into his face.

“Plagg?”

“Ninja Noir.”

“What happened to Adrien?” Lloyd asked, reaching for the ring.

“Doesn’t matter. Lloyd, it’s Kai.”

Lloyd gently pushed the ring onto his finger.

“Then this should be pretty easy. Ladybug might not even need me.” Lloyd laughed.

Kai’s akumatization were almost always joke. Give him what he wanted, and he practically surrendered his akumatized object.

Plagg shook his head though.

“No, Kiddo, this is different.”

“What do you mean?” Lloyd asked, trying to not panic

“I mean this isn’t his usual stuff. I think Hawkmoth might’ve really gotten to hi this time.”

Lloyd’s eyes went wide.

“Plagg, Claws out!”

-

Chat Noir wasn’t showing up. She was pretty sure she knew what it was going to tell her, but she used her lucky charm just to be certain.

A painting she knew was in Fu’s home. She needed reinforcements.

She was on her way to go find wielders for the two miraculous she grabbed when she ran right into Ninja Noir.

“Ninja Noir!” she yelped, helping him stand back up. “I’m so glad you’re here. It’s Kai again, but something is different this time.”

“So I’ve heard.” Ninja Noir said as he brushed himself off.

“Lucky Charm said we needed reinforcements. I grabbed the Bee and the Dragon. I’m thinking Chloe would be a good choice since she knows Kai and has used the Bee Miraculous before. For the Dragon I was thinking maybe Lloyd?”

Ninja Noir coughed.

“Um…No good with Lloyd. He’s caught up somewhere, saw him on the way over. How about we divide and conquer. I think I could get this to his sister.”

“That’s probably a good idea. She should know him pretty well.” Ladybug said, passing Ninja Noir the Dragon Miraculous.

-

“I don’t need another needy little brat hanging off me!” Burnout shouted as he flung Ninja Noir off of him.

Lloyd tried to not let it show how personal the remark was. Kai didn’t know it was him under the mask.

“We need a plan!” Hydra said.

“Now might be a good time for a Lucky Charm!” Beatrix said as she pulled Hydra out of the line of fire.

Ladybug jumped off the roof to dodge another blast, rolling when she hit the ground and flinging herself upright as she yelled

“LUCKY CHARM!”

A camera.

Ladybug started to look around for anything that stood out.

A gargoyle, an empty ledge across the street where another one used to be before Burnout got rid of it, Beatrix’s top, Ninja noir, Hydra, and the mirrored windows on the office building.

“Got it.” She said, shoving her teammates in the directions of where they needed to go, giving them a brief rundown of their parts as she did.

Burnout came flying around the corner just after Ladybug got her trap set.

“Water Dragon!” Hydra yelled, soaking Burnout before he could line up any shots.

“Say cheese!” Ladybug yelled, clicking the camera and blinding him with the flash.

While Burnout tried to clear his eyes and figure out how to attack again, Beatrix came swinging in from behind the gargoyle, holding Ninja Noir.

“Cataclysm!” he yelled as he swung by, taking out the pendant and freeing the Akuma.

Ladybug quickly caught it while Beatrix caught a now detransformed Kai on her swing back.

“Miraculous Ladybug!” Ladybug yelled, throwing the camera in the air.

The magic ladybugs swept across Paris, bringing back everything Burnout had made “go away”.

“What? What happened!?” Kai yelled, trying to stand up, only to fall down on his unsteady legs.

“You were akumatized.” Ladybug explained.

“KAI!” Jay yelled form down the street. “Are you ok?!?”

Cole and Zane were not far behind him and the three were running full speed towards their friend.

“Well I’d better get going.” Hydra said.

“Yeah, me too. I’ll take your miraculous.” Ninja Noir added.

The two jetted off in the same direction.

“I…That was…..what did I do?” Kai finally asked.

“Nothing that couldn’t be fixed.” Ladybug assured him.

Kai didn’t look comforted.

“What got you akumatized anyways?” Beatrix asked.

“I…um….”

“You stressed yourself out again didn’t you?” Zane snapped.

“What?” Kai said.

“Ugh! You Always do this Kai! You are allowed to tell people no, you know!” Jay ranted

“I know that! Besides that wasn’t like that at-“

“Do you? Because sometimes you’re determined to take on more than you can handle!” Cole scolded with a hint of concern.

A beep from Ladybug’s earring interrupted them.

“Um…”

Beatrix nodded to her.

“I didn’t use my ability. I can keep this under control here while you go recharge.”

Ladybug looked a little hesitant, but another beep from her earrings and she was running off with a promise to be back soon.

As she left, Nya came running around the corner.

“Kai!” she yelled, while she tackled him in a hug “I was so worried! Are you ok?”

“I’m fine.” Kai said as he gently pushed her off.

“You’re not!” Jay snapped.

“You were akumatized!” Cole added.

“Everybody gets akumatized!” Kai huffed, crossing his arms.

“Yes, but that was significantly more destructive than usual, meaning you were feeling stronger negative emotions.” Zane said.

“Hey guys! Sorry I’m late, I got stuck. Is Kai ok?” Lloyd said, running to them from another street.

“I’m fine!” Kai yelled.

“Stop it!” Zane said.

“You don’t have to fix everything for everyone.” Cole begged.

“I told you guys I was fine!”

“Kai please.” Nya begged.

“I SAID I WAS FINE!”

Beatrix rolled her eyes and made a move.

“Venom!”

And Kai was frozen.

“What did you do that for!?” Jay yelled.

Beatrix put a hand on her hip.

“No you guys can lecture him about selfcare without him arguing. You’ve got five minutes, make the most of it.” She said.

“Oh.” Jay said in surprise.

Ladybug came back into the middle of an improv intervention.

“And I should’ve been a better sister. I was being selfish and demanding and I should know better than that. Sometimes it’s just hard to accept that I don’t have you all to myself anymore. You know I’ve never been great at sharing.” Nya laughed, with tears in her eyes “But you need to tell me ��no’ sometimes! I need to hear it, Kai. You can’t just let me push you like this; you have to tell me when you’re hurting!”

“Um….” Ladybug muttered.

“We’re just about done.” Beatrix said.

“You can’t just hide ailments from us, and that includes mental and emotional fatigue.” Zane added.

“Alright, I think my work here is done. See you all next time I’m needed!” Beatrix said, grabbing Ladybug’s arm and leading her away.

-

“You may’ve won this time, Ladybug. But now I know something I didn’t know before.” Hawkmoth said to himself.

He’d finally figured out how to weaponize Kai Smith. That boy was going to deliver him the miraculous if he wanted to or not. It was only a matter of time before Hawkmoth got the perfect champion out of him.

“It will require a very precise touch, but this boy will be my greatest weapon!”

--

so yeah, that’s done.

-Ivy

[veliseraptor]

“What needs to happen to get an in-character xingchen to accept his feelings for xue yang in this universe where they’ve completely shattered each other and have to pick up the pieces together?” Reply discussion PLS most kf my ideas rely on a-qing but I don’t want her to be a pun semi intended crutch

(additional credit for this goes to @ameliarating, with whom I have discussed this)

okay!! so I’ve thought about this a lot and there’s probably more than one way to do it, but the main way I have thought about it is a messy combination of a) Xiao Xingchen’s abandonment issues, b) three years intimate living with someone is not very easy to just shake off and abandon, and c) continued close proximity making it extra hard for him to break the attachments he formed. 

Honestly I think the biggest player here is, and it’s not healthy but hey!! who is in this for the healthy, Xiao Xingchen’s abandonment issues. Xiao Xingchen is lonely. He doesn’t want to lose (more) people, even, I think, the people he should want to lose. (More on that later!) At this point, in a situation where Xiao Xingchen has survived his suicide attempt, he’s shattered, has had so much of his life broken, so much of himself broken, and has barely come back from full self-destruction. He is a wreck - which also means he’s painfully emotionally raw. That’s important when it comes to his ability to cut ties with one of the people he’s become closest to. Xiao Xingchen just doesn’t have a lot of people to lose. 

I think Xiao Xingchen goes through a grieving period, actually, where he’s mourning the loss of his friend that he feels like Xue Yang murdered (not what happened, obviously! but he’s having a very hard time reckoning with that whole “one and the same” thing and in some ways it feels easier to try to demarcate that and act like he can grieve his friend without forgetting everything Xue Yang did). But that’s not actually tenable for all that long when Xue Yang is still there, and still - and this is important - acting a lot like his friend. 

It’s confusing. It’s hard. It’s disorienting. It doesn’t make sense. But I feel like it’d keep happening to Xiao Xingchen where he’d be determinedly trying to keep this line of “this is Not My Friend(/Boyfriend, depending on how their relationship was prior to everything exploding), this is Xue Yang, Bad” and then having these moments, like missing a stair, where Xue Yang says or does something that is so perfectly his friend that it throws Xiao Xingchen’s attempts to separate them into chaos. 

Not only does it make that separation hard, it makes it hard to write off everything as a lie, as an act, as part of the game Xue Yang was playing. It raises questions - curiosity! - about how much of it was real, how much of the person he got to know was Xue Yang. And that curiosity has its own kind of danger as far as keeping him from keeping as much of a safe distance as would maybe be helpful, if he was planning on, you know, keeping himself emotionally removed.

And then that’s especially difficult with a Xue Yang who is making, I’d guess, a very concerted effort to not upset Xiao Xingchen and get back in his good graces, at least to begin with and quite possibly, I think, for the long haul. (Xue Yang is very goal oriented when he wants to be! He will put in the work when he has an objective that matters to him, like “revenge” or “repairing the shattered soul of his ex.”)

The final thing is, I think, just that Xiao Xingchen isn’t very good at emotional remove. He feels things, a lot. He doesn’t hold himself back or reserve himself, really, which means that when he falls (in love, in despair) he falls hard. I think, depending on where his feelings for Xue Yang were at, it’d just be very, very hard for him to continue to fight against them, particularly in a situation where there wasn’t an active, continuing threat from Xue Yang for him to focus on as a counterweight to everything above.

I don’t know how happy he’d be with himself about it. But I do think there would be ways he could rationalize it, and come to accept it - with an awareness, probably, that he’s being selfish, that he shouldn’t, that it’s wrong, but on the other hand, how long can he fight himself? And who is gaining from his trying to do so, really? 

Anyway! That is some thoughts. Hope anything in there helps.

[doflamingadonquixote]

An Almost Perfect Life - 3/?

Summary: You are a young career woman at one of the bank in London and, at the same time, attending a PhD in Statistics. Your life was perfect until your apartment was invaded by two demons.

Pairing: Sebastian Michaelis x Fem!Reader x Claude Faustus

Previous Chap: Page 1 , Page 2

III. No place to hide

Finally Monday came. You couldn't believe your enormous luck. You could go out again, you were finally free from that unusual prison.

Still dressed in heavy pajamas, you stood by the window and watched the raindrops attack the glass. It was a gloomy day, but that wouldn’t have affected your cheerful and carefree mood.

“Young lady, breakfast is ready.”

You turned to look at Claude in the doorway and found him with a confused look. You had become accustomed to their constant presence but certainly, not yet in their ways.

“Still have to change?” he murmured as he approached your wardrobe. “I would have assumed that you were ready to set foot out of here even earlier than necessary.”

He pulled out a dark green skirt and one of the shirts you had attached to the crutches and laid them on the bed.

Then, as you watched him distractedly, you noticed that he was approaching the underwear drawer and blushed with a deep red tomato.

Sure you wouldn't reach him in time, you took the brush on the windowsill and pulled it against him.

The object circled for a few moments in the air but the demon, warning it to arrive, moved away at the last second and turned even more confused than when he entered.

“What the hell are you going to do, perverted demon!? Stay away from my clothes!”

“I assure you I have no interest-” he began but was interrupted by a flying radio alarm clock.

 “So, you two are demons.”

The two nodded synchronously.

“Demons who enter into contracts with humans.”

Again a nod.

“And that they owe me gratitude for taking them off the street.”

You ran a hand through your hair as a severe headache started beating again.

“I already told you, you don't need to be grateful to me for anything.” You ran your fingers over the sides of the temples, pushing and hoping that the pain would go away with that simple pressure. “You were attacking each other, I didn't save you from anything.”

What escaped you as you stared at the surface of the kitchen table was the significant look that the two demons had exchanged silently.

“In any case, there is still a significant intrusion.” The amber-eyed demon added.

“Then do something, anything, that will make you disappear immediately.” You asked, desperate to conclude those terrible negotiations.

The two looked at each other again before turning to you again.

“For that, we need a contract.”

You opened your mouth and eyes wide at the same time, looking at them as if they had just drunk each other's brains.

“I will never sell my soul to the devil!” you exclaimed, crossing your arms over your chest.

Sebastian chuckled. “Well, there must definitely be something you want from us.” He answered flirtatiously but after seeing your dark and pissed expression he decided to fly over. “Wealth, fame, power ... revenge ...”

The last word seemed to tread with nostalgia, confusing you more than necessary.

“Do you think I will sell my soul for such useless things? I had a perfect life before you two came in to destroy it. I'll probably end up analyzing for this...” you sighed tired. “I will never make a contract with you.”

Claude shrugged, as if it were a matter of little consequence. “Then I guess nobody will leave here very soon.”

 The path to work went smoothly like oil.

The subway was as crowded as ever. Men and women with their work bags and some crazy tourist who had ventured despite the day didn’t bode well.

You squeezed your briefcase against your stomach as you sat on a desk and looked around.

Nobody seemed to notice you for any reason and everyone seemed completely normal people, unaware of all the paranormal that surrounded them. For a moment, you prayed that time would flow back again to allow you to appreciate more that monotony that had invaded your days for years. The whole situation seemed so unreal.

But, to remind you that it was all real, was the strong feeling of being observed but soon, inside your office on the third floor, you would have been the most peaceful and safest person in the world.

You would have done your research, you would have investigated what could hurt them or some spell that could have sent them back to hell as quickly as possible.

When you got out of the vehicle, you continued on foot along the usual road and while passing in front of the alley of the days before, you cursed yourself for stopping.

The sliding doors of the bank continued to open and close as customers and associates entered and left the building.

When you approached them the sweet PUFF that emanated almost made you want to cry.

The lobby was huge, allowing people to wait and operate with serenity, privacy and comfort.

When you approached a counter, very close to the stairs area, a man with auburn hair and a sweet smile looked at you curiously.

“Good morning, Henry.” You anticipated, raising a hand in case he hadn't heard you from the operation he was carrying out with a customer.

“Good morning, (Y / N). You finally recovered.” He replied back, returning to give immediate attention to the person over the counter.

You nodded, albeit with a little hesitation, and you quickly advanced to the lift that would take you straight to your safe place.

You pressed the button and said goodbye to the two colleagues on the upper floor who were waiting for the transport with you.

Your bank had more than 50 floors so it was unlikely that you would get to know even half of those who worked there.

Moreover, relations with those on the lower or upper floors were seldom due to lack of time. And each floor was assigned a job.

Once you reached your floor, you found it packed with people, as usual. Your area made itself available to the customer so the relationship was in close contact with other people.

When you passed the office of your best colleague, you smiled.

“Good morning, Isy. How have these days gone without me?” you asked as you appeared just beyond the door.

The young woman seemed to light up at the sight of your figure and stretched out her small hands.

“(Y / N)! You left me alone to feed these vultures!” she moaned as you advanced and grabbed her hands in yours as if to share the sense of unease with her.

You smiled.

“Forgive me and thank you for replacing me.” You reached over the desk and put a hand on her shoulder. “Whatever you need, don't hesitate to ask.”

She nodded, convinced of your honesty and fairness and watched you leave her room to move towards yours.

When you stood in front of it and inserted the keys inside the classic glass door that recited your name and your job, a ringing voice reached you.

“Miss (S/N), good morning. How are you today?”

You warned the bank manager to join you as you untangled yourself with the lock without then looking up at her.

“Oh, beautifully, director. I think nothing can ruin this day.”

Finally the door opened and with a wide smile you entered, still turning your back on the woman and quickly advancing towards your desk.

“Well, that's a good thing. So our new intern will have the pleasure of getting to know your quiet side.” The woman chuckled.

You sat on the leather chair with a sigh of pleasure and finally your gaze turned in the direction of your superior.

Your fingers instinctively tightened on the two armrests as your head began to fill with steam, which you were sure would come out of your ears at one moment or another.

“I'm Sebastian Michaelis, the new intern. It will be a real pleasure to assist you.”

And he stretched his right hand over the desk as a purple flash shone in the depths of his red eyes.

The director was watching you morbidly, as if expecting the same friendliness and, although shocked, you let common sense guide you to shake the hand of the devil who had followed you to work.

“V-Very pleasure, Mr. Michaelis. Yes, I'm sure it will be an excellent experience.” And you tried to hold it with all the force that your human body was able to pull out. But he only smiled in response.

“Well. Sebastian ... I can call you Sebastian, can't I?” the director corrected immediately, touching the man's arm with an unnatural flirtatious air that you would never have expected from her.

“But of course, it's a privilege for me.” He replied making the bile rise in your throat. Had that bastard really used that kind of skills to get in there?

“(Y / N) will help you with all the paperwork and then you will depend a little on her decisions.” And the hand wandered on the demon's back in a clear caress. “And mine, of course.”

After another couple of exchanges, the manager convinced herself to leave your office and you followed her to close the door and quickly turn to the demon.

“Are you serious?” you hissed, to prevent anyone in the other rooms from hearing.

The apparent man ran a hand through his hair, pulling a lock in front of his eyes. At that moment he was wearing a classic suit with a jacket and tie and you tried not to think about how good he could be in those clothes.

“Well, you didn't really think I'd leave you unprotected, miss” The devil replied, with the most innocent air he managed to gather.

You clenched your skirt in a fist that could have penetrated even the flesh of your palms with tension.

“Protection? This is control. You also want to check me out of the house!”

You felt your breathing reach the limit as you entered hyperventilation. You couldn't believe it, you didn't have room. They were quickly closing you in a box.

You brought a hand to your throat, trying to recover the air that you hadn’t been able to collect to oxygenate your brain and think of a solution.

“Miss, are you all right?”

When his cadaveric hand reached your face panic gripped your mind and, before I realized it, a strong backhand hit the demon's cheek, taking him by surprise and causing him to withdraw his hand.

“Don’t touch me!”

Your voice rose a couple of octaves but you quickly regained control, looking around to notice that no one had seen or listened to your outburst.

You didn't know what was wrong with you but seeing that flash of freedom being ripped off made you uncontrollable for a couple of minutes.

“Why? Why are you doing this to me? I just helped you...” you couldn't understand that surreal situation. It wasn’t possible that your perfect life had been ruined by a single good gesture from you.

It wasn't fair, was it?

“You can't understand, miss.” Sebastian replied, still pushing one hand towards your shoulder and squeezing it slightly as if to comfort you.

Being close to the window, the demon's red eyes lit up as soon as he saw that unmistakable red helmet and black motorcycle suit under the building.

The figure seemed to be answering something on cell phone and after a last look around it resumed its journey, making the vehicle roar.