#I now have a much clearer view not only of writing as a whole but also of myself

[earl-grey-love]

I've been reading a lot of books lately and it really has been a great medium for self-discovery. Learning what I do and don't like, what works in plots vs what doesn't, character likeability etc. It's definitely going to help me as a writer. But also a person, weirdly enough.

I'm not someone who really steps out of my comfort zone. I'd always replay/watch the same games/movies/tv shows/anime/music. Only really read fics or books I loved as a teen as well I'll be honest lol. But kinda in the last two years I started changing that. Mainly cus my mental health improved enough for me to cope w unfamiliarity or darker themes, but also due to boredom. The enclosure lacked fresh stimuli.

For example, I never would have touched Mad M*n with a ten-foot pole a few years ago. Now I'd rate it as one of the best shows I have ever seen. And due to that, I was able to realise that I want to write something like that, and that writing something like that is possible. Which I never would have known I was compelled by such a thing if I never stopped watching lord of the rings on repeat.

[hwathinker]

"no one's going to look at that dress on you except me."

pairings ; idol!boyfriend!seonghwa x non idol!fem!reader warnings ; just pure smut (mdni lol), yes i have a thing for fingering and licking </3 wn ; i've been very lazy lately but i felt like writing something haha (just want hwa's cock fr) lmk if there are any errors thanks

its your dinner night with your co-workers today, now you're unpacking your things out on the floor one by one. seonghwa had a day off from work after their world tour as they're already finished. he booked a room in the hotel you're going to have dinner at, but instead of booking for one person, he got a bigger room as he's going to accompany you along. honestly the best idea to let him be with you. really.

you and seonghwa went to the mall after you've checked in and already had your stuff in your hotel room. now, hunting for foods to stay in the night. "baby, are you sure you're going to the dinner night? i got a bad feeling about it.." seonghwa said. he didn't want you to go simply because he don't want anyone to look at you with the dress he got you on your birthday. you looked at him, smiling and confused at the same time. "why wouldn't i? its my first dinner night as a co-worker. of course i'd go." you grabbed three to four packs of chips, along with some instant noodles and put it in the basket seonghwa was holding.

"i know but... ahh you know baby?! Sometimes it's quite best to listen to your boyfriend! I mean.." he stuttered, not wanting to let you know about his jealousy over the dress. You didn't bother to say something, bringing him to the counter and pay for everything. After you both had shopped for foods, you head back to your hotel room. To get some rest before going to have fun tonight.

you plopped down on your shared king sized bed leaving the foods unpacked from its plastic bags. seonghwa was still at the front door, taking off his shoes before joining you. he moved closer, grabbing you by the waist. "baby, please? i don't want you to go." he pouts. you caressed his cheeks as you smiled. "its just for about.. until midnight. just like how we're away when you're busy with your schedules." you said, pinching his nose as he smiles. "fine. i'll let you. lets take a nap, shall we? wouldn't wanna let my baby gets tired before her best night." seonghwa said. little did he know, he won't let you go tonight anyway.

8:25pm

strawberry perfume filling the room, with your heat curled hair just on the right length. the red satin dress that seonghwa had bought for your anniversary months ago, hugs your body so well, with a little cut to your knees. everything goes so well along with your perfect makeup you had practiced for tonight. also, your black purse making you look elegant. seonghwa was in bed, already in his favorite black pajamas. behind being busy with his phone, he was too nervous to look at you. "hwa, do i look good?" you said, turning back from the mirror for him to look at you clearer. seonghwa cleared his throat, eyebrow furrowed but his eyes didn't shift a little to even glance at you. "uh.. yeah... it looks very pretty, baby." he said. the reaction he had doesn't excite you that much. you walked towards him, putting your purse down on the bed. hovering over him sweating a little by little. you took his phone away, throwing it somewhere only god knows.

seonghwa, once again cleared his throat. folding his hands over his chest as he looks away except you. you quickly grab his face by his chin, eyes locked to his big ones. seonghwa finally giving in, making an eye contact with you, slowly going down to your dress. scanning your whole profile, he felt himself growing erection. you backed off, giving him more view of your whole look. seonghwa was in awe, sitting up as he's still looking at you up and down, slowly. "so? any comments now?" you said, feeling impatient for his answers. seonghwa simply got up, basically hovering over your still small body even wearing the high heels. he held you by your waist, pulling you closer to him . caressing your hair, gently grabbing some to admire. you smiled, throwing your arms over his shoulder, approving his silent compliments. "oh baby, i bet everyone will love this look of yours." he said, cupping your cheek as he kisses you passionately. his other hand, going down to your ass, gently squishing them.

you melted into the kiss, slowly forgetting about the dinner you're going to have for about an hour. seonghwa pulled you closer, slowly walking backwards to the bed. as you both pulled away from your kiss, he's finally sat on the bed, with you hovering over him. hands on his shoulders, your left leg placed beside his, as his hands are still glued on your body. you looked at the clock on the wall, 8:49pm. "shit, its getting late. i have to go now-" you were about to let go but seonghwa had his arms around you as soon as you noticed. you looked down at him, his eyes were.. full of lust. his tongue pressed on the inside if his cheek. "baby i have to-" "no one's going to look at that dress on you except me." you were once got cut off again by him. looking at him ever so confusingly, you laughed it off. "so.. you begged me not to go because of this dress i had from you?" you said, placing your hands on his shoulder once again.

"i don't think i allow my princess to go around so sexy like this. this look on you.." he hissed, furrowing his eyebrows together as he looks at your curves along with his hands tracing them. "its only for me. for my eyes only, baby." he leaned down, bringing you along as you're now hovering over him again. "do you know how much i've been imagining you with this dress on but you never put it on back then.. i'd love to hear my name moaned out by your sweet voice.. in this dress." he said again. his eyes still admiring your body non stop. you smirked at him, rolling down next to him, signaling him to go on top of you.

"obedient... and controlling much? love, you have no idea how hot you are." he said, grabbing the both of your hands and holding them with one hand over your head. "you love it hm? love it when i use this kind of clothing so that you would have an excuse to fuck me out with your aching dick?" you teased, wiggling your feet to let go of your heels and place them around seonghwa's waist. "you're one to talk." seonghwa kissed you, not rough, but also not so gentle. just the way you love it. he leans closer to you, resting his body on yours as his other hands rests on your neck. you felt his crotch pressed against your wet core, so you tried to thrust upwards to meet his aching dick once again. he noticed that, stopping every movements as he backed off an inch away to look into your eyes. "i thought you were more into the dinner more than me." he said, getting up from you. he flipped you around and took off his pants. you looked back, noticing a patched on his boxer. you smirked in his current state. seonghwa gently press on his erection, eyes only locked on you. "you see this..? this is your fault, babygirl." reaching to your back, he unzips your dress.

exposing your back, naked without a bra. (shh.. you used a sticky(?) bra thing on ur tits ;D) seonghwa licked his bottom lips, caressing your waist as he slid the dress down till it fell on the floor. "baby.. where is your bra hm? really was expecting this moment don't you?" he said, now ripping off your laced black panties. you whined at his hands roaming around your body, basically tickling you in a hot way. "please.. stop." you begged, not wanting to be in the teasing session anymore. seonghwa leaned to you, holding your face up by your chin making you look at him. "please what..?" he licked your earlobe, pecking on it all the way to your shoulder. "p-please.. just fuck me already..!" you whined, feeling his soft lips going down to your wet core.

seonghwa finally reached your heated cunt, looking at every curves as possible. "i need you to turn around for me baby." he said, tapping your thighs twice. you obeyed, rolling to your back as you sigh in relaxation. seonghwa put your legs up, locking them down on the mattress with his arms to get a clear view on your leaking core. seonghwa breathed to your pussy, knowing you would feel it. "baby, you're already so wet now? you are so.. so naughty." he licked your folds, wanting to hear the pretty voice of yours. after giving them kitten licks, he went looking at your cunt again. this time, you're constantly twitching as you wanted more of his tongue. he loved the way you just breath so hard without your words, but your cunt says everything you need just by twitching so much.

seonghwa caress the outside of your folds before inserting one finger in, eyes focusing on your reaction to it. he loves.. like really loves you making those faces while you hold in your moans. "louder love, don't hold them in if you love it." he said, increasing the pace of his finger. "a-ah, mm.. hwa.. please.." you moaned out. seonghwa slowed down once more, "please what hmm..?" sucking on your clit and flatten his tongue on them. your mind was spinning at how good he's making you feel. "just... let me cum.." you quietly said, stopping seonghwa's hand from moving again. instead, his tongue was teasing your clit. "please.. hwa, i just want to cum on your face.. your dick.." you breathily begged. he kissed your inner thigh as approval, inserting another finger inside you as he pump them faster. along with his tongue licking your pussy so good. you rolled your eyes back, pleasure waving over. your thigh was shaking, winning over his arms that was holding them back as you squished his face with your thigh.

when you were close, he pulled out his finger as he gets up. he licks them until they're clean, it made you shiver. "oh baby, need you to cum all over me now." seonghwa went back to his position, this time he's licking your cunt until you cum. his tongue works so perfectly inside you, rolling them smoothly and hitting the right spot. "yes.. more.. ah, i'm gonna-" as soon as you were going to finish your sentence, you moaned out in pleasure as you came onto his tongue. seonghwa cleaned your release so well, not missing any drop behind.

after he licked them clean, he gave your puffy cunt a peck before getting up to get off his boxer. his dick springs out, almost touching your lower stomach. "don't think i am done yet with you. that was only a warmup. well, for me."

-

haa omgg shai posted another seonghwa smut omg ! bro yall have no idea how HORNY i am over the recent concert like... seonghwa be fucking the thin air and i'm here with my aching pussy like... GOD just fuck me already

[nalyra-dreaming]

Pre season 2 rant - heavy on sarcasm!

This is the... well by now somewhat meditated on rant I promised a while ago. It has a lot of cussing, so be warned.

It is a… summary comment about some views I‘ve seen around, from “bad writing“ to the “abuse“ and other things. Oh, and it's about the "lying" subject. With receipts!

I‘m getting this out of my system before season 2 hits, and before more of the press leading up to it is released, because cast, crew and writers as well as the show have given us all of it already and, tbh, if I‘m going to see anyone scream “bad writing“ or “Louis being made a liar or the memories revisited/changed is racism“ when the changes will hit I‘m just gonna block you.

Fair warning.

This is long… so under the cut.

This show has made color-conscious choices. Brilliantly so. They also have an astonishing meta level.

And what we saw was not the truth.

That much is clear now. HAS ACTUALLY BEEN CLEAR FROM THE END OF SEASON 1 ON.

Jacob has said at the TCA panel that Louis is trying to regain his true memories.

Here is a reminder of some key statements by cast and crew:

Here are interviews and statements by Assad and Jacob and Sam and Rolin and the writers & producers that what we have seen was not the (whole) truth, that Louis’ tale has been “tinkered” with, influenced.

I'm heroically refraining from adding the gifs of Rolin and his statement again. Which are from the episode insider… and remember when that aired?! Yeah… 😒

But I've seen things recently that make me want to pull my hair out, to be frank. For example this, behind the link:

...Like, not making him a whole flat ass liar is actually the point, guys. And no it does not undermine the story....

As the writers said:

I mean, I get it to an extent. It's becoming clearer and clearer that the show some people made up in their heads is not the one they'll be getting. (We've been trying to tell them, but hey.)

Yeah.... That.

Unfortunately @blackgirlasis has blocked me, (and I have returned the favor now that I noticed), we only discussed something recently, but I think the reason might have been after I posted that video, in which it is literally said that "not everything Louis says is a lie", which, given her statements here might speak for itself, especially this part of that statement:

"It is actually ACTIVELY harmful to perpetuate the idea that the Black characters aren't to be trusted with the narrative and that we need Lestat to come through with the honest accounting."

You know, I would actually agree! Which is also why I always emphasized that we did not get the WHOLE truth. I also kept more than hinting at the fact that Armand is, well Armand.

BUT - and here it gets interesting - why is JACOB's - a BLACK man's - statement discarded? Why do they do not want to hear it that Louis does, in fact, lie? And, just to be clear - I do not NEED Louis to lie, nor be proven a liar, and I think the show will do its damndest to explain via the "tinkering" that Armand did. They will give some of the blame to Armand.

But to flip one's shit over argumentation that the MAIN CHARACTER, a BLACK MAN has already stated... that is what I find interesting.

Like, why do you* (*generally spoken, not her especially) accuse people of racism over this, when HE has already said that Louis does, indeed, lie. Why is he not actually listened to? I don't get that. Why is agency taken away from a living, breathing person to give it to a fictional character? Why is his statement that "not all representation needs to be healthy representation" not kept in mind?

Louis is Louis. Louis being color-consciously handled didn't "change the character an awful lot".

JACOB said that. Here. Interestingly enough in a comment about the racial consideration the show does(!).

Louis is NOT a whole other character despite the changes, and the twists that will happen in season 2 were always set to come, as the friggin' video of BEFORE the show aired is proof of. They talked about all that. They know it didn't all happen as shown. They knew Louis did lie. But NOT about everything.

They also knew that some of the scenes did not happen (at least as shown). And now... "it’s clear that Louis is somebody hugely angry with a man he loved deeply and now presents them as a monster…" Also Jacob Anderson.

Presents. Them. As. A. Monster.

Bailey Bass said in the SDCC interview, that it is not clear who is the "villain here" in various scenes, interestingly enough, because the dynamic keeps changing. Which of course was after they shot a myriad of scenes that would not make it into the final s1 cut. Again: why is she not listened to? Why do you take her agency away to give it to a fictional character?

And I'm not even starting on the others. Sam. Rolin. The writers.

Also, re the abuse and scenes being revisited. Again, screenshot as example:

There is nothing simple about this show. Especially that scene.

BUT the show knows what it‘s doing! I'm not going to rehash all that here now, here are links on that.

AND THE WRITERS SAYING IT WILL BE REVISITED... is from December 21, 2022.

DECEMBER 22.

A revisit and a change of that scene will not be bad writing. (Or tasteless.) They already DID so in the last episode of season 1, continuing that will simply fall into line with what we have already been given. That's not bad writing. That's just the show, and there's people who just did not want to examine that.

Because it will be echoed, and it will serve a purpose.

I know the show did the meta level of patriarchal domestic abuse, but for fuck‘s sake, the story itself is about vampires struggling, and Louis is struggling.

The show has a meta level of abuse, and patriarchy, and recognizing is valid and the meta discussions are too.

But Louis is not chained to his coffin guys, he could have left, and a fight which shows off power discrepancies within the show story line is not automatically domestic abuse.

*slow clap*

No-one wants this to happen for the sake of "redeeming" Lestat. Because he does not need that redemption. They're all murderers and monsters.

They kill. For a living. LITERALLY.

THEY ARE VAMPIRES It's not about vampires trying to find their humanity.

It's about vampires trying to find a way to live with themselves, because they are, indeed, monsters.

Doubting the narrative which was TORN APART WITHIN THE SHOW is not the same as bad writing or racism FFS, nor is actually looking at what we're given - and knowing the fucking, 50 year old books. And recognizing the hints and parallels.

I have also seen the take that Lestat isolated Louis... and like, did we watch the same show? You know, even with the vampirism (which, of course™, could not free Louis as promised)...

Months of flirting openly in NOLA, public wooing. DECADES LIVING IN NOLA. Operas. Restaurants. Family dinners. (And Louis stopping Lestat there, AS a mortal...) Cleaning the cribs, years of "human entanglement" because Louis wanted it.... Banjo barbecues, political influence, wakes... Everybody knew.

(Like, I could pull up gifs here.)

"Isolation". Right. It has nothing, at all, to do with the Rite of Passage, or Louis' depression.

Of course not.

I mean, Jacob says that Louis is very depressed during the time leading up to the fight, and his and Sam's discussion here is interesting as well, but hey, I mean, why listen to the actual black actor, right.

As a last thing.

Yeah. Tell me you know nothing about the books without telling me you know nothing about the books.

And, as a note, context is important if you pull up other scenes from the VC.

Welcome to the fucking Vampire Chronicles.

Anyone expecting big bad patriarchal abuser Lestat is not going to have a good time.

And honestly, to those: don't let the door hit you on the way out.

Good riddance - and BON VOYAGE

[dr3amofagame]

Sixteenth Day Event Prompt:

Dream sneaks into Pogtopia to see Wilbur

woo! managed to finish this in time. kinda unedited and kinda a mess but i've missed writing these guys; i'm deeefinitely in need of more practice to get c!wilbur's voice down, but hopefully this can be the start of me writing some more fic set earlier in the timeline, LMAO.

thanks @elmhat for the awesome event!! been epic to see people's submissions and i cant wait to see this continue. ur awesome &lt;3

c!dream meets up with c!wilbur to tell him about a change to their plans | 2.3k words

---

<Dream> be there in 5 

The communicator in Wilbur’s hand casts a pale glow onto the palm of his hand, the only light he has to guide him as he paces the length of the hollowed-out room; it’s dark, zombies groaning somewhere outside, the dead singing their songs, shuffling through underbrush in the belly of the forest that surrounds Pogtopia. The air is musty in their little dugout, a claustrophobic awning of stone carved into the side of a hill, well-shadowed even during the day, the darkness swallowing the wan light of the comm in his hands now. He can barely see the floor underneath him as he walks, shuffling steps forward and back, ten paces each. He presses his hand against the wall, turning to the entrance and standing still. 

Phil always had a whole thing about light, Wilbur having grown up on lectures about light levels and spawn-proofing and the dangers of leaving cavities unlit while mining, had grilled him on different ways of keeping a room from becoming a death trap. Carpets, half-slabs, glass. How many times had he been warned of the danger presented by surprise creepers and dark corners? 

Phil had never been much of a fan of explosions. 

The main server is mostly well-lit, but the secrecy demanded by revolution effort means that the forest surrounding Pogtopia gets much darker. Not that he’s in the main ravine at the minute–with the amount of people coming and going as of late, Dream had wanted their meeting to be in a slightly more discreet location, and Wilbur had agreed. It was easy enough to slip away with Technoblade once again off to do his own thing and Tommy having run off to find Tubbo, and Wilbur had managed to arrive to the room sufficiently early before sunset to prevent himself from getting ambushed by mobs. 

He slips his hand into his coat pocket. Chekov’s gun is smooth and cold against the palm of his hand, polished wood and metal. He smooths the pads of his fingers down the barrel, over the trigger. He leaves it, pulling out a half-empty pack of cigarettes instead. His lighter provides a clearer view of the room, still empty. Dream is late. 

Dream is usually late, then again–it’s expected, really, with the way he runs around the server, always busy, always chasing down those plans of his, smart man that he is. Dream likes his secrets, his mystery, mask and armor all made to keep his cards close to his chest–Wilbur can hardly fault him for it, god no. Dream has what he wants, just as they all do, all of them tripping over themselves in their ambition, crabs in a bucket, the pledges to help the revolution coming from each one that jumps off of Schlatt’s sinking ship. He breathes in deep, smoke coating his lungs with tar. 

“Wilbur?” 

Light throws itself into the room from the entrance, rippling wildly as the fire on the end of Dream’s torch burns, casting wild shadows over his mask as he squeezes himself inside. Despite his armor, he has an uncanny knack for moving silently, cloak and hood pulled low over his head so that only the edge of the painted smile is visible. The torch is raised higher, moved left and right as Dream surveys the contents of the room around them. Wilbur smiles and tips his head towards him in greeting. 

“Dream, my man. How good to see you again.” 

“Wilbur…” Dream’s voice trails off. His head turns from one side to the other, making another anxious sweep of the room before refocusing on Wilbur, his hand moving to pull his hood down and then run his hand through his hair, having been pressed flat by the heavy fabric. The blank face of his mask stares back at Wilbur, tilting to the side like a confused dog as he shakes out his shoulders. “We…need to talk.” 

“Well? I’m all ears.” He gestures at himself, leaning against the wall of the room. Dream turns to look over his shoulder again. His armor glimmers, the light of the runes on their surface made more obvious in the dark. He bounces on the balls of his feet, reaches up once again to tug his fingers through his hair.

“It’s important.” No shit, Wilbur almost says, because for all that Dream might think that his mask hides everything he’s thinking, he’s never quite been as guarded with his body language as he might hope; the anxiety rolling off of every jerky movement is enough to set Wilbur’s teeth on edge as it is, never mind the long silences and hesitation, but he’s not stupid enough to think that that would get him anything resembling an answer. Instead, he raises an eyebrow, smiles wider, and spits out another curling thread of smoke.

“You’re an important man. I should hope so.” 

Dream pauses at that. His head does that tilt-thing again. “...alright.” 

“So? What is it? Do tell.” Has Dream decided to go against him? Perhaps. His enthusiasm with regards to their plan is more unpredictable than Wilbur had expected, sometimes perfectly willing, sometimes hesitant to agree to much of anything. But he had agreed, nonetheless, had provided the TNT that Wilbur has set sprawling underneath Manberg’s main stage; cold feet, now, would be rather unprecedented. Still, it’s Dream–very little can be discounted when Dream is in the picture, Wilbur knows. He places his hands in his pockets, thumbs hooked over the edge, pistol brushing against his fingertips. “I hate to push, but the suspense is killing me.” 

Dream takes another second, then reaches behind his head. Wilbur straightens where he’s standing, suddenly curious, as he removes his mask. 

He’s seen Dream without it only a few times–all able to be counted on one hand, this one included. The light of the torch illuminates his face from the chin up, cast shadows highlighting the contours of his skull, the contours of his cheeks, light catching under his brows. His features are delicate in a way that still surprises him, a smattering of freckles over the nose of his bridge made visible as he raises the torch higher. Dream’s eyes are a little wide, a little bloodshot. He bites his bottom lip, blinking twice in quick succession, eyes darting over the walls and then back to Wilbur’s face. 

“Schlatt called me. For a meeting earlier.” 

“Schlatt?” 

“He knows about the TNT.” 

Wilbur blinks. “Well, fuck.” 

“Look–Wilbur, look.” Dream makes a little move with his hands, shaking them out by the wrists. “It’s not–it’s not the end of. This, okay? But, he knows. I didn’t tell him. I don’t know how he found out, I don’t know if someone told him, I haven’t told anyone, but–he knows. We can still work with this.” 

“Schlatt knows?” He searches Dream’s face. He seems earnest, but god knows, but what would he have to gain from lying about this, anyway? Who else could’ve told him–Tommy? Tommy might not tell Schlatt directly, but Tommy has never been good with secrets, letting anyone and everyone in on everything with an apparent inability to control his own tongue–

“--but it’s, fine. The TNT is still there, the room is still intact. I checked some of the wiring and it doesn’t look like it’s been tampered with. Wilbur, are you listening to me?” 

Wilbur waves him off. “I’m listening. Just keep going.” 

“I don’t think we need to change anything with the TNT. Like, Schlatt’s just one guy. And his gear is shit. If he messes with the TNT, then we’ll–we’ll figure something out, but you know, I don’t even think he even, like, knows where it all is.” 

“Well, it’s kind of everywhere, so–” 

“–which is my point. It’s too deep, he’s still sitting on top of a bomb. There’s nothing–there’s nothing he can do.” Dream crosses his arms in front of his chest, still worrying his lip between his teeth. “I just thought you should know.” 

Schlatt knows. Schlatt knows–Wilbur paces against the wall of their room, ten paces forward and ten paces back. He crushes his cigarette underneath his boot, nails digging into his palm. 

“Well, Dream? Is that all?” 

Dream’s expression twists. His brows pinch together, lips pressed against each other and curling into a slight grimace, his expression giving too much away after spending so much time masked. 

“There’s…one more thing.” 

Wilbur scoffs. “Just spit it out, you prick.” 

Dream doesn’t even react to the insult, shoulders hunching up as he begins speaking. “Look…it’s just. My plans have…changed.” 

What? “I thought you just said that they didn’t?” 

“Our plans are the same. It’s just–Schlatt made me, an offer.” Dream shifts from foot to foot. He swallows, throat working, his eyes still bright and wide, pupils dilated with a thin circle of green around. Wilbur stares at him. He almost looks… “He’s got something. Important. He asked me to…join him, kind of, and he’d–give it to me.” 

“What?” 

“It’s not–look, Wilbur. Wilbur.” Dream raises his hands, palms out, a placating motion. “It’s not what you think, but I–I had to.” 

“You had to join Manberg.” 

“I’m not joining Manberg!” Dream runs his hand through his hair, eyes flashing. Wilbur is suddenly very aware of the axe on his back, the heavy plates of netherite armor. Eret, the button, it was never meant to be. “Why would I join Manberg, what–”

“So what’s this? What’s this then, Dream?” 

“Wilbur–”

“Because from where I’m standing, I have to say, it looks a lot like you’re betraying me.” 

“I am not–”

“That’s just like you. That’s just like you, isn’t it? Good ol’ Dream, mister 1000 IQ, outsmarting everyone–well-played, man, well-played! I really must congratulate you!” 

“Wilbur, can you just–”

“So what is this meeting then, Dream? Gotten cold feet, now that you’ve been discovered? You’re his little lackey now, is that it, his little lap dog–you’re gonna start another war? Put down another revolution, lead us all out to slaughter like last time, good for you, you motherfucker, is that the point of this farce? You’re here to kill me?” 

“Wilbur, can you just listen to me!” 

Dream’s voice is raised. Wilbur draws himself up to full height, Dream’s head craning up slightly as he crosses the room in front of him in two long strides. 

“What.” 

“I’m not. Joining Manberg.” Dream’s arms are crossed tightly in front of him, scowling slightly. It’s an expression not all that much unlike Tommy’s teenage petulance, a set jaw, eyes narrowed under furrowed brows. “There’s just–a peace treaty, right? I can’t just violate that. And now Schlatt knows. He’s asking for me to give him–gear.” 

“Gear, like what.” 

“Armor. Weapons, shields. Support in the incoming fight. You know, he’d already been paying Punz, the rest of the people in my country are already going to fight with him. And, whatever.” 

Wilbur rocks back on his heels. His skin itches, feeling antsy, so he goes back to pacing. “And?” 

“I meant what I said, earlier. This doesn’t change anything. The TNT is still there, we can still blow it up. It…doesn’t matter who wins the, the battle and stuff.” 

Wilbur sets his shoulders, turning back to look Dream in the eye. “Really. It doesn’t matter.” 

“It doesn’t! It doesn’t matter. We have an agreement, that’s still like–a thing.” Dream’s hands close into fists, then open again. “I don’t like this, okay? I don’t like Schlatt–” Wilbur scoffs, “--and I don’t exactly want to work with him. But I have to. I swear, I really have to.” 

“Because, what. The treaty?” 

Dream shakes his head, expression still all twisted up like he’s eaten something sour. “He’s got. A book.”

Wilbur laughs outright at that. “A book.” 

“It’s–Wilbur, I swear. It’s important. I’ll, I might–I’ll–” Dream makes a frustrated sound, teeth clenched. “I have to get it.” 

“So you’re going to work for Schlatt.” Fuck it. Wilbur pulls out another cigarette, lighting it as he speaks. “You’re going to be the emperor’s little guard dog.” 

“I’m–”

“No, no, it makes sense. It’d be too boring for you otherwise, wouldn’t it? Not enough chaos, with everyone joining the rebellion.” He gestures with the cigarette, Dream’s eyes caught on it as it moves. “You want us all to fucking destroy ourselves, keep everyone weak, Manberg, Pogtopia–you don’t need to explain yourself, man, you’re a smart guy! Even out the playing field, join whatever team has the fewest players, keep yourself above it all. Bravo, really. Bravo.” 

Dream’s jaw works, but he stays silent. Wilbur smiles at him and breathes in a long drag of smoke. 

“Well, Dream. I very much appreciate our meeting together today, really. Really! This has been…enlightening. Is that all? Or do you have any other important information to tell me.” 

“...I’ll come around in a few days to tell the others. About, switching sides and whatever. And–the TNT is still going off, alright? No matter what.” 

Wilbur rolls his eyes. “Obviously.” 

Dream stares him down, Wilbur meeting his eyes evenly. He breaks eye contact first, looking down at the floor and tossing several stacks of TNT onto the ground between them. -

“Thank you, Dream. Until next time then.” 

Dream stares at him, blinks, his eyes wide and green, before he turns away. The torch disappears into his inventory as he walks to the exit of the room, silhouetted in the doorway as he presses the mask back over his face. Wilbur reaches into his pocket, draws out Chekhov’s gun, holds his arm straight in front of him, fingers wrapped around the pistol as Dream works at the straps behind his head. He keeps it held there, pointed at Dream’s back until the man slips into the night, the blurry reflection of the lit end of his cigarette vaguely visible in the dull metal. 

He’s not sure how long it is before a twinge to his arm makes him slip the unloaded gun back into his pocket. He sighs. He needs to start making his way back; after all, he still needs to think of a birthday present. 

[sillysistersusi]

Reach You In The Dark

Fandom: The Silmarillion

Summary: Finarfin and Eärwen after the first kinslaying.

Arafinwë could barely see through the veil of tears, but he could hear Eärwen's cries, and that was almost worse.

He had never seen her so distraught and in so much pain. It was one of those moments in life that you didn't believe were true. They felt like a bad dream that you just wanted to wake up from. And Arafinwë wanted to wake up so badly.

They were gone. His children were gone and he didn't even know if they had helped in this massacre. Were some of these deaths their fault? Had they wielded those swords and spears and shot those arrows?

Arafinwë didn't want it to be true, but he couldn't shake this feeling. It was as if an icy coldness was settling on his skin and little spikes of ice were digging into it.

He had known some of these people. They had been cousins and friends of Eärwen and they had often visited them. Their children had been there too.

Could his beloved little ones really be capable of doing such a deed? Or had they just stood on the sidelines and let it happen? And would that really have been better? Because even if they had only watched, they would still be partly to blame, but-

His throat burned and a sick feeling spread through his stomach as images flooded his mind. Images of Findaráto holding a bloody sword in his hands, those hands which he used to write poetry with, of Aikanáro shooting an arrow at unarmed elves with trembling hands, of Angaráto closing his eyes as someone was struck down, of Artanis fighting her way through the ranks alongside her cousins.

His wonderful children. It seemed like yesterday to him when he had cradled them in his arms and read to them, and now they were to be responsible for such destruction?

He didn't know what he should feel at that thought, but he knew what he did feel. He could never hate them. Not for the fact that they had left. Not for what they had done to the Teleri. Not for listening more to Fëanáro than to his words. Not for causing their mother such grief.

It was the curse of a parent, Arafinwë thought, to still love his children as much as the first time he had held them, even if they now where monsters in some eyes.

As Eärwen's cries slowly faded, he was brought back to the present. He needed to focus on the now and repair the destruction his family had left behind.

He blinked tears from his eyes to get a clearer view and soon found Eärwen. Her bushy, silvery-white hair was all tousled, she had most likely brushed her hand through it several times.

She stared at him. Her tears were everywhere. He couldn't tell if she was still crying because her whole face was wet. She was still shaking, but she was no longer sobbing. Maybe she just couldn't anymore.

After a moment, she reached out a hand to Arafinwë for help.

"Ara." she breathed wetly. "Ara." Her face was all distorted and he wondered if he would ever see her laugh as carefree as she had only weeks before. When they hadn't expected their peaceful life to find an end so soon.

Arafinwë also reached out a hand and took her trembling, cold fingers between his.

"I am so sorry," he said softly, more tears escaping his eyes. His family had instigated this and he didn't know how he was ever going to make up for ir. If there even was anything that could.

Eärwen stepped closer to him and pressed her face against his chest. "You are not to blame for what your brothers did." Carefully and timidly, he put his trembling arms around her and pressed his face into her hair. It smelled of Eärwen, of home. Of a security that felt just so far away.

He hadn't thought he'd hear her speak again so soon, but that sentence alone seemed to have drained her of all her energy. She leaned her whole body against him and clung to him desperately, as if Arafinwë was the only thing keeping her alive right now.

Arafinwë knew that she was to him.

[monocaelia]

cup & kiss w/ diluc ? :3 only if you want to !!! no pressure !!!

[ cup & kiss ]  –  for the sender’s muse to cup the receiver muses’ face during an incredibly passionate and long overdue kiss.

genre : fluff

send me a prompt and i'll write you something short !!

you sigh in relief as the last few guests leave the main hall of the dawn winery. the loud and rambunctious hall filled with boisterous chatter and loud music had now dwindled to a quiet hum as the maids quickly fluttered around to clean up the mess the guests had left in the midst of partying.

"despite this being our engagement party, we hardly spent any time with one another," your fiancé's voice comes from behind you, causing you to turn around.

diluc is handsome tonight, even more so than he usually is. as per your request, his striking red hair is tied into a high ponytail that cascades beautifully down his back while the frontmost fringes delicately frame his face.

he's smiling at you, lips gently quirked up and his gaze filled with a gentle warmth that envelops you.

"it can't be helped that i'm in high demand. everyone loves me, you know?" you tease, laughing when the young master rolls his eyes at you.

"why wouldn't i know? i proposed to you, did i not?" diluc counters against your teasing words. your hand is swiftly held by your lover and you find it hard to calm your heart seeing the diamond glint underneath the radiant glow of the chandelier above you.

a promise of the love diluc would give you for the years to come.

"i'm married, in case you forgot, luc," you jest, eyes gleaming with mischief. "i don't want to be labelled as unfaithful because you insist on messing with someone who's promised to another."

"keep that facade up and i'll revoke my proposal to you, dearest," diluc threatens. even though his voice drips in a deadpan timbre, his lips remain quirked upwards in a knowing smile.

you're swept to the center of the main hall by your fiancé, of his arms wrapped firmly around your waist and the other gently holding your hand as he leads you to the rhythm of the music that only the two of you could hear.

his warmth seeps into you, engulfing you whole and surrounding you with comforting flames that leave no inch of your skin unloved.

"i missed you," diluc breaks the silent music and intimate atmosphere, bringing the hand he held to his lips to kiss. "you don't know how much i longed to whisk you away from the party to keep you to myself."

"and why didn't you?" you press further in hopes of seeing his ears flush; one of your many favorite things about him.

"you looked so happy celebrating with the others; i couldn't bear to take you away."

"oh, luc," you coo, lifting a hand and brushing his fringe behind his ear, "being with you is the happiest i could ever be. promise."

diluc's eyes widen slightly at your words, much to your amusement, and it's hard to hold back the fluttering in your chest when he averts his gaze. you don't miss the pink flushing across his cheeks, running to the tips of his ears, and your heart beats even faster.

his lips find yours in a fleeting kiss, so short you would have missed it. but they find yours again, chasing after the addicting taste of your love. you attempt to pull away to fix the angle of your kiss, a brief exhale of his name, and diluc is on you again.

diluc's gloved hand gently cradles the side of your face, your jaw nestled inside his palm, as he pulls you flush against his chest with his other arm wrapped around your waist.

his kiss is dizzying, enveloping you in a fiery warmth that you could only describe as diluc's entire being. it's domineering, exciting, and addicting.

reluctantly, the two of you pull away as the need to breathe became near impossible to deny. your breath intermingles with your lover's, gazes unwavering and cheeks flushed with the warmth shared between you two.

"i love you," diluc breathes, thumb brushing against your cheek as he tilts your face to get a clearer view of your visage. "and i'll continue to love you for every dawn that arises in the east and even throughout the darkness should the dawn cease to exist."

you roll your eyes at his romantic words before pulling him in for another kiss.

[vic-draws-sometimes]

What Happened.

Another shitty fic completely indulgent to myself. I drew too much and now my arm hurts, so instead I write. Expect more.

Trigger warning for description of gore, only for a sentence.

It had all happened too fast. One second, he was running through empty and abandoned streets, the other he was being thrown on a brick wall, the ringing of an explosion in his ear.  

didn’t know how it happened, when, but something exploded right in front of him. It wouldn’t have been an issue, usually, but his headset got thrown out in the aftershock.  

Suddenly his head was too light, his ears too cold and there were way too much fucking noises. Where were they coming from?  

Where is it?  

Where’s his headset?  

He could hear screams in the distance, explosions, gunshots.  

Finally, after what felt like an hour, but was probably only seconds, he got back on his feet, swaying lightly. He got his bearings, but before he could find his headset, bullets were flying his way, hitting the brick wall he was using as leverage.  

‘’Gotta get out o’ here, first.’’ Easy thing to say, but he didn’t have time to think much. Ghost was an open target here.  

Taking back his sniper, he ran to the closest building. Once under cover, he reached for his radio, only to find it busted, aboslutely destroyed.  

‘’Well, shit.’’ He took it and sent it flying somwhere else, no use in keeping deadweight.  

Ghost looked at his hands, noticing only then the huge tremor... And blood.  

One deep breathe... A second.  

‘’Where are you?’’ he asked himself, but came short of an answer. Where... Was he? He could feel panic seep into his veins, his vision blurry. Each noise that came into his ears interupted his thoughts, disturbed his vision and sent him deeper in confusion.  

‘’Who are you?’’ he asked, this time he was sure he would get an answer.  

Simon...  

No, Ghost. He is Ghost. And Ghost gets the job done.  

Gritting his teeth, he pulled up his gun to aim, deadset or killing anything that crossed his distorded vision.  

It felt like watching someone else doing it, from his own point of view. He didn’t feel his skin, could barely feel the warm blood soaking his gear. Eventually, he could barely hear anything either. It was almost peaceful, if he wasn’t panicking.  

Ghost doesn’t know how long he sat there, shooting, reloading, moving forward. Repeat. His head was empty, as his stare was.  

When he came back to his body, the location had changed, and it was eerly quiet.  

‘’No... Come back...’’ he muttered, touching his skin only to find it cold and unresponsive. Was he dead? He pulled his bloody gloves off, his hands stained red and trembling. He touched his own skin again, scratched it, but couldn’t feel a thing.  

‘’Get back!’’ He took off his helmet, throwing who knows where. His balaclava was next. ‘,Get back, get back. Get back!’’ he said again and again, as he scratched his face and neck, but felt nothing but cold, dead skin.  

He pulled his hair, hit his head, but it didn’t do anything. He was considering hitting it on the cement floor, but he suddenly felt a sharp pain at his waist.  

Felt it...  

Looking down and lifting his layers on clothing, he could see red. Red everywhere, and a hole in his skin. He touched around it and sure enough, felt the pain. Relieved, he touched it again, and cried in pain as he dug his finger in his own flesh.  

His ears buzzed, his whole body reacting and he even felt his arms again as he started feeling dizzy from the loss of blood.  

“...-ost!’’  

Ghost closed his eyes, revelling in the pain.  

‘’Ghost! … Ghost? ‘’  

The voice was clearer, but felt like a dream. He knew it, because so often he would dream of that voice.  

Johnny.  

‘’Simon! Oh sweet God what are you doing?!’’  

Simon? Who is this?  

Slowly, Ghost opened his eyes. He could see the face of Johnny, the rest was a blur.  

‘’Stop it! Are you trying to die?!’’ He sounded panicked as he picked Ghost’s hands away from his wound. Holding them both in one hand, he spoke into his mic.  

‘’Found him, but he’s badly hurt. I’m not sure if he’s conscious. ‘’ Ghost wanted to get back on his feet, tell him he was conscious and totally fine, actually. But he could barely get away from his hold.  

‘’What do you mean you don’t know if he’s conscious? Are his eyes open? Is he responsive?’’ Ghost registered this voice as Price. Oh Price, always so worried...  

‘’Simon? Do you hear me? Look at me, please...’’ Why did Johnny sound so worried? He was fine, now... Was he?  

He nodded once, his head almost dropping.  

‘’Thank God. Stay with me, alright? We’ll get you out of here.’’ He turned on his comm again, this time leaving it on.  

‘’Looks like he loks his headset, explains the silence. He’s got a big wound on the abdomen... Not sure if it’s from a bullet or something else.’’ Soap was on unfamiliar territory, here. Normally he’d be able to tell what sort of wound it is with a look, but with how much Ghost touched it... He can still barely believe what he saw. Why did he do that? Why did he look like that?  

‘’Ask him questions about where and who he is.’’ Price told him, which puzzled him further. Why would Ghost not know where he is? Was he thinking of a concussion?  

‘’Simon? Hey, look at me. Do you know who you are?’’ Ghost looked as much confused as he was, he opened his mouth to speak but didn’t say anything. Then... Shaked his head.  

It took a second for Soap to realize he got an answer. Still, he pressed on.  

‘’Do you know where you are?’’ another shake, and he was feeling panic seep in.  

‘’Simon... Do you know who I am?’’ There was a pause at that, and he heard a faint ‘’John’’ being whispered. 

‘’Soap, what’s going on? Talk to me. ‘’  

‘’He’s confused, sir. He needs a medic right away. He lost a lot of blood. ‘’  

‘’We’ll get you an evac ASAP, give me your location. ‘’ And so he did, and a only a couple of agonizing minutes later a rendez-vous point was established.  

Ghost stayed conscious, amazingly. As conscious as he could be. He was relatively calm on the walk to the meeting site, an open area so the heli could land. Soap had almost his full weight on him, dragging him.  

He set him down to sit against a wall once they reached the location, then tried to put Ghost’s mask on. Only, Ghost wasn’t letting him.  

‘’C’mon, I know you’ll kill me later if I let you show your face to others...’’ But Simon only whined pitifully, pushing him away weakly and trying to escape from him.  

‘’What’s gotten into you...’’ Just as he was about to reach back for the injured man, the sound of the plane approching reached their ears, and Simon reached for Johnny, crying and covering his ears.  

Soap used this opportunity to force the balaclava down, then hugged his Lieutenant against him. The more sounds there were, the more Simon screamed and wailed, trying to hit his head, but Soap was holding him back.  

Medics got down the plane with a bed, and Soap manhandled Ghost on it. He was now trashing around, trying to hit the medics, unfamiliar faces.  

‘’Ghost stop! They’re here to help!’’ Soap said, but it clearly didn’t get throught. He turned his attention to the medics, holding the large man down.  

‘’I don’t know why he’s like that, he’s hurt at the abdomen and needs blood. And... Less sounds.’’ The last part was a guess. He didn’t know what was happening, only knew that he hated seeing his dear Lieutenant in this state.  

In the end, Ghost was given a sedative, and Soap followed him to the base.  

He waited for Ghost to be brought back from surgery, then, waited at his bedside for him to wake up. He had questions, a lot. But mainly, he wanted to know if Simon was alright.  

Just as Johnny was about to doze off, he heard the rustling of the sheets. Simon was awake.  

He quickly took his hand, too cold for his liking, into his own.  

‘’Simon? How do you feel? Do you... Do you know who I am?’’ Johnny asked, hesitant. Simon looked at him for a second longer, studying his face.  

‘’Johnny...’’ His voice was raspy, but Johnny was simply glad to hear it. But it wasn’t all he needed to know. He took a long inhale.  

‘’And... Do you know who you are?’’ This time, it took longer, but he got an answer nontheless.  

‘’Simon Riley... Ghost. Where am I? What happened?’’ Johnny thought he sjould be the one asking this, but he tried to answer anyway.  

‘’At the hosital base. What’s the last thing you remember?’’ His hand didn’t leave his, soothing circles for both Simon and himself.  

‘’We... Dropped off, separated...’’ Simon trailed off, searching his memory.  

‘’I think a grenade was thrown at me?... Lost my headset... I’m not sure after that.’’ That lines up with what the doctor told Johnny. He was about to speak again, but saw tears in Simon’s eyes, his pupils darting from one side to the other. He was in his own head again...  

‘’Hey, look at me. You’re okay now, you’re safe...’’ And that seemingly was what broke the dam, tears fell out quickly as Simon grimaced. He brought Soap’s hand to his face, hiding behind it.  

‘’ ‘m sorry...’’ he whispered.  

‘’You don’t have to apologize for anything, it wasn’t your fault, it...’’  

‘’No.’’  

Johnny’s sentence was interupted. Simon tried to steady his breathe.  

‘’No, I know what happened, I... It happened before. I’m sorry, I was useless. I can’t control it...’’  

Seeing him break down like this... Johnny couldn’t stand it. He stood up only to sit down on the bed, taking Simon’s head to his chest, kissing his forehead.  

‘’I told you, it’s okay. I... I’m sorry I didn’t know, I wish I could’ve helped you...’’. 

They were a mess, crying together and apologizing, holding each other like a pair of scared kids.  

[borrowedtimeandspace]

The Box (Although Not the Suggestion One, as That Doesn't Exist)

29. Element

From this list of gt prompts

AU: Good Omens/Doctor Who crossover, based on this post by @mayomkun and a conversation with @neonthewrite.

Note: My first time writing a Good Omens fic! I couldn't resist once I saw the art linked above, not to mention the rare opportunity to write for a smol Doctor! Also... this got quite long, almost twice as long as my usual prompts. I had lots of fun with these dorks!

Spoilers for Good Omens season 2, but only for like the first 5 minutes.

~~~

The angel sighed glumly, kicking up a small whorl of stardust floating past.

It had been some time since the other angel who'd helped jumpstart this whole pet project had flown off, a bit flustered to get back to his own duties. Busy work, being a Principality, he supposed. That left the angel alone to stare, morose, at what had brought him so much joy not long ago.

All that time spent in the design process, all that effort sunk into putting on a magnificent show– and functional to boot, with all the stars the nebulas could churn out, given the time! All of that, just pfft in 6,000 years flat, once the Almighty got around to creating that "Earth".

Surely it must have been an oversight, thought the angel. He'd been working on this nebula right alongside some of the higher-ups who definitely would know about such a thing as Earth and the "people" meant to be the audience for all their hard work. And yet he'd heard nothing about it until that other angel- Aziraphale, was that his name? -brought it up right after the nebula came bursting into existence. Maybe the higher-ups simply assumed he knew about it, too? That could be why it was never mentioned.

Ah, well… soon enough, the angel would fly off to try and find someone he could talk to about this whole universal-shutdown business. He couldn't help feeling a bit wounded that so much went into things like this, all for it to be nothing but fluff and spectacle for one tiny little planet off in the corner. A corner that wasn't even fully manifested yet! For now, though, a part of him was reluctant to leave. It was still a beautiful sight, if he said so himself; watching the gasses and dust swirl, elements coming together only to expand in bursts of color and light. He reckoned someone ought to enjoy it before it all went up.

Then something made the angel's ear ring and his wing twitch uncomfortably. Some kind of odd sound that he had a hard time pinpointing below the muffled noise of the nebula coming to life all around. 

With a befuddled frown and a wave of his hand, the angel expanded his perception of the space around him. The nebula soared overhead, and the ever-shifting motion of the brand new stars and their infant planets, all of which also blew up to an immense scale compared to the angel now, slowed to a crawl and then nearly a standstill.

From down at this new scale, the sound was a bit clearer to hear, but no less baffling to the angel. His head moved on a swivel to try and spot the source of the stuttering wheeze that seemed to be circling about. While the noise wasn't exactly threatening, it was unusual and, quite frankly, a bit upsetting.

It came into view slowly. Rather literally, it seemed to struggle to manifest once the angel caught sight of it. Something blue and angular and about the size of his hand, fading in and out of sight in time with the struggling noise, finally coming into full solid form with a low sound that almost could be mistaken for a sigh of relief.

The angel's eyes were wide. That hadn't been in the blueprints.

With a flex of his wings, the angel flew closer to the strange object that had appeared. A curious finger hesitantly reached out to touch one of the sides of the box to find that it truly was material! Not just dust and gas, but something actually tangible!

He'd just begun to wonder what exactly this odd and mysterious blue thing was, reaching for it with both hands with the intention to turn it over and figure out just how it worked, when one side of the box suddenly swung inward. The angel's hands twitched back in shock. 

The box was alive??

Then, something even more shocking happened: out of the opening in the box leaned a tiny figure. A very similar shape to the ones angels took these days; pairs of arms and legs, one head, but no wings to be seen. And the tiny figure looked just as shocked to see the angel as he was to see it.

"Ah," it said after a moment. "Right, uh, hello! Sorry to barge in on you like this, but I've, ah, gotten myself slightly stuck, I think."

The angel caught himself staring agape at the little fellow. There wasn't supposed to be anything alive in this quadrant for a few million years, let alone sentient and capable of speech! The thought suddenly occurred as he remembered what Aziraphale had gone on about earlier: was this one of the "people" they were working on? He hadn't been hanging around that long, had he??

"Um," the angel managed to respond. "Not to be rude, but you wouldn't happen to be from Earth, would you?"

A flash of recognition crossed the absolutely teeny face of the figure- the person, rather- but he hesitated before answering. "Well, not quite that, but I was in the neighborhood. Must have gotten myself turned around somehow, and ended up in another…"

He trailed off as he leaned further out of the box, looking this way and that until his gaze landed on the looming nebula, and he stopped to behold it.

A warm bubble of excitement rose up in the angel's chest, cutting right through the confusion of the moment. All this time he'd been so worried about the people not being able to witness the wonders the universe had to offer far beyond that Earth place, and however this one got here, he wasn't about to waste a second!

"Yes, of course! Where are my manners?" The angel cleared his throat and maneuvered himself to float a short distance from the box to keep from blocking the view. He gestured grandly upwards with his arms and wings and said, "Allow me to introduce you to–!"

"The Horsehead Nebula," gasped the man.

The angel's head whipped around, the feathers in his wings ruffled agitatedly as he once again stared in shock.

The person in the box continued, "But it's just starting out! All those stars are only beginning to burn. Barely put the timer on the pressure cooker yet! Oh…! Look at you, you're gorgeous!"

A flurry of emotions flooded the angel as he listened to the little man praise his work (even using the same phrasing the angel had, making him quite proud of it all over again) but he did it in a way that was extremely odd. Like he expected it to be different. It did feel good to be recognized, but something didn't sit right.

"You've…seen it before?" asked the angel, floating cautiously closer once again.

"Oh, dozens of times!" the man exclaimed. "One of the classic star factories of the known universe, personal favorite of mine-,"

The angel interrupted, "Sorry, but I'm afraid that's impossible. I was here to kick all this off, as it were, and I haven't gone anywhere. And, meaning no offense, you are…surprisingly hard to miss in all this. If you'd been here 'dozens of times' already, I'd have noticed, and as far as I know, only the others who worked on it should even know what it looks like!"

Despite the angel getting worked up about it, he was more perplexed by this strange creature than he was upset with him. He sensed no falsehoods when he spoke, which only confused him more.

"Hang on, so, you…" the man blinked as he processed, glancing back and forth between the angel and the nebula. "When you say ‘worked on’, that sort of sounds like it was by design. Is… is that how this universe came about, and not by happenstance? You're telling me you built this??" Though his tone was incredulous, there was more awe in it than disbelief. 

“Well, I…” For someone so small, this mysterious man had a way with his words that completely disarmed the angel. With a flustered grin, he admitted, “It was a group effort, but I was the one lucky enough to start it all up.” To punctuate the point, he gave a revving gesture to mimic the way he’d cranked up the engine just before it all came about.

Agape, the man gazed back up at the nebula. “Wow. I mean that is just…smashing work, really! If I’d known it looked this magnificent brand-new, I’d have come to see it ages ago–,”

“Flattery will get you nowhere,” the angel chided, shaking off the pride the little fellow kept stirring up, distracting him from figuring this oddity out. He did his best to emulate the authoritative tone of voice those upstairs took on, but he wasn’t sure how well it was coming across. Crossing his arms to try and look more serious, he insisted, “Now, I rather think you’ve got some explaining to do about just what you’re doing here, and why you claim to know so much about my nebula. I’ve half a mind to report you!”

Tiny little hands shot up in a soothing gesture. “Alright now, no need to get your…wings in a twist. I can explain, it’s just… well, it’s a bit complicated.”

The angel’s brow jumped expectantly, ready to listen.

“Right.” The man shoved his hands in his pockets with an awkward shrug. "Well, for starters, I’m a bit of a traveler. Travel through time and space, to be exact. That’s why I say I’ve seen this nebula before, even though it’s only just begun to exist. Seen it in the future, loads of times. Can’t resist, really, especially when I’ve got people aboard who don’t have the opportunity to get this far out from their own planets.”

“There are more of you in there?” blurted the angel, curiosity overriding the stern tone he’d tried to put on. Glancing up at the Horsehead, he said more softly, “And you… take them here just to see it?”

It was admittedly a lovely notion. Someone out there, in the future, bothered to trek across half the universe just to see the beauty of its workings. Warmed something in the angel’s chest to think that maybe all this work wasn’t for nothing.

“Well… not at the moment, no,” the man confessed, glancing back into the dark inner space of the box. “Just me right now…”

The angel’s wings drooped as he tried to imagine how that felt. Being a part of the Heavenly Host generally meant that one was never truly alone. They were all part of a group, and they knew they could rely on one another in times of need. Being all alone in a little box sounded quite…

“And you, erm… You’d said before that you were stuck?” the angel prompted, his voice much quieter in light of all this new information.

“Ah! Yes, I did!” the man burst out, as though remembering that he was, in fact, in a bit of a crisis. He shook off all the distractions and leaned back out to lock eyes with the angel. “I dunno if you can help me, but… Well, you see, this is actually not the universe I belong to. It’s a bit too much to explain, but the long and short of it is, I was semi-accidentally pushed past the limits of my own universe into this one. And well, you see, my box here, it runs on energy native to my universe, so I’m running on empty. Not even running, she’s just sort of… dead in the metaphorical water.” 

He ran a tender hand along the blue threshold for a moment before returning his attention outward and upward. “This did happen once before, and I managed to get it fixed by recharging it with some of my own life energy, but now I’m thinking that maybe- Well, I’m wondering if, since you were able to create all this out here, then you could perhaps give me a bit of a jump start!”

"Oh! Erm, I can surely try," said the angel, doing his best to sound confident. "Should be simple, really, with a nebula under the ol' belt!"

The angel's arms uncrossed and he once again reached both hands out with the intent to take hold of the little blue box.

"Oi!" exclaimed the man, jumping back from the doors. The angel paused, sheepish when he realized that, being so small, the poor fellow must not have seen him coming and got startled. It would be quite a sight, he supposed, a great big pair of hands coming at him all at once.

"Ah! Forgive me. See, there aren't meant to be people quite yet, so I don't really know how to…" the angel trailed off with a bashful chuckle, then waved the thought off. He gave a gentle beat of his wings to back off ever so slightly so the little bloke could see more of him and hopefully not be afraid. Cupping his hands before him in the manner he intended to hold the box, he asked, "May I?"

The little man stood straight again, and gave a rather pointed adjustment to his clothes. "Gently as you can, if you must," he insisted.

"I'll be very careful," promised the angel with a nod. Then, much slower this time, he reached out and brought his palms up to meet the very bottom of the box, fingers curling up behind to very gently stabilize it.

As soon as the angel made prolonged contact, the gravity of the situation with the box became clear. The little man had tried to explain it, but now the angel could feel it. His eyes closed as he opened himself up to fully understanding.

"Oh, dear…" he breathed, briefly overwhelmed by the cold, empty feeling the box gave him. No ordinary box, it would seem, with its deceptively vast interior compared to the exterior. Another universe, indeed. The angel could also sense that it should contain its own spark of life, but as the man has said, it was completely devoid of it. An incredibly well-loved box, but assuredly in dire straits.  "You are unwell, poor thing."

Blinking his eyes open, he found the man just within the threshold, watching with uncertainty and a little bit of awe. The angel gave a resolute nod and decided, "You're most definitely in need of a miracle." 

With that, the angel shifted his grip to hold the box in one hand, the little man clinging to the box's opening to keep upright. Such a small, gentle movement for the angel impacted the man much more. He focused on the task at hand, taking a deep breath to concentrate his energy in the very heart of the box deep within it. Once he felt it, his free hand lifted and there was only one thing to do.

"Let there be light," he whispered, drawing his hand down to call upon the powers of Heaven.

The change was immediate. On the angel's command, the interior of the box flickered to life. The man whirled around to watch a blue-green energy fill what looked like a column in the center of a round room much bigger than the limits of the box the angel held in his hand. That room also lit up with tiny motes of yellow all around, and the little man gave an elated whoop at the sight.

"You did it!" exclaimed the man, turning the biggest grin such a small person could make to the angel. "This should be just enough to get home!"

"Oh, it's no trouble really, I–,"

The angel's bashful words were cut off by a slam as the opening to the box shut all of a sudden. He barely had time to blink and wonder about how abrupt that had been when it opened halfway and the man's head poked out once again.

"Also, dunno if this needed to be said, but probably best not to tell anyone I was here, if you can," he said with some urgency. "Not my universe and all, not to mention the whole future business- best left unsaid, I think."

"Right. Quite right," the angel agreed. He hadn't a clue how he would even begin to explain all this if he were to follow through on his previous threat to report it. Doubtful that there was even paperwork for this scenario.

The man gave a nod. "Thanks much for the jump start!" he called as he disappeared into the box once more.

The angel was just wondering what he should do with his hands, if he should simply let the box float on its own to do its thing, when it yet again swung open.

"By the way, I love your hair!" the man grinned. "Great color to it; I'm a bit envious, really!"

"Oh! Erm, thanks!" said the angel, smiling brightly as he accepted the compliment. "I'm rather fond of yours as well, I like the shape of it."

With that, the man gave one final wave to the angel. "Cheers!"

When he vanished into the box this time, it was for good. The angel felt a pulse of energy run through his palm before too long, and the box once again began to wheeze. It was a laborious noise, but nowhere near as sickly as it had sounded before. Just as slowly as it had appeared, it began to vanish, and soon enough was no more.

Slightly stunned, the angel contemplated what had just happened.

It was an odd feeling he was left with. The concept of other universes started to sink in, making him wonder even more about the Almighty's plans for this one. Had They made backups in case the 6000-year shutdown didn't work out?

Beyond that, it did make the angel feel better hearing that, even if it wasn't in this universe, his hard work wouldn't go unnoticed. Someone was out there, in the distant future, bringing people around to see the wonders of the universe. All the more reason, thought the angel, to not just run it all for such a short time and then stop out of the blue! Why create it all without giving them the time to witness it, if that was truly its function after all?

The angel, remembering himself, diminished his perspective once again. As his celestial body expanded, the nebula once again kicked up to high gear, young stars flying about amongst the dust. He gave a pointed flare of his wings, bound and determined to bring this issue up with someone sooner rather than later.

A strong beat of the angel's wings shot him out into the dark matter in a flash of brilliant light, and he sped off to do just that.

[bethanydelleman]

Northanger Abbey Readthrough Ch 22

Well the manuscript is a washing bill. (The Thing About Austen podcast has a great episode about this btw).

She felt humbled to the dust. Could not the adventure of the chest have taught her wisdom? A corner of it, catching her eye as she lay, seemed to rise up in judgment against her. Nothing could now be clearer than the absurdity of her recent fancies. To suppose that a manuscript of many generations back could have remained undiscovered in a room such as that, so modern, so habitable!—Or that she should be the first to possess the skill of unlocking a cabinet, the key of which was open to all!

Catherine also deduces that she had so much trouble with the lock because she was the one who locked it, it was left open for guests to use. She is mortified and doesn't want Henry to find out what she's been doing. So she smoothly transitions into... loving hyacinths.

it is well to have as many holds upon happiness as possible

Who said this book has bad writing, there are so many quotable lines! So much to dwell on. I love Henry saying it will help Catherine go out of doors and she's like, "Pft, you can't get me inside." Also asking if Eleanor has a pleasant mode of instruction is totally a callback to Catherine comparing learning to torment!

The General talks about needing to purchase a new tea set soon and Catherine was probably the only one of the party who did not understand him. ✈️✈️✈️ Then Catherine asks about Woodston and the General does that thing again where he pretends to defer to Eleanor, but then actually just steamrolls over her and answers himself. Grrrr

So then the General gaslights Catherine so hard she thinks she is disappointing him by going on a walk. I hate this man. He clearly wants to go for a walk but pretends that it is her idea which leaves Catherine super confused. Catherine did not exactly know how this was to be understood. He's selfish and regimented, Catherine., that's the whole mystery.

The general listened with assenting gratitude; and it seemed as if his own estimation of Northanger had waited unfixed till that hour.

He is kind of funny though...

General Tilney demanding praise reminds me of Mr. Collins:

The general was flattered by her looks of surprise, which told him almost as plainly, as he soon forced her to tell him in words, that she had never seen any gardens at all equal to them before

Here, leading the way through every walk and cross walk, and scarcely allowing them an interval to utter the praises he asked for, every view was pointed out with a minuteness which left beauty entirely behind... (this is his own grounds) Elizabeth was called on by her cousin to give her opinion of all that she had seen at Rosings, which, for Charlotte’s sake, she made more favourable than it really was. But her commendation, though costing her some trouble, could by no means satisfy Mr. Collins, and he was very soon obliged to take her Ladyship’s praise into his own hands. Pride & Prejudice

Also, it's a tiny line, but the fact that General Tilney is growing greenhouse pineapples is apparently a huge indicator of his wealth. For those who don't know, pineapples take about 2 years per fruit and each plant only grows 1. In England, you would need year-round heated greenhouses, and just an insane amount of wealth. Especially if he's just eating them himself and not selling them, this would be so expensive I can't even.

Catherine cannot resist a Gothic looking path, struck by its gloomy aspect, and eager to enter it, but the General will not join them. This is the beginning of Catherine's ill founded suspicions that General Tilney did not love his wife and also... murdered her. Or locked her up! Every word Eleanor says only seems to confirm her notions!

I love this: She had often read of such characters, characters which Mr. Allen had been used to call unnatural and overdrawn; but here was proof positive of the contrary. Listen to wise Mr. Allen, Catherine!

Now, at some point I have to address the elephant in the room that is Catherine letting her imagination get the best of her and believing that General Tilney is either a wife murderer or... Edward Rochester 30 years too early. I think it has a lot to do with things like this:

Catherine was shocked to find how much her spirits were relieved by the separation. (from General Tilney)

Catherine's confusion is between mundane evil (verbally abusive towards his children, overbearing) and dramatic evil. General Tilney is not a good person, Catherine's final conclusion way at the end is that she didn't actually get him wrong in character, but she erred in the expression of that character. Which is probably why Henry is pretty quick to forgive her, it's not like his father is a super nice person and he knows it.

It is clear that Catherine is picking up on something real. General Tilney does have an explosive temper, his children are afraid of him, he was cruel to his wife (if he treated her anything like Eleanor that couldn't have been fun), and his kindness feels oppressive because it is ultimately false. Not knowing anyone like the General, Catherine defaults to the evil she does know, which is in her dramatic horrid novels.

Anyway, the point is, General Tilney is still the worst even if he didn't murder his wife and Catherine wasn't totally insane to think of it.

Oh, also her confusion about the tour of the house. What Catherine is not picking up on is the General's deep desire to brag about his house.

[call-me-copycat]

Escaping The Night (Part 2)

Welcome! - Introduction and Request rules (important if you want me to write for you, or if you want to know who I am)

▶ Characters: Shinso x Fem Reader (although I might have used "they" in some areas) + Father/Mentor Aizawa (platonic)

▶ Genre: Angst to Fluff

▶ Summary: Vigilante Reader has gotten apprehended by the police and is now in custody. Who will decide your fate, and what's going to happen to you?

▶ Word Count: 2525

▶ Warnings:

- 1 curse word

- It's implied that the reader had their clothes changed while they were unconscious into a uniform (so, invasion of privacy)

- Mention of dead parents

- Implied that the reader has a variety of scars

- It's a pretty slow chapter, and the whole chapter takes place at the police station

- Another warning for those that don't like to wait for each chapter (sorry ｡⁠•́⁠︿⁠•̀⁠｡⁠ )

➜ [Part 1]

➤ {This is Part 2}

➜ [Part 3]

➜ [Part 4]

➜ [Part 5]

➜ [Part 6]

➜ [Part 7]

➜ [Part 8] Coming Soon!

Your mind started to fill with fog and the edges of your vision started to slowly fill in as you banged your hand on the window in one last attempt of escape.

And then your world went dark.

In your period of unconsciousness, you were met with internal darkness, a silent, still void of emptiness, the type of dream one would have when they knew they would have to wake up soon. A dream that was well known all across Japan, from students preparing for tests the next day, to office workers trying to clock in as many hours as they could, it was something familiar.

The darkness seemed quiet and still from far away, and only those on the inside truly understood the depth that it held. Although it seemed empty, the void held that your consciousness was anything but. Rather than the absence of matter, it seemed that it was simply shielded from you, like a curtain blocking the wide view of a window. Full of possibility it held.

However, the familiarity started to sway, as while you couldn't see anything, you started to hear voices. Voices of all sorts, varying in degrees of recognition, started to fill the silence that had once filled the empty void.

'It's your fault, it's always been your fault'

Your father...

'Your quirk is scary! I don't think I wanna be friends anymore ..'

A friend of yours when you were younger...

'Go rot in hell'

A villain you had taken down once, a long time ago ...

"What do we do with them? They're only a kid, a teen at most"

This voice was unfamiliar, and you didn't recognize it at all.

You heard another voice, this time it being a bit clearer than the others that filled the void of your mind.

"I'll do it. I can care for them."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive."

The voices began to fade as you fell back into rhythm with the silence, however the edges of the seemingly infinite void began to disorientate and fade away as your surroundings slowly became lighter and lighter.

You blinked your eyes. Once. Twice.

You were awake again. You quickly sat up, and swiveled your head around in order to gain new insight as to where you were.

There wasn't much around you, the walls were completely white and bare of any objects or color, and you were laying on a sort of shikibuton, which was also devoid of any color as well.

The whole room was impressively clean, with not even a single speck of dust or dirt present. Though its volume wasn't of any great proportion, being rather tight for your taste.

You looked behind you to realize that there was a toilet right next your head from when you were unconscious (internally cursing the person who put you so close to it), and a small window filtered soft sunlight into the barren room, giving it the smallest tint of yellow. It also helped you comprehend that it was somewhere near the early morning.

As you went to stand you realized that your clothes had been changed to a colored uniform instead, and your shoes were replaced by flat slippers.

The changed clothing bothered you a little bit, but you decided not to dwell too long on it, due to bigger issues needing observations. Although, for some reason you never pondered as to what they did with your clothes, mind too foggy to think of anything but where you were.

Your mask that had covered your face was gone, and your hands were stuck together in metal cuffs that swallowed them and a bit further, almost a couple centimeters up your arm. The cold metal wasn't necessarily painful, but it was a tad uncomfortable, as it's stiff form didn't allow too much movement (most likely an added bonus for the guards in case if escape attempts), and the metal dug into your skin a bit everytime you tried to move your arms up or down.

You weren't tied down to anything so you took the advantage and used it to stand and look around at where you were. The room was devoid of any clue as to where you were, but from your examination you guessed that you were in a prison of some sort, though it didn't seem that bad on the surface.

"You're right, you know"

A voice suddenly butted into your thinking, making you jump and turn towards the door of the room. You realized that you had spoken the last part of your thoughts out loud, albeit quite softly.

You furrowed your eyes in an attempt of a glare as you found the source of interruption, all anger being directed towards the men that stood just outside of the door from where you were. It was the man with the scarf again, with a regular looking police officer wearing a crisp uniform and blinding white gloves standing next to him politely.

"What do you want", you spat at them, not knowing yourself if you were talking to one or both of them.

"We're here to ask you a few questions", the police officer disclosed, not reacting to your sour attitude the slightest.

And with that, you found yourself sitting in another barren room, this time a bit bigger with a glass mirror that covered almost the entirety of the wall where the door was, to which you were sure was someone behind it watching your interrogation.

You were invited to sit, which you did, but you didn't really have all too many options. The man in the scarf sat on the chair across from you, leaning forward a bit in a casual manner while the police officer stood in front of the door with his hands folded neatly in front of him.

The man in the scarf wasted no time, immediately getting to the point of the discussion, to which you were slightly glad for because you most definitely weren't in the mood for small talk. The room was cold, and it was even more unbearable with the cuffs on, the frigid bitter metal stinging your skin whenever it rubbed against it.

"So, why were you running from the police? Do you know?"

"Of course", you quipped, glare never faltering as you kept up eye contact with the man.

"Ok then. Answer me this, why were you and your little buddy seen all over town taking down villains. Illegally, I might add." He responded back, immune as ever to your angered retorts.

"Because we were. No one else was coming. That case was left untouched for weeks, and so while the heroes were arguing over paperwork, the villain was making off with his new life earnings.", Your answered, this time truthfully.

"Well then, if 'no one was coming', then why was I able to show up and take down the villain and you?"

You kept your cool, not wanting to make your situation worse, but that didn't stop you from becoming a little upset at the man in front of you.

"Because that situation was different. Tell me where you came from because I've never seen your face around before"

The man before you sighed a bit, this time leaning forward to rest his elbows on the table, knitting his hands together to lean his head on.

"I'll tell you where I came from if you tell me where you came from. That sound fair enough?" He replied, emotion never changing in his voice.

"I come from everywhere and anywhere. A paradoxic birth where the death of one created the life of another." You answered simply, knowing how annoying it was but only wanting to get a kick out of the man's anger.

"Right. And my name's Shirley. Which it's not."*1 The man bitterly jested.

"But if you're so curious as to where I came from, I technically wasn't on duty that night. However I did hear the alarms go off as I was nearby. Being the only hero on duty that was close enough I went in to do what I do best.", the man finished.

He paused a bit, letting some silence fall in between the both of you for a second in order to let you finish processing, before proceeding to speak again.

"Now, I have to ask, what's a teen like you going running around and fighting villains? Where's your parents?" He questioned.

Reports had been made repeatedly over a large span of time about people reporting that they saw some kids taking down villains, along with reports of villains randomly screaming out in pain or fear, despite the absence of both. He figured that it was related to you somehow, but you always managed to sneak just out of his grasp everytime he thought he was about to capture you.

"Dead." You answered, again with a simple answer to avoid giving it too much info.

"I'm sorry about that, but when did they pass? Long ago? Recently? " The man questioned you once again, this time though you noticed his voice became a little gentler. You scoffed internally, not needing nor wanting anyone's pity. You knew you were being childish, but you weren't exactly in the mood to act wise and mature as you were being interrogated.

"My mother died when I was born. He was recent you could say" You didn't want to call that man your father. For all he was, he was considered lower than dirt from you.

"Ok, now what about school? "

"Don't go to one"

"How about money? Food? Clothes?", The man prodded. When you were taken in to custody he noticed your condition definitely wasn't one of the best. Heavy bags rested below your eyes, and you had almost no muscle, being mainly skin and bones from miniscule meals over time. He didn't even want to think anymore when he saw the different types of scars littering various parts of your figure, ranging from little opaque ones, to heavy set burns.

"Nope. Scavenge. Reuse." You answered back in time with the rhythm of the man's questioning. You were going off of technicalities, answering his questions enough so that he couldn't say you refused, but not giving him any useful information about you that he would possibly use.

You watched him sigh a deep sigh and lean back in his chair while staring at the ceiling with closed eyes. Looking at him, you noticed that the man looked so much more tired than you initially saw, skin pale from lack of sun, and eyes always rimmed with red, as if they were never fully satisfied with the amount of sleep they got. His hair was unruly, random strands sticking out in odd places, yet it still flowed down his shoulders as if it was a river made of the midnight sky.

Your attention was brought back when the police officer opened the door to let another man in, this man being dressed in what looked like a detective outfit you saw in a movie once. He had a kind smile on his face and thanked the officer while taking off his hat and going to stand beside the tired scarf man.

He looked over at you and greeted you with a small, yet charitable smile as he did earlier. The man practically radiated friendliness, but you didn't let your guard down, though you did lose most of your glare.

The detective man bent down a bit and whispered something to the scarf man at a volume to which you couldn't hear, even if you strained your ears, though you didn't bother since professionals seemed to have a habit of doing things like that. All the more reasons for your disrespect, because you believed that if they couldn't treat you with the simplest manners, then why should you?

The scarf man looked over at the detective man before answering in a normal (yet tired) voice,

"No. I was thinking you were going to let her know."

The detective man smiled at him before saying in a normal voice,

"Well, it would be pretty rude to let her know without even knowing who you are".

The scarf man thought for a second, but ultimately stood up facing you.

"Ok, kid. Before we let you know what we have planned for you, you might as well know who we are. My name is Shota Aizawa, or some other people know me as 'Eraserhead'. A few even know me as 'sensei'."

The detective stepped forward before announcing who he was as well.

"And in case you wanted to know who I am, my name is Naomasa Tsukauchi. But you can call me Detective Tsukauchi or Officer Tsukauchi."

The detective-officer Tsukauchi looked over at the scarf man Eraserhead, both sharing knowing glances. Internally you were going crazy, thoughts swarming your head. What were they going to do with you? Lock you up? Force you to give up all your information to the system? Or, worse of all...

"So, now that we have that out of the way, let's let you in on what's going to happen, ok sweetie?" The detective added.

You grimaced a bit at the nickname, but overall it didn't mean much.

"Overnight, it was discussed on what we were going to do with you, and if you were going to be punished or not. It was decided that you were probably the victim of emotional manipulation, along with simple misunderstanding of what it was that you were doing. Without any parents, you were sort of given free will." The scarf man Eraserhead started.

"And so, since you were ruled out as a victim instead of criminal, it was decided that you weren't going to get punished. However, it was clear that you were leading a life full of potential in the wrong direction, so we concluded that you were going to need someone to counsel you into behaving normally and eventually letting you go and live a normal life in the future. It was also questioned as to who your caretaker would be, but luckily someone stepped up to both care for you and all your needs while also helping to counsel you and be your mentor."

The detective-officer Tsukauchi added.

Your eyes widened. That was what you were afraid of. You didn't want to be stuck at some religious temple or orphanage, and taught to become 'civilized', all you wanted to do was continue living life the way you once were, defeating villains and creating good memories along the way with those that you had grew close to.

The detective-officer Tsukauchi continued, despite your clearly agitated state.

"You're lucky!" He exclaimed with a smile on his face.

"You get to be with a teacher who works at U.A, and is a hero as well instead of being put into the foster system!"

You frowned, not liking where this was going.

"So you'll be staying with me from now on", The scarf man, Eraserhead, stated.

Well, there's part 2! I'm very sorry if it was a bit boring, but it'll get better soon, I swear!

I've been working on the newest chapters non-stop because I really don't like to keep people waiting, but even with that there's still going to be some waiting that has to be done, and I want to apologize for that. I greatly appreciate your patience! ٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و

This chapter was a bit messy, along with part three, but I was able to smooth it out a bit. I hope it doesn't bother you too much.(●´~`●)

As for the *1, that was a reference to Courage The Cowardly Dog, since I grew up watching the show.

Thank you very much for reading, as everytime someone reads one of my stories it gives me more motivation to write more, and in turn I learn more each day and with each story! So thank you very much! (*´﹀`*)

　 ∧ ∧

　( - з -)

┏━〇〇━━━━┓

┃ごめんね. ┃

┗┳┳━━━━┳┳┛

┗┛　　┗┛

年2022/月12/日05

[sainz-leclerc]

Hey can you write one for lando Norris with 50, 39, 19 and 2 from nsfw list

Thank you so much for this request 💕💕

Sorry for taking so long to respond but my dad was in town and I spent my whole day with him 😅

Prompts ( nswf list ) : 2. “Do you feel how hard you’re making me right now ?” 19. “You’re fucking mine , understood ?” 39. “I can see your nipples through your shirt” and 50. “I love your body , I love the way you moan my name . I love fucking you but most importantly I love you”

Going on a boat trip with Lando , Daniel and some other drivers and their partners seemed like a great idea earlier .

That is until Lando started thinking with his dick instead of his brain .

Both of you were in the pool with Daniel , Charlotte , Lewis and Max , playing pool volleyball . The teams were you , Daniel and Max , while the other team was Lando , Charlotte and Lewis

After a lot of work and concentration you finally beat the other team , Max and Daniel hauling you up onto their shoulder , cheering and splashing water around .

Unbeknownst to you , Lando was burning holes into the other drivers for having their hands on your thighs.

Lando usually wasn’t the jealous type , but currently being a sore loser , his jealous side started to creep in .

Lewis and Charlotte both congratulate you for winning while the brit got out of the pool and made his way towards your cabin .

“What’s up with him ?” Max says , letting you go back into the water .

“Nothing mate , he’s just a lousy loser” Daniel smiled , getting out of the pool as well , heading towards the cooler to grab a beer .

“I’ll go check up on him” you said .

Before , making your way back to the cabin , you grabbed your t-shirt from the sun bed and quickly put it on in the yacht’s bathroom , remaining only in the thin shirt and your bikini bottoms .

Slowly entering the quiet room , you see a frustrated Lando on the bed “Love , are you alright ? Not petty about loosing are you ?” You teased him .

In an instant he’s on his feet , pushing you against the cabin door locking it “you’re fucking mine understood ?”

“What ? Lando what are you talki- oh” that’s when you realized exactly why he’s in a mood “oh I see . Is my little Lando jealous of Danny and Max ?”

At this point your only goal in life is to tease Lando .

The boy took in a harsh breath ready to say something when his eyes moved over your body and froze .

“What ?”

Lando gulped , looking back into your eyes “I can see your nipples through your shirt”

At that you smirked , pushing him off just enough to take off your piece of clothing , to give him a clearer view.

“Is this better ?”

The McLaren driver groaned , smashing his lips against yours . Lando’s kiss was hungry , not in the mood to play . It was a fight against tongues , one the boy easily won .

“Do you feel how hard you’re making me right now ?” The brit pushed himself against you , surely making you feel his hard on .

You smiled , going to reach into his swim trunks when Lando snatched your hand , pushing you onto the bed and falling on top of you .

“Not in the mood for teasing sweetheart” he quickly untied your bikini bottoms , took out his already hard dick out of his swimming trunks and slowly entered you.

“Oh fuck” you both moaned . After letting you adjust , Lando settled on a brutal pace , making you see stars .

“Lando , oh fuck , yes oh yes Lando fuck” you moans were music to his ears , only increasing his pace.

“Bet Danny and Max couldn’t make little y/n feel this good ” Lando smirked , boosting his ego and mocking you for earlier

All you could do was nod your head in agreement , the pleasure being to much.

“I love your body , I love the way you moan my name” the young driver grunted into your ear , his thumb coming down to play with your clit “I love fucking you but most importantly I love you”

He kissed your lips , the force sure to bruise them . That , with his frantic thrusts and his thumb on your clit , you came in no time .

Soon enough , Lando started loosing rhythm, coming inside of you . He stayed there a bit , admiring your face and the beautiful marks he left behind . He just couldn’t help himself .

After catching both your breaths , he pulled out . Some of his cum escape you , only for Lando to finger it back in, you making you yelp .

“Lando”

“I’m sorry darling , but we can’t let a single drop go to waste” he winked at you .

Later , after showering and getting dressed , you finally made your way on board for dinner .

There , Daniel just had to be a little menace “I bet you enjoy loosing don’t you Norris” he winked at Lando.

You turned as red as a tomato while your boyfriend just smirked at his friends and kissed the marks he left on your neck .

[bridgyrose]

Good afternoon Bridgy. Once more I humbly request the next part of either Blind!Weiss, Transfer Student or the Whiterose Penpals au pretty pretty please? Have a nice day!

(Penpal it is)

Weiss shook her head as she watched Ruby and Yang off to the side of the cafeteria, still having a hard time believing that her penpal was going to be attending Beacon with her. Though, she couldnt be too upset that Ruby never told her, afterall, it was Ruby’s dream to attend and the fact that she had permission to attend much sooner than others was still a miracle. Her eyes started to glance around the room as she looked around at the other students getting ready for bed before orientation, stopping at Pyrrha as she watched her. Alone. 

“Told ya you’d make a friend, Rubes,” Yang said as she lightly hit Ruby’s shoulder. “And maybe if you play your cards right-” 

“Its not like that!” Ruby exclaimed as she pulled away from her sister. “I dont like her like that, she’s just a friend. Nothing more.” 

Weiss pinched the bridge of her nose and focused on Ruby and Yang again, starting to regret meeting the sisters. “You both know that people are trying to sleep, right?” 

“See?” Ruby said as she nudged Yang. “You’re being loud. I’m going to take a small walk, I’ll be back later, okay?” 

Weiss paused for a moment as she watched Ruby walk off, starting to get a bit nervous. “Will she be okay?” 

Yang nodded and sighed. “Yeah, we’re just missing the day she’d normally visit mom’s grave. But she’ll be fine after getting some air and grieving as she needs to.” 

“Shouldnt you go after her?” 

“If she doesnt come to bed in an hour, I will,” Yang said as she walked off. “But for now, I’m going to try to meet up with my friends and see if I can meet anyone else. We’ll have a long day tomorrow and it’ll be nice to have a plan on who you’d want to team up with.” 

Weiss nodded, continuing to watch Ruby as she left the cafeteria to make her way to the courtyard. It had only been a short few years that they’d been penpals, but she’d learned more about Ruby in a single night than she did in four years of writing, calling, and texting. With a heavy sigh, Weiss picked herself up and started to make her way out to follow Ruby, unable to let her deal with it on her own. 

She slowly made her way out of the cafeteria and to the courtyard, slowly making her way over to Ruby as she sat next to a tree, looking up at the moon. She stopped just before the tree, not wanting to get closer until Ruby spoke to her. 

“You didnt need to follow me.” 

“No, but… you looked like you could use someone and I did say I was going to keep you from failing out.” Weiss made her way to Ruby’s side and sat down next to her. “Besides, if I let my penpal be out here alone, what does that say about me?” 

Ruby looked over at her. “Are we still penpals now? I mean, we’ve met in person and we’ll be attending class together.” 

“I’m not sure I can call us friends yet.” 

“Right…” 

Weiss sighed and looked up at the moon and the stars, unused to the view she had of them here in Vale. A smile crossed her lips a bit as she relaxed. “I always loved looking up at the stars at home. Though, the sky is different here than in Atlas.” 

“Different how?” Ruby asked as she wiped away a couple tears. 

“The sky seems a bit clearer, less clouds tonight than most Atlas nights. The stars are different this time of year. The moon feels closer and a bit more… whole when you look at it.” Weiss pulled out her scroll and started to pull up the star charts of the Atlas sky, her heart already longing for home. “This is my first time away from home and I already miss the Atlas sky.” 

“Then why leave? Sounds like you just want to go back.” 

“I do, but… I… needed… needed to get away.” Weiss sat her scroll down and stared up at the stars, her heart starting to ache. “That part doesnt matter. What does is that you shouldnt be alone. We have a long day ahead of ourselves and you’ll need all the rest you can get.” 

“I’ll be fine.” 

“Will you?” 

“I… yeah.” Ruby sighed and started to push Weiss away. “You should get some rest though, I’m sure you’ve had a long day traveling.” 

Weiss slowly got up. “Then get some sleep soon, alright? As your penpal and maybe friend, I dont want to see you failing out already.” 

Ruby smiled a bit. “Alright, I’ll be back in soon.” 

Weiss flashed a small smile at Ruby as she started to make her way back to the cafeteria to rest. She slowed her walk as she walked back in, looking around at all the students again. Pyrrha was nowhere to be seen, presumably with a few friends she may have made. The room was finally starting to quiet down, a small relief washing over her when she had a moment of not being bombarded by men who wanted to date her for her name. She laid down on her bedroll and picked up her scroll once more as she flipped through her apps until she came to a small list she made of all the things she wanted to do at Beacon. 

Get a huntress license.

Be on a team with Pyrrha.

Make a real friend.

Try a new hobby. 

She quickly crossed off “Make a friend” before making sure her alarms were set for the morning. 

[bugsbenefit]

"where others saw order I saw a straight jacket, seconds, minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, years, decades!" Okay soo, is his whole monologue worthless now? Does he even think any of what he said or is that the mf talking, is there even an Henry anymore? I'm so confused

Where does the grandfathers clock fit in all of this

(everythings spoiler tagged but i'm still putting the rest under a read more so it's easier to scroll past)

i'm genuinely kind of curious how little they seemingly did with it too. specifically things like the grandfather clock are so relevant to the character in s4 it's an odd choice to not give it any significance in the origin story spin off

but i'm still waiting for more leaks, what we have right now is a very bare bones summary of plot beats, so the grandfather clock showing up at Some point is still very much possible. it just doesn't seem to have any major plot importance

regarding the monologue, yeah it really depends on what else we'll get form the play i think. i said yesterday too that i'm not a big fan of them seemingly wanting to lean into giving Henry his powers later on in life via possession because it creates a few problems for the writing of s5. it does solve the Will/Henry situation pretty neatly, it makes sense why they're paralleled that much with this. but it gets a bit odd when you suddenly have this kid where there's Actually something wrong with him (posession/cosmic creature influence) on the show with main characters that are all inherently different (queer, poc, disabilities). that just falls out of line of the ongoing theme

and yeah, it does make the monologue hit significantly less hard. the whole sentiment of feeling trapped by society works well coming from someone who's othered in some way, and being directed at another character that is also othered. if Henry's prime "otherness factor" came from a supernatural encounter it would lose a lot of the potential it had

but again, i don't really want to speak too much on it yet because we only have major plot beats bullet point lists after the first day of pre screening. any nuance about the characters and story beats that aren't part of the main message are still mostly unknown, so i want a clearer picture before i say that i think they picked the weaker option writing wise

with the MF having more active involvement you could also still take the time theme of s4 to s5 to some degree with the monologue, even without it being in the play. aspects like Vecna being able to show Nancy an accurate glimpse into the future with the gates opening implies that, in this case the MF, is in some way not bound by the same time constraints as people. so they could instead turn the monologue into a him Literally seeing/being shown time on a level normal humans don't experience and that being the reason he has such a meta view on it. so i do think they could make the monologue make sense, depending on how they define the MFs relationship to time and space in s5 and what it's relationship/bond to Vecna is actually like (gives them more room to fumble it though since Henry himself experiencing oppression and otherness based on him as a person would make the monologue work better regardless imo)

but yeah, if they really Do want to go the "it was due to MF influences all along" route they're opening up the door to some troubles. like you say, the monologue would lose a lot of it's impact if the Dimension X encounter was really all there was

but well see well see, i'm curious for more leaks to get out

[will80sbyers]

hi! what do you think is the strongest piece of evidence for bi mike??

(hope ur having a good day/night <3)

Heyyy ☺️

I feel like the Vickie and Robin parallel made it clear enough because they wrote that in the script purposefully to parallel byler completely, I also feel like from how Mike talks about his relationship with El and how much he's worried about it it wouldn't make sense for him to be lying all the time and for the writers to not even focus on that visually in a clear way, they have to bring all the audience on this journey, for now visually they have presented Mike to be honest in my opinion... and really it's a combination of so many things and writing choices, it's not only one thing that makes me think that...

I can't pick one because it's the whole context of the show in the narrative & outside in the making that makes me think that Mike is more likely to be bi/queer!

like, I think from how they filmed the first 3 seasons it's clear from how Finn acts and how the story is presented that Mike and El were meant to be taken seriously as a real couple (just a puppy love couple but still real) and his crush on her it's shown on screen multiple times through the seasons, personally I can't ignore that or the fact that milkvan has been paralleled to other ships that are romantic... because if I do that then I can't believe in byler either, because it makes all their moments in question not proof if it's not valid for both of the ships... I can't ignore one and take the other as proof at the same time

and it wouldn't make much sense as a director to film that in that way and even advertise the ship online as a real ship... from a marketing point of view that's a really bad idea if you want people to follow your other works after this

I also think that they used the parallels between milkvan and byler to show that the two relationships have the same level of possibility but just end in different ways with byler endgame, I don't know how you can explain using parallelels for the two couples if Mike and El were not in a real relationship textually, it's only confusing visually and to me just doesn't make sense... I feel like Mike being bi makes the narrative play smoother and clearer in general!

as always this is only my opinion, no hate to who has different ones!!

Hope you're having a great day/night too!! 💕

[companion-of-the-dragonmark]

Outlawry and the Outcast Lands (HTTYD Books)

(I’m sorry in advance for any blurry map images, but I can only do so much. If you guys have clearer copies of this, please let me know.)

Hello everyone! Today I’ll write another article that I think you’ll find interesting. I know I haven’t written an article for the Books in, like, a very long time, but now I’ve got myself a topic to talk about. 

As you know, Outlawry and Outcasts are among the main antagonists and themes in the Books. That being said, and in spite of it, there isn’t really a whole lot of info concerning this, aside from the few hints, theories, and mentions we get from it.

In the Books, Outlawry and Piracy kinda go hand-in-hand, though they’re not exactly the same thing. 

In the Viking Age, there was a complicated yet integral system in Viking society called “Outlawry”. For minor crimes — stealing, injuring, insulting someone’s honor, perjury, non-violent treason (disobeying orders and the like), etc, or if the person exiled himself — they sentenced a person to “Lesser Outlawry”.

Lesser Outlaws had safe zones to live in for up to 3 years, and their family and friends could give them supplies and support if needed. His family could even join him if they so wished. However, if the person ever stepped out of these safe zones for whatever reason, it was fair game if somebody killed him, since he is technically an outlaw, and the killer was exempt from any punishment since the outlaw stepped out of the sanctioned safe zones.

“Greater Outlawry” was when a man or woman committed the following major crimes: assault, rape, manslaughter (accidental or intentional), the harming or killing of a chieftain or lord (or “violent treason”), breaking the terms of the lesser outlawry sentence, and other terrible crimes. If anyone committed these crimes, they were sentenced to “Greater Outlawry”, which was permanent, and could never be revoked once sentenced.

Of course, both in the real world and in this world, it’s natural and essential for outlaws to band together to increase their chances of survival. After all, life as an outlaw wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows, as Hiccup hints at in Book 1, and mentions from time to time in later Books. In fact, such was the stress and isolation of becoming a permanent outlaw — becoming both socially and eventually physically executed — that there are many who commit suicide, unable to handle the drastic change to their circumstances. 

To be an Outlaw was to, bluntly speaking, metaphorically become the participant of the Hunger Games — except that everyone was coming to kill YOU, gaining glory and honor for themselves, and notoriety for you if you won instead.

Because of this, it was common for Outlaws to band together in order to protect themselves. This is probably how the Outcast Tribe came to be after Thugheart failed in his rebellion to claim the Throne of the Wilderwest for himself, bringing with him whomever got banished with him. Perhaps even with their families, if any went at all. Over the years, they grew to become a deadly force, and unfortunately devolved into a nasty, ferocious, and somewhat primitive Viking band known for cannibalism, human sacrifices, and other bad deeds. Of course, upon Alvin’s coronation as the new High Chieftain of the Outcasts 5-15 years before the events of Book 1, he reformed the Outcasts into a bit more sophisticated force and a bit more with the times, but he couldn’t change all of their traditions.

This Tribe consists mostly of descendants of pro-Thugheart rebels who wish for the descendants of Thugheart to reclaim the Throne of the Wilderwest and rule the Tribes (even though the rest of the Archipelago view them as nothing more than a family of Outcasts and dishonorable men).

While the Outcasts of the Wilderwest are the main groups, they’re by far not the only ones out there. The Archipelago has many Outcast warbands, large and small, spread out throughout the many isles that make up the Barbaric Archipelago. That being said, the Wilderwest Outcasts are by far the most populous and dangerous outlaw bands out there due to their organization, history, resolve, and semi-legitimacy. Other outlaw bands are mostly just warbands led by a leader or warlord rather than a legitimate chieftain or ruler. If they do, it’s self-made and far from legitimate.

But Vikings of the Archipelago who wish to sail through these waters must take heed to the potential danger of running into any bands of wandering Outcasts. Some bands are on dragons, others on ships, and still others with a mix of both. The life of a Viking is fraught with danger.

However, this isn’t the only path to becoming an Outcast. Nor is it the only fate of one, either. 

Regardless if you were Outlawed or not, if you have the misfortune and bad luck to run into the Uglithug Slave Ships, you may as well forget ever hoping for freedom again. To become a slave is the same as becoming an Outcast practically. Once they grab hold of you and gift you with the Slavemark, you can never hope to become a Free Viking ever again. (At least until the Dragonmarker Revolution led by Hiccup the Third brought it back into its original symbolic meaning.) 

But if you ever got lucky enough to escape (though few ever do), you would still be treated as if you were an Outcast and probably killed on the spot, or, if you were lucky, become someone else’s slave.

If you got caught by any Roman ships, then you’d meet the same fate and you’d end up becoming a slave or a gladiator for their Games.

Vikings who got banished from their homes as Outcasts would either go to 2 places: The Mainland, where they would have to deal with dragons AND Uglithugs, and try to avoid becoming a slave or just outright killed on the spot — and woe unto them if they got banished during the winter seasons (though anytime was bad when you’re in the Archipelago); and the second is being sent by UG the Uglithug to the Island of Berserk, where they’re imprisoned in the infamous Forest Dungeon until the time comes for their monthly human sacrifices to the Dragon (until, at least, Hiccup came along and spoilt the fun like the party-pooper he is. XD)

However, there was a THIRD option — one that most people probably don’t know about.

Cannibal Isle. The island where starving to death and dealing with dragons was the LEAST of your worries. 

This place was never mentioned in the Books, but you can find this in some maps in Book 1: How To Train Your Dragon and in the Complete Book of Dragons. That being said, it is mentioned in the Books about Vikings being banished having to face dangers such as being beset by cannibals. Book 1 is the most we get about it, but it is interesting to note that he says this. As he says this in lieu of talking about being banished to the Mainland, it might be that Cannibal Isle isn’t the only place where cannibals reside. That being said, we can’t be sure of such things, since Cowell never mentions the place nor about the banishment since it never happens after the Berkian and Meathead Youths’ victory over the Green Death.

I just happened to have seen this on the maps of Book 1 and the Book of Dragons and was very interested and started to wonder if this wasn’t a connection of some sort. If he mentions cannibals, then the other destination they might’ve been sent to other than the Mainland (which, to be honest, is a FAR DISTANCE from Berk) could’ve been Cannibal Isle.

Cannibal Isle might possibly be home to Outcasts who’ve been banished from society and driven to this island, which doesn’t have much in the way of food, and are lucky to get by on plants and fish and whatever they manage to scrounge up. But eventually the hunger drove them mad and caused them to look to man-flesh to sustain their needs. Thus, the island became known as “Cannibal Isle”, and would often be a place to send permanent outlaws to other than the Mainland.

Another area I thought would be an interesting hotspot for pirates, raiders, and outcasts was in the Mazy Multitudes. Only the bravest would enter these waters and make them their base of operations. Other than the weather, the Sharkworms, and the like, they’d also have to contend with the Romans who’ve made their stronghold there on one of the islands.

However, the Mazy Multitudes also make for a great base since not many Vikings would be crazy enough to risk entering the Mazy Multitudes to deal with any Outcasts or Raiders who’ve made themselves at home here, especially since the Romans have made their base here for hundreds of years.

Not only that, but it’s pretty close to several islands, such as Glum, Peaceable Country, Meatheads, Berk, Waterlands, Mystery, Swallow, and others. And much traffic enters near or into these waters, making it a lovely hotspot. Or one of them, at any point. It’s similar to the modern-day water trade routes in Indonesia.

All-in-all, it’s not a bad spot to hang out at -- though, admittedly, there are perhaps more safer areas to establish your base at.

Conclusion:

So there are many paths and many ways that one ends up becoming an Outcast of Viking society when concerning the lore of the Books. And we’ve learned that becoming an Outcast... is not fun’n’games. At all. It’s literally like Hunger Games, but with worse odds and even less support unless you luckily end up in one of the many Outcast bands or form one yourself.

What happens to Outcasts can vary: from going to the Mainland, to becoming a slave, to dying at the hands of Cannibals or some Dragon, to succumbing to the natural and unnatural elements, to getting killed by dragons... the possibilities are ENDLESS.

In fact, there should’ve been a book called “You Wouldn’t Want to be An Outcast in the Barbaric Archipelago”. lol XD (I might actually do a fanfic on this. Who knows?)

I hope you guys had fun reading this and learned a lot. It was definitely fun for me, and I enjoyed thinking up theories concerning Cannibal Isle and the Mazy Multitudes for this article.

Thank you guys for reading! Please reblog to share with others, and I hope to see you in the next article. 

Long Live the Wilderwest!

— Companion of the Dragonmark

[fierceawakening]

Lesson 2: Sentence Structure, Or Let's Sentence We-Make-It

(Lesson 1 is here: https://www.tumblr.com/fierceawakening/730475950583726080/okay-so-ive-got-more-people-asking-about?source=share)

@lizardywizard @izzet-league-mad-scientist @threeoftwelve

Phyrexian has a different sentence structure than English does.

In English, sentences are generally structured subject, verb, object:

I obliterate the opponent.

(Yes, we just confirmed the Phyrexian for "obliterate." Did you think I wasn't going to spend at least a day saying "obliterate" over and over again? Then you have not met me, friends.)

The subject is "I," a pronoun which tells the hearers that the speaker is talking about the speaker themself, the verb is "obliterate," and the object is "the opponent," the person the subject does the verb-thing to.

Phyrexian works very differently.

First of all, Phyrexian begins almost all sentences with what is officially called "a mood/tense marker," but which I'm going to just call a mood marker, because less typing.

This marker gives information about the sentence it starts. Is this a thing that's happening now? Is this something that the subject wants? Is this something that someone DOES NOT have or want? Is this something Great Yawgmoth did in the glorious bygone past of the original Phyrexia? Is this something Norn is commanding her faithful to do? The marker at the beginning of the sentence is how you know which of those you're dealing with.

To make this a little clearer, the most common mood marker you'll likely see is this guy here:

or, horizontally (which is how I'm gonna type going forward, I just wanted to do it vertically first so you can look at a vertical letter chart and not have to rotate it in your head, you're welcome):

Look at the alphabet from lesson one and you'll recognize these two letters as "xe." (Pronunciation note: "x" is pronounced not the way it is in English, but as it is in the International Phonetic Alphabet (IPA), which is quite different. It's like the "ch" in German ach or Scottish loch. So it sounds much more like "heh" with a breathy h than like "zeh" or "kseh" or something.)

Xe indicates that the sentence is in present tense and is declarative. So whatever the sentence is about is true (rather than false, hypothetical, wished for, etc) and happening now.

Declarative: (Subject verbs object.)

Or, to be a bit silly about it

Trufax: (Subject verbs object.)

So if I'm trying to translate the English sentence above, I begin with xe. I start with my starting bar to make sure my readers know I am a rube who writes horizontally, and begin with xe, as the sentence describes something I'm currently doing. Then I add my word separator/Pretty Spacebar, as xe is a whole word and more words will come next:

If you have any of the Phyrexian fonts (I got mine here: https://drive.google.com/file/d/1yR9HblQ2Hn3v-vlXuaF5NhbhFAfr_WCO/view?usp=share_link ), this looks like:

^xe-

So now let's talk about the obliterating I'm doing!

Right away there's another wrinkle.

Phyrexian does not order sentences like English either.

Where, in English, the order is Subject Verb Object.

the default in Phyrexian is

Mood Subject Object Verb.

This means that the vast majority of Phyrexian sentences you'll come across end with the verb.

Which means our sentence is going to look something like:

Trufax: (I the opponent obliterate.)

The I part is actually going to be indicated when we conjugate the verb, so we don't need to say that. (Think of how in English, if I say "Am hungry," it's a little off but it's still clear who is hungry, as "am" can only refer to the speaker themself.)

The "the" in "the opponent" is also left out. Phyrexian very often doesn't do a, an, the, etc. Usually the rest of the sentence will clarify that, or the noun for the object will specify a particular thing or group in a way that's not ambiguous.

[NOTE YOU CAN IGNORE IF THIS IS TOO MUCH ALREADY: Most likely, I'd translate this sentence using "my opponent," not just "opponent." I'm not doing that here because I'd need to change the word "opponent" to indicate whose opponent it is. I want to leave those specific "how you change basic words" bits for a later lesson. END NOTE.]

Trufax: opponent I-obliterate.

Which means the next word we need is "opponent." That word is:

əxnɒqč

So then we've got:

^xe-əxnɒqč-

Now we need "obliterate." That word is:

kšiπχ

So now we have all the pieces for our sentence.

However, we still need to conjugate the verb, to show that I'm the one doing it and that I'm doing it TO the opponent, rather than them doing it to me, me doing it to myself (ow!), etc.

Those conjugations are complicated and don't work like English, so that will be another lesson. I'm just going to do it myself now:

kšiπaχ

"I obliterate them"

So now we have a mood marker, an object, a subject (implied by the conjugated verb), and a verb!

That's a sentence!

^xe-əxnɒqč-kšiπaχ.

Trufax: Opponent I-obliterate-them.

I obliterate the opponent.

Next Time: How Do You Verbs? Fierce Attempts To Explain.