#It doesn’t make sense out of context but shhh

[welcometothesewers]

Putting Skyfire in the autobot kissing booth because bumblebee needed a break, who’s showing up?

[peachy-panic]

“There you go. Let it out.”

“You can cry if you need to,” the man named Bryan tells him after, when their bodies are pressed together beneath the duvet. A hand sits low on Jaime’s stomach, making it impossible to relax his muscles. “I know it can be a bit intense sometimes.”

It feels like a dream.

The whole thing was over in minutes, which Jaime supposes he should be grateful for, but all he can think about now is how the room is suffocatingly warm and he is covered in someone else’s sweat and Bryan lied to him.

He lied.

“Shhh, there you go.” The heat of a whisper tickles just below his ear. “There you go. Let it out.”

It takes a moment to make sense of the words, because he hasn’t yet realized he is, in fact, crying. He closes his eyes and tries to pretend he doesn’t hear the pleasure in his Keeper’s voice.

Maybe this is just a dream.

((FOR CONTEXT: this is Bryan))

[nomsfaultau]

Daily ask №23!

Random/cursed edition!

What if I were to try and tell Fault!Wilbur where babies come from?

So. Phil has said that Tubbo's problem is not having blood in that one famous shitpost which got me into Fault in the first place. So. What if they did have blood though? Like what if some of the wax cells were filled with blood? Just spontaneously. For blood-letting purposes, yk.

I think I saw you mention somewhere that Fault!Tubbo either has or could potentially have memories from different alternative versions of themselves. Explain please?? Also does that mean that they potentially have memories from my personal au where most of my ocs and headcanons live? Btw my first reaction at that thought was "AAHH FUCK NONONONONO BITCH CHEESUS CRUST". It's not that bad though I promise I'd just be embarrassed either way.

What if. What if the Fault crew + the scp researchers got spontaneously teleported into a gacha reaction videos where they had to react to your shitposts, animations and drawings. Also throw a couple of 2018 style gacha vids in there for good measure. (While writing this I checked the lyrics of Devils don't fly and realised that it's actually a pretty serious song. Which like- damn.)

What role would the Fault crew characters get in the soldier poet king test? I do love that test a little too much maybe- here's the link to the quiz! https://uquiz.com/quiz/MYLbZ3/are-you-a-soldier-a-poet-or-a-king

This one has heavy spoilers!

1. Probably depends on how you do it, but I think he’d just take basic notes on sex-ed. Doesn’t have much puritan context of taboo or embarrassment on the subject. Fairly indifferent on the whole sex thing because he doesn’t think it’ll ever come up in his lifestyle of avoiding humans and knowing only 4 people. Probably a little irritated that its theories were so wildly off base, grumble a bit about how its own ideas about making Faustian bargains with dark entities and trading organ: [womb] for power make far more sense but whatever. He thinks pregnancy is stupid because how are you supposed to run like that? And your food is SIPHONED off by the fetus? Why can’t they get their own? And at the end you get a human. Terrible process all around. 3/10 Tommy has less ammunition to tease it now and that’s IT. 

2. Probably smell bad. Maybe they could do things like blush? Mosquitoes would go crazy for them. If this is ‘a previously weren’t a blood fruit gusher’ situation, Tubbo would be freaking out about 1. Who the muffin’s blood is this and 2. Starving 2 death babyy. Cause they really need that honey to operate. A bunch of baby larva are going to die even if all the workers can go into overdrive to feed the Hive. I think it would be very funny if Tubbo tried to break into a blood bank to donate it all. Shhh don’t worry about where this blood came from. Or what happened to the security cameras. It’s for a good cause trust trust. 

3.Heavy spoilers. The plan was that Tubbo and Wilbur get dunked through the near apocalypse via dissolving of the narrative due to SOMEONE being so depressed it fails to keep the void in check/potentially interpretable as being suicidal, thus exposing the two to pure void madness and realizing everything is a story. Which would entail having some familiarity/confusion about the source material of the dsmp, some vlogs, etc. but not necessarily AUs. But then SOMEONE turned out to be an abusive ass, and that plot point got very icky to me. I’ve been debating it for months, but realized I’m sexy and do what I want so am going to limit it to pure awareness of being a story, but not necessarily a fanfic. Still has the existential crisis of it and the philosophical implications that are going to so beautifully deal with themes of attachments, the purpose of narratives, and parallel whatever the hell trauma Tommy is dealing with during that section. But won’t actually deal with having any true awareness of stuff outside of Fault. Except maybe for realizing “Lawrence killed our muffining husband?!” because that scene was funny as hell to write. I dunno plans change. I’ve tried not to let outside events change my artistic vision, but it’s inevitable. 

4.Oh goodness they absolutely despise me for all the jokes about the horrors they’re going through. Probably think they’re being drawn ‘cute’ given they’re probably a lot freakier looking irl, and slightly distressed about being chibis. I think most would even consider it ‘out of character’ given their self perceptions don’t tend to be the most accurate. Current Wilbur is hissing and vehement about being constantly called an it because his character development is very far off from when that happens. Philza is a little disappointed that his bloodthirsty moments gets so much emphasis since he’s so chill 97% of the time. Tommy is absolutely chuffed to bits to realize he’s the main character, though trying to do damage control cause haha I’m fine guys this crazy internet person just made me seem edgy and depressed. 

Webb is going to strangle me for the Philza/Webb post tho. And the haha poor alcoholic divorcee doormat jokes. Dr. Blake assumes the blog is an anomaly and starts trying to torture it…?

5. I took the quiz sitting in the heads of all of them. 

Tommy: The Poet. “So I wait for you like a lonely house till you will see me again and live in me, till then my windows ache.” “The one who hurt you haunts you. In your nightmares, they say I am disappointed in you” literally happens in Fault. With Philza. “What is a sin? Inevitable” is pretty much something he tells Tubbo word for word. “What is hell anyway? Barren” "how can you love me with all that I've done ?"

The Blade: The Soldier. “if you were to wear a crown it would be covered in blood. The one of the guilty.” “The sword is at your side. It bore your name long before you did.” is rather literal both for his name and The Blood God. “but how can I sleep with the world in my head?" “What is hell anyway? Doubt”

Wilbur: The King. “Despite all your attempts, you have never been a healer. You hurt people and they leave and you are alone in a room full of silence. You sing to try and forget, but it does not work” everything about this. Trying to heal but being made of destruction, his fears of devouring his family, singing, memory loss, everything everything it’s so Wilbur. "come and be human with me" “The one who hurt you haunts you. In your nightmares, they say I love you." <literally Phil’s last words when Wilbur killed him in the Whumptober au. "but how can I sleep with the world in my head?" why it has insomnia.

Philza: The Poet. “There are rules. How many? One, and you will follow it.” For his Collected. “Fear: You did your best and it wasn't enough. You tried and failed and kept trying and it wasn't enough. You had the power to change things and it wasn't enough.” For all his dead children. "you’re trembling, but he reaches over and he touches you, like a prayer for which no words exist" it's him reaching out. I love the reverse imagery with Phil, a god worshiping his mortals “anger is a strength in a world of apathy.” He feels no shame or burden for his anger, knowing well the good it can do. “Who taught you about guilt? The silence” 

Tubbo: The King. Absolutely perfect as a foil to The Blade btw. “What is duty? Undeniable” “The throne looks golden, and covered in flowers” “Fear: You did your best and it wasn't enough. You tried and failed and kept trying and it wasn't enough.” Saving people from Philza. “The one who hurt you haunts you. In your nightmares, they say I forgive you” Rosaliiiiiind. “Who taught you about guilt? God”

[middleearthpixie]

Promise Me ~ Chapter Fifteen

Summary: Friends since childhood, Gabriella has long held back her feelings where Boromir is concerned, as she did not want to risk losing his friendship if he didn't feel the same. But, then he is summoned to Rivendell, and the night before he is to leave, he stuns Gabriella by confessing his feelings for her as well. 

But, war is coming and he cannot put off what he knows must be done. All Gabriella can do is wait for him and pray for his safe return. 

Fandom: The Lord of the Rings (AU, Boromir lives)

Pairing: Boromir x ofc Gabriella

Warnings: none 

Rating: T

Word Count: 3.4k

Tag List: @sotwk @fizzyxcustard @evenstaredits @way-too-addicted-to-fandoms @emmyspov @finnofamerica @lathalea @ass-deep-in-demons @quiall321 @mistofstars @justfollowtheroad @guardianofrivendell @glassgulls @doctorwhump @kmc1989

If you’d like to be added (or removed) to the tag list, please just let me know!

Previous chapters can be found here.

“What?”

Gabriella stepped back at Dory’s near-screech. “Shhh!”

“Oh, sorry!” Dory clapped a hand over her mouth, leaning closer as she said, “What happened?”

“I—I don't even know,” Gabriella replied softly, tapping her forefinger against her teacup before bringing that same hand up to rub her forehead. It was hard to believe not even twelve hours had passed since she left Boromir’s flat with her heart shattered and dreams broken. For the rest of the night, sleep mocked her, and as the sun broke over the horizon, she gave up trying and got up. She’d been moving ever since, trying not think about what happened, even as she wondered how it could have all gotten away from them both the way it had. 

“Gab?”

“Everything was fine. Wonderful, even. And then—” she shook her head—“it wasn't wonderful at all.”

She met Dory’s concerned stare. “He sees me as no more than a vessel, Dory, for carrying his children. That’s all. And he doesn’t understand how I might find offense at that.”

“He did not.”

She nodded. “He did. He had it all planned out and when I said I didn't know if I even wanted children…”

“Oh, no.”

“Oh, yes.” 

“Is there anyway you two just simply miscommunicated? You did say it was the middle of the night and he’d just woken from a nightmare.”

She offered Dory a level look. “He said flat out it was my job, Dory. I don't think that was a miscommunication at all…”

Dory winced. “Er, no. Not really, I guess.”

“Exactly.” 

“I’m so sorry, Gab.”

“I’ve spent half my life loving him, Dory. And not only does he not love me the same way, but he sees me as nothing more than a—a vessel. And he cannot possibly understand why I would not be thrilled to pieces to be chosen by him to carry his babies.”

Dory sighed softly. “Is there any chance you just didn't quite understand him?”

Gabriella’s gut kinked as she rolled her eyes. “Oh, not you, too.”

“No, no, of course not. But, is there?”

“No!”

“All right, I’m just making sure. We know what happens when tempers flare, and sometimes things get taken out of context or misunderstood, is all.” Dory reached across the table to pat her hand. “Perhaps you both need a few days. I mean, everything has happened so very quickly for you both. You were friends for so long and then in the blink of an eye, he’s asking you to marry him and all.”

“Perhaps, but I don't think so.” Gabriella sank back in her chair, a sense of hopelessness settling about her. “We want different things and they are too different for us to be together. So, I think it’s far more than us simply needing a few days.”

“Would you like me to speak to him?”

“No offense, Dory, but that is the last thing I wish.”

For a moment, Dory looked hurt, but then, with a sigh, she nodded. “No, none taken. I would most likely only make matters worse. But, don’t give up hope, Gab. You and Boromir have been with each other since you were children. I refuse to believe this is the end of you.”

“I wish I was as hopeful as you, but I think it is, indeed, the end of us.” Gabriella’s eyes stung with hot tears once more. She was so tired of crying, of her eyes being so puffy and bloodshot and her nose running seemingly without end. Her head ached and her sinuses felt clogged with wet sand. And yet, she could not help herself and she could not stop it.

Her eyes overflowed and she banged a fist on the table in frustration. “I’m sorry, Dory… I just… It hurts…”

Dory popped up from her chair and hurried about the table to throw her arms about Gabriella and hugged her tight. “I know, love,” she whispered, smoothing a hand along Gabriella’s hair. “I know.”

Boromir scowled as he stepped out onto the balcony overlooking the city. His head ached as a result of the skin of mead he’d drunk after Gabby left his flat. An entire skin of mead  and nothing had changed. 

In the span of ten minutes, he’d lost everything he’d held dear. 

The sun broke over the horizon, pale fingers of gold light stretching out as far as the eye could see. In the distance, he squinted at the Eye of Mordor, still watching over them. If Frodo was near Mount Doom, the Eye gave no indication as yet.

The dull ache in his leg, in his chest, seemed to strengthen as he considered riding out to try to catch up with the Fellowship, or what was left of it. Why shouldn’t he? He had no reason to remain in Minas Tirith now.

He turned to go back into his flat, where he grabbed the mead skin that was not quite empty yet and lifted it to his lips to drain it. It took away the edges of his headache, softened the pain to the point where he no longer focused on it as he dressed and then tugged on his boots. 

When he was dressed, he went out, down to the stables, where Cadell already toiled, cleaning out one of the stalls. Boromir paused, as the last thing he wanted was for the man to pepper him with questions regarding Gabby. His wounds were still too raw, his sense of loss too acute.

Of course, he could just go to her flat and talk it out, but somehow, he thought it would just turn into another fight. He could try to talk her into changing her mind, but did he truly want that?

No. 

And neither did she.

So, it was for the best, that they part ways now, before things grew infinitely more complicated. And the best way for him to cope with that, would be to just leave Minas Tirith for now. When he returned, should he do so, it would no longer matter, for Gabby would probably find someone else in that time, someone who wanted the same things she wanted. 

“Good morning, my lord,” Cadell greeted him, his words stiff with formality. “What brings you here so early?”

“I need you to saddle me the strongest horse in this stable.”

“For what, if I might ask?”

“Just do it.”

“Is everything all right? You look tired.”

“It is no concern of yours. Just do as I said, please.”

“Of course.”

As Cadell went into the tack room, Boromir stepped out into the cool breeze, lifting his face to it as a wave of nausea slammed into him. The mead had nothing to do with it, as it was sense of loss that swelled within him as he let his eyes close. The breeze ruffled through his hair, swept against his skin like a caress and all he could think about was going back to Gabby’s flat and trying to talk to her.

But his pride wouldn’t let him. 

He’d done nothing wrong but be honest. He wanted children and he wanted them with Gabby and if she didn’t, then there was nothing for them to talk about. 

“My lord!”

He jumped at the yell, spinning about to see one of Ioreth’s assistants hurrying down the road toward the stables. “Yes?”

“Ioreth… sent… me…” The man bent at the waist as he fought to draw breath, holding up a finger as he did so. 

Boromir waited patiently, despite his pounding head and roiling gut and when the man finally dragged in a deep breath and then straightened, he said, “Faramir… he’s awake.”

“What?”

The man nodded. “Come with me and see for yourself.”

Elation filled Boromir, a true elation he’d not felt in years. Turning to Cadell, who’d come out of the stables leading a large piebald horse, he said, “I’ll be back in a bit. Sorry for the trouble.”

“It’s no trouble at all. But, should I send word to Gabby? I’m sure she’d want to know about his lordship as well.”

Boromir shook his head, trying to ignore the pang at hearing Gabby’s name. “That won’t be necessary. Excuse me.”

“Of course.”

“Come with me,” Ioreth’s assistant directed, gesturing for him to follow. “He was sitting up and talking when I left.”

Boromir fell into step with him. “How is he otherwise?”

“That I do not know. Ioreth was about to examine him when she told me to come fetch you. I do hope I did not pull you from something of importance.”

“No worries. You didn’t.” He hurried along with him as fast as his sore leg would allow and as they drew near the sixth level of the city, his heart pounded his ribs and black dots bobbed before his eyes.

“Should I send someone to Miss Gabriella’s residence?”

“No.”

“Very well.”

They didn't speak again until they crossed into the Houses of Healing, when the assistant said, “He is—”

“I know where he is, thank you.” Boromir strode away from him, toward Faramir’s chambers, only to have Ioreth emerge with a smile and hold out a hand to him. 

“It is a miracle,” she said by way of greeting, “for he seems to be exactly as he was.”

Boromir’s eyes stung and his throat squeezed so tightly, he could neither breathe nor swallow. He didn't trust himself to speak, but could only nod.

“I know.” Ioreth slipped her arm through his and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Come and see for yourself.”

He braced himself for her offer to fetch Gabby, but she said nothing of the sort as she led him into Faramir’s room. 

Faramir sat up, pale and exhausted-looking, but alive and in one piece and he offered up a tired smile as he said, “It certainly took you long enough.”

The lump in Boromir’s throat was shattered by his laugh and he moved to engulf his brother in a bear hug. “I was down at the stables, mind you. I got here as quickly as I could.” He gave Faramir a squeeze. “It’s so good to hear your voice again.”

“Of course it is,” Faramir replied with a tired laugh, squeezing him back before pulling free to sink into his pillows. Dark bruise-like shadows ringed beneath his eyes as he slowly looked Boromir over. “Are you all right? I’m the one who was near death, remember.”

Ioreth brought over a chair. “Sit, Boromir. You need remember you’re healing still as well.”

“That’s right. Perhaps I’m not the only one who’s come near death.” Faramir’s brows pulled low. “I found your horn, Boromir. Just south of the Entwash. How is it you are not dead? I—I thought you were, that you must have been, for I heard the horn bleat and then…”

“Thank you, Ioreth,” Boromir said as he gingerly sank into the chair and turned back to his brother. “I should be dead, and I came very close to it, but the Fates were kind to me and gave me a second chance and so I managed to return.”

“And has there been any news of Frodo and Samwise?”

Boromir sat up straighter, the ache in his thigh too great to ignore. “You know of them?” he asked, gently massaging the muscle around his wounds. 

“Aye, I do. Our paths crossed at Ithilien and I thought they were spies of Sauron’s.” Faramir met his gaze. “They told me of your task, of your Fellowship, and at first, I thought perhaps he’d had something to do with your death, judging by his reaction when I spoke your name.”

Boromir’s gut kinked sharply, a sour taste flooding his mouth as he waited for Faramir to express his shame, his disappointment in his older brother. His mouth suddenly dry, he managed nonetheless to ask, “And what was his reaction?”

“He was grieving, as was Samwise.” Faramir’s hand came down atop his. “We all grieved for you. And now, I sit here and look upon you with my own eyes once more. How is this possible?”

“Same as how I look at you with my own eyes. You were struck down on a battlefield, Faramir. I thought I’d lost you just as I’d lost Father.”

Darkness flashed through Faramir’s blue eyes. “He grieved you, as well. He would not have grieved me.”

“Don’t be silly. Of course he would.”

“No.” Faramir shook his head, taking his hand away. “He wouldn’t. Trust me there, Boromir. He all but said as much. He would be thrilled to see you sitting here, alive and well.”

“Be that as it may, I am thrilled to see you sitting here, alive and well.”

“That makes two of us.”

Boromir laughed with him, and for a moment, his heart felt lighter than it had in a long time. It had been a long time since they had been able to just sit and talk and he was in no hurry to leave at all. 

“So, the rumors were true.”

Boromir stiffened at the sound of Gabby’s voice, and turned his head to see her in the doorway. His heart lurched, but she did not even look his way as she smiled at Faramir, who returned it brightly.

“They were indeed. Come in.”

“I cannot stay,” she said, striding over to his bedside, where she bent and engulfed him in a tight hug that had jealousy poking into Boromir with bright green talons. Those talons only grew sharper when she brushed Faramir’s forehead with a kiss and said, “I’ve never been so glad to see someone.”

“I’m sure you were just as happy when Boromir returned, weren’t you?”

“Well, yes, of course I was.” Now Gabby looked over at him, and Boromir did not miss the hurt that flashed through those otherwise tranquil gray eyes. She turned back to Faramir. “But this is just as wonderful. We’ve all been hoping beyond hope this day would come.”

Faramir looked from her to Boromir and back. “Have I missed something whilst I hovered between worlds?”

“No not a thing,” Gabby told him, shaking her head. “And now, I will let you get some rest. I’ll come by later, if you are up to visitors.”

“Gabby, you have an open invitation.”

“I’ll remember that.”

With that, she turned and as she left the room, Faramir said, “Is she angry with you?”

With a low sigh, Boromir sank back in his chair, his thigh forgotten, and nodded. “Very much so, actually. It’s a long, dull story and I’ll save it for a time when you need something to help you sleep.”

Faramir shook his head. “You should go and talk to her. Smooth her ruffled feathers. You will regret it otherwise.”

Boromir glanced toward the now-empty doorway. “She’s probably gone by now.”

“Don’t be a jackanapes. I’ll be here. Go and talk to her.”

Boromir raked a hand through his hair as he continued to stare at the doorway. Then, he slowly rose. “I’ll be back in but a minute.”

“Take as long as you need. It isn’t as if I’m leaving any time soon.”

Boromir grinned despite the way his heart beat so erratically and his stomach tossed about so wickedly. But that grin faded as he stepped out into the corridor and saw Gabby round the corner at the end of it. 

For a moment, he thought of just going back and sitting with his brother, but then, he thought better of it and went after Gabby, as fast as his still-aching leg would allow him to travel. He caught up with her just around the bend. “Gabby?”

She stopped short, her shoulders stiff, and slowly turned back to him. “What?”

She looked as if her night was as rough as his had been. “Faramir’s back.”

“I know. I was just there, remember?”

A sense of idiocy tore through him, the urge to kick himself stronger than it had ever been before. “Maybe we need to talk.”

“About what? You spoke your piece last eve, remember? I don't think there is anything left for us to talk about, is there?”

Painfully aware of those around them, as the corridor was the main artery in the Houses of Healing, he said, “I was caught off guard by you last eve, Gabby. By the entire conversation, actually. Perhaps in bed, in the middle of the night was not the place to discuss it?”

A hint of color rose along her cheekbones as two healers passing by offered up disapproving looks. “And here is better?”

“Well, no,” he admitted as those disapproving looks came his way. “Although, it isn’t as if it is anyone else’s business.”

Now the two healers went red in the face, ducking their heads as they hurried on down past them. Boromir turned back to Gabby, who looked utterly wiped out, her glorious pale hair pulled into a hasty knot with several tendrils falling about her face, and her eyes were heavy-lidded and somewhat puffy. 

“No,” she told him softly, reaching up to rub one eye, “I don't suppose it was. But, at the same time, it’s something we should have discussed earlier.”

“I agree. We should have.”

“But, my answer wouldn’t have been any different, Boromir,” she told him, lowering her hand as she met his gaze again. 

“But you might change your mind.” He regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth, and even more so when her silvery eyes swirled more pewter now.

“I don't know that I will.”

“But you might.”

“Boromir, I cannot keep having this same debate. At the moment, no. I do not see myself with children. I have not ruled them out entirely, but I simply do not see it.”

“But if you would just—”

“Don’t you dare,” she growled, her eyes narrowing now. “Do not keep insisting you know me better than I know me.”

“I’m not suggesting that at all. All I’m saying is—”

“All you’re saying is you think you can persuade me or coerce me or sweet talk me into having a baby. You are not listening to me at all. And I think we are done here.”

“Gabby, if you would just—”

“No. I’m not just anything.” She shook her head vehemently, one hand coming up as if to ward him off. “And I am not discussing it. We obviously want different things, and there is nothing wrong with that where some things are concerned.

“But this isn’t some things. This is a big thing. A very big thing. So, I don't think there is anything left for either one of us to say right now.”

His gut churned furiously now, that sick feeling worsening as he forced himself to say, “So, just like that, we are over?”

She didn't reply at first, which raised his hopes, even if only a tad. But then, her eyes shimmering and red, she nodded. “I think we have to be. I—I don't know how we keep going on, when we do not want the same thing.”

“I want you, Gabby. That has not changed.”

“Perhaps not, but there can be no real future with us at odds over something so fundamentally basic.” She shook her head. “There simply can’t.”

He folded his arms, gazing down at her as he said, “I love you.”

“I know.” She looked up to meet his eyes. “That’s the worst part of it, because I love you, too.”

“So, you don't even wish to try to overcome this? You’d rather just walk away then?”

“I don't think it can be overcome.”

“Fine.” He threw up his hands as he took a step back. “That’s it then. If that’s how you want it to be, so be it. Take care of yourself, Gabriella.”

“I’m sorry, Boromir.”

“So am I.” He spun about then, and promptly crashed into a tiny brunette coming out of one of the other rooms. “I beg your pardon.”

She smiled up at him. “It’s quite all right, my lord.”

He ignored her smile, ignored her words, but simply stepped around her and strode back toward Faramir’s room, only to find his brother had fallen asleep. 

No matter. He threw himself into his chair at Faramir’s bedside, cursed himself out for doing so when pain flared through his leg, and sat forward, his head falling into his hands, and thought about just how great a mistake he’d made in letting Gabby get away from him. 

[steviewashere]

Snippet From WIP Chapter 3 of 36 Easy Steps to the Man of Your Dreams

(Keep in mind that I'm still writing the rest of this chapter, but for context, Steve and Eddie are doing the 36 Questions to Fall in Love. It isn't published until 1997 or so, but shhh fanfic is make believe.) Read the snippet below!

The next morning, Eddie finds himself awake just as Wayne leaves for work. Something around eight. He knows that Steve hasn’t made his way out yet, the Beemer sitting shiny and too pretty in the Munson’s driveway. 

So he goes to the bathroom and showers. Brushes his teeth. Scrunches his hair and ties it up into a loose bun. Waltzes back to the kitchenette and makes eggs. Waits. At the breakfast nook with two plates of food on the table, two cups of coffee, and that stupid fucking magazine.

It’s not until eight-thirty that Steve stumbles out of Eddie’s room. Hair ruffled from the pillow. Clothes wrinkled. Drool crusted to his bottom lip.

“Morning,” Eddie greets into his coffee cup.

Steve hums. “Morning,” he mumbles back. Plops himself in the other dining chair across from Eddie. But he doesn’t pick up his fork. Just stares down at the plate. A hand wraps around the now cold coffee mug, but the lip never comes to Steve’s mouth. “Think I’m gonna burn that thing,” he states. Harsh. Loud in the quiet of this early August morning.

“Why’s that?” Eddie asks nonchalantly, flipping one of the pages. Reading something about young women in tennis. Another flip. They’re interviewing Donald Trump. Blegh, he thinks. Scrunches the paper at the corner and taps at the new page staring up at him. The questions.

He hears a huff come from Steve. “Stupid magazine is causing us to fight, that’s why.”

Eddie’s eyes dart up. Frantically finding Steve’s soured face, still turned to the dining table’s surface.

“What, did you think I’d forget how you treated me last night?” Steve’s voice clips. “Think I’d forget sobbing until my head hurt and then passing out in your bed? Which—“ His head finally snaps up. Eyes heated as they burn into Eddie’s own. “—You didn’t even wanna lay with me. We always share the bed when we smoke. Always. And you—“ His voice pitches upwards and cuts off. Clicks his tongue, shakes his head, and looks back at the table.

Flabbergasted is the only way to explain how Eddie feels right now. But, though there’s confusion, he is also simmering with easy anger.

“You know what, Steve?” He spits. “I did kind of think you’d forget. I thought you’d forget all about how you were fucking with me. Touching me all sweet. Saying all that stupid, flirty shit you've probably used on all the girls around town.” He knows he’s sneering now. He knows that if he were a dog, he’d be baring his teeth with no trouble. Maybe there’d be some snarling drool. Foam at the mouth. But he doesn’t care. He doesn’t—“I don’t think we should smoke together anymore. It—We do this thing where our hands go places where they shouldn’t. We say things we don’t mean. Fuck, if I were anymore stoned last night, I’d tell you that I love you. That’d be a fucking waste.”

He stands from his chair. Takes his dirty dishes and scurries to the sink. Drops them into some hot, soapy water and scrubs like he’s been hired as Wayne’s personal dishwasher.

Eddie can feel Steve’s eyes burn into his back. Lasering two identical holes into his bare skin.

“What the fuck does that mean?” Steve practically growls.

Instead of answering, Eddie scrubs harsher. Faster. Messier. The plate’s clean, but he can sense a new spot of egg. Can materialize a new stain if he looks hard enough.

“What does that mean?” Steve whines.

Twirling around, Eddie shouts, “It means that I don’t love you, Steve! Not when you treat me like this! Jesus Christ!” His chest heaves. Blood boiling. “It means that I’m tired of doing this thing where we’re best friends in daylight, but behind closed doors at night I’m some fucking—I don’t know—some statue to ogle! I—Steve, this—Either we’re friends or we don’t talk, that’s it.”

“Those can’t be our only options,” Steve argues. “We can be friends and fuckin’ hold hands and still talk! I don’t see how things need to—“

“I don’t want to hang out anymore, man. We can’t.”

“Can’t or don’t?”

“For now?” Eddie questions aloud. Steve nods. “For now, we won’t,” he chooses. Pushes himself off of the counter he’s been leaning on. Strides to the table and snatches up that magazine. The cursed thing. He slams it into Steve’s chest. “I read the question we didn’t answer last night.” Fingers clench at the front cover, effectively crumpling and ruining the image of Estelle Lefébure. “If I make it to ninety, I hope I keep the body of a thirty year old. Maybe my brain will have forgotten about you by then.” He steps away from Steve. Glaring. “Finish your eggs and coffee, get changed, clean up. You look like a mess. I’m having a smoke,” he relays cooly.

And now he’s sitting on the porch. A second cigarette sitting between his lips. He knows that Steve shouldn’t be taking this long. So he gets curious, looks over his right shoulder into the window that the breakfast nook peers into. But Steve isn’t there. In fact, he’s shuffling out from the bathroom in his clothes from the day before. Holding that thing in his hands. Like it’ll protect him from demo-creatures if there were anymore.

He comes through the trailer’s front door and Eddie whips back to look out beyond the porch. Steve stands near the couch. Hovering.

His shadow isn’t quite as tall as it usually is. And out of the corner of his eye, Eddie can see how his previously golden skin has paled. His hair still mussed. The timid hunch to his back.

A part of him wants to reach out and hold Steve. Wants to be touched again. But he can’t have that. Not with how he just treated him.

“I read it for myself,” Steve whispers. “I don’t want to forget about you, Eds. That’d be a terrible thing.” He shuffles a little bit. A nervous thing that he does, Eddie has kept track.

But, Eddie can’t respond. Doesn’t think he knows how without saying something awful. He can’t keep hurting Steve, it’s not fair.

“I love you, y’know?” Steve murmurs. He sniffles. “Stupid—I’m so stupid for thinking this would work,” he whispers once again. 

That’s when Eddie hears it, the tumbling of the magazine. The loud plop on the porch. All the pages falling open, probably getting crushed by the force of gravity. Then, Steve turns around, fast enough that a gust of wind whooshes. He begins to stomp down the stairs. 

He says, “I’m sorry,” before getting in his car and speeding away.

[uselessheretic]

(this is just me offering an alternative interpretation so shhh)

if you shift the perspective a bit and cast away protagonist bias, there’s kinda a good argument for ”izzy wasn’t right to bully lucius, but also he wasn’t completely wrong either?”

on a ship, everyone works. in piracy, everyone works. one of the big themes throughout ofmd is the idea of piracy = freedom (not toxic masculinity i will die on this hill) which does go back to historical context. it’s really interesting to read about piracy and race because although pirates were not antiracist icons breaking down structures of white supremacy, pirate culture was radically far more racially equal in comparison. people escaping slavery often turned to piracy, and there was often direct democracies onboard of black pirates having a say in votes and equal split of bounties. (piracy was not perfectly antiracist please read more about it!)

a big part of this wasn’t from the goodness of pirates’ hearts, but because being on the sea necessitated this. it’s hard fucking work to run a ship and everyone works. there isn’t time for to be squabbling about race when the entire crew is constantly doing backbreaking labor that requires cohesion. along with that, most pirates were a mixture of sailors who were so poor they turned to piracy out of necessity, or former navy officers who just fucking hated the navy and decided to rob people instead. this forms a kinda smoothing of class boundaries because, again, there’s no time to be a bitch about money because everybody works.

so just think about this context and think about how izzy is very obviously working class and then it kinda… makes sense that he doesn’t find lucius ”i don’t clean things!” very charming. to be clear, i am in full support of lucius being a lazy gay who doesn’t do work and this makes izzy seethe but he can’t do shit about it and this is my life goal to achieve. but lucius is the only crew member on the ship who doesn’t do physical labor. and he doesn’t have to, he’s a scribe not a sailor, but this is a job that is born from class privilege that nobody else on the crew (other than jim) can hold because nobody else can read.

izzy is too strict and izzy is annoying, but he is consistent. (no, the hoisting the anchor was not supposed to be racially coded btw, wee john’s actor just has a bad back) everybody gets specific duties and everybody works and everybody agrees to that except for lucius who only takes orders from his rich boy captain. he doesn’t pick on lucius because he’s more feminine than black pete, it’s just that black pete shuts up and agrees while lucius goes sketches fang’s cock (icon icon icon)

it just? kinda makes a lot of sense that it pisses izzy off so bad when you consider the class dynamics at play. lucius is definitely not some super rich aristocrat! we know he did some pickpocketing back in the day (and it was not cute) but there is a certain level of class privilege necessary to have the skills that he does. the hardwork of piracy and running a ship is an equalizer where it doesn’t matter who you are, who you know, or who your daddy is: everybody works.

and having that blatantly disrupted and disrespected? and by some seductive twink with pretty lips who asks if you’ve ever been sketched and oh my god no you have not but what if––no no, you shant. all you can do is tell him to fuck off.

[daydreamingatnight209]

Requests will be written and out in the upcoming weeks!

Feedback is always welcome: HATE IS NOT ✨💕

“She’s My Girl”

Mason Mount x Reader

Warning - None? Fluff 💞

—————————————————————————

I remember Mason saying something about an online interview with Declan today, but I would be lying if I said I remembered what time it was at. So, you can imagine my surprise and embarrassment when I walked into my boyfriends game room to find him doing an interview with his best friend and Rio Ferdinand!

I do my best to leave the room quietly, but subtlety wasn’t exactly a skill I owned. Mase turns his head and smiles at me.

“Babe? Are you okay?”

I do my best to stay out of view of the camera and I mumble out an answer.

“I forgot you had your press junket, I just wanted to know if you wanted something to eat.”

As soon as the words left my mouth, I could hear Declan’s voice coming from the computer.

“Hey yo! Is that the Misses Mase?! Y/N!”

I walk over to the desk and give Dec a small wave trying to suppress nervous laughter as both him and Ferdinand peer at me. Mason senses my nerves and pulls me sideways into his lap. I curl into him and wrap myself into his hoodie as if to protect myself from this unfamiliar situation.

“it’s a good job I put pants on isn’t it” I whisper up to Mase as he chuckles at me.

The interview continues and overtime I start to feel more and more comfortable. I watch as they talk all these football and as Dec beats Mason on yet another FIFA game. Every now and then I get a question directed at me which I do my best to answer.

“So, Y/N what is it like living with Mase during Lockdown?”

I hear Mase laugh from behind me, his little giggle catching the back of my neck, tickling me slightly.

“Well, I have finally taught him how to do his own washing, so he doesn’t need to constantly ask for help and it gives his poor Mum a break”

Declan immediately bursts out laughing again as heat rushes to Mason’s cheeks. Feeling bad for exposing him to the internet I lean up to give a peck on his cheek.

I go on to talk about what we are doing to fill up the spare time we now have, and Mason mentioned the training schedules he gets from Chelsea while hoping to be back out on the pitch soon.

“Mason works so hard, and I don’t think that many people realise that and see how much he sacrifices so while we can I like to make sure that he has a couple of days off. Sometimes is movie nights and sometimes he is just enjoys gaming with he lads”

Mason gives me a quick squeeze of appreciation as Declan’s voice appears again, piggy backing on top of my answer with a story that makes everyone laugh.

“What is isn’t telling you is that when he is gaming, she uses it to get her cuddles in!” Mason jumps in to give Rio more context who looks confused at the quick switch up of conversation.

“Yeah, it will be 2am and she will come find me still half asleep because I’m not in bed yet. She simply walks up to me, sits in my lap, curls herself around me and falls back asleep, so whenever one of the boys screams down the mic I have to be like “bro shhh” and everyone just knows that Y/N is there”

I groan into my hands as Rio laughs along with the others. I suppose this is my payback for exposing Mason before…

“You’re so whipped bro!” Dec smiles, ignoring the fact that he is the exact same when he is with his lover.

Mason just looks down at me, his face glowing with happiness.

“She’s my girl, what can I say”

[lilyminer]

I’m never going to feel more feelings about any moment in a fictional story then Caleb’s forehead kiss from Mollymauk in cr campaign 2. Just let me rant for a bit I need a good cry today-

(Also if I misinterpreted this scene in any way or I use incorrect info. . . . no I didn’t. Shhh I haven’t been in this fandom for a year and a half)

From Mollys point of view, he doesn’t exactly know what caused his flashback and if I’m recalling correctly he never did get that context. He isn’t really able to respond to the situation perfectly, partially because he isn’t entirely aware of what it is and partial cuz the party has to get out of there. Yet he does his best to still be gentle. It really helps with that sense that Molly is intrigued by Caleb, he prods, he jokes, but is still trying to look out for him.

It’s a moment of vulnerability for Caleb, obviously physically if you’re focusing on pure game mechanics. But when he goes into these flashbacks these first few times everyone can see something is wrong, it puts questions in peoples heads. But Molly doesn’t rush up and ask him “what happened back there?”, I’m not out here boasting I know anything about helping someone with PTSD get through something like this, but I believe his response was fitting for the circumstances. If you’d let me be an absolute fangirl for just a sec here the “you alright?” feels just as soft, thoughtful and comforting as the forehead kiss itself.

Even if Molly doesn’t suspect it is anything deeper then just shock at the gruesome sight he recognizes there is a deep impact of this event (unlike Fjord lol). That he can’t get to the root of in Caleb’s mind, Molly can’t make this all go away and he knows that. But he is the first to at least try to help him move past it, yet again both physically and mentally.

I always seem to focus on how after he initially got Calebs attention he didn’t joke or force Caleb to immediately get back to normal by grabbing him or anything. He just gently encouraged him to ground himself and keep the processing for when he’s safe.

Of course we can see the impact this leaves when later in the campaign Essek needs reassurance and Caleb kisses him on the forehead. It clearly became symbolic for Caleb, to grounding a busy mind.

The vivid image of this scene will always have a special place in my memory. .

. . . Yeah that was a good cry

[akumaalert]

Snippet of “Awake” - First Chapter of “Divergence”

Hey, all! Wanted to share a snippet of the first chapter (”Awake”) of “Divergence” - a fic that will offshoot from “Heavy Metal Lover.” Note that this is basically a whole spoiler for chapter 20 of “Heavy Metal Lover.” If you’re like me and see random stuff saying “Don’t click if you haven’t read...” and click anyway: Hi! Welcome, chaos lover. If you like this and want to know the context, please feel free to check out the full work on AO3.

“Divergence” should be posted within two weeks and will be open to requests for the reader (”Lucky”) to have different experiences than what she has in the original. This can mean the following:

- AUs

- Re-tellings of certain scenes of the original

- Reader-specific details included in old or new/original scenes (i.e., reader is plus sized, skinny, tall, short, etc.)

- Genderbending of any of the characters

Originally made this Tumblr to share snippets of the stories on...so happy that I could finally do that! If you want to skip writing that was in the story, you can start at “Though sleep pulled at your eyelids...”

Story contains mature elements, swearing, and explicit mention of sex. Please be forewarned.

Looking back, it would only be a wonder that it did not occur sooner.

As soon as you were alone in the bedroom, you took off your shoes and eyed the clothes Heisenberg had provided you from the factory...

...before turning to the tub.

Couldn't hurt to bathe. Love to be clean. 

That man is coming back up to this bedroom.

This is the point, self.

The logical side of your brain, for once, remained quiet. 

Though you had clearly lost all sense of sensibility, you at least moved the divider to completely block the tub from any but the most determined of views. 

The water had been scalding when you got in.

By the time you had bathed and decided that your foolishness had reached its limit, it was stark cold.

"This was stupid," you said. "Fucking stupid. What did I want? Him to join me? This is the universe saying 'Wake the fuck up.'"

Though your fingers were pruned, you dried yourself off and pulled a nightgown from the small cupboard beneath the sink.

Sheer as ever. Fuck's sake. The universe had truly saved you.

Until it hadn't.

Heisenberg rushed into the room like a rocket and you jumped as the door slammed close.

"...you here, Luck?"

"Yeah," you called out. "Um...don't come over here...gotta get dressed real quick."

"...k" called Heisenberg.

Wasting no time, you slid the gown over your body and made sure to fan out the edges as far as they would go. 

You needed no mirror to see your nipples proudly displayed through the fabric.

Mouthing a 'fuck' for good measure, you frowned.

"Heisenberg?"

"Yes?"

"Do you...do you mind looking away for a second?"

"From you?"

"Yes."

"...are...are you coming out naked?"

"No," you snapped.

An awkward silence greeted you.

"Heisenberg?"

"Huh?"

"You looking away?"

"Oh. Yeah. You're good now."

Peeking from behind the divider, you only saw Heisenberg's back. 

With more speed than you were familiar with, you bolted to the bed and ducked under the covers.

Once secure beneath the pillowy softness, you breathed a sigh of relief.

"Okay. It’s safe."

You did not miss how Heisenberg whirled around.

"Oh...fuck...that was fast."

"Yeah," you said absently.

"Trying to set a fucking record?"

"Something like that."

"Mmn. I...gotta get changed."

"Okay."

The two of you stared at the other.

"You trying to get a free show or you gonna cover those peepers?"

"...I figured you would go behind the divider."

"The divider is on your side of the bed."

"Oh," you said dumbly. "Oh. Yeah...wait."

Yanking the pillow from underneath your head, you smashed it onto your face above your mouth and pressed down.

Heisenberg chuckled. "Dramatic as hell."

"Doing what you asked of me."

"...didn't formally ask you to...did I?"

Swallowing found your throat on fire.

"Mmn."

"What was that?"

"Mmn," you repeated.

"Heh...don't go into public speaking, kid."

You frowned at the ceiling and the darkness of your eyes. 

Instead of speaking, Heisenberg decided to tell you he was done by climbing in the bed beside you. It struck you suddenly that lamps had been placed in the room instead of the candles that the castle was so beset with. But when you removed your pillow, you found yourself met by more muted darkness.

"Sure you okay with this?" asked Heisenberg. "I can fuck off and go into another room. I like to bitch like a drama king, but I don't need anything crazy set up for me."

"Bed is pretty big," you said carelessly. "S'okay. We've been closer."

The chuckle Heisenberg gave was absolutely filthy.

"We have...haven't we?"

The fucking lilt would be the death of you. What a relief it was to blink blindly and stupidly at the man in peace without judgment. 

"Hey - last time I'm reminding you...what's your one job?"

"Get you out in the morning," you replied.

"Because?"

"Ah...generators...production line...something about a reset..."

"That's my girl. Nighty night, Luck."

"Night, Heis."

A turn. A breath. A feeling that you would never be able to sleep with the man so close that you could feel his body heat radiating from him like a welcome sign. 

But you awoke.

You awoke often.

You awoke in the middle of the night from a dream you could barely recall and all the images of Alcina at the forefront of your mind. 

You awoke in Heisenberg's arms and sobbed into his chest as he clung you to him just as sweetly as any of your snowy imaginings. 

"Fuck you doing awake? No...shh...it's okay...shh...you're alright. I'm here. I've got you."

Though sleep pulled at your eyelids, you nudged your head up to feel the spikes of Heisenberg's scruff. You had to stay awake. Could not return to sleep and Alcina awaiting you with her long talons and even longer legs.

"Nightmare?"

You nodded into his neck. 

"Mmn. Have those myself...think you can go back to sleep? Don't think it's quite time for me to leave yet if you just wanna yak about it or something."

Swallowing, you exhaled. "Don't wanna go back to sleep."

With a grunt, Heisenberg sat up to leave you curled on the sheets.

"Just checking the time..."

When Heisenberg turned to pull something from the floor, you noticed that your eyes had somewhat adjusted to the dark. Enough so that you saw the loose movements of his arms and realized that he had gone to bed without a shirt. 

"Fuck...two in the morning..."

"I'm sorry," you said, tensing. But Heisenberg was mumbling and coming back to you with open arms. "Sorry I woke you..."

"S'alright," he said, yawning afterward. "Gotten less sleep and done more stupid things after than make sure the reset doesn't fuck up the factory..."

As he spoke, you could feel one of his hands rubbing up and down your arm a bit too roughly. An awkward and well intended move to comfort you.

"Still...I'm sorry...you need all the sleep you can manage to get. I don't know how much work the whole factory thing will be..."

"Honestly not much as long as I get back in time," he said, hand squeezing your arm for good measure before returning to that same rough rubbing motion. "Could probably even come back here afterwards...heh...that would spook that sixty-foot snake."

You laughed a sleepy laugh and settled further into his grasp.

"Mmn...like a fucking little bunny...cuddling into me and shit..."

"I can stop...pull away..."

Heisenberg's hand stopped rubbing you in favor of clutching you to him.

"Shh...you're talking nonsense. Need some sleep."

"Heis..."

"Shhh..."

"Heis, you can just tell me that you like it when we cuddle."

When he tsked and laid his chin on your head, you smiled. It felt so much like that day at the stronghold.

"Why would I say that? Not in the business of lying to people."

Lying...yes...because what we are doing now is causing you so much distress...

"Well," you said, smiling. "I'll say it then. I like it when we cuddle. Especially in bed. Feels more comfy than cuddling in front of the lycans."

A shiver - as though Heisenberg had been beset by the cold - ran through his body.

"Oof...y'okay?"

"Yeah, yeah..." he said absently. "Uh...actually...we might wanna go to sleep after all..."

"Mmn?"

"Yeah...early morning..."

"You mind if I hold onto you for a while? This...this actually helps from the nightmare."

The only way you knew how to describe Heisenberg in that moment was jittery. His movements were fine on their own but were conducted with such awkward quickness as to be alarming.

When he did not answer you, you looked up at him through the dark.

"What's wrong?" you asked.

A beat of silence and then another.

"Nothing's wrong." Quick words to match his quick movement.

"Heisenberg..."

"It's Heis."

"...you...Heis...something isn't right. Just talk to me. In English, preferably."

What you could only assume was a curse in German fell from his lips.

"I...fuck's sake, buttercup...I don't know how to...if you...this was such a bad idea...so fucking STUPID."

"What?" You paused, gathering enough evidence from his huff. "Sleeping together?"

"Yes."

"It was your idea."

"I FUCKING KNOW THAT, OKAY?" he hissed. "Just...I thought...earlier...it made more sense...this made more sense..."

"Glad something did because I am completely and utterly confused," you admitted. 

"You're confused? You started flirting with me." Heisenberg grumbled something low and rough. "Fucking gave me ideas...false hope...so I thought...guh I'm such a fucking idiot..."

Hope began to fuel you too. Fuel you and feed into the most terrible of terrific ideas.

"Are you...whatever you're trying to say...I was flirting with you. That wasn't false. Honestly...I was in the bathtub just moments before you came in hoping you would join me."

"...you what now?"

You could not help but laugh. The fact that you could not see Heisenberg's expressive face only added to the hilarity as you imagined a hundred different emotions running through that scarred skin.

"I took a bath...a long one...hoping that you would come up here in the middle of it and offer to join me...figured one thing could lead into another and the bed was here anyway..."

The pauses in between Heisenberg's voice could only endear you to him. He seemed every bit lost for words. 

"You...are you talking about...what are you talking about?"

"Sleeping with you," you supplied with a shrug. "What are you talking about?"

"Sleeping...you...ah...I wasn't...I wasn't mistaken? Shit...I...I may or may not have a fucking stiffy over here...because the cuddling is...something you enjoy so much."

"Oh?" you purred. The chance of escaping in the delights of Heisenberg’s body made your body positively teem with anticipation. But you could not forget your own actions...the last time you had seen him in such a vulnerable state. Losing some confidence, you glanced at the darkness of the bed instead of his body. "Umm...I want to touch you...want to...would it be okay if I touched you?"

"Yeah...course. You've touched me before."

"No...I mean...is it...fuck...can I jack you off?"

For a long while, Heisenberg said nothing.

The next thing you heard was a rattling spit.

"OUCH GODDAMN MOTHERFUCKER!" he whispered.

"What's wrong?"

"Pinched myself."

"You...why are you pinching yourself?"

"Because I'm clearly fucking awake but clearly dreaming at the same time because yes, I would enjoy that very much. Please. And thank you."

"Are...are you sure?"

Heisenberg's hand came down heavy but without malice on your neck.

"OW!"

"Shit...I was trying to grab your hand."

Providing your hand to his, you hitched a breath when he splayed it against his chest. His heartbeat thudded against your palm. Wrenching your knees upward, you brushed against that heated length between his legs.

"I...um...we should probably talk about boundaries before I do this."

"Huh?"

"Is this...are you okay with me just jacking you off?"

"Just? This is a goddamn holiday. Marking it on the calendar. Nothing little about it."

"Dumbass. That's not what I'm saying," you said, scratching his chest somewhat affectionately to show him that you meant no harm. "Do you...are you wanting anything more? Because I'm on my period...I'm up for it...but it might get messy and I know that's the last mess I want a certain someone finding."

"We...we can do more? More like..." You heard him take in a shaky inhale. "Can we...is like full blown intercourse on the table?"

"Sure...long as you don't call it that again," you said, shaking your head.

Grumbling and tensing his shoulders, Heisenberg whined when you dropped your touch to round one of his nipples.

"What the fuck else am I supposed to call it?"

"Sex. Fucking. Making love," you added jokingly. "Um...ah...you know...I hadn't thought about it, but maybe you genuinely didn't know. German to English...or...ah...Romanian to English. Might not have those words."

"I like making love," he said with certainty in his voice. "Let's do that. Make love."

You had expected him to laugh at that suggestion if he acknowledged it at all. But there he was giddy and practically giggling over the most flowery option he was given. 

"Okay...are there any places that you don't like being touched?"

"Not that I know of," he admitted. "Are there...is there somewhere I shouldn't touch you?"

"Not necessarily...just...no going down on me this time. Sex is one thing-"

"Making love."

"-us um...us making love is fine, but I don't want to get eaten out while my period is going on. And don't show me your dick after or comment on the blood...just...get rid of it. Please. And...and nothing too crazy to start out with. I'm not a prude, but don't want to be choked or anything harsh like that. Just...vanilla for our first go. Then we can see where things take us."

"Roger that! Heard loud and clear," he said, leaning his face to kiss your forehead. For all the lack of a relationship, Heisenberg was making you feel far much more mushy and cared for than your ex ever had. You let your hand round his stomach slow and soft in response.

"Thank you. We...if you want to, I'll jack you off for a bit before you grab the condom."

"The...I don't have one of those."

That made you freeze. 

"Not even in this room? Your chambers? If you don't feel like getting up, I can grab them from wherever they are."

Heisenberg went uncharacteristically quiet.

"Heis?"

"None in this room," he said plainly.

"I'm not trying to make you uncomfortable by asking...but...is that typical? You having sex without a condom?"

It worried you. Here you were all too willing to have him fuck you into the mattress while he could be having all sorts of unprotected sex with who knows who in the village. He was attractive - a lord. Anyone with a pair of eyes could easily fall in lust if not love with him. 

Anyone with ears too...fucking sexy ringmaster voice...

"Not typical, no."

"No? Has it just...been a while?"

"Never."

"Huh?"

"Never made love before."

That sent you sitting up in bed.

"WHAT?"

"What?"

"HEISEN..." you lowered your voice, realizing he was growing tense. "You've never...I don't believe you. Quit joking. Not the time."

"Not joking," he grumbled. "Why would I joke about that?"

"You're just..."

"I'm what?"

"You're you," you said as if it clarified anything at all. "You're a lord in a small town. You have a face of a model. Not...not trying to open old wounds, but you're absolutely gorgeous underneath all those layers..."

"Yeah," he snorted. "Fatass McGee will be strutting the runways any day now."

"Oh my god...you're serious." Lying back down, you brought your hand to the clothed length between his legs. He had grown noticeably more soft since the brush of your knee, but you could feel his cock twitch when you cupped him. "So...no one? Not even foreplay or...what about kissing?"

"...ahhh...nah...none of that either...you're probably the first person to see me naked since I was a little kid...well...maybe a few folks in Constantinople. Got sloshed one time and woke up naked tied to a lamppost. But...other than that...all you."

There seemed to be no end to the surprises that would fall from Heisenberg's mouth. You stared at him - or the inky shadow that was him - and ran teasing fingers up his shaft.

"I uhh...fuck...I'm pretty sure anyone who saw me then is dead by now though," he supplied.

"Heis...you're so fucking ridiculous." 

[sableflynn]

Felivy - The Choice

Soooo after a solid week of constant gushing about this au with @whumpopology I decided to try writing a bit of it! I'm uh pretty much completely obsessed with this au at this point, the amount of brainstorming we've done is incredible and soooo much fun.

Very brief context: AU where Felicia and Ivy both end up at Volkan's mean man estate together. The girls bond, Volkan is mean, the teams try to find them. Volkan decides to spice things up, contacts the teams and tells them they can choose one girl to have sent home and he'll keep the other. This is the timeline where they choose Ivy to come home.

cw: drugging, noncon kiss/touch, general noncon implications (none happens), whumper pov. ao3 link here.

---

The girl was strapped into a chair, thick leather cuffs tight on wrists that strained against the imprisonment. Even with the needle still in her arm, the drug coursing through her bloodstream, she fought; she had fought from the moment he first showed her just how he planned to transport her back to her team.

Red, Harrison had called her, for the striking color of her thick curls, but her hair color wasn’t enough to set her apart here. That fighting spirit, though; that was something his healer lacked, a tenacity bordering on feral that kept things interesting in a way Felicia couldn’t. And yet all it took was one wandering touch, one comment dripping with innuendo, one look, and she fell apart. Beneath all her bluster and bravado, Ivy was a scared little girl, and he was happy to remind her of that every time.

Her head began to droop and he thought that was it, until she snapped back to full alertness with fresh fire in her eyes. “You’re—” Her words were slurred, the effort to get them out visible in her face. “You’re fucking sick.”

He smiled and inclined his head in acknowledgement. “You should relax,” he said, and just to make sure she couldn’t relax, he leaned over her where she sat, one hand rising to brush strands of hair from her face. “Just let this happen. Next thing you know, you’ll be waking up in your boyfriend’s arms.”

“Nuh—” Despite the determination blazing in her eyes, she shuddered. A thin sheen of sweat broke out across her forehead, and he imagined he could see the drug working its way through her body, slowing her nervous system until she succumbed. Yet she still fought it; she couldn’t not, not with the needle still in her, and the knowledge that there wasn’t a single thing she could do to stop him from taking anything he wanted.

He leaned in for a kiss, and she was still awake enough to snap at him. Pulling back with a grin, he watched the terror dancing in her eyes, drank in the soft hitch of her breath as his hand caressed her cheek before traveling down further. His second kiss dipped lower, lips tracing the curve of her neck, sucking hard enough to bruise until he pulled a weak sob from her. Her pulse was racing beneath his tongue; every touch from him would send the drug through her body faster, which would make her more and more vulnerable to his touch. A delicious feedback loop of her suffering.

He lifted his head to meet her gaze, and the fire he’d seen there moments before was snuffed out. She was breathing heavily, eyes glimmering with unshed tears, mouth working as if she wanted to speak but couldn’t push the words out. He took her in another kiss and she whimpered against him, and god, he was going to miss this. Her fear was so different from Felicia’s, tinged with frustration at her own helplessness, and he could spend months drawing it out, showing her again and again that she was small and weak and nothing. But he had made a deal, and he was a man of his word. Better to leave her a sweet memory to remember him by, then.

When he pulled back from the kiss, he let his hand drift lower, until his thumb fretted with the fastenings of her pants. He hadn’t thought she could become more despairing than she already was, but at that touch she let out another sob, her head shaking weakly, slurring out words that might’ve been stop, please, no, don’t. He didn’t particularly care what they were. Fingers deftly undoing the button of her pants, other hand rising to press a harsh thumb into the bruise he’d kissed into her, he took her mouth in his one more time. She had no resistance left, and his tongue touched hers, his teeth dragging along her lower lip as he tasted her once again.

Her cry left her in a rush of air, and she slid into oblivion.

He studied her face, hands still on her body. In sleep, her features softened, the panic and desperation of moments before dulled to the slightest downward curve of her lips. So different from the wild thing who’d spat blood in his face, laughed under the threat of his knife, fought against him with everything in her. So much more fitting for the weak, terrified girl she became whenever he began to undress her, the lost thing he knew she was deep inside.

Refastening her pants, he took his hands from her body and began undoing the leather cuffs holding her in place. She had somewhere she needed to be, and it wouldn’t do for her to be late.

***

Felicia blinked, and stared at the bare white wall of her room, and fought a losing battle with her emotions.

One of us is going home. Volkan had dropped that bomb on them, and then dragged them off to their separate rooms before they could fully process. Before they could think to ask a single question. Before they could say goodbye.

She couldn’t hope. She couldn’t dare to hope, because if she went home, that would mean Ivy was staying here, and if Ivy stayed here alone she would be dead within the week.

She couldn’t hope, because she wouldn’t be strong enough to survive if her hope shattered and Ivy went home and she was left here, alone, with him.

There was no solution; only branching paths that ended in different flavors of heartbreak. Even when he offered them freedom, he twisted it into a weapon against them. Her heart raged against the unfairness of it all, and she crushed that feeling down, closing herself off, a few stray tears leaking from eyes squeezed shut.

The door to her room creaked open and she gripped the edges of the cot she sat on. He filled the frame, silhouetted against the hallway lights. She couldn’t bring herself to look at him, and yet she knew she had to. His expression was unreadable. Maybe she just didn’t want to read it.

“Come with me,” he said, and walked away without waiting for a response. She rose and followed him.

He brought her to his lounge, all dark leather and polished wood and a fire crackling in the hearth. At a gesture from him, she sank into the couch and he poured two glasses of amber liquor, handing one to her. He sat across from her, and in his eyes she saw that look, that fucking look that meant he was savoring the anticipation of breaking her down in some new way, and that was how she knew to prepare herself a heartbeat before he said, “Why do you think they chose her over you?”

She pressed her lips into a thin line and willed herself not to feel. From the moment she had woken up in his office, some part of her had always known she was going to die here. This changed nothing. At least Ivy was safe. She could take this.

He gestured at the glass in her hand, the drink within untouched. “Drink. It’ll help you relax.” She stared through him, setting the glass on the table without a word, and he took a sip of his own liquor. “I just want to talk tonight. I know you must have a lot of mixed feelings right now.”

She shifted her gaze to look him in the eye, and his face crinkled with a genuine smile. “I wish I could’ve been there for the discussion,” he mused. “What do you think was the deciding factor? What was it that pushed them over the edge, made them realize that Ivy was worth more than you?”

He wasn’t going to let up. She bit down the urge to say they made the right choice—self-deprecation was only playing into his hands. And she couldn’t do it, couldn’t dwell on what sort of conversation must have taken place, so she said, “I don’t know.”

“No theories at all?” He raised a skeptical brow. “You have no idea what might’ve led your girlfriend to look me in the eye and tell me that she was choosing to leave you here with me in favor of a stranger?”

Elyse. Her face flashed in Felicia’s mind, and shit, a few tears welled up before she could close herself off to the feeling, and then her chest ached with longing and grief and despair, and her fingers dug into the leather of the couch as her breath hitched in a sob, and then another.

Volkan shushed her with a faux-soothing hum, his hand like fire against her skin as he tucked her stray strands of hair behind her ear. “I’m sorry. I know this must hurt.” Through the haze of tears, the smirk on his face was infuriating. “If it helps, I think their choice makes sense.”

“Nothing about this makes sense, and you know that, you—” Now that she’d started, the sobs kept coming, racking her body with shudders. “You know, because you rigged this fucking game from the start, because that’s what you do, you—”

“Shhh.” He pressed a finger to her lips as he shushed her this time, and she flinched. “You’re getting emotional. Try to think about this logically. I’m sure your team did when they made their decision.” He sipped his drink again, considering. “Ivy’s a strong girl. A much better fighter. She doesn’t just roll over and submit at the first threat of pain. Although,” and his smile turned mocking, conspiratory, “you and I both know she’s not as tough as she likes to pretend. For a girl with two boyfriends, she sure fell apart quickly as soon as I—”

“You don’t know a goddamn thing about her,” Felicia lashed, stomach churning. Her skin warmed with the memory of Ivy’s touch, the only kind thing about this place. Ivy’s beautiful fierceness as she fought Volkan in every way. Ivy’s smile, and her tears, and her whispered promises in the night. “She’s—she’s so brave, and she’s good, and she’s not going to just leave me here.” Please.

Volkan’s eyes sparkled with delight. “Adorable. She already did.”

The flash of Ivy’s hazel eyes, wide with shock as she was dragged to her own room to wait for a decision to be made. “She didn’t leave. You took her.”

He chuckled. “Technically, you’re correct. Would you prefer she was still here with you?”

“I—” Felicia hated herself, then, for how close she came to saying yes, and she hated him even more for the slight quirk of his lips as he saw the indecision play across her face, as he read her like a book. “I’m glad she’ll be safe now,” she managed at last.

“Safe is a relative term,” Volkan said, setting his empty glass down on the table. “But I’m sure we can both agree she’s in a better place than you are.” He leaned in closer to her, pressing her against the couch, and his arms surrounding her were the jaws of a trap closing in on her.

[giantroboticplatypusbutt218]

Okay so I was looking at the Loonatics Unleashed fandom wiki for no particular reason I swear and I have come across some mildly interesting discoveries about the content of said wiki. I guess this is like... kind of a weird partial wiki review? Is that strange? Under the cut, some spoilers, yadda yadda yadda.

1.  Something I couldn’t stop thinking about after watching the show was the fact that Ace and Lexi have like... no interesting personality. Since the wiki was right there I figured, “Hey, there’s usually a personality section on their character pages, maybe I just didn’t notice something.” So I looked at Ace’s page. 

His personality section is tiny. And what is there is stuff like, “he may have a sweet tooth,” and he’s, “cool, calm, and collected,” three words which basically mean the same thing. 

Next I checked Lexi’s page... which... hilariously... did not even have a personality section. But don’t worry guys! She’s got a section unique to her called, “fashion sense,” which goes into great detail about her not wanting to look fat.

Curious, I checked the other characters pages as well. 

Slam, unlike Lexi, has a personality section, which is incredible, considering he’s on screen for a fraction of the time she is. But Lexi is not alone in having no personality(according to the wiki) as Rev apparently doesn’t have one either. Like, come on. Nobody editing the wiki could think of one trait that he has? Even Slam got a line about having great battle strategy. Nothing about being enthusiastic or fiddling with Tech’s things or desiring his dad’s approval? Uh, okay then. Speaking of Tech... he got one line about being warm hearted and protective of his inventions... Yep. That’s... definitely all his traits... Totally... Ugh... 

Duck has a fully fleshed out personality section, which, makes sense since he has a very well defined personality and most interesting interactions with the rest of the cast. There are still problems with it though, like talking about his powers in the wrong section and another thing I’ll go over later.

2.  Also along the lines of the “Ace is bland” thought I had, his Powers and Abilities section is pathetically short. I mean, he has four tiny bullet points: One is about having great agility which isn’t needed because another point is that he’s skilled at martial arts which requires great agility. There’s his laser vision, and then apparently he has infrared vision? I mean, I’ll believe the wiki this time but I straight up do not remember that. It must have been one of those things that wasn’t brought up much. (Also it didn’t mention his swordsmanship which is strange.)

Most of the other characters’ sections of their abilities are pretty standard, but I have to note that Rev’s section is MASSIVE. One of his listed “abilities” is literally the ability to talk which uh... is strange. It’s noted that he talks fast, but that just seems to be a common trait of roadrunners as far as I can tell. Rip was the strange one for talking at a slower pace. Either way... I guess the ability to speak is an ability. Strange to put it side-by-side next to things like “super speed” and “flight” though...

3.  There is straight up incorrect information and strange assumptions in a few places. A lot of those things come from Rev’s page and specifically his Trivia section. 

Small complaint first, the page mentions the sound the original Roadrunner makes a couple of times and spells it as “meep, meep,” which the actual sound is “beep, beep,” an imitation of a car horn. Pedantic, I know. 

Okay first true complaint, the wiki assumes Rev’s the youngest solely based on the fact that he’s hyper. Uh... he could also be hyper because, and stay with me here, his power is super speed... and also some people are just hyper? IDK. I have to mention he seems like someone that would’ve gone to college given his family’s wealth and history with being engineers, along with his own technical knowledge, making him similar in age to Tech and Lexi. But odds are all members of the team are college aged and none of them are notably older or younger than the others. (Wait the Trivia page mentioned him being hyper but he still didn’t get a personality section with “hyper” in it???)

Another incorrect “fact” in the trivia section is that Rev’s the only character whose family is shown in the show. It was brief, but we saw Duck’s parents in the flashback of him and Pinkster in the orphanage. Yeah they’re just some boring humans but they’re still his parents. 

I guess this counts as a complaint? Uh, maybe I’m missing something, but the wiki claims Duck has sibling relationships with both Ace and Lexi, which... like... I swear I don’t recall from actually watching the show. I do recall him calling Lexi “sister” at least once, but like, in a sassy friend sort of way? And I just... straight up don’t recall him and Ace having any interactions that would denote them as being brother like. Is this just someone deciding that being Good Friends that learn from each other constitutes a sibling relationship again? I’ve seen it happen before. (Don’t ask, it’s stupid.)

Lastly, whoever wrote Lexi’s page seems desperate to ship her with Ace, but like, as professionally as possible. The section on her relationship to Ace is like “their relation is unclear, but she could possibly LooOOoove him~” Then it goes on to scrape for every time she showed concern for him, but also says she keeps her emotions hidden? Guys there’s a word for when someone is in a mutually caring relationship that isn’t a romance. It’s called being friends. Best Friends if it’s a little deeper than normal. Shhh. It’s okay. I know a man and a woman being friends is scary but it can happen. Everything will be fine. 

4.  As I’ve ironically noted a few times already, there are a bunch of redundant pieces of information on some of their pages. Most of the time I think it’s just due to padding. Like, Lexi has 4 bits of trivia and one is, “she likes video games,” and another is, “she’s good at video games.” You uh... couldn’t just make those both one point, huh? I’m not gonna count information being repeated through sections because sometimes context is important. 

-

Yeah so reading the wiki was... something. I mean I don’t blame the wiki of a 2005 Looney Tunes spin off for not being the most well loved and complete, and I’m sure it’s probably been vandalized a few times for lols, but I just thought this stuff was worth noting nonetheless. Mostly it means I can’t entirely trust the wiki when it comes to information regarding the show. 

[rosego1dd]

TECHNO’S BACKSTORY (or at least how I see it)

PART 1

TW for violence and a little abuse. Part 2 HERE

Alright, so, In my last post (which can be seen HERE), I had a headcanon that Techno was 70% human, 30% piglin. That being said, I have a feeling that the features of that 30% aren't really visible until he was like, 14 or 15, so he could easily pass off as a relatively normal child (appearance-wise, at least). However, I also said that he's 100% cursed. I'm going off on a tangent for a second, but recall the phrase 'Blood for the Blood God'- it's pretty iconic, so I don't think anyone hasn't heard it at least once in this context. Anyway, many believe that Techno is the blood god, which, given, makes sense if we take the little information about his character and piece it together, but I think that the blood god is, rather than Techno himself, a separate entity entirely that fuels itself via violence and chaos (also may or may not be tied to the egg, more on that in a separate post).  So, back to Techno. His parents made a pact with said blood god and offered their firstborn (Techno), in exchange for strength and power and stuff under the impression that it was a sacrifice and he'd just die. Haha w r o n g, instead of killing him (bc that would be boring), he was cursed to become a hyper-violent warrior due in no small part to the voices.  Initially, they were pretty quiet and easy to ignore, especially as a toddler,  but... Remember how once on stream, Techno said his parents were torn to shreds by orphans, which is why he hates them so much?  Let's say these orphans aren't children, but fully grown adults (I'll call them 'huntsmen' for now) that were sent by the government to get rid of the piglin groups that were terrorizing nether travelers, killed Techno's family + the rest of the 'tribe' (Because piglins are typically found in groups) that he lived in. They spared him specifically, however, because at the time, he looked like a normal kid.  So, after being taken to the overworld, the voices got louder. Mind you, Techno is still a small, impressionable child (around 5 or 6), so he doesn't know what he's doing is wrong, and even if he does, he doesn't have the self-control to keep himself from succumbing.  This is, of course, a problem, and by the time he's 10, he's switched schools over 5 times because of his behavioral issues. The voices like, regularly encourage him to hurt people, so he either listens (by hitting, say, a classmate, or killing some small animal), or taking it out on school property. It's to the point where he has someone follow him around so that he doesn't do this stuff. This is where Philza comes in. I imagine that a younger Philza would be out and about, probably trading gold/diamonds/what have you, when Techno and his supervisor pass by after the former very recently got expelled from another school, so this dude is popping off and ranting to an 11-year-old about how much of a problem child he is. He doesn't give half a shit, and Piglin brain sees shiny stuff and goes 'take', so Techno shimmies on down to snag a gold nugget or something, even though he's terrible at it and gets caught almost instantly. Apologies ensue, Techno gets scolded, 'blah blah blah this is why you got expelled, etc, etc' but Phil isn't mad. Not mad at all, actually. Instead, he comments about what terrible condition he's in and asks Techno for his name/where his parents are. Supervisor man tells him that he doesn't have either because he's a bad kid and a pain in the ass to watch over. Philza goes 'ok fuck u too I guess' and offers to be Techno's mentor since he isn't currently in school. He's sus as hell but it beats being with the other dickwad so he goes with Phil (also because he likes the shiny stuff but shhh)

[mallowstep]

I’m thinking about writing a short OC piece about Windclan and I’d love to see your notes about its culture and the hymns you’ve written so far, everything you’ve done for Windclan appreciation month has really inspired me :)

hello anon!

alright, first things first: please send me ur piece when ur done if you're comfortable doing so! i will publish it from you, or if you don't want to be associated with it in Any Way, i will also just read it and add it to the queue with no indication why it's there. or if you don't want me to share it at all, i'd still like to read it.

as for your ask,

hymns?

i'm working on it. however, underneath the read more, i'll include a few snippets for u.

culture

alright, i'm just going to post links with some commentary as i go. feel free to ask any more questions you have.

windclan (search) | windclan (tag) | wcam tag | five clans (narrative essays)

i would link the elders den, but there's no windclan stories in there ATM.

moving on, i'm just going to go through posts in reverse chronological order.

tallstar taking a mate admittedly, this is more about cats and sexuality than windclan, but i provide the commentary that windclan...has a particular view on sexuality and fluidity. one thing i haven't explored but should is the role visiting cats have in windclan.

whoops that's a code word, my plug for solacefruit has been activated. okay, as you may be aware, based on the fact that i have a whole tag for it, i'm obsessed with solacefruit. now, i love everything they do, but i would like to point you particularly to "make a mighty sound" for a fantastic exploration of this idea.

i don't want to spoil anything, but i do think windclan, and maybe cats as a whole, but windclan has a certain view towards relationships that very much breaks them into pieces. i'm a "love is a verb" person, so the idea that you can grow to love someone romantically by going through the actions of love makes sense. not to say you will, but you can.

(to be clear i'm not out advocating for arranged marriages just saying that they can work, they're not destined to be bad, and there's a difference between forced marriage and arranged marriage.)

anyway.

this was a lot of words to say, cats do not have a human (and particularly, western/american) understanding of relationships, which makes analyzing them in those terms difficult.

early hymn talk i'll probably say more below, but it is here.

general ibtwicm notes might get you into the headspace for some of my choices in ibtwicm.

i don't have a ton to say because this pretty much all holds, but uh, yeah.

poetry and language this isn't strictly about windclan, but it does explain some of what i think about when writing hymns.

obviously, i'm writing english translations, but these general themes are what i have in mind. it's also part of why i say i don't think i'll ever release a "full hymnal" for windclan, because i don't know if my weak worldbuilding heart could take it if i only had translations.

names part two very much not about windclan, but just some thoughts on names. as i've said before, i support all names and worldbuilding equally, but if you want my thoughts on names, go buckwild.

clan culture fic rec list just stuff i think does a good job, if you want other sources of inspiration.

general clan culture notes this is really old, but it mostly holds.

i've obviously expanded a lot on windclan since i wrote it, so shrug? idk man.

alright, i'm going to move into hymn discussion below the cut, but best of luck! and i hope u have a good time. it makes my brain shut down to read that i inspired you, straight up got brain juice pouring out of my ears, but i'm really, really happy to hear that.

windclan holds a special place in my heart. (i know my oc avatar is from skyclan shhh it's because of the backstory he sees ghosts.) but i grew up in this super sporty household as a lil asthmatic klutz, and running was a sport i couldn't mess up, so of course windclan appealed to me.

they're actually third on my list of favorite clans, but they. it's a special place in my heart that they hold, especially after reading dawn of the clans and moth flight's vision, where i got an asthmatic cat and an adhd cat, both in windclan.

god i should reread dotc it's good.

alright, here's the deal on hymns: i am not going to fight to get duets to post correctly. there's a 0% chance i can in tumblr's wonky ass new editor with no markdown, not to mention how difficult it would have been in the old editor. so i'm going to talk a lil about what i've got, and post some stanzas that i think don't get explored a lot in ibtwicm.

we're discussing these in the order that they go in. a reminder that these are all sections of one epic poem. that said, i don't know where the gaps are. like, i don't know what's between these, if that makes sense.

the wind

the wind, the very first hymn. this is an ode to, well, windclan. it's a song about everything that makes them them. it's filled with poetry about the wind, about the seasons, and it's just...well, it's a bit of a genesis, in a way.

The wind — like the rain, like the river — calls the name of each star in its breath. The wind — like the earth, like the stone — anchors us to our home. The wind — like the sun, like the sky — is knowable only by name.

i wanted to share this stanza because the last line doesn't show up in ibtwicm (at least so far, i cut the reference), and it really, really, makes a difference imo.

anyway, windclan is basically tying the wind in with every other fundamental part of their life here.

they are the wind, and that's that.

the hare

okay, this one has a line that comes up a lot in ch1, but i already talked about that, so instead, i'm going to talk about this stanza

Speak of the earth and the dens, and you will be answered: By the call of the howling gales, the open earth singing in response. But speak of that which grows above, of the grass and field, And you will be answered by the softness of the buds and the roots.

okay, we get deadfoot thinking about this when he's talking to yellowfang.

i like this stanza because it really tells us what the hare is about. now, hares are not something windclan catches. hares are huge, y'all, there's no way they take one down. i take liberties with ecology, but not that many.

(i.e., a team of cats definitely could take one down, but i know too much, and would prefer letting team hunting stay a plot thing, and not fundamentally alter the environment in the way it would.)

now anyway, all of these hymns come from the time of the tunnelers. and the point of this is, even though the work of tunnelers and moor runners is disconnected, they fundamentally affect each other.

a moor runner must trust the hollows of the earth beneath them won't collapse, and a tunneler must trust that the prey they chase up will be caught.

it's all very symbiotic and is, well, in a way, a love poem. plus i really like the line "the open earth singing in response"

of the warrens

so this has one line, one you might not even know is a hymn, in ch1, but i'll share the whole stanza.

And as for the subject of fallow fields: Fallowed fields make for hungry prey, Yet hungry prey makes desperate rabbits, Who leap into our claws.

and ig my big point is, the hymns are a cultural artifact. just like many of the rules in the old testament have to do with hygiene things being codified into religion, this whole hymn is about hunting advice.

the moon on the river

okay, out of all the hymns, this is the most complete, and because ashfoot and deadfoot sing it together, and deadfoot discusses it, i only have one stanza to share.

Under the coldness, you shine back at me, And I do everything to keep the clouds from threatening you.

now, this poem is about love, grief, and being separated. it's a particular kind of grief, and windclan discourages grief, so this is one of only a few ways to really, fully express it.

and this section, in particular, is about love in times of hardship.

i don't have. a lot to say here. but the way hardship changes how you love someone can be particular and intense.

(temporarily, this happens sometime before "Spare for my chosen few / All I have is given towards the distant ground.")

the gorse in the wind

oh shit! i have so fucking much to say okay first.

the series title does not come from this hymn.

second, this is a challenging hymn okay. fuck. i have so much to say. where to start so! moors are actually relatively wet. think british countryside, not, like, a cool desert.

this is something i always knew? i read the secret garden a lot as a kid. but. i've seen stuff about moors being dry, and it's just one of those things that really...starts to eat under your skin. anyway.

okay, so. gorse is a dry plant. it does not like rain. it grows in sandy soil, etc etc, and yet. aside from everything we know about gorse and warriors, it also grows in this moor. because i say so.

okay, so. so so so. the lines quotes here are really deceptive, and i bet no one understood why, and that makes me just a little sad, but i couldn't find a good way to explain it in text, so uh, yeah, anyway. there's an exchange between ashfoot and deadfoot: "THE GORSE: You called me the heather and I grew stronger. / THE WIND: I called you the heather and brought rain for you to grow."

so...so do you see? do you see the point? it's about communication, needs, challenging each other. fadskj;l i love this. okay, so. the point is that heather is fragile, soft, pretty, and gorse is the opposite. the part of the wind is trying to be kind and complimentary, but the gorse is saying, fuck that, you are not being kind to me by undercutting my strength.

anyway, this passage is sung by the gorse:

In what good company have I set down roots, That even through snow fall I flower. You called me the heather and yet I've weathered, Far more than your sweet-named love.

so uh, yeah, this adds context. gorse! gorse is a hardy plant that continues to flower basically all season round. it's cool. it's cool. gorse is super cool. fuuuck y'all it's such a small thing and i've contained talking about it until now, but now it's too much. the floodgates are open, and i thought about this small detail too much.

okay. deep breath. gorse is a really easy plant to grow, but it's still adapted for dry environments. so the "even through snow fall I flower" part is a little tongue in cheek: gorse itself will flower in the cold, but snow is a type of precipitation, which as we've covered, is not gorse friendly.

then we have some rhyming and puns in the next line, and finally, "yet I've weathered, / Far more than your sweet-named love." like. yes. love as a form of softness is not necessarily helpful.

i mean, consider the damaging "soft trans boi" problem. same energy.

right. okay. so we've got all that? now if you remember, this is sung when deadfoot thinks ashpaw doesn't respect him, and ashpaw says she'll sing with him if she can sing the gorse, so in essence, she's telling him...not to back off, per se, but that...she is the "hard part" of the relationship. like, okay, i refuse to even bring up gender roles in human relationships, but uh, her point is very much, "i am the gorse, and you are the wind," and it's a very monumental moment.

it's anchored, i believe, in the other scenes, but this is a small thing that matters a lot to me.

like a lot.

okay, now that i've talked about like four lines for the length of this entire post, moving on.

the heather and earth

okay, this is the last hymn i have in concrete terms, and i cut a bit of it from the latest chapter, so yeah. it's also, uh, okay everything i have for it is only a line or two, but i wanted to share this closing line (sung together):

Sing a song of forgiveness, of growing together, and we will make madness, And madness from hence will everything beautiful grow.

and i just like these lines. they got cut, it was initially part of an exchange between ashfoot and deadfoot, but i can't share the part of it they talk about, because i'm reusing it for a later chapter and i'll 100% spoil shit if i try to talk about it.

but these lines? mmm they speak to me.

i don't have a ton to say about them, but i just. i like it.

if we apply the same ecology discussion from the gorse and the wind, we see heather is a plant that grows in acidic, infertile soil, and heath (which is not the same as a heather, but also kind of is) is a defining quality of heathland, which is...i'm not kidding, it's hot discourse about the difference between moorland and heathland.

i'm not getting involved, but my point is, if the gorse in the wind is a hymn about finding a working relationship, about mutual respect, etc., then the heather and earth is a hymn about working well together in a terrible situation.

god.

uh, wow! can you tell i like plants? because while parts of my ecology are dubious (see: everything regarding the rabbits in ch1), the plants part are well thought out. this shit is carefully detailed metaphor.

and that's why i won't be releasing a full hymnal. it's hard to as on top of this as i want to be. i'm not kidding, writing even four lines of a hymn usually takes me about twenty minutes, because i pull up a lot of research about how things work, how they interact with each other, etc., and then there's wordsmithing, cat worldview filter, etc.

but i hope this overview of what i've got is a good insight into my general thoughts. and i will eventually release more and more of the hymns i've got written.

[thereluctantinquisitor]

4 and/or 49 for the micro story prompts, for Adiran and/or Riin? :D

Thank you for the prompt! It took me a while to think of something but it is finally here! For context, this scene takes place before the tournament, but after Adiran’s older brother has returned to the palace. Adiran was a bit more of a mess than usual for that frame of time, and wanted nothing more than to get away from it all, even if only for a while...

4. one chance AND 49. nightfall

Most evenings, Adiran spent his time in quiet reflection. And by quiet reflection, he meant locking himself in his chambers with a bottle of something that wouldn’t be missed and the shelve of books Leisha had been collecting for him ever since he’d been limited to the palace grounds. Normally, that would be enough to get him by until dawn, when he’d wake with a throbbing headache and just enough regret to make the morning miserable. 

But things weren’t normal anymore. It wasn’t enough.

Nothing ever seemed like enough.

It was almost like sleepwalking, the way he ‘woke up’ from his usual routine to find himself cloaked and standing in the shade of one of the pines in the eastern garden. It was just past nightfall. Almost time.

Adiran could feel his heart hammering in his chest. Mindlessly, he pressed a hand over it, as though to still it. Smother it. Divider - do something with it, because he just realised he hadn’t even figured out what he was going to say, or how he was going to convince him, or---

“Adiran? Is that---”

“ ---Shhh! Idiot - shut up.”

As far as winning Riin over went, opening with a hissed insult probably wasn’t the wisest move. But with his heart in his skull and his hands damp with sweat, finesse was so far from Adiran’s grasp that it might as well have sprouted wings and flown across The Pale. Instead, he grabbed Riin by the sleeve and pulled him out of the torchlit path, into the shadow of one of the trees.

The branches were so low that Riin had to duck slightly just to clear them. To his credit, he hardly seemed fazed by Adiran’s sudden appearance. At least, not in the way Adiran had expected. Instead of getting angry or irritated by the interruption to his routine, Riin’s surprise melted away almost instantly. Instead, a familiar expression replaced it. One Adiran really didn’t need right now.

“What are you... are you alright? Adiran, did something happen?”

And there it was, right on schedule. The guilt. Adiran felt it like a knife to the gut. He could see Riin not-so-subtly trying to get a better look at him, squinting in the dark. “No, I’m... nothing’s wrong.” After having spent so much of the past three years with him, he could sense the man’s desire to push back the hood of his cloak. Reveal whatever ugly mark lay beneath it. Pre-emptively, Adiran reached out and grasped him by the wrists, his voice urgent. “I’m serious, Riin. It’s not what you’re thinking, okay?”

Riin searched his eyes for a moment, not resisting the makeshift restraint, but clearly skeptical. And who could blame him? It was more than a little strange for Adiran to ambush him on his usual trip out into the city. For years, he’d gone every half-turn, reliable as Valcretian clockwork. And he went alone. “Then maybe,” Riin said eventually, “you can help me out, and tell me what I should be thinking.”

Stomach lurching, Adiran released him and stepped back, almost running into the trunk of the tree in his haste. “Fuck. Right. I’m just -- I mean, I just want to...” Flustered, his eyes darted quickly to the palace, the wall, the unmanned side-gate. Focus. Damn it, he only had one chance at this. Convincing him. He couldn’t afford to screw it up.

It seemed he already was, because concern was all but etched into the lines of Riin’s face. “Adiran, I know you said not to worry, but you’re really starting to---”

--- “Take me.” The words rushed out of him before he even had a chance to check their credentials, but at the stunned look on Riin’s face, the rest hurried to catch up. “With you! Take me with you. To the city. Wherever it is you’re going. I don’t care. Just... take me too.”

The initial shock of what sounded like a very different kind of proposition was frozen on Riin’s face for a moment, his eyes wide, lips parted in what could have conceivably been the beginnings of a smile. A laugh. Disbelief. Something like that. But, after a few beats, the expression slowly faded, leaving the two of them standing there in the growing dark, nothing but the sound of trickling water and stirring insects dared share their company.

It just so happened that any silence, no matter how small, was too much for Adiran to bear right now.

“Forget it,” he snapped suddenly. Hands sweating. Chest aching. He had to get out of here. “Look, just forget I said anything. This was...” Stupid. So utterly, completely, fucking stupid. Standing there now, faced with the reality of what he was asking, a thousand uncomfortable truths seemed to crash down on his head. Riin’s contract was with his father. Not him. He shouldn’t have come here - shouldn’t have said anything at all, yet alone asked him to defy the King because... what? Because he felt like he was losing his mind? Felt pathetic? Felt utterly, crushingly lonely?

So fucking what.

“This was a mistake, okay?”Adiran continued, already bundling his cloak around him like a useless shell. “I know you can’t. I get it. I’ll just...” Mid-sentence, Adiran made what he assumed would be a fatal mistake. He looked up. Met Riin’s gaze, and found him...

... smiling?

“Oh - are you finished? If you need a little longer to, ah...” Wrinkling his nose, Riin made a vague gesture - a little like throwing something up, if Adiran was to be perfectly honest. Regardless, it was startling enough to stem his flood of words before he drowned in them. “I can wait, is what I’m saying,” Riin elaborated quickly, eyes glittering in the dim light. “It’s better you do this here, rather than down there in some tavern. There’s no need for awkward explanations when it’s just the two of us under a tree.”

Rather than down in some... wait... was he...?

“Wait... are you serious? Riin, if you’re caught doing this...” He should be elated! This was what he wanted, right? But instead, Adiran found himself shaking his head, some wordless instinct still trying to drag him back inside. Back to his chambers. Back to another night alone, where it was quiet and cold but safe. Honestly, he didn’t know what would happen if they were discovered defying the King’s orders. He doubted his father would sever his contract with a Kyriin - especially not so close to its successful completion. Worst case scenario, he’d probably end Riin’s duty as his training partner, and return him to loitering at his side like some miserable Crownsguard. But even that... “Damn it. I shouldn’t have asked. We both know I’m a selfish prick, so just do me a favour and forget I was even here.”

“Mmm, yes. How selfish of you, to be this worried about my well-being. You truly are your father’s son.” Even in jest, they both cringed slightly at the remark. “Sorry, I... what I mean is... it has been three years, hasn’t it? Has the King even told you when he plans to put an end to this?”

Sighing tightly, Adiran shook his head. “You know him about as well as I do. He doesn’t let things go.”

“You have already been punished more than enough for what happened.”

“Somehow, I doubt he’d agree.” A familiar sick feeling stirred in his stomach. “Riin, my father killed a man - hanged him in the square - just to send me a message. Just to make a point. This...” Swallowing, Adiran felt his gaze being pulled back towards the palace. “This is nothing. Not compared to that. I shouldn’t be out here.”

How could he possibly complain? He was alive. Breathing. That was more than could be said for others who had crossed the Talveran King.

Suddenly, there was a weight on his shoulder. Warm. Steady. It drew him back to the garden. Back to the tree and the trickling water and the cicadas. “You are not to blame for what your father did, Adiran.” Riin squeezed gently, leaning forward to catch his gaze. “And believe me, you are far from the first person to find themselves in a drunken brawl. Neither you or the other man deserve what happened. What is still happening.”

“But I---”

“Did you kill him? The man you fought.”

Adiran looked away. “I might as well have.”

“No - look at me.” Clenching his jaw, Adiran resisted for a moment, wishing they weren’t having this damned conversation, before finally giving in just to get it over with. “Good,” Riin said. “Now, did you order the hanging?”

“What? Of course not!”

“Then what did you demand?”

“Demand?“

“As compensation for your injuries.”

“Divider’s Own, Riin - nothing! We were drunk, and yeah, we acted like a couple of assholes. But I... I figured the city guard was just going to hold him until he sobered up. I didn’t even know I’d been recognised---”

Another squeeze, firmer this time. Adiran broke off, realising he was breathing hard. Too hard. Hard enough to have been mid-sprint. Nodding rapidly, he squeezed his eyes shut and willed himself to calm down. Tried to focus on Riin’s unnatural warmth. His hand on his shoulder. His voice, softer now, as he spoke again. “Adiran... I’m taking you with me tonight. Okay? In truth, I’ve wanted to for a long time.” Something brushed gently against his jaw - the back of a finger? - prompting Adiran to raise his chin and reopen his eyes. “Listen to me. You need this. I’m glad you’re here.”

What more could possibly be said? To deny the truth was pointless. And with those amber eyes staring straight through him, how could he even begin to try?

“Why?” was all he managed instead, and the answer was delivered with a frown. Not of anger, but genuine confusion.

“Why am I glad?”

“No, I mean... why?” Realising, with the help of Riin’s flat stare, that he was being far from helpful, Adiran grunted and forced himself to try again. “You... you know the risks. Why would you agree to this at all?”

To his surprise, Riin relaxed. It wasn’t quite the reaction Adiran had expected; after all, it wasn’t exactly an easy question. But when Riin’s smile returned, warm and soft and reassuring, it suddenly seemed like it was.

“Because you asked me to.”

That was it? Just because he asked? Divider’s Own, that wasn’t a reason! Not a real one.

Was it?

As the silence lingered, Riin eventually arched one dark brow, something akin to amusement in his eyes. “Do you... need some other reason?”

Fuck, he was infuriating sometimes. Completely insufferable. Folding his arms across his chest, Adiran snorted and looked away, doing his best to reassert some kind of control over the mess he’d created. “I mean, it’d probably make me feel better about losing my shit before, yeah.”

Sometimes it was strange, how much Riin appreciated unfiltered honesty. Surprised, he started to laugh, then caught himself, glancing around gingerly, making sure he hadn’t given them away. “Well,” he continued more conservatively, turning back, “it’s a nice evening, and we’ve got a fair walk to where I planned to go tonight. We should head out.” Smiling, he slid his hand from Adiran’s shoulder to his back, applying just enough pressure to coax him gently towards the side gate. “I’ll try to come up with something better along the way.”

“Uh-huh. You’d better.” Adiran rolled his eyes, but they both knew his heart wasn’t in it. Not really. Because what better reason - what better words than the five Riin had already given - could possibly be said?

No, Adiran decided as they slipped through the gate and he found himself free of the palace for the first time in three years. To deny the truth really was pointless.

[ursus-mari]

Arthur comes from humble beginnings, but when his village is destroyed in a raid and his family slaughtered, he ends up in Camelot, desperate for work. There he meets Merlin, the physician’s apprentice, when Merlin challenges a knight acting like an ass and Arthur jumps in to stop the idiot from getting killed. Uther is still king, Morgana is still the king’s ward, and Gwen is still her maid. Arthur is actually Uther’s kid, but he was smuggled out like Morgause because Uther was outraged and in grief about the whole Ygraine thing and blamed baby Arthur. When Uther looks at Arthur for the first time, it’s like he’s seen a ghost, but of course he thinks Arthur is dead and isn’t too suspicious. (I just... I want Arthur to be king because he’s good at it, not because of his bloodline and right to the throne. This doesn’t really do that, but it helps with Arthur’s arrogance issues, and his Uther given issues in general, and it means he can prove himself outside of the Pendragon legacy and tyranny)

(Once they’re thrown in the cells, Arthur turns to the skinny, pasty twig of a man and slaps him upside the head. “You idiot!”

“Ow!” The boy scowls at him. “What was that for?”

“Challenging knights to a fight! Do you have some sort of death wish?”

The boy pouts at him. “I could’ve taken them,” he sulks, affronted.

“I’m stuck in a jail cell with a suicidal, delusional idiot,” Arthur says faintly.

The boy scowls harder and pokes at Arthur’s chest. “No one said you had to jump in.”

Arthur gives the boy a disbelieving look. “They would have pulverized you.”

“Would not.”

“They were twice your size!” Arthur returns. The boy merely shrugs and crosses his arms. Arthur buries his face in his hands. “Do I want to know why you picked a fight nobles who are also trained to kill?”

“They were picking on a servant,” the boy says, heated. “Throwing spears at him, using him for target practice. I couldn’t just sit there.”

Oh. Arthur is kind of glad he landed a good shot now, even more glad than he was when he noticed the burly men threatening a slip of a boy. But still. “So you get yourself arrested? Possibly killed? Do you have no sense of self preservation?”

The boy snorts at him. “Says the man who stepped into the fight with no context.”

Arthur flushes. “I don’t like bullies.”

“Well, neither do I,” the boy says simply, and collapses cross legged on the floor as if the matter is closed, and also like they’re not sitting in a cell. “I’m Merlin, by the way. Who might you be, sir knight?”

“I’m no knight,” Arthur mutters with a scowl.

“You sure fought like one,” Merlin replies, looking up at him with a goofy grin. “And you certainly acted more honorably than those men did.”

Arthur’s face heats, and he looks to the ground to avoid Merlin’s bright eyes. “Arthur. My name is Arthur.”

“Nice to make your acquaintance, Sir Arthur,” Merlin chirps, taking Arthur’s resulting scowl with a sunny smile.

After some time, in which Merlin chatters easily and Arthur reluctantly opens up a bit about his circumstances, a furious old man wearing tattered robes comes to yell at Merlin and collect him early, which Arthur finds deeply unfair until he learns the alternative punishment is the stocks, at which point he makes peace with the dungeons. At least here he can move and isn’t being pelted with rotten fruit.

Merlin gives Arthur a quick, cheery wave as he’s dragged off, and then he’s left in peace. The cell feels too empty and quiet, all of a sudden.)

Yes I do recognize that there is much irony in Arthur being regarded as honorable and good because he interfered in the very bad thing he did in canon. Shhh, let me have my fun. I am gently poking fun at him.

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 258: Have You Thanked Your Twice Today

Previously on BnHA: All Might gave Deku a book with all of the previous OFA successors’ names, quirks, and career stats. Kacchan barely glanced at the book and was all “nah, boring” and JUST LIKE THAT he decided we’re not gonna get any new info, which I don’t think is very fair or considerate Kacchan but whatever!! Anyway though, All Might did reveal that Nana could fly and so Deku is going to learn to fly, so that’s fucking awesome, and then Kacchan and Deku had a moment of being bratty siblings together which I framed and put on my wall, so that was also very enjoyable. Back at the 1-A dorms we learned that Todoroki can’t cook, and the kids had a New Year’s party and talked about how they’re gonna be second years soon and how everything is just SO GREAT AND GOOD AND LIFE IS GOOD, and elsewhere All Might sat outside the teacher’s dorms and had a gorgeous fucking conversation with Aizawa that gave me all the feels. The chapter then ended with a THREE MONTH TIMESKIP to late March when apparently everything is about to go to shit. So yeah. Quite a lot to process there.

Today on BnHA: Hawks spends basically the entire chapter very slowly explaining to us that he became best friends with Twice, and it paid off dividends on account of Twice deciding that Hawks is definitely trustworthy and he should definitely tell him exactly where Tomura is off hiding in the mountains of Kyoto, because that’s the kind of extremely sensitive strategic intel that real best friends don’t keep from one another! Can you guys believe Hawks spent all that time trying to cozy up to fucking Dabi of all people when this whole time Twice was right fucking there. I bet you Twice would never have asked him to kill Best Jeanist and tote around his remains in a knapsack. Anyway so the chapter ends with the heroes launching what I assume is a surprise attack in where I assume is Kyoto, which probably explains that whole “on that day the heroes vanished” bit from the previous chapter. So let’s all wish them good luck, especially because THEY BROUGHT THE FUCKING KIDS WITH THEM GODDAMMIT. Oh my babies. Please be safe.

so I think I’m gonna go back to the Friday schedule since it just works better for me. just gotta remember to take the translations with a grain of salt, but all in all the quality last week wasn’t too bad, and overall the pros outweigh the cons

(ETA: the quality actually went down a lot this time honestly, but Friday still > Sunday in terms of me having the time to read this, so it is what it is.)

well this is interesting!

“in the absence of Endeavor” ? ??? the what now??? “oh yeah did we forget to mention, he’s gone now. we did some focus groups and made a few tweaks based on what the fans said they wanted.” well shit. let this be a warning to you all. it can happen JUST LIKE THAT

um. but I mean, that’s all well and good but uhhhh. [nervous glance toward Ujiko, Tomura, the 100k army, and the 11 noumus] ...

but maybe he’s just absent for the cover though. (ETA: yeah this makes a lot more sense after reading the last page of this chapter lol.) anyway so here we have everyone flying, as all good heroes do, including Deku who doesn’t really need that floating quirk after all I suppose, since he can jump real good. BUT IT’S STILL NICE FOR HIM TO HAVE IT SO SHHH

also the flower!Kacchan eyes are becoming more and more frequent lately. Horikoshi is really having a lot of fun with that

and now we’re going back roughly two months ago! which is still the future as far as I’m concerned! so this is really weird to have a “flashback” that basically still takes place after where we last left off. but whatever

“a week after the ‘hospital’ tip” well thank you, that certainly does help. so Twice is jogging in and beckoning to his best bud Hawks so Hawks is like “?” and walking over

(ETA: this has absolutely nothing to do with anything, but I just wanted to say that it’s very possible this flashback is actually taking place on Shouto’s birthday -- January 11th -- given the timing, so happy birthday Shouto! you are getting so big!)

lol see this is one of those times where the whole ‘translation of a translation’ thing doesn’t really work sob. even with context I’m not quite sure wtf Twice is actually asking, but at any rate this at least does give us an idea of how the rest of the League is spending their time now that they’ve completed their whole villain corporate merger

so Spinner and Compress, who actually have a few brain cells to rub together between the two of them, are already deeply involved in running things, and meanwhile Giran, Dabi, and Toga don’t really give a shit and so are content to sit back and wait until their services are actually needed. incidentally I like to think Giran spends a good chunk of his free time just tormenting ReDestro in a bunch of really small and petty ways. like making him get his coffee, and having him call and cancel his cable subscription and stuff. it’s just nice

guys I have no idea wtf is going on in these four panels honestly

well you heard him. that’s the situation. nobody trusts Twice (or was he talking about Hawks?), and meanwhile he has to go poo. not exactly where I thought this chapter would be picking up after that fun little cliffhanger last week, but just goes to show this series truly is a magical Kinder Egg and you never know what you’re gonna get!

so Hawks is explaining for my benefit that Twice was apparently doing an impression of some guy named “Sanctum” who is the oldest member of the MLA

holy shit it took Hawks a whole month to figure out all of the Pliff members? I’m just gonna pass then. thankfully I’m not a spy and I don’t have the fate of the free world depending on me memorizing the organizational chart of a bunch of really boring people whom I really do not give the slightest fuck about. anyway godspeed Hawks

oh no

son of a bitch. we’re in for another long fucking arc aren’t we lmao. well all right then let’s go ahead and do the rundown

Black 1: Fuhrer King Bradley

Black 2: Flying Ace

Black 3: Mother Ginger

Violet 1: Super Mario and Just A Bald Man

Violet 2: Predator and Best Sweaterist

Violet 3: Vizard and Gang Badger

in conclusion, Horikoshi will never stop making Alien/Predator references, and I’m also seeing some strong FMA and Bleach influence here as well. hell, the Mario guy even reminds me of some of the fishman characters from One Piece. so basically we’re all over the place here

other observations: “the new world movement”, huh? are they moving on from PLF at long last? I’ll take Newm over Pliff any day tbh

and so they have a tactical force and a raid force. now that’s interesting as fuck, because who exactly are they planning to raid? now that’s a nice disturbing question to ponder

lastly, the black and violet color schemes are very interesting and I wonder if there’s any significance there that’s going over my head lol. for now I just think it sounds cool regardless

-- MOTHERFUCKER THERE’S A WHOLE NOTHER PAGE OF THIS SHIT FUCK ME I FUCKING QUIT

goddammit. fine

Carmine 1: Lefty Hair and Gerudo Princess

Carmine 2: Slidin’ Go Away and R2-D2

and I can’t see Carmine 3, oh well. meanwhile on the other side we’ve got:

Cleveland 1: Praying Mantis and Righty Hair

Cleveland 2: Jawa and Just Happy To Be Here

and last but not least, Cleveland 3: Badger’s Revenge

what I have learned from this is that I don’t really know what a badger looks like and so any remotely rodent-looking animal person with stripes on their face is going to be slapped with that label because I don’t have time to research what would be a more appropriate animal nickname unless we want to be here until next week. anyway

haha Hawks what the fuck

well that sure is encouraging. so how exactly are the heroes supposed to get the drop on them then? basically we’re fucked, is what you’re saying. well we all been knew so whatever

so Hawks is monologuing to himself about how he was able to nice his way into learning all of the army’s members without getting caught, and in the process he observed how all of the members are all “FUCK THE SYSTEM”, which they definitely have a point about but are also definitely going about the wrong way holy shit

so now he’s feeding some good rabble-rousing lines to Twice who is eating them up

yeah, because Twice famously loves ReDestro lol, oh wait

so Twice is all “I don’t wanna say something that’s not from the heart” because he is PURE and not a Sneaky Sam like SOME PEOPLE! but he understands Hawks’s point that he basically just has to butter them up and tell them what they want to hear, and now he’s running off with a hearty thanks

fffffson of a --

like, you all can see the breakdown in logic that occurred here, right? “some heroes are corrupt” -- absolutely! “kill all heroes” -- wait, what

like obviously there are some real world parallels here. but I very much get the feeling that the PLF/NWM’s movement is fueled less by sentiments of “our law enforcement system is trigger-happy, racist, void of empathy, and think they’re above the law” and more by the notion of “our self-proclaimed superiority gives us the right to do whatever we want and trumps other people’s right to be safe and free, particularly if those people are unfortunate enough to not have quirks.” like, there are a lot of other nuances we could get into here, but that’s basically the gist of it, so yeah. these guys are not to be sympathized with here

and now there’s a big double page spread basically confirming that what these guys really want is blood and anarchy

and the really interesting thing here to me is that we can see Tomura standing at the front of the pack in that bottom right panel. but on the very next panel, with the close-up of Hawks looking as serious as we’ve ever seen him, he basically says that the endgame of all this, the ultimate outcome that this is all meant to bring into place, is one thing and one thing only

yep. well fuck

anyway I have no idea why he’s thanking Twice, but I’m gonna go ahead and guess he unknowingly did something which might give the heroes the potential glimmer of hope which they desperately need. so I will go ahead and thank you too, Twice. you’re a good guy buddy

oh wow there’s a whole page of more meta about Twice! -- and OH SHITTTTTTT

LKDsjflkjsdlfklskgjlskjlfkjsdlfk oh my fkfdjflk how did this never occur to me, just. FSDKLFLSIFKjk

hahaha. :’) holy fucking shit. they have to take him out. they can’t win otherwise. the heroes are already screwed enough as it is with just one Tomura and eleven high ends to contend with; if Twice is able to use his quirk to multiply that exponentially, we can basically kiss the world goodbye. fuck

but Hawks came to realize that Twice is actually a good guy though as echoed above! which, yeah, and can you imagine if he wasn’t, though? shiiit

oh my god they are so cute

listen, I won’t lie, I’m reading this for my 1-A children first and foremost, so there’s a part of me that’s like “HOW MANY MORE PAGES ARE WE GOING TO GET OF THIS JESUS CHRIST.” but there’s no denying that Jin is a good turnip and his unexpected friendship with Hawks -- which I am happy to report is now confirmed to be genuine! because Hawks really does like him! -- is a delight to witness

OH MY GOD TWICE LMAO

“HERE, LET ME JUST DRAW YOU A MAP! (⌒∇⌒。)ANYTHING FOR YOU, BEST FRIEND”

holy fucking shit Twice. did you just save all our asses you beautiful bastard

so between this, and the “hospital” clue, that could be enough to track him down, couldn’t it? no wonder Hawks was so pumped after getting that call. what are the odds this chapter ends with the start of a hero-led raid on a hospital in Kyoto. oh shit oh shit oh shit

lolol oh fuck me

I swear to god Horikoshi if you end this bromance by having Hawks kill Twice for the sake of the greater good, I’ll. ... well I sure as hell won’t like that. please do not

AND JUST LIKE THAT WE’RE BACK TO SPRINGTIME OH MY GOD

what a time to enter the first fucking grade Dai-kun. godspeed little man. I love the little detail that he’s holding an Endeavor plush while looking at the All Might statue. drawing strength from both heroes. aww

and then of course we have this fucking march of heroes which I can only hope is them heading to that hospital! no wonder they all vanished. they all ran off to Kyoto to try and put a stop to the villains’ plans before it’s too late

but I don’t see any of the kiddos there, though? don’t tell me the villains are gonna try something while the adults are away and leave the kids to deal with it all on their own

oh shit no!!! hold up!!

DON’T TELL ME THEY REALLY DID BRING THE KIDS WITH THEM ON THE EXTREMELY DANGEROUS “TIME TO GET OUR ASSES HANDED TO US BY NOUMURAKI TOMURA” MISSION NOOO MY BABIESSS

oh thank god

at least they don’t have the child soldiers on the front fucking lines, fucking christ

AHHHHHHHHH

SAY A PRAYER FOR KATSUKI’S WINTER COSTUME, EVERYONE. BE AT PEACE, SLEEVES OF GONDOR. FAREWELL BEST JEANIST TRIBUTE COLLAR

is this T chest thing on Shouto’s costume new? I can’t imagine that serves any sort of practical function whatsoever; he was probably just tired of looking boring

BUT!!!! those gloves, though!!?! now those are definitely new and I fucking love them. again I can’t really see them having much of a practical application given his quirk, but there is nothing wrong with upgrading oneself just to look sharp! boy wanted a facelift so he went out and got one

that’s some nice Anime Protagonist Wind they’ve got going on there in the mountains of Kyoto. real epic shit

1-B is there too!! and also Hadou, I think, unless that’s Pony? so that’s fucking awesome. we will certainly need all hands on deck

so that’s it for the chapter! not much happened, but we got a lot of Twice appreciation and learned that the heroes still have a few tricks up their sleeves! can’t wait to see how this will all go disastrously wrong. if you ask me, it’s probably when they decided that the best way to launch a surprise attack was to have fifty Endeavor-led guys gather all together and march up Main Street. but far be it from me to tell the heroes how to do their job I guess. best of luck not dying everyone