#OH GOD ITS ON TUMBLR ALS o

[hana-no-seiiki]

a/n: first full genshin fic in tumblr let’s go.

we’ve had god readers but what about god complex reader who’s a smartass.

without further ado i present to you the flowers of evil au! (which i will actually explain more in another post but for now have this)

divider by omiyours!

no beta read we die like rukkhadevata’s god friends

summary: reader is basically wanderer but a slut

cw/tw: self indulgent, wish fulfillment, manipulative! reader, asshat/arrogant! reader, implied noncon (reader gets drunk), alhaitham being incredibly horny, alhaitham being a homewrecker, kaveh doesn’t have any self esteem, very snobby ass intellectualism, mary sue/gary stu reader.

pairings: yandere! al-haitham x spy! reader x yandere! kaveh x ? ? ?

“RED ROSES BURN MY EYES”

V O L U M E ( I )

[Y/N] [L/N] is the epitome of perfection. Even amongst the scholars that excelled in their fields, and the sages that basically ruled over the Akademiya. [Y/N] always managed to stand out.

Part of that is what attracted Al-Haitham. They were intelligent, and quick-witted. He found himself effortlessly engaging in conversation for hours when it came to their banters. Everything he was looking for in a partner — both in academics, romantic and sexual side of things — could be found in [Y/N].

But there were two things he had to consider.

The first thing was their awful(ly hot) god complex.

“Told you I’d be correct.” [Y/N] sat atop his desk. Their legs crossed, practically begging to be ripped apart as the scribe fantasized of bending them over the nth time that day.

Their intoxicatingly sweet yet mature scent — of roses and old books — wafted through the air and into his nostrils. It took all he had to not pin them on his table so that he could breathe it in. He wanted their scent to be permanently ingrained within his mind like the languages and manuscripts he’d memorized to heart.

But alas he had to at least maintain a modicum of sanity and control over his hormones. He replied, trying to edge away from their form, “You don’t have to rub it in my face, [L/N].”

But it was getting rather hard when they began leaning over “Fair is fair, Scribe. You get to gloat when you win, and I as well during the many triumphs I have over you. So, what are you supposed to say in this situation?”

“I was wrong to go against your judgement.”

You poke his nose. A mocking grin on your disgustingly pretty features, “I knew you had it in you.”

He could tolerate the first thing. In fact, he found it attractive at times. It’s what attracted him to the idea of dating them; owning them, the desire to rip that smug look on their face. To make their face contort to that of unfettered desire. To bring them down and off their high horse and instead kneeling — yearning for his touch, his lips, his cock.

The second thing was the fact that they were dating his roommate. That darned Kaveh.

“My love.” Al-Haitham could swear Kaveh smirked at him as the latter mouthed his petname for you.

“You’re late.”

“They’re sending me away for a project.”

“What?” Oh, [Y/N]’s concerned face however? Hurt even more. The palpable love between the couple made him want crush the book within his hands and throw its remains across the library. He’d tell you two to get a room if he didn’t want eyes on you 24/7.

“It’s just another construction. I’ll be back soon.”

“Stay safe.”

Al-Haitham couldn’t help but stare at your back while the two of you left him alone.

Was that a smile - no - a smirk on your features?

It was a mistake on your part. You should have known not to get drunk on enemy territory.

But your one success as a spy finally came. You had to celebrate somehow, right?

Wrong.

In your mistake in judgement you found yourself tangled with Al-Haitham of all people. How’d he even get drunk enough to sleep with you anyways? He couldn’t have purposely have sex with you, could he? All your interactions have been those of rivals and friends at most.

“You’ve been avoiding me.”

“Was it that obvious?”

“We’re adults [L/N]. You don’t have to act like this.” Stop acting like this. Al-Haitham wanted to scream. He couldn’t take it anymore. He missed your presence so dearly. If only you could see the mess that had been his room and office.

“Exactly. Adults. I can make my own choices and I choose not to interact with you. I’m doing this for the sake of staying civil. For Kaveh.”

“I’ll tell him about your lord.” You paused.

No, you couldn’t have. Your [e/c] orbs slowly turned a velvet red while he continued his speech. Were you that careless? Were the words your co-workers used to describe you true?

That you were an absolutely useless, reckless piece of rot?

“The way you screamed his name while I—“

His? Ah, so he didn’t know their name. You probably just screamed My Lord and he automatically assumed…

He’s bluffing.

“Then go ahead.” You couldn’t help but grin knowing that you finally didn’t mess up in a mission. So what if he said those words to Kaveh, your mission to distract the Light of Kshahrewar had been a success. All you needed was to leave once everything had been finalized and your god had been reborn. “This may not be Focalors’s nation, but this sort of conduct could get you in jail, Scibe.”

“By who? Cyno hates me, sure. But if there’s one person he loathes more than me it’s you.”

“We’ll talk about this tomorrow.”

“No, [Y/N]. We’ll talk about this now.”

“Why are you so persistent—“

“Because I love you!”

Al-Haitham grabbed unto your face, squeezing so tightly you knew it’d bruise, “I think about you every single day, hour, minute — every damn second even. I can’t get a single paper fully transcribed because I always end up writing your name over and over again as if I’ll forget it any second.”

“That’s impossible. You can’t love me. No. That isn’t supposed to happen.”

“[L/N]. I know you’re a skeptic but doubting my feelings is—“

“You were never my target.”

Al-Haitham gasped as red petals enveloped his entire body.

“My lord. May you forgive this forsaken soul. Grant this servant a place beside your holy being as you ascend—“

His throat, his nose, even his eyes — all burnt under the heavy scent of roses.

“and accept this sacrifice.”

You looked at him solemnly. If only you weren’t so incompetent, he wouldn’t have been roped into this.

Your time with the roommates was fun while it lasted.

“Oh Lord of Flowers.”

[FOOTNOTE:]

In the end, [Y/N] could not kill him. It was always like this. Their missions always went wrong. It’s anyone guess really — why they haven’t been thrown away by their lord. They were defective at best. Completely useless at worst.

So they were commanded to be a honey trap. Someone made to lure in and distract an assigned target while the rest of the Zuhur, came in to assassinate and/or thieve around.

“Kaveh.” You greeted. Shit, you shouldn’t have gone back to his place to check for lose ends. Wasn’t he supposed to be away anyhow? What was he doing in the Akademiya?

“Where are you going?”

“I—I’m leaving.” You had recently finished drugging Al-Haitham and sending him to the sages to deal with. Time was ticking, and you had to be there for when your new master breathes his first as a brand new god. “to get some samples for research. Meet up with the Forest Rangers and all that.”

“Does lying to me get you off or something?” Kaveh stopped you in your tracks, he didn’t have to hold you still, the hurt in his voice was enough.“I know about it. About your affair with Haitham.”

“Then—“

“And I’m fine with it.”

“What?”

“You- You can meet up with him all you like. I already knew someone like me couldn’t possibly satisfy a being such as you.”

“Just don’t leave me ever. Please?”

“Kaveh . . .”

“I promise to never get between you guys. I swear I-I’m not jealous at all. You deserve to receive all the love you can get.”

“Kaveh!” You cried. Who was this person? The Kaveh you knew was loud and boisterous. In fact, you used him and Al-Haitham as a basis to create [Y/N]. The prodigy of the Akademiya.

Who was this weak, broken person that trembled in front of you.

“You deserve someone better than me, alright? Not the other way around.”

“What…?”

“Stay safe and get as far away as you can from the Grand Sage in the next few weeks alright?” You continued your journey away, only stopping to say a few words, “I love you. Truly.”

“If you love me, why would leave me?!”

“I have to.” You clenched your hands, and disappeared.

“(Wardati) وردتي … “

TRANSLATIONS:

flowers = zuhur

وردتي = my rose

[seb-owns-these-tatas]

Witcher Of The Night (Chapter 5)

THIS IS MODERN ERA READER WHO WOKE UP IN THE DIMENSION OF THE WITCHER.

WITCHER OF THE NIGHT MASTERLIST

CHAPTER 4.1

Characters: Geralt of Rivia x small!Naive!Reader

Summary: Cirilla and Geralt has gotten into a big fight. Thus, leading to you learning more about witchers and having a soft spot for his child of surprise.

Warnings: Angsty? Kinda? Cirilla's having an emotional breakdown. Geralt being one stern dad and kinda mean? Jaskier being talkative in the wrong times. You being confused at everything. Boner references? HAHAHAHAH.

Words: 5,600+

A/N: You're going to kind of hate Geralt on the next chapter. I can tell. Hehehe? Or maybe noooot? Next chapter will be interesting for me! I think? Heehee! There’s going to be plot hints as well on the next chapter! THANK YOUUUUUU! 

TAGLIST IS STILL OPEN FOR THIS ONE! Heehee! Don’t forget to REBLOG, COMMENT OR GIVE FEEDBACK IF YOU DID LOVE THIS CHAPTER! IT’LL MAKE ME SMILE!

Disclaimer: PNG's used in edits are not mine even the GIF's too. However, the edits and oneshots are definitely from moi. Characters, places and said monsters aren't from moi as well.

MY WORKS ARE NOT NOT NOT NOT NOOOOOOT TO BE POSTED ON ANY OTHER WEBSITES. My official username in Wattpad is “TATATHEPOTATO” and that’s the only other site I have for writing aside from Tumblr. Thank you, Tater tots!

Seeing the satisfaction of people smiling and humming to the food you cook was a great feeling for a person who loved cooking. Gratification would be an understatement for the feeling you were having as you've watched Ciri and Jaskier munch down on the viands you've poured your heart with.

As per usual, Geralt was only humming in satisfaction after all of his and Jaskier's attempt on making edible food. Sometimes it isn't, sometimes it is. But, most of the time; it was inedible to be eaten.

Ciri was moaning out her extreme satisfaction. Vigorously devouring the Fried Chicken like she had beeb famished for at least a year. Crumbs of the breading scattered all over her mouth and face as she scratched her forehead with the back of her soiled hand.

"How's the chicken, Ciri?"

Dishes clanging and food were being munched in the background. You swallowed your food first before asking the princess.

"Better than ever," she incoherently mumbled. Mouth filled with food as she slightly coughed from not chewing it well as she swallowed.

The bard seemed to have accepted the fact that Kolby was sitting on the far end of the kitchen, eyes twinkling for food to be thrown to him. Though, he was still being ignored by Jaskier as if he weren't in the room; probably just stingy and disturbed for his presence, "This soup is delightful!"

Jaskier waved the bone of his chicken in the air like a flag. Turning his head to look at Geralt who was silently eating his food with an apathetic expression of his that was normal for the man. "Geralt," the bard called out for the latter. "Hmm," the witcher tiredly hummed in response, "We need some ale! Please tell me you've bought one when we've last visited the marketplace,"

You've bit the tendons of your chicken. Kolby has caught your attention as he was staring out of hunger. Again. You've reached out for the grapes that sat in front of you and grabbed onto half the stem before snapping it. Throwing the fruit towards the Hirikka as it caught it with his adorable paws.

"Moop!" Kolby answered as a thank you. A very weird, high pitch sound that disturbed you at first when you heard his voice but slowly and surely getting the hang of hearing it when he was happy, sad, guilty or anything he feels.

"I've finished it all," Geralt mumbled after a second of swallowing his food.

"Oh, you drunkard!"

You've snapped your head at the bard, lower lip jutting out as you were deep in your thoughts. Your head turning as you studied your unfinished chicken.

"I can make one," you blurted out loud to Jaskier's interest, "I've studied culinary enough to make my own wine and beer or ale in this old time,"

His lips formed in an 'O' shape, entirely elated at the skills you've opted. A grin as wide as the Cheshire cat when he'd shook his head out of stupefaction.

"I am certainly wrong in calling you a rat," he gave you a boyish smile before looking at the ceilings; acting like he was talking to God, "You are one of the gods sent from above, Y/N!"

The witcher stopped chewing halfway to give you his attention before he carry on with his devouring and eyed the bard who was mischievously grinning at the bear of a man.

"Geralt here has his ears clapping because you know how to make ale," he gestured to Geralt with a newly taken chicken in the middle of the wooden table, "---now, we can seldomly visit the inns for our brotherly whereabouts or the brothels for your midnight pleasure with your whores---" the devious bard was cut off when Geralt breathed in deep and scolded him with a monotonous pitch. "Jaskier,"

Jaskier winked back at him, now moitioning for what was hidden below his pants; a hasty ridicule sent, "Don't want me stating the stiff of a bird howling out of its nest or your twig-n-berries because Y/N here has mentioned that she knows how to make ale!"

Jaskier was unaware of his hands that was flat on the table. With his fingers widely flattened and having spaces in between. He was utterly frightened when Geralt has brutally stabbed in between the spaces of it with a bread knife he never used; leaving Jaskier stammering like he'd been castrated.

"Ge--Geralt!"

You've gave them a double-take, blinking from Geralt's hostlity and his patience snapping out of a sudden. He was glaring at the bard but Jaskier was already swallowing his saliva and disgustingly coughing out bits of chicken and soup; leaving bits to spill on the sides of his mouth as he shockingly stared at the knife close to his fingers.

"Are they always slitting each other's throats?" you thought out loud, continuing your indulgement. The question sent to the Ashen princess.

"I'm afraid so," Cirilla shrugged as a matter of fact; ignoring Geralt's patience suddenly snapping; like it was their normal.

Cirilla has studied your clothes as you sat and ate silently. The both of you ignoring Jaskier's complaints about how Geralt was close to stabbing his fingers that give people; out of this world epics. It was the fingers that holds a lute which can change the witcher's name and the world. The bard continued raving out as Geralt resumed eating silently with Jaskier bombarding his peace.

"Y/N?" The pretty child called out of curiosity, "---You need clothes!" she continued with a point to your clothing. Her nose scrunching in distaste, "---Proper clothes and not ginormous clothes from Geralt,"

From the mention of his name, the man himself glanced at your direction and scooped the last drop of his soup; eyeing you both in wonder.

"We need to visit Babeth again! I want to buy Y/N a dress," Cirilla gave her best pleading eyes. The meaning of her words have another meaning as well. She probably also wanted to play with some teens she could meet out in the marketplace or if she could play with her best friend named 'Ethelia' whenever they had their weekly visit.

You responded rather hurriedly, shaking your head as you've finished your last piece of chicken; chewing the skin as you left it for your last bite to thoroughly satiate the taste, "Oh, you don't have to because I don't like dresses---"

The princess pouted before you, currently dismayed by your response, "But, you can't leave the house with just Geralt's under-Tunic! People will be looking at you strangely! Very out of the ordinary compared to the women wearing thick, warm dresses," she explained with that puppy eyes she'd been an expert in.

Cirilla was drinking her soup from the rim of the bowl in haste before dropping it with a thud. She leaned her elbows on the table, her eyes twinkling with hope as she gave Geralt the look that gets him to always say yes; all the darn time.

He didn't hate it with Cirilla. The Witcher hated it whenever it was you because he didn't think he would ever get to not say no to another person like a child with puppy eyes. What was even worse was that you weren't even a child and you were having your way that he'd even agreed on having a Hirikka in his home just like a pet.

Perhaps, he was actually short of a marble.

"Can we go to the marketplace and visit Babeth please, Geralt? You've earned enough coins to build this small house! I wanna buy Y/N clothes to wear and make her feel comfortable," she exclaimed eagerly like a child wanting for a field trip.

Geralt gave her a languid blink before studying you who sat beside Cirilla. You've given him a smile when your eyes connected; feeling all tingly on the inside. That overwhelming warmth that makes your face feel mellow with tingly insides.

The Witcher only hummed with an impassive appearance. Last time, they've gotten the chance to visit the marketplace; Jaskier was drunk and had to bed a seller in exchange for a tunic he wanted or maybe he'd just wanted her after letting a man who he had his eyes on and is as youthful as him; run away with a knight who had been drinking back in the tavern. He was probably frustrated and glum after what has happened.

Albreda was beautiful and as sexy as a fox. So, it was also a win-win situation for the bard despite of how he lost to a knight from the castle of Kaedwan. In comparison, what can his lute even do to a sword?

The young princess notice Geralt's neutral response. Never knowing if it was a yes or a big no. She puffed out a breath; slipping her fingers under her thighs as she sat on her chair when she'd hollered for the bard's attention, making him snap out of his prattles, "Jaskier, please tell Geralt that Y/N needs a set of normal clothes for her to wear!"

You smiled; completely unnerving as you wanted to repeal from the offer at hand. Jaskier gave out a hum and a quick nod was simultaneously sent when he did as he dropped the empty bone on his plate with a loud cling. "Alright, alright. I'll give a quarter of coins for Y/N,"

"See! Jaskier approves!"

The quiet witcher bluntly spoke with a rasp after he drank his water; glowering as he drank from his cup, "He doesn't even have the coins to buy his own tunic,"

Jaskier looked at him; faking the offence. Geralt gave him a shrug of his shoulders and a cocky slant of his head from the reaction.

The bard ignored the reiteration; which was a first time for everything and leaned forward on his chair, folding his arms as it rested on the table. Remembering an offer brought to him by one of the villagers back in Durriken's Tavern, "---I've heard the villagers asking for a witcher's help again,"

Jaskier clicked his tongue as he pondered, the crease of his forehead growing deeper in thought, "---Preferrably the butcher of Blaviken," pause. "The first hunt that they wanted was a Bloedzuiger, this was offered by Babeth herself because her husband has seen one in the swamps," he gestured with his index finger pointing on the ceiling like an 'you know' gesture.

Thus, the bard gestured with an 'a-okay' sign with his fingers like he was pertaining to coins as he explained further, "---Second is an Echinops with a lot more coins involved, considering the stories; it is said that its difficult to slay because it can only be seen in places where crimes have been committed or the graves of the dead. But, this was offered near Vizima. Thoroughly far. We have yet to travel,"

You had no idea what they were saying. Your narrowed eyes says so as you stared at them both. A what? you thought inside your head. A bulldozer? Itchynuts? What is it that Geralt does in his everyday life? Does he really slaughter beasts as a job like it was normal in their world?

You were completely an embodiment of curiosity and bafflement. There was a lot of knowledge that has entered your brain since that night but it seems like it wasn't enough. You needed more idea as to what was running in their world. Sad to say, the monsters were even running freely for Geralt who seemed to be needed for a kill.

Cirilla had a frown twisting her face. She'd exhaled; loud enough for the three of you to look at her as she called out for the man who sat across from her. "Geralt," and the witcher only gave a hum as a response. He knew what she was going to say and Jaskier's timing was the worst thing in the world that could happen.

"You're going? Again? I thought you were going to leave the beasts alone when you've realized that people are more evil instead?"

The latter couldn't help but give Jaskier the nastiest scowl he could offer. If anything, he wanted to throw Jaskier in a lake full of bathing Hirikkas to scare the shit out of him.

Geralt sat back on his chair as it creaked, his golden eyes complimenting his chalky white hair that fell on his shoulders in a dazzling way ever. He shook his head to her disdain, "I can't let people be killed by these beasts," his jaw clenched as a frown was etching to grow on his face, "They need my help,"

The blue eyed child was sending daggers to the witcher and you watched them both share scowls at each other from the sudden plan that uncoiled from the moment Jaskier opened his damn mouth.

"I thought you didn't want anyone needing you?" Cirilla simmered as a matter of fact as she crossed her arms.

Geralt could hear the parsimonous tone she'd kept up, making him seeth and his teeth grit as he sent another one of his tight scowls, "Then, why are you here?"

Cirilla loudly huffed to herself, snapping her gaze away from the latter. He sighed a big one, shaking his head again from the argument that is happening. "You're just worried, Princess." he nonchalantly uttered as he blinked and looked away, sounding so tired from everything.

"Of course, I am!" Cirilla suddenly fumed, voice turning a pitch higher than she intended to.

Jaskier raised his hand up after a minute of pure silence. Except for the loud sighs that both parties have been emitting. The bard cleared his throat for emphasis and both snapped their heads to look at him.

"Besides, he'd never stopped, Princess Cirilla," The man who has started the fight, declared like it would help the situation. But, no. It definitely just worsened and it made Geralt send him laser  through his eyes.

A continuous set of rapid blinking happened to you at the words spoken by Jaskier himself. An inquisitive look needing quick answers given to the child sat beside you. "Y-You're a princess? Like a real princess? It's not just an endearment or something?"

"Cirilla is the princess of Cintra," the bard commented, answering your question in haste. You swallowed a lump in your throat, fingers scratching your temple when you wondered how it was possible. It is, in their kingdom and according to their time line, their era would be filled with royal empires or a hierarchy of the royal kingdom, "You mean, a kingdom? A huge kingdom? Like the daughter of a president?"

Nobody answered you at that. With Cirilla still glaring at Geralt and Jaskier looking at you weirdly by what you were blabbering about; trying so deeply to understand you.

Thus, it was as if all clouds started form; a sight of the princess breaking as it could be seen through the windows of her soul. You've took a glimpse of her and that tiny quiver of her lips and cheeks signified a little girl who was terrified of a future that was meant for her, "Why must you lie to me, Geralt?" she whispered, voice breaking as she swallowed and fought back the tears.

Your heart fell for the girl who seemed to be in an emotional battle with herself. It was like you see yourself in her. The fear that consumes her as if she had been all alone, scared and with nobody to ask for help.

She was a broken child. Emotionally.

At the sight of her tear-threatening face. Geralt gritted his teeth, whisper cusses to himself as he saw how he'd upsetted her again and so, his voice tried to soften; be a little more considerate from where she was coming from, "I had to, Princess. You wouldn't have let me go day by day if you knew where I was going," he paused, crossing his sturdy arms as he reasoned, "---besides, where was I getting food every day for us when I don't get to slaughter beasts?"

Cirilla's expression died down a little bit, her heart thumping out of her chest as she tried to dig in to her memories. There was riches under her bed back in Cintra, she remembered. "Grandmother has left gold under my bed, located in a big, brown, treasure box---"

Geralt immediately cut her off, gruffly but calmly spilling the beans for the tenth time for his whole life, "Nilfgaard has already looted the whole castle," his voice sounded stern as he uttered with no remorse; constantly reminding the princess of the truth and letting her understand, "---When I told you there was no going back, I wasn't lying."

You've tried to hold her hand that was tightly fisted across the table, yet you were too slow as she instantaneously stood on her chair with a tight-fitting frown on her face, "We leave tomorrow morning," Geralt declared as he watched her storm out the kitchen slash dining. The door being shut closed; loud enough for the trees to shake as the witcher seemed unfazed by her tantrums and sadness, "I'll give the princess what she wants, in repayment for my mistakes,"

After the accidental argument that Jaskier has made, it was already night time when both parties didn't seem to want nor have the plan to talk to each other like what they always do.

Geralt was out and nowhere to be found, with his horse as you've checked. A sudden want to ask him what happened and what it was about for you to be less of an idiot around the house and Jaskier finally regretting his mouth that ran with no thinking. The princess stayed in her chambers for seven hours already. There was no clock, but you've guessed by the evening twilight. Still, no response from the princess after an hour of convincing her it was time to eat dinner with a dessert of steamed chocolate cake you've managed to make through scrapes that you've specially created for her.

Both you and Jaskier were in front of her door, knocking repeatedly as the bard tried to woo her out of her bed. "Princess Cirilla?" he professed with a tone close enough to be considered as singing.

Seconds later, you've heard a faint yell from beneath the covers, "Leave me alone, Bard!"

The both of you sighed from her stubborness. They were both pretty obstinate; Geralt and Cirilla. You massaged your temples, eyeing the bard who had his ears flat against the door, trying to listen what was happening behind it. "Why is she mad?" it was a soft whisper that could only get Jaskier to hear. The bard shrugged, blinking back at you.

"Because," his sentence was vague, igniting a tight-lipped lour from you; totally unsatisfied by the information that was said.

He'd look at you with a faultless glint of his eyes, wondering what you were waiting for as he said his explainations as to why Cirilla was mad at the witcher. The bard sighed when you've continued to look at him lackadaisically and so he decided it was best to give a proper answer, "Geralt's been the...only one protecting her," he dubiously and quietly whispered, not giving away all the information yet.

Your frown grew tighter, cocking your head as you pondered, "---From what?"

"The people who want her as dead as a door nail," Jaskier stepped away from the door, his voice turning lower if that was even possible for Cirilla not to hear.

Shock was evident in your features. The details sounding like a bellicose. It was difficult to comprehend that somebody wanted to kill a kid who doesn't cause any harm. Or that was what you thought from what you've observed since the day you were with them. She seemed normal and harmless.

"I don't understand?" you trailed off and shake your head in a perplexed manner, "---Isn't she his child? It's obvious that he would protect her with all his life. Besides, where's the...mom?"

The mother. You were sure Cirilla was Geralt's child based on how protective he was with her. He acts like a father towards the princess. Was his wife the queen? you thought and tried to think of how the family tree works.

The bard narrowed his eyes at you; crossing his arms and leaning his shoulder on Cirilla's door with that smirk appearing on his face, "She isn't his child. She's his child of surprise,"

Your face warped into pure confusion, feeling the back of your head twitch because of how muddlesome it sounded, "Nani?! (What?!)"

From how weirder their facts get, the more you didn't even know that your words become incoherent. Jaskier eyed you like you've evolved into a Hirikka and gave you a shrug, asking you 'what?' with that weirdest expression he could create.

Your lips twitched into a small smile before it fell; realizing what he meant, "So, an illegitimate child? Where's the mom?"

The idea of continuously asking where her mother is; gave another meaning for the bard and even to yourself as well. You wanted to cringe so hard as your mouth couldn't stop itself from the utterance of your interest and the cat would be killed if Jaskier would've told you that there was actually a mom and they were a happy family.

You didn't know why your heart was feeling that way. Very intrigued by the witcher's life and not just from his marriage status but by how he or they lived in an era like this.

An era full of singularities compared to your dimension. The question is, how will you live if you couldn't get home as soon as possible? With dragons, beasts, vampires, mages or sorceress freely walking around their dimension would be your end.

Jaskier groaned to himself, his eyes rolling from your naivety and being blind over the fact that the child already has no progenitrix. "THERE'S NO MOTHER!" he whisper-yelled with another groan as he held his forehead because of how he was trying his hardest not to spit any more details that could get you in danger, "---I'm starting to think that you just want to know if Geralt has a missus or not!"

You opened your mouth and eventually dropped it like a gold fish. The grin on Jaskier's face tells he was happy to have seen you taken a bit of karma from the commotion you've brought since the tamed Hirikka came. As you've seen the perversity in his eyes, you were sure you wanted to defend yourself from being misunderstood. That is, if you really didn't meant that.

"I'm--I'm not!" a simple stumble over your own words was enough for Jaskier's grin to grow bigger. The bard loudly chuckled to his felicity at your little crush for the witcher. His guesses were correct then. Well, it always does. Damsels, maidens, princesses and even sorceresses had an eye for his beast-slaughtering friend. Even he so, could prove that Geralt was a handsome, dashing witcher despite of his quiet and grumpy attitude at times.

It definitely adds that 'oohmph' effect for Geralt Of Rivia.

"To answer your undying curiosity, He doesn't have a consort or a lover, understand?!" Jaskier tried to heartened. You crossed your arms like a snob and a fierce glare. The latter's laugh died down as he held onto his stomach, "Besides, It's...kind of knackering to explain,"

The latter gave you a shrug, mouth jutting in a pout with a raised brow, "If you wanna be mother hen to the child, then go ahead. She already had her tantrums last month and it didn't end well for me," he cocked his head to the side and stared out of nowhere then suddenly shaking his head to erase the thoughts when he added, "---I had a bruise on the forehead because she threw a block of wood at Geralt and it bounced on me,"

Jaskier moved away from the door, patting his clothes in attempt to dust away the dirt that didn't seem to be seen. He was actually brushing off the negativity that was happening, "Just...don't make her scream or annoy her any less,"

His warning made you question in interest, "What? Why?"

"You'll die," Jaskier was quick to answer like it was nothing. He grabbed onto his lute that rested upon a wall and inserted the hoop around his shoulders. You watched him strum, "You're joking,"

"A bard makes epics! Not jokes!" he gave you a once over with that smile of his, before ambling away from you and towards the door out of the house. Kolby was crouched on the side as he eyed the bard with curiosity. "Well, seldom, I do...or maybe all the time?" was the only words he mutter before leaving the house and probably plan on giving you both the time alone; believing that you could simmer Cirilla's anger rather than him.

You've exhaled an exasperated breath, staring at the Hirikka who was guiltlessly eyeing you with no animosity.

With one swift turn of your heel, you were face to face towards the door to her room, "Cirilla?" you softly knocked; knowing that she'd heard Jaskier leave. So, it was better because she seemed to not like him knocking on her door, "---Kolby wants to play, would you like to play with us?"

A loud, squeaky sound echoed around the house made by the Hirikka himself as he heard his name from your lips. Thus, you've heard the lock to her door being pulled, alarming you that it was already unlocked and so, you've gently pushed the door open; a quarter of your foot already in her room, "Can I..come in?" you hesitatingly asked. No answer was given so maybe that was a yes.

You stood in the middle of her room. It was plain and definitely dull. All dirt-brown with white sheets like it wasn't a teenager who was resting in her chambers. The room needed a woman's touch and creativity. If you'll last longer in their dimension, then there was no problem because you could help her make her room more cozy and sweet.

She was covered in sheets, obviously not wanting visitors as she was curled away from the door. A typical reaction of a child who was upset about things.

You slowly sat on her bed, making Cirilla turn till she was facing the bulbless ceiling with the sheets covering her face. Only a candle on her bed side table was the only thing giving you light as the day was already night, "What's the matter?"

A harsh breath was heard under the covers; puffing out frustratingly, "Geralt lied to me," she glumly whispered like a secret was being told. You shifted on the bed and laid your back on the bed post, "About?"

Cirilla took a peek under her covers and there you saw those pretty blue eyes gazing back at you with sadness, "---Slaying beasts. Again. I thought he stopped,"

You've crossed your legs like a pretzel; giving her a soft smile and faze of your eyes that could comfort her, "But, isn't that what he always do?" pause.

People have been saying that like it was his job. It was like he was born for that kind of thing; killing beasts and what if's. Thus, you respect it especially that you didn't live in their world and you don't have the right to judge people for what they do to survive with life.

"He is a witcher," you added softly, trying to sound reasonable and for her anger to pass.

Arguments lead to disappointments. Hence, it always only leaves people upset and for their hearts to turn gloomy. You were never a fan of it, as fights just makes you want to cry. As per usual. Growing up sensitive was a pain in the ass because sometimes; with just one loud retort or yell could get you sobbing like a child because you were hurt.

No wonder Cirilla was wailing beneath the covers. There were hints of redness amongst the sea of her eyes and you wouldn't notice it when you didn't have stared.

The princess of Cintra hurriedly sat on her bed, making you slightly bounce at the action. You watch her forehead crease a lot more than it ever does, her eyes now fixated on the candle on her bed side table, watching how the flames sway their bodies like they were dancing under the moonlight, "Witchers encounter all types of beasts. Poisonous, lethal or the uttermost dangerous creatures you can ever meet,"

"You're worried he'd die in a battle," you stated the obvious and nodded in understanding.

Cirilla snapped out from staring at the candle for far too long, giving you a once over as she weakly spoke, "You've never seen him in a real fight," she stated as a matter of fact. You clicked your tongue as you thoroughly tried to remember, "He'd kill an Alghoul?"

At long last, the princess gave a smile as she acknowledged your non-existent ideas about what a real witcher is, "That's just a novice type of beast, Y/N." pause. "---Geralt has encountered more than that. Dragons, werewolves, sirens, archgriffins and more. You name it, he can slaughter them all," Cirilla stated with that certain confidence she had for the only person protecting her through it all.

After a second of cogitating; she'd voiced out, "---Even people, Y/N. If he protects you, he protects you with all his life. He eliminates every beast that cause detriment to villages, if he is given a favor. That's what witchers are painfully trained for; to terminate beasts that inhabits our world,"

Only a shut of your mouth was given to the princess. Your smile falling as you continued to listen like a behaved school girl, and so she raved on to your further knowledge, "---He doesn't care what happens to him. Geralt is not any normal human you may know. He may appear like it, but no. He is disliked by a lot of people. Though, Some are not due to Jaskier's notable epics about him. Thanks to the annoying bard," she snorted after giving gratitude to Jaskier and his poems.

Her smile grew as she tried to lighten up the mood of the topic; even noticing how you were frowning beside her bed. She proceeded to give utter details about the man you've never have thought would experience that kind of future for him, "---He lives longer than any other human, has supernatural abilities and is trained to kill these beasts. He's a mutated human,"

Your mind was shook, heart feeling blue because of the backstory of what he is. There was actually an explanation as to why he was quiet most of the time; only uttering words when he wants to then his mood changes like a woman who has a period for two years straight. He rarely smiles, but when he does; it was as if the world was having multiple rainbows all at once whenever it happens.

He had a nightmare of a childhood probably.

You swallowed the tight knot forming your throat, still grasping at the new information like it wasn't real; that everything wasn't. Especially the way how your heart was left in somber when you should think about how you would go home and not about his past.

Your mind was in a mess. Only you could shut your mouth after hearing those news. You wanted to ask if those supernatural abilities consist of what Superman has and try to lighten up the mood; but you couldn't utter out a word and felt depressing because you've suddenly pop out of nowhere and added to Geralt's problems.

Cirilla secretly inspected your reactions and you were frowning. A new sight for her to see as she was used to seeing you smile all the time: that happy-go-lucky aura you had drawn her into liking you as a member of the house just like Jaskier; or a family which Jaskier earned the spot.

She noted your silence as a go signal for her to rant more, "---He's the only person who takes care of me. After all of my family who has died from the war,"

The war? a question popped inside your head and you've lately realized that it was said out loud for the princess to hear.

She dubiously nodded to your question, biting the insides of her cheeks as she opened herself like a book to you, "Cintra...it has been our kingdom," her voice faltered, growing softer and weaker; the topic appearing to be sensitive for the princess, yet she still continued with her big girl panties, "---Nilfgaard is a kingdom you don't want to encounter; especially the elves. They're still hunting us down,"

They were still being hunted. You wanted to say out loud but decided to keep your mouth shut for the sake of her because she sounded like she wanted to cry again.

Thus, her voice began to grow smaller. Cautious that she might be heard by anyone. She pulled her legs to her chest and slipped her arms under her thighs. Chin falling on her sheet-covered knees. A visible pout obvious to be seen and she appeared vulnerable, "---I'm scared because if Geralt dies, then there's no hope for me. Then, I'll be left...all alone, again." Cirilla's voice cracked, swallowing the cries and never letting it out as it has already been poured for the last seven hours.

Hence, her next words coming off as a whisper instead; like a child telling secrets to her teddy bear, "---with no one, Y/N. Because I have no other family except for Geralt and Jaskier. I don't want to be alone,"

The way she's said it broke your heart. She was just an abandoned child who was slapped with a harsh future for her. You couldn't help but feel more saddened especially when she'd pulled herself more to shape herself into a tighter ball.

You studied her form, a sincere smile traveling up your face as you don't try to let your emotions get to you better than she does. With open arms; you've offered, "Come here," Cirilla gave you a once over; hesitant of your actions, "You think you can give me a hug?"

Thus, the princess of Cintra knew that was all she needed. A genuine hug from a woman's touch that could get her temporarily forgetting the fears and trauma that has been ruining her mentality and continuously.

"A beautiful destiny is always masked with an unbearable truth and thus waiting for a price to pay,"

FEEDBACKS ARE VERY MUCH APPRECIATED! PLEASE DOOOOO! IT’LL MEAN SO MUCH TO ME!

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[weshallc]

Berns Night.

So we’ve had a lot of birthdays @thatginchygal @rahleeyah @wednesdaygilfillian (sorry I missed that one) @roguesnitch coming up and @ilovemushystuff is celebrating too! and @h4t08 finally joined Tumblr and @clonethemidwife has returned and there are lots of new folk. Sooo I felt like throwing a party and there ain’t nothing like a Crown Inn party!!!!

This was supposed to be a Crown Stoppy Back but had other ideas so I will post the first chapter tonight as people are still recovering from Burns Night. Don’t worry if you are not familiar with the Burns Night traditions they will be explained more in chapter two. Probably 3 in all. We shall see as they say!

As always, I would be lost without @lovetheturners endless patience and thanks to @roguesnitch for encoraging me. This is dedicated to the most bonniest of lads I hope you had a great birthday and Burns Night with the Bard himself this year😉😘🤗 

CHAPTER ONE: FAIR FA’ YOUR HONEST, SONSIE FACE

“Fair fa' your honest, sonsie face, Great chieftain o' the pudding-race! Aboon them a' ye tak your place, Painch, tripe, or thairm : Weel are ye wordy o'a grace As lang's my arm.”  Address to a Haggis by Robert Burns 1786.

Monday 25th January 2016

“His knife see rustic Labour dight, An' cut you up wi' ready sleight, Trenching your gushing entrails bright, Like ony ditch; And then, O what a glorious sight, Warm-reekin', rich!”

The room was swept in darkness apart from the light of the wolf moon and the north star penetrating the cold window panes. All eyes were facing towards a wooden table and the elderly man stood behind it. He was in his 60s and wiry, small for a man, but with a silver mess of what once must have been a bonnie head of fire red hair. The body may have looked weak, but the intensity in his bright blue eyes cut through the dimly lit surroundings.

As he spoke again, his voice filled the room, cut through the anticipating silence. It was a voice that could take a knife and slice right through a soul. The knife in his hand in turn sliced through the offering in front of its high priest. Years of performing the same action with such a passion resulted in precision. The faithful entranced by the spectacle all gasped as one as the incision was violently made. No one daring to speak. Suddenly the trance was lost as artificial light rudely brought everyone back to the present with a blast of the pipes.

“All done then Reverend Mannion? Can I serve the Haggis now? Don’t want it getting cold now do we, not at £15 a head.”

“Aye, Violet the ceremony is over, it’s time for eating and drinking something the bard would have approved of, rightly so.”

The kilted clergyman winked at an auburn-haired girl in the crowd and tipped his whisky tumbler toward her. She raised her own glass and winked back. Her companion at her table was much taller with dark hair styled in a tidy no-nonsense bob.

The tall one leaned toward the small one and asked, “If it’s already dead, why does he have to kill it?”

“What?”

“The Haggis if it’s already dead why does he have to kill it?”

Her friend opened her mouth to speak, but she saw a tender hand take hold of Chummy’s arm and explain it was all just ceremony, it was tradition.

“Like all that malarkey at our passing out parade, the day we got our badge. That wasn’t about police work, was it? It’s just tradition.  It’s what the English do well.”

He had been doing really well up until then, but a golden raised eyebrow made him alter his stance. “It is what us Brits do best.”

The raised eyebrow whispered to the police constable. ”Peter, Chummy really doesn’t think a haggis is a real animal, does she?”

He was not the kind of man that would turn heads, but he had a kindness in his eyes and an openness in his face that she thought some would see as attractive. If only Camilla wasn’t his superior, and they didn’t work such long hours together, what might have been?

She knew her friend well and sensed more queries would follow. Not sure as a Scot brought up on Tweavenside and now living in London she could provide satisfying answers. Picking up their empty glasses and heading to the bar was a strange sort of refuge for a vicar's daughter and inner-city missionary.

There was a queue well sort of a queue. In London a queue was made up of people standing in an orderly line and the person who had been stood the longest getting served first. In Poplar-on-Tweaven it resembled more of a rugby scrum and the person who shouted the loudest being ignored and anyone who called the barmaid by name being bunked up the order. She wasn’t familiar with busy bars but she was bright enough to work out the system.

“Val, when yer ready hen.” The request came from someone not sure that was their own voice they had just heard yelling those words.

All her life she had been immersed in the wonders of the Bible and was still amazed at how so many miracles had been performed. She had heard all the CPR arguments regarding resurrections and all that, and was still not convinced. But she now knew how Moses had parted the Red Sea, he had known the barmaid’s name was Valerie.

“What can I get you, chick?”

“Here! I was first.” A grumpy voice struck up.

“Oh Al, you are always first. Let me serve this lass and then I will sort you out”

“Promises, promises.”

“Yeah in your dreams, pal.”

She was starting to feel uncomfortable she hadn’t meant to jump the queue. Maybe she should go back to the table and let Peter get the drinks. A man’s voice interrupted her thoughts, it was quieter than Al’s but held an authority. It wasn’t a Tweavenside accent, but it had a northern softness.

“You serve our impatient friend Valerie, I will see to this young lady.” Then turning to his new customer, “What can I get you, pet”

“Erm a whisky and lemonade and erm a pint, please.”

“Which whisky and a pint of?”

She wasn’t sure; she nudged her bottom onto a vacant stool for security.

“Are you with the law?” The tall bartender nodded towards Chummy and Peter,

“Yes, yes I am.”

“OK, so that’s a Grouse and diet lemonade, just a dash and a pint of Buckles Best

and for you?”

He stepped back a minute. “Your Reverend Wilf’s daughter?”

“Yes, I am.” Bernie suddenly felt more sure of herself. She was never completely certain of who she was when back in Poplar

“Bernadette?” The stranger was grinning now, his brown eyes glinting under the harsh bar spotlights, or were they green?

“Well, that’s my Sunday name most people call me Bernie, even Dad.”

“Well, since I’ve never seen you in here on a Sunday or any other day. I will call you Bernie. I am Patrick Turner, most people call me Paddy, a few Doc.”

“Oh no, you won’t have seen me here on a Sunday or any other day. I live in London now and before that, well I am not a big drinker.”

“What can I get you then?” asked Paddy loitering near the coke and lemonade pumps.

“A gin and tonic please, better make it a double it’s quite busy, save me coming back.”

Paddy smiled. “Premium gin?”

“Yes.”

While the optic was emptying into the glass, he asked, “You must have known this old place when Evie ran it?”

“Yes, I know Evie and J..Jenny”

“Oh yes. Jen was here when me and the wife took over she was a great help. We get a text every now and again, doing well for herself now all loved up.” He winked at her as he ended the sentence causing her to panic slightly.

“I was sorry to hear about your loss.” She wished she hadn’t said it.

Val had seemed to deal with ten customers to Paddy’s one and now there was just the two of them alone at the bar. He looked at her in a sort of a non-direct, sort of direct way, under that infuriating fringe she wanted to reach out and push back.

“Loss is as much a part of love as is healing,” he replied with a hint of melancholy but without irony.

She was stunned and tried to find a corresponding Bible verse, but she drew a blank.

She focused on what was real and what was present, her dad had taught her to do that. What was in front of her at this precise moment was a glass of gin and ice and a twist of lime. He was now unscrewing a bottle of Mediterranean slimline tonic.

She yelped, “No!” as he lay the bottle alongside the glass.

“Sorry most people add the tonic to the gin and I cannae bear it drowned.”

“Wouldn't dream of it surely that would be very presumptuous of me.”

“Aye well, most people I've met are very presumptuous.”

“Maybe you have spent too much time in London. if you don't mind me saying, Bernie.”

“Well, to be fair we don’t spend a lot of time sitting on stools and propping up bars in my part of London.”

“More's the pity.”

“Can I bother you for a...”

Paddy popped a black straw into her tumbler.

“I will make sure when you come home next time none of my staff will be presumptuous.”

“Oh, I doubt you will remember me, Paddy. I only come up to see my Da. I can't imagine you will be seeing much of me in the future, hardly likely that I would ever be considered a regular.”

“Now who is being presumptuous?”

Bernie went to put the straw between her lips but paused, realizing the stranger was still watching her. She suddenly felt uncomfortable. As heat rose in her cheeks and she suddenly felt awkward on the stool, squirming to find some sort of comfortable position. The stranger smiled in a way she could not understand; it wasn’t smug or suggestive, but as if there were sharing a joke, but she wasn’t sure what the joke was.

She hopped off her seat, for a brief moment realizing her arse was in the air and prayed he had altered his gaze. Focusing anywhere but behind the bar she grabbed her glass and bottle in one hand, put the whisky against her elbow and waist, the pint in her other hand, turned and swiftly moved toward her thirsty friends.

Shelagh Bernadette Mannion don’t you dare look back and see if he is watching you he is recently widowed with a son, Da said. He is, what do they call them now, a bloomer or something like that. God has shown you his path for you and it certainly does not include the Crown Inn, Poplar-on-Tweaven.

He is still watching me, I can feel it.

[iwannawritepls]

Writing Update 04?

So much is happening. Like gosh.

Welcome back to me not using paragraphs correctly!!

So! We have 17ish chapters now which is like woah.

It took me much much too long to write but now we’re on 50k!!! we got there folks and I can confidently say that I will most likely have 20 chapters with around 54-55k words as I predicted. Is it weird that um feeling super melancholy about that??

But on the positive side there will be another book after this because uhhh there’s too much to wrap up in just one.

I wrote and deleted chapter 14 over and over again but now I have something I'm proud of at lastttttt! I realised after talking about it to some friends that

1) I skipped something huge by accident  

2) In the first few versions of chapter 14 there was no climax to what was happening

3) I was adding things but at that point I should’ve started to answer them

So we fixed it up and now she’s pretty damn cool. The second half of the chapter still needs a little bit of editing until I can become happy with it but oh well.

I also edited chapter 15 so they’re ready for the most part but the last 2 need basically a rewrite for them because they’re soooo bad. I shouldn’t measure by words but generally for a fist version of a chapter I write anywhere between 800 and 1000 words and then I manage, through editing, to make it become somewhere between 1500 and 4500 which is a big leeway but it really just depends on what’s happening.

There’s something huge that happens in chapter 17 but I only wrote 459 words for it because it was 2 in the morning and I wanted to get it done before I tried to sleep. Inevitably it was quite bad. Chapter 16 is the same but thankfully that’s 914 words so there’s something more to work with. Yayyyyy.

Needless to say, I will not be including excerpts from them in this.

So chapter titles?

Chapter 13 - Metamorphosis of a Blizzard

Chapter 14 - Curtain Call (subject to change)

Chapter 15 - Kingfisher Flurry

Chapter 16 – Catgut Bindings

Chapter 17 – AHHHHHHHHH (this is 100% changing I just needed to put something and I was freaking out)

Oh, oh and! I have a proper actual name for the book! Sisyphus Lies on Unmade Beds. How suitably edgy.

There are so many references to Greek mythology that the title fits and it can link to all of them in some way, so I thought why not. There’s #symbolism to it all. And who isn’t a fan of accidental symbolism you find halfway through your book.

What happens??

Chapter thirteen is a long-waited apology from Bas to the one person who deserves it most. We find out about someone vaguely important for the next book as well as a character that maybe might have his own little book of his own.

Chapter fourteen includes our boy Sebastian coming along and helping by not helping at all!! Yay…but really what else is new, his motives don’t align with the boy’s and so we shouldn’t expect him to be helpful in any way.

Chapter fifteen is a dangerous thing…out dude the devil makes an appearance. For those who’ve listened to the magnus archives or watched Everyman Hybrid I tried to emulate Michael/Habit in it but it hasn’t really worked out yet. I'm getting there but I'm not at terrifying levels of suave. When writing characters that are so powerful they could murder you with a single flick o’ the wrist you are treading a careful line between edginess and not threatening at all.

chapter sixteen is the fallout. If we follow the lovely 3 act structure we are at the darkest moment in chapter sixteen and chapter seventeen continues with that mood but follows through with the whole ‘hope’ thing. jk there’s no hope just crisis.

I find that I managed to actually keep to the 3-act structure naturally?? I'm a discovery writer so it’s a little more difficult for me to not meander off into the sunset/make everything happen much too fast. But I think pacing was okay in this as long as I keep track of the seasons – which I hope I did.

We have a few memes from dearest friends – kinda old but have them

And now,,,the excerpts!!

Everything felt like cotton was stuffed inside, swelling, and soaking through with excess fluid. Fluid that was still building in his lungs, he felt them pressing against his ribs and rubbing together eating away more at his already damaged body. Gorging on him, dissolving him, water couldn’t ever be full only overflow and so it would continue to erode his body to fit the ever-greater capacity he needed to hold.

He's not dying! I mean he is but not yet!! I feel so bad that Albert has spent more of this book sick than anything, but I feel like I'm constantly mentioning him and I don’t want people to get annoyed by him? idk I feel like someone would find him annoying and that he did nothing but whine – probably a carryover from the original book where he could’ve been beaten up by his own shadow. He can and does stand up for himself in this more than in the original but

They began to mend themselves in a way that neither Narcissus nor Prometheus could have foreseen. So maybe they weren’t quite butterflies or moths. Maybe instead they were snakes, the devil’s advocates turned serpentine after rebelling against God. But that meant that at least they could change again, shed their skin, and start afresh after mountains of pain and healing from accidental words fallen from temporarily false tongues.

Let’s play how many references to classic literature can you fit into one paragraph at least 4. One of which is Paradise lost. Because Greek mythology just wasn’t enough.

The old man shivered and croaked out a few more words so quiet that the wind ate them. The woman just stared at him with wide eyes before fleeing back to the cold.

This is the ending of a while thing from a book that Al’s reading. I kinda wished this book existed its got some of my favourite techniques in it and some of my favourite lines but this one was the only one I could just take without a pause for drama between Alberts reading.

Enoch wanted to skip the walk the moment he realised there wouldn’t be any talking, every single one of his steps was too slow, every single breath was too loud. Even as he tried to listen to the conversations of those they walked past, it was too distant and blurred for him to listen to in any kind of concordant manner.

My boy hates the quiet and I feel that

The very first promises of autumn began to chew on the leaves, She took each one into her embrace and changed the deep greens that summer left in His wake and transformed them into a cacophony of yellows, reds and oranges. She plucked the ripened ones from their cradles and pulled their colour from their grasp placing it on Her tongue and dropping the carcases into winters waiting hands.

This is kinda purple and I had just read Der Sandmann so I was super into the vibe of it. I referenced it more originally before editing it so now all we have is a very slight call back if you know the story that you can vaugly make if you try.

Nature was so simple and yet beautiful, complicatedly captivating.

William is yearning

“Enoch.” Basil called out

“it wasn’t me!” he replied holding his hands up “I came out here to get him a new hat, it was Valentine that dragged him in.” he held up a lily pad with a grin.

“where is Valentine?”

“probably wrestling the heron.” He replied wading towards the shoreline.

Just some fun from them because you all need to see that they can be friends I swear.

A man was stood in the middle of the flurry, he stepped through them as if they were nothing but a reflection on the glassy water.

And that’s all for chapter fifteen I think unless there’s something at the end because I know people who read this irl and they haven’t gotten any of this yet. So I don’t want to ruin things but I also want to give you all things so it’s a struggle.

because you cannot help the diseases in your mind

this is something I wish I heard more often so here. You’re super awesome and the dude who said this is big brain mode.

But yeah that’s all. I probably won’t update again until I'm done and even then it’ll be one I’ve sent the last chapters to my friends so that they can read it and I can talk about the plot for real because I’ve been vague for spoiler reasons outside Tumblr.

I love these guys so much, but I'm excited to begin something newer y’know? I want to stay in this world, but I want to follow different characters before I go back to these guys because they are dysfunctional as all hell.

Anyway, I’ll talk more about that later. Until next time!!

Hope you have a nice dayyy!!!

[arianaistired]

My Experience Meeting Taylor (WHAT THE FUCKKKKKK)

@taylorswift THATS US WHAT THE FUCKKKKK

(also I just finished typing this and it’s so so fucking long I’m so sorry this is a warning. I don’t even get to rep room for so long I can’t breathe I’m so sorry)

Okay, so I’m at work right now, but I cannot for the life of me stop thinking about Saturday--which can really be the tagline for the past 3 days of my life--and then I realized that I haven’t posted a single thing about it on tumblr dot com!!! I’ve really not shut the fuck up about it on twitter but this is a whole new platform, a whole new WORLD that I have not tapped into and annoyed everyone by talking CEASELESSLY about this experience. Like I’m pretty sure that everyone is going to murder me on twitter if i don’t shut up soon, but we’re not there yet on papersairplane dot tumblr dot com so here we fucking go!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Okay the story of my day on Saturday really begins on Friday night after Metlife night 1, a joyous occasion wherein Taylor Swift Touched My Hand at the barricade. So I was just like floating on a fucking cloud after that concert, trekking back to the lowly island of Long Island, New York and texting my friend jess @monica-geller. I was thinking about how I’ve done literally nothing to try to meet miss swift in my entire meaningless existence on this earth and I was thinking about how it doesn’t hurt to TRY so I was like hm. I’ll make a post!!! I didn’t but more on that later.

So i tell jess I’m gonna make a post and then in classic ariana fashion I just sit there on the train not making my post bc i was like deadass...I have nothing to say like nothing about me is particularly interesting it’s not like my house caught on fire and, in the absence of a fire hose, i used the soothing lyrics of stay beautiful from taylor swift’s debut album (2006) to will the flames into submission. like i just really love that woman i don’t have anything else TO SAY. omg side note i love how this started off with proper grammar and spelling and capitalization and now i’m talking like i don’t even know how to read. whatever. so then liz @lastskiss decides to get a fucking idk like a call from God Herself (stream god is a woman by ariana grande) and she’s like wow i should make ariana a post and i see her tweet and i’m life fuck it i’ve told her not to in the past but i’m tired and lazy and nothing’s gonna come of this anyway so i’ll let her make the post. so i text her my seat info and then i’m like “wow my work is done here i’m so talented for pressing send on the imessage app.”

so liz makes this post and is like “should i post it :O” and jess is like “yeah post it that dumb bitch is never gonna do anything herself” which...tea….and liz, being an intellectual in addition to being a magical wizard, is like “tea” and does it. Idk why this is a short novel already but i’m extremely bored at work and trying to get all the deets in. so this is at like i wanna say 1:45am EST aka everyone’s asleep except for liz in LA and jess in australia. so i reblog it once bc if you haven’t already grasped it i’m a lazy dumbass with low expectations and i go to sleep like “my work here is done.” so liz and jess and a few other beautiful souls by jesse mccartney reblog the post while i’m asleep, unbeknownst to me, and a few hours later at 8am i wake up and get ready for brunch. So i’m well aware that it’s gonna rain tonight so i’m like i should not put that much effort into my appearance bc i’m going to look like a drowned rat by the end of this day (stupid, but not untrue i really did) so i like actually do the bare minimum like i just basically put on whatever was most comfortable to dance around in the pouring rain in and then zoomed out the door for brunch bc it was in harlem at 12 and i was on long island at 9 so i was like g2g.

change of scenery now: i’m at brunch in harlem with a bunch of friends and soon to be friends and its 12:15 and i’m like “cool i’m with people from the internet so it’s not rood if i check twitter” and I do and i see a dm notification and i’m like oh the let me check. And check i did. And what the fuck was there??? 10 hours after liz hit send on that blessed post what was in my direct messages on the twitter for iphone app? That’s right friends and foes. It was a dm from one miss taylor nation. And what do i do???????????? I turn my phone face down on the table and my hands just start shaking and i’m pretty sure i blacked out as if i was having a petit mal seizure. So i come to, and pick my phone back up and send them my name, my number, and the best time for them to call (“you can call me at literally any time and i will pick up”) and i turn my phone face up on the table and stare at it. And stare. And stare…………...and an hour and a half (!!!) later FINALLY i get a call from miss nation. And i sprinted out of that restaurant. The poor waitress probably thought that denise @pettyswift had threatened to murder me with how fast i ran out of the premises. 10 mins later i return to the table and everyone’s staring at me with expectant gazes and i’m just like completely utterly non reactive like i think i was just in shock because i didn’t understand what was happening. Like i literally expected it to be merch lmaosafujkafn like so to get to speak to whoever that was on the phone and to hear her say the words “if all is fine and you get confirmed, you will be meeting taylor tonight” was jsut….a shock to the system to say the least. So i was still anticipating it to go wrong because like what the fuck. WHAT THE FUCK????? Anwyay. So i get the confirmation and i’m still completely nonreactive but i call my friend anthony @shakeitoffs to tell him (sidenote: i know we’re not supposed to tell anyone but like. I was going with him to the concert i had to. Like i was already under a lot of stress i’m sure everyone understands if i didn’t follow all the rules to a t) and i say goodbye to the table and i start making my journey from harlem to new jersey.

fast forward a few hours to ~4pm and literally the only thoughts in my brain are “what the fuck” “i’m so scared” and “can jess wake the fuck up” like idk why i was so concerned with jess waking up asjkfas like i just NEEDED HER TO WAKE UP. so anthony and i make our journey to metlife because i needed to be at will call between 4-5 to pick up my rep room pass. Anthony’s buzzing, i’m on the verge of throwing up, liz is freaking the fuck out, and jess still isn’t awake. And i get to will call and give them my ID fully expecting something to go wrong….and it does!!! The will call people are like “maam we havent gotten anything from taylor nation yet please check back in 20 mins.” cool. So finally at this point jess wakes up and is freaking out so now liz anthony and jess are all freaking out and i’m just terrified that something’s going to go wrong. FINALLY 15 mins later the will call people waved me back, i gave them my ID, and i received in my undeserving hands that yellow ass rep room paper. I nearly threw up. Bc at this point i had been like working under the assumption t hat something, ANYTHING, was going to go wrong like i half expected the uber to the stadium to spontaneously combust while i was in the car. So to have confirmation that i was supposed to be at a certain gate in less than 40 mins to then be brought backstage to meet taylor alison swift….was a lot. It’s still a lot.

So i take the picture and tweet it and everyone is being so nice and happy for me which only exacerbates the feeling of A Lotness bc i just felt so completely and utterly undeserving, but this isn’t me trying to get people to tell me i deserved it it’s just me being honest about how i felt. And on top of all of this, the fact that i had never in my life tried to meet taylor also meant that i had never in my life prepared to meet taylor. Of course i’ve thought about what i’d say, who hasn’t, but never under the actual assumption that i was meeting taylor. And NEVER with the confirmed knowledge that i was MEETING TAYLOR IN HALF AN HOUR. so, as aforementioned, IT WAS A LOT.

So skip to 5:30, the meeting time, and i’m standing on the floor where i’m supposed to be and waiting in line with like 6 other people waiting for taylor nation to take us backstage. And they start to!!! But then they get to me and ask for my name and i tell them and i’m NOT ON THE LIST JKANFKASJNFJ so im panicking once again like oh this is it. But i tell the tn guy that i got my dm at like 12 that day and i can show it to him and he was like “ohhhh i think i got a text about a late add” and looks through his texts and he’s like “yeah here you are.” which was terrifying like i was really a late ass add huh like someone was like add this girl huh. the.

So finally they bring us backstage.i think i must’ve been visibly distressed at this point bc one of the other fans in line came up to me and was like “you’re nervous too huh” like i’m pretty sure i looked like i was being taken to my execution. They stop us outside of the door and i can see scottifer swift and tree paine and andrea and i’m like “holy fuck this is actually happening.” And giuseppe the dancer walks past me and i’m like “holy fucking shit this is actually happening and also that man is so fucking hot.” they tell us to put all of our shit on the table, and i do (minus my yellow pass which i was still grasping as if it was going to be ripped out of my hands as cameramen crashed the scene like i was on punk’d and everyone including taylor was going to point and laugh at the fact that i actually for one second thought this was going to happen to me. Yes i’m dramatic what about it) and i enter the rep room. The snake habitat if you will. I enter a room and the first group goes in almost immediately and i hear taylor swfit’s speaking voice saying “hiiiiiiii” reverberate around the room and i’m like OH MY FUCKING GOD…….so like i said i was nervous and definitely visibly so. Like i’m pretty sure i was pacing. I was also singing along to lets get married by bleachers because i have morals, but i definitely looked scared. So the tn person in the room keeps offering to take polaroids of me next to all of the decorations ajkfjasnfkjnfa like she must’ve been trying to reassure me which i really appreciated.

The room is like a big dark well decorated room that has a well lit corner curtained off, which is where taylor and the photographer are and where the m&g takes place. So for my sanity i needed to like look into it so that my blood pressure could return and so that i didnt throw up on taylor the millisecond i walked into the glow of the ring light, so i casually walked to where the curtain area was and looked in between the two curtains where a sliver of bright ass light was escaping and i saw taylor in all her taylor swifitan glory with my own two unholy eyes and i was liek “well…..that did nothing to cure my stress” because she was just SO TALL AND BEAUTIFUL that i was just so fucking...idk. Idk i felt so nuts it was indescribable.

Lets get married stops playing and strawberries and cigarettes (i think?) starts and it’s my turn to go in. so i just like bite the bullet and do it and the first words that escape my stupid mouth are “holy fucking shit” and taylor laughed (i cant) and hugged me and she was just so. calm . well obviously shes calm shes meeting a known moron there’s nothing to be nervous abou there this was practically charity work for her like she’ll be able to use meeting me as a tax write off next year. Really i was doing her a service.

But anyway we pull back from the hug and she’s smiling at me and i’m pretty sure i was shaking a bit like my voice definitely was shaking. And i was just like “oh my god. I love you.” klasfjasnjkf like i was incapable of speaking at that point so i think she thought that i was just going to freeze up and not say a single word but before she could fill the awkward silence i just...started talking and did not shut upas fjkasnfjkajkf. Like i was like “oh my god hi i want you to know that i could not have anticipated this happening any less like i received the dm from taylor nation confirming this about 4 hours ago there was nothign to prepare me for this i didn’t even do anything my friend liz made a post and she and jess reblogged it at like 2 am last night none of this makes any sense” and she was like “oh my god that’s so nice of them” which TEA IT ABSOLUTELY WAS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! And then she said “i’m so happy i finally get the chance to meet you then” which i’m sure she says to everyone but she’s so good at making you feel like she means it like she said that and it was like i had taken a xanax like i was so calm after that. Everyone says you calm down in her presence and i’ve never taken that seriously, but YOU REALLY DO….like shes just so calming she makes you feel like she’s your friend and that she genuinely wants to talk to you as if this is a casual occurrence.

So i say “i really love you like i have an older sister and she’s cool and all but you have always felt like you were my older sister like you’ve been a constant in my life for like a decade. I don’t even remember my life before i was obsessed with you which is probably indicative of a brain issue if i can’t remember my life before i was 11 but its true” and she LAUGHED and like genuinely laughed which made me feel so good. Like maybe she’s just the most talented actress alive but i really felt like she thought i was funny……..the………..and then as if i didnt get it from her laughing she called me funny which is disgusting. I’m doing my best to remember this conversation i like blacked out ajskfnsanf. I DIDNT EVEN TELL HER ANYTHING ABOUT MYSELF whcih is so funny to think about now and honestly im fine with bc my life is boring anyway. But anyway i had been debating requesting a song all day, but i was like fuck it the worst thing she can do is turn me down and call me stupid for asking. So i prefaced my request with: “taylor i know youre probably getting different requests from everyone you meet and i know you also probably alreayd have a song in mind for tonight which is totally fine it’s your concert you can do whatever you want my opinion doesn’t matter i’l love anything you do” and shes laughs and is like “whats the song” and i tell her forever and always. And shes like “OHHHHH oh my god i didnt even think of that song. i have a list of songs in my mind that i can play at each show and forever & always didn’t even cross my mind i dont know why. I’ll be honest i already have a song in mind for tonight i’m going to play fearless because it’s raining” and i was like “THATS SO GREAT i love that song it’s your concert it’s your show do whatever you want i love fearless fearless is my favorite album” and she was like “that’s such a good request i didn’t evne think about that song” and i started telling her how i love that song because it was like the song that really got me into her music bc i saw her talking about it on ellen and she literally interrupted me which was an honor and goes “OH MY GOD and it has the ‘it rains in your bedroom eveyrthing is wrong it rains when youre here and it rains when you’re gone’ line and its going to rain!!! oh my god that’s such a good song i love that song” and i said me too!! Also i’m her complimenting her own song god she’s so talented. She’s absolutely right it is SUCH a good song. And i said “well its raining again tomorrow and i’ll be there!!!” and she was like “but i was thinking about playing [song she didn’t play but i dont want to say--not to be purposefully evasive bc i know its annoying--but bc i dont want her to hate me for saying it publicly asjkfjkas and also bc if she does it at gillette i want to let it be a surprise :( i feel so annoying im sorry] tomorrow because a lot of people requested it” and i was like “I LOVE THAT SONG” and then said something about the song.

And then she said (again) that forever & always was a good request and then looked SO SORRY when she was like “i’m so sorry i’m probably not going to play that today or tomorrow because i already have songs in mind but i promise i’ll try to play it later even though you probably won’t be there :(” and i was like “NO ITS COMPLETELY FINE i loved all the songs you mentioned. I’d love any song that you played it’s your concert do whatever you want you don’t ever have to play it if you dont want to it’s your show you call the shots” and she was like “i love how you keep telling me i can do whatever i want it’s so thoughtful and supportive you’re so nice” LIKE SHE KEPT TELLING ME I WAS NICE THIS WHOLE TIME and i was like “WELL PEOPLE CAN BE DEMANDING” and she was like “YEAH THEY REALLY CAN BE THANK YOU FOR SAYING THAT THEY’LL GET MAD AT ME OVER ANYTHING they’ll get mad at me if i play a song they don’t like or if i dont play a song they like-” and i was like “i know they’ll get mad at you for excluding so it goes and i’m just like guys its her concert let her live” and she laughed again and called me nice again like she kept saying i’m nice which seems so inconsequential tkjajfnjsa but it was so kind of her shes the best.

So at this point we had been there for a long ass time like it felt long and i was like “wait fuck i haven’t even introduced myself to you” and she was like “whats your name” and i said ariana and she goes “wait like air-iana or like are-iana” and i was like “i literally dont care you can call me whatever you want and i’ll respond” and she like laughed AGAIN and was like “youll just respond to anything huh. But seriously what is it” and i said my name again she was like “ariana. Cool.” bye and then she was like “well do you want to take a picture?” which is when i realized how long it had been and i was like “YEAH” and she just pulled me into a hug for a hugging picture which felt cute bc thats what i wanted to do anyway but she was probably just like god this girl has been in here for 8 years im not asking her what pose she wants to do can we please get going with this jskfnajafs but i didnt mind i was on cloud 9. So as shes hugging me i’m like “oh my god i’m going to blink in this picture and then i’ll have to die” and she was like “you wont blink i promise you wont blink she (the photog) will check to make sure” so we take the pic, the photographer tells me i’m good, and then taylor hugs me again and was like “it’s so nice to meet you” and i was like “it’s so nice to meet you too i didnt expect any of this. thank you so much for all of this i love you” and she huggged me again and called me nice again and then we said bye.

And then the taylor nation girl who was taking my picture (who i then gave all of my polaroids and my rep room pass to for her to hold before i went int asjkfnsafj) was like “here you go sweetie” and gave it to me and then told me to go back out and wait in the hall. And like idk why but once i left the photo area it was like every overwhelming emotion i had felt that entire day came rushing out like i just started crying silently like w tears streaming down my face. Asjkfnaskfjafkj. Like i dont cry so it was so bizarre. I didnt know what was happening. So then i was the only one out there bc i guess the first group had already been escorted out, so i was waiting for the rest of the people to be done and just crying. And then andrea was there so i said hi while crying and she came up to me and was like “hi honey how was it?!?!?” and i was like sarcastically like “oh it was okay ive had better days” and i dont think she knew i was joking at first like her face fell a bit before she realized i cant breahjtraefjs btu she was like “yeah its just a normal saturday for you no big deal” and then i asked her for a picture and she complied of course and i was like “im so sorry for crying idk why im crying” and she was like “its okay sweetie youve been through a lot today” which is honestly the most truthful thing ive ever heard in my life. And then i said “i raelly have” and she was like “this is a really amazing experience for you” and once again no lies detected but it was so funny that she said that about me MEETING HER DAUGHTER JKjkjskafjkfjska. And then i thanked her for raising taylor because i love her or something i cant breahfghasf and she was like “it was my pleasure she made it easy on me” and then finally i was escorted out and i was just crying.

Okay so now i just wanted to tahnk everyone who has been nice to me since saturday it means so so much like obviously i didnt think people would be MEAN TO ME but everyone has been soooooo nice i appreciate it a lot. And also like mayb this is controversial 2 say in this economy but i also want to say that all of the taylor nation people were so nice to me like i think everyones a bit hard on them at times like theyre just doing their jobs guys and it doesnt seem like an easy job sajkfnkjas considering they have to deal with how annoying some of us can be. And also i want to thank all of my friends, jess and liz in particular, bc like i didnt do anything obviously akjfanjksfj like this was all them and i love them so much like they were so happy for me it was equally as exciting to tell them as it was to actually meet taylro idk i just love them so much. IDK WHY IM TREATING THIS LIKE AN OSCARS ACCEPTANCE SPEECH but i obviously obviously i want to thank @taylorswift Idk if you saw my post and requested to meet me or if it was just a coincidence but it was honestly such an amazing experinece and you were so GOOD at talking i cant describe it but you were so calming and i really appreciated it. I feel like we dont appreciate all u do for us enough like youre just so kind and amazing i love you taylor swift i aint never gona stop loving you taylor swift. Idk this was so amazing and so unexpected and i still dont understand how any of this happened to me. THIS WAS CRAZY and it was just everything like everything u hear about meeting taylor is just so true…..shes just so good shes such a good person i want 2 cry………………

if u read all of this…..idk why youd do that but thank you and also im sorry for how long it was i just needed to write it all down for my own memory. Thank youuuuuuuu!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[moonlight-at-dawn]

Any recommendations for your followers things outside your main passions on Tumblr? (FFXV and Full Metal Panic!)

MOST OF MY RECS ARE SO OLD I CAN’T MAKE GRAPHICS FOR THEM AHHHHH

BUT HERE!!!

Video Games

Mana Khemia ~Alchemists of Al-Revis~

PS2/PSP

Robust NG+, Multiple Endings, Character Affection

Part of the Atelier series of games and my personal favorite of the lot

Cry with me over Cat Dad Sulphur

Atelier veterans can be amazed over PLAYABLE!!! PAMELA!!!! (and her SKILLS!!! SHE’S OP!!! AS!!! FUCK!!!)

Infinite Undiscovery

XBox360

Writers are Shouji Gatoh (Full Metal Panic!) and Ryo Mizuno (Record of Lodoss War)

NG+, an amazing postgame dungeon that can make you cry if you’re as attached to a certain character as I am

Canon romance is realized before the end, so you get to experience some of it in more than just a ~happily ever after~ way :3

Fantastic cast, lore, cutscenes, an interesting battle system that I personally love and can be challenging at times, especially during the obligatory “separated from the party” section of gameplay

I can’t count how many times it made me cry okay

Lunar Silver Star (Story/Harmony)

multiple systems, best bet today would be PSP -Harmony version

A fucking CLASSIC, every JRPG fan should experience it AT LEAST ONCE

Okay I’ve sadly never watched in Japanese but TOMOKAZU SEKI’S FIRST(?OR DAMN NEAR?) ROLE WAS AS KYLE OKAY, I LOVE HIM, HE’S MY FAV SEIYUU

Disclaimer: Some of the humor… has not…. aged well… I realize. There’s some slightly predatory-gay/predatory-trans tropes in, but not every character views those random NPCs that way at least??? Jessica doesn’t seem to mind the trans priestess at least?

Look, I’m one of those people that tends to love the mascot characters that everyone else calls annoying, and I WILL DEFEND NALL WITH MY LIFE, YOU WILL RESPECT HIM, GIVE HIM FISH, AND THANK HIM WHEN HE RESURRECTS YOU GODDAMMIT XD

(And hug Nall in Lunar 2, Ruby isn’t as useful as he was, but she’s cool too)

Maybe I’m a baby but again, I cry, multiple times lol

LOVE STORY OF THE CENTURY, ALEX AND LUNA ARE GREAT AHHHHHH

Atelier Series in general

I recommend Mana Khemia first and foremost, but most of the Atelier games have their own charms :3

They all tend to have some angst, yes, but are ultimately feel-good and 💖~

Not as scary as all the time limits for jobs might seem. The time is very generous as long as you aren’t screwing around until the last minute lmao so it is great for casual gaming~

AUTHORS/BOOKS (I have a fantasy bias lol)

Tamora Pierce

I started reading her books something like 20 years ago, and I still enjoy them to this day

I bias towards Tortall books, but the Circle of Magic is also amazing (and one of the main 4 from it is a lesbian POC blacksmith~)

My favorite set is the Beka Cooper trilogy. These ones were also a bit experimental in style, in that they’re written as diary entries aND SO!!!!!! GOOD!!! It PAID OFF BIG TIME, I WAS BLOWN AWAY

Mercedes Lackey

I’ve only indulged in her Valdemar/Velgarth novels so I can’t speak on her other series’ bUT

I seem to have a thing for when authors break out of their comfort zone lol because my favorite of these are the Mage Storms trilogy. This one is very broad, focusing not just on Valdemar, but the main character is actually a Karsite (the historical enemy of Valdemar), and the Empire also plays a big role and just, ahhhhhh, I love seeing more than just Valdemar and the Hawkbrothers and Shin’a’in ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

Magic’s Price ;;o;;

Brandon Sanderson

I’ve only just begun to scratch the surface of his books lol

His Cosmere books all interlink so when you read outside of wherever in it you started, it’s really cool to see all the similarities and the few worldhopping characters that make appearances in multiple worlds

HIS WORLD BUILDING IS FUCKING IMPECCABLE OH MY GOD I COULD JUST STUDY HIS WORLD BUILDING TECHNIQUES FOR MONTHS IN FACT I HAVE BEEN

Really amazing and diverse cast of characters, social aspects of the ‘verse is almost never divorced from the characters, their experiences, and their story. It’s really amazing to see it all~

Magic systems involve clear rules for manipulation of existing forces. Things don’t happen just because ~magic~

Stormlight Archive is where I’ve started and I’d also highly recommend it just because I cannot stop loving this cast and revisiting it over and over and over I’ve listened to the audiobooks like 4 times and they’re all between, what, 38~52 hours long?

Even when you might not like a character at first, revisiting their story is just… HNNNNN NEWFOUND LOVE AND APPRECIATION

ELHOKAR, I’M TALKING MOSTLY ABOUT ELHOKAR

One of the spren in this world, the Cryptics, represent “the fundamental mathematics by which natural phenomena can be explained” tO GIVE AN IDEA OF HOW ROOTED IN REALITY THIS STUFF IS LOL SANDERSON GOES HARD HE DOESN’T FUCK AROUND WHEN HE BUILDS HIS WORLDS

Uhm…. That’s mostly it for my recommendations I think lol, I don’t really watch much in the way of TV….. (I’d recommend NCIS seasons 3-11 though - Ziva David is my reason for life but her leaving made it hard for me to continue and then the writers broke their fucking promise not to do her dirty while she wasn’t around and while it made for a beautiful story for DiNozzo’s departure, THEY DIDN’T HAVE TO DO THAT)

and when it comes to my taste in anime, it’s fairly easy for me to find stuff to reblog lol… so…

WELL NO, HERE

SWORD ART ONLINE

YEAH I SAID IT

It’s “cool” to hate on it but it’s not nearly so bad as people make it out to be. People just like to spread vitriol about it because it’s popular, and you know how popular shit gets treated like the fucking devil around here. Asuna’s not some damsel in distress not even when she’s a prisoner in the ALO arc, she’s always got her own agency and is always working towards her goals and freedom and victory

And wtf is this nonsense people like to say about Kirito cheating on her?????? HE DOESN’T. HE LOVES AND RESPECTS HER AND HE DOESN’T FLIRT WITH OTHER GIRLS YOU GUYS JUST DON’T HAVE A SENSE OF FUCKING HUMOR APPARENTLY CAUSE YOU THINK JOKING = FLIRTING

Anyways, great romance, I love the iconic line from BEFORE they got together when he says the whole thing about “Wouldn’t [learning something new about the one I love] mean that I get to love them even more now?” like HE’S SUCH A FUCKING CUTIE

*coughs* Don’t let the hate that spreads around about this (or anything else really) deter you from checking it. Wipe your minds of what you hear and let it stand on its own, decide for yourself how feel. Don’t go “Oh I hear they reduce Asuna to a crybaby in s2″ and then see it that way because it’s what you expect to see. This is a THING, by the way, if you get told something is great or bad for whatever reason, you’re a lot more likely to see it that way. So just, keep that in mind, and try to empty yourself of preconceived notions before looking at it, k? K. That’s my last recommendation for this post lol cause I’ve rambled on forever.

Let things stand for themselves, not on the backs of hearsay.

[urfavmurtad]

lol someone just reblogged that same post with 60k+ notes about how islam is peace and luv on my dash it's muslim-problems[.]tumblr[.]com/post/162942294747/i-hear-muslims-all-the-time-go-islam-is-against

That is the exact one I was talking about anon thank you lmao. I can never tell if these ppl genuinely know nothing about the religion or its history or are just in deep denial about all of it. I really do try to avoid this particular topic on this blog bc I don’t want to give any ammunition to right-wing ppl who think all ppl born into Muslim families or ppl who are just vaguely brown in general are terrorists/violent/whatever, which is racist and bigoted, but if you’re talking about Mo himself and his ideology and his actions then…?

I mean 60k+ notes for a post where literally every line is wrong, like… wyd tumblr. And hmm @ using Surat al-Maida in particular as the Love N Peace surah, two lines below 5:8 and three lines above it both say that disbelievers will go to hell lmao. And “5:32″ is actually 5:33 and see if u can spot the issue in how OP frames it vs what it actually says:

The recompense of those who wage war against Allah and His Messenger and do mischief in the land is only that they shall be killed or crucified or their hands and their feet be cut off on the opposite sides, or be exiled from the land. That is their disgrace in this world, and a great torment is theirs in the Hereafter.

It was about what would happen to ppl who fucked with Mohammed. He and his men stole plenty of goddamn animals and killed ppl and didn’t have a problem with it, the problem was when it was done to them. And this was in reference to the Great Camel Heist that I’ve already talked about:

Anas said, “Some people of `Ukl or `Uraina tribe came to Medina … they killed the shepherd of the Prophet and drove away all the camels. The news reached the Prophet (ﷺ) early in the morning and he sent (men) in their pursuit and they were captured and brought at noon. He then ordered to cut their hands and feet (and it was done), and their eyes were branded with heated pieces of iron, They were put in ‘Al-Harra’ and when they asked for water, no water was given to them.” Abu Qilaba said, “Those people committed theft and murder, became infidels after embracing Islam and fought against Allah and His Apostle.”

Sneak attacks and ambushes are forbidden huh, tell that to one of Mohammed’s slaves-turned-wives

the Prophet (ﷺ) had suddenly attacked Bani Mustaliq without warning while they were heedless and their cattle were being watered at the places of water. Their fighting men were killed and their women and children were taken as captives; the Prophet (ﷺ) got Juwairiya on that day.

And hey u know what the Quranic Arabic word for “ambush” is, it’s marsadin, the place where you lie in wait for your enemy, remind me fam where I have seen that word before?

And when the sacred months have passed, then kill the polytheists wherever you find them and capture them and besiege them and sit in wait for them at every place of ambush. But if they should repent, establish prayer, and give zakah, let them [go] on their way. Indeed, Allah is Forgiving and Merciful.

O ya it’s the ayah that commands Mohammed’s goons to murder polytheists until they convert LOL! Yeah the “no compulsion” thing was abrogated once Mohammed actually got into power, that ain’t mentioned much for some reason, huh. I always wonder how ppl like the OP think Arab polytheism was completely destroyed in one generation. Do they think Islam was just so fantastic that everyone was drawn to its message of peace and tolerance…? Same with this person’s apparently sincere belief that “aggressive war is forbidden”, like did y’all… did y’all just skip over the Arab conquests in history class or…? What do you think happened here?

Allah’s Messenger (ﷺ) called ‘Ali b. Abu Talib and he conferred (this honour) [being the standard-bearer at Khaybar] upon him and said: Proceed on and do not look about until Allah grants you victory, and ‘Ali went a bit and then halted and did not look about and then said in a loud voice: Allah’s Messenger, on what issue should I fight with the people? Thereupon he (the Prophet) said: Fight with them until they bear testimony to the fact that there is no god but Allah and Muhammad is his Messenger 

Then OP throws in some mistranslated ahadith from Tirmidhi but like…. sis… do u really wanna go there, I think u will find that certain ahadith slightly disprove ur innovative “no murder allowed” hypothesis, such as uhh idk maybe

A blind man had a slave-mother who used to abuse the Prophet (ﷺ) and disparage him. He forbade her but she did not stop. … One night she began to slander the Prophet (ﷺ) … So he took a dagger, placed it on her belly, pressed it, and killed her… He sat before the Prophet (ﷺ) and said: Messenger of Allah! I am her master; she used to abuse you and disparage you. I forbade her, but she did not stop, and I rebuked her, but she did not abandon her habit. I have two sons like pearls from her, and she was my companion. Last night she began to abuse and disparage you. So I took a dagger, put it on her belly and pressed it till I killed her. Thereupon the Prophet (ﷺ) said: Oh be witness, no retaliation is payable for her blood.

Or uhhh

A Jew and a Jewess were brought to Allah’s Messenger (ﷺ) on a charge of committing an illegal sexual intercourse. … So Allah’s Apostle ordered that the two (sinners) be stoned to death, and so they were stoned. Ibn `Umar added: So both of them were stoned at the Balat and I saw the Jew sheltering the Jewess.

I mean if you really wanna bring the ahadith into it this is ur own fault tbqh

In the Pre-lslamic Period of Ignorance there was a house called Dhu-l-Khalasa or Al-Ka`ba Al- Yamaniya or Al-Ka`ba Ash-Shamiya. The Prophet (ﷺ) said to me, “Won’t you relieve me from Dhu-l- Khalasa?” So I set out with one-hundred-and-fifty riders, and we dismantled it and killed whoever was present there. Then I came to the Prophet (ﷺ) and informed him, and he invoked good upon us and Al- Ahmas (tribe) .

Also

aka mass murder of innocent peoples that they call war

banu qurayza jews:

[stuckyanddandelions]

I posted 1,288 times in 2021

8 posts created (1%)

1280 posts reblogged (99%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 160.0 posts.

I added 938 tags in 2021

#jfc - 216 posts

#life - 211 posts

#cute - 134 posts

#awwww - 129 posts

#awwwww - 82 posts

#awww - 56 posts

#lol - 33 posts

#awwwwww - 30 posts

#stucky - 27 posts

#oh my heart - 20 posts

Longest Tag: 52 characters

#who am i 16 year old me wearing a team edward shirt?

My Top Posts in 2021

#5

My parents know that I m different

They know i don't like boys

We dont talk about this but they. Know

Today I talk with my Teacher

And i had to pretend to be hetero for 3 hours

And I was dying

I was like: girls?? What's that?

I like boys

RDJ is so sexy

Ronaldo is my husband

I feel so bad

I need porn

And Miley Cyrus

And oh my heart

I dont like boys

I am a gold star lesbian

I love women

And their bodies and their hair and their smell

And I'm sorry for saying this but I wanna cry

1 notes • Posted 2021-01-14 06:52:51 GMT

#4

Day 1 #shareyourpride 

2 notes • Posted 2021-06-01 15:14:19 GMT

#3

Así que....

Alya borrará todas sus fotos , TODAS yo moriré

Marichat dios por qué???

Yo estoy como André

André representa al Ladynoir fandom

I'm not ready for this

3 notes • Posted 2021-10-17 17:11:23 GMT

#2

So....

Could you please give me a sterek video and all too well in the background

Please???

4 notes • Posted 2021-11-12 17:00:36 GMT

#1

Ephimeral.....

Marinette having troubles with Adrien been chat noir

Suffering ....

The pain was real

But also lets talk about her crush bc that is the real problem here

Marinette has a CRUSH on Adrien

She sees the good , the Beauty ,she daydreams about him, but the moment she knew that he is chat noir ,the concept of Adrien dies and oh my heart well done , its importan that they talk about expectations vs reallity

OMG Adrien I love my boy

And Luka god bless Luka he is so pure for this horrible world

Efimero

Dios

Ok si esperaba más pero no hay problema

Marinette teniendo problemas con que Adrian sea Chat noir lo ame

Ese es el problema aqui , el enamoramiento que tiene,lo idealizado que tiene a Adrien y ya era hora de que se hablara de esto porque que si nos gusta alguien se vuelve el ser mas perfecto del mundo y cuando vemos lo bueno y lo malo junto aqui hay 2 opciones o me voy o me quedo y Mari se dio la oportunidad de conocer a Chat a esa parte que el propio Adrien esconde pero que muestra a Ladybug y muy bien por qué estaban llevando las cosas con calma no como en cat blanc

Ahora Adrien oh dios mi Adrien

Hablar de lo complejo qué es Adrien

Adrien se muestra agradable y proyecta lo que su padre quiere de el

Ante su padre cede y siempre pierde porque ese es su sueño ,complacer y obedecer lo que se le dice pero.... Ladybug , Ladybug aparece en su vida y el se muestra como realmente es ,con ella no hay pretensión o complacencia ,por eso es qué Adrien quiere tanto a Ladybug

Luka oh sea LUKA dios bendiga el alma de Luka todo lo que hizo, ese respeto y ese amor que demuestra por Marinette , no merecemos a Luka y plaguita oh mi plaguita tan tierno

Efimero no es chat blanc y no lo vere 20 veces como chat blanc , para mi chat blanc merecia ser el #100 pero aportó grandes cosas

Gracias

4 notes • Posted 2021-11-07 09:44:05 GMT

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[davidmann95]

What's your Marvel Starter Pack?

My Marvel knowledge isn’t nearly as extensive as what I have for DC, so this’ll be scaled back to 12 books from the 15 I had there (nevermind Superman and Batman’s own personal lists). Additionally, since Marvel’s even more about Right Now than DC, nothing here is earlier than the turn of the century; a lot of my older recommended reading is by my dad’s suggestion since he had plenty of firsthand experience with the Silver and Bronze ages. Also worth noting that my Marvel tastes don’t exactly fall in line with the general sensibilities of Tumblr or fandom at large - I’m not a big X-Men guy, for instance - so your results may vary. But anyway, again, if you’re following me but new to actually collecting comics and wondering what to look into to gauge your interests, I’ve got plenty for you.

1. Daredevil by Mark Waid

What it’s about: Blinded as a child pushing an old man out of the path of an oncoming truck transporting radioactive waste, Matt Murdock grew up to become a lawyer, encouraged by his pugilist father Battlin’ Jack Murdock not to rely on his fists as he had throughout life. But when Jack was murdered for refusing to throw a fight, Matt was forced to rely on the talents he had developed in secret under his sensei Stick - the same isotopes that took away his sight boosted his remaining four to superhuman levels, as well as granting him a 360° awareness of his surroundings he termed his ‘radar sense’ - to find justice for his father and those like him, becoming the vigilante Daredevil. Now, after a crimefighting career marked by agony, loss, and an increasingly deteriorating psyche, his identity has been unofficially exposed by the tabloid press…but attempting to turn around both his life and his mental health, Matt’s chosen to try and re-embrace the good in both his daytime career and in the thrill of his adventures as the Man Without Fear.

Why you should read it: Aside from being in my opinion the most influential superhero comic of the decade, Mark Waid’s tenure on Daredevil is the complete package of superhero comics. Energizing, gorgeous, accessible, character-driven, innovative, and bold, it’s a platonic ideal of Good Superhero Comics, and most especially Good Marvel Superhero Comics, and as such there’s little better place to start.

Further recommendations if you liked it: Shockingly, few modern Marvel titles seem to operate on a similar frequency to this run, even among those that clearly wouldn’t have existed without it; of those I don’t mention in one capacity or another below, the only modern books that leap out to me as being of a similar breed are Roger Langridge and Chris Samnee’s (the latter ending up the primary artist on Waid’s Daredevil) tragically cut short Thor: The Mighty Avenger, Dan Slott and Mike Allred’s Silver Surfer, and Al Ewing’s Contest of Champions. Given the classic mood it evokes, you might also be interested in some of Marvel’s older stuff in general - as probably most conveniently packaged in the Essential volumes - as well as the more recent Marvel Adventures line of all-ages titles. For hornhead himself, most of his classic work tends to operate in a pitch-black noir mood that much of Waid’s run is meant to contrast; if you want to delve into it, go to Frank Miller’s run (primarily Born Again), then Brian Bendis’s followed by Ed Brubaker’s and, following Waid, Chip Zdarsky’s (the Charles Soule run in the middle seems largely forgettable).

2. Marvels

What: Following the career of photojournalist Phil Sheldon - beginning in World War II with the rise of the likes of the Human Torch, Namor, and Captain America, and forward into the reemergence of superheroes with the Fantastic Four - Marvels shows what the battles that define a world look like to the helpless spectators, from the controversy surrounding mysterious vigilantes such as Spider-Man, the fear of the “mutant menace” represented by the X-Men, and the terror when the planet is first truly threatened at the hands of Galactus.

Why: As well as being one of Marvel’s best and most defining works period - this is Kurt Busiek and Alex Ross’s coming out party as two of the most significant names in the genre, and it articulates Marvel’s avowed “it’s the world outside your window!” philosophy better than perhaps any other title - Marvel is ruled by history and continuity in a way DC isn’t. The latter may have reboots to contend with, but Marvel has a much more upfront and consistently significant timeline of what happened when and what’s important, and if you’re going to have to immerse yourself in that ridiculous lore, there’s no more fulfilling way of getting an injection of pure backstory than this.

Recommendations: There’s a follow-up by Busiek, Roger Stern and Jay Anacleto titled Marvels: Eye of the Camera; I haven’t read it yet myself, but given the pedigree involved I can’t imagine it’s anything less than entirely solid. For other Major Marvel Events, the defining one of the 21st century is Mark Millar and Steve McNiven’s Civil War, which set a tone that still reverberates through the line; also worth checking out the recent Marvel Legacy oneshot, which seems to be laying the groundwork for things to come. Speaking of setting a tone, while it’s not directly ‘relevant’ continuity-wise, Millar also worked with Bryan Hitch on Ultimates 1 & 2, which proved to be the aesthetic model for the current wave of Marvel movies and added plenty of ideas that have been extensively mined since. History of the Marvel Universe by Mark Waid and Javier Rodriguez fits its title and is absolutely worth a library checkout, but is mainly a rote checklist elevated by all-timer artwork.

3. Kieron Gillen and Jamie McKelvie’s Young Avengers

What: The heroes of the group once known as the ‘Young Avengers’ have gone their separate ways, each trying to figure things out on the cusp of adulthood. But when Wiccan’s attempt at helping his boyfriend goes horribly wrong - mixed in with a pint-sized god of mischief’s machinations, an interdimensional bruiser’s attempts at routing him, and non-Hawkguy Hawkeye’s extraterrestrial hookup - the gang’s forced back together again and on the run before old age literally swallows them whole.

Why: Here’s the bummer truth, daddy-o: I am not, in the common parlance, down with the hep cats, at least as far as gateway young-readers Marvel books go. I flipped through Runaways and wasn’t compelled to pick it up; I kept on with Ms. Marvel for a couple years but always on the edge of falling out of my monthly pile. Unless it’s truly next-level spectacular or heart-pouring-out sincere, gimme superfolks routing fiendish plots and going on trippy adventures any day over a bunch of sad kids in tights figuring out adolescence all over again: Spidey already did it first and better, and when emotionally-down-to-Earth superhero comics do get me fired up it’s usually set a little later on in life (even when I was the target audience for this sort of thing). But fire it through Gillen/McKelvie laser neon sexytime pop, and suddenly you’re in business. Slick, smart, raw, and wild, this was the best comic of 2013, and’ll certainly go down as one of the best superhero titles of this decade, Marvel as the Cool Kids of superherodom dialed up to 11.

Recommendations: Nothing else quite like this out there - the closest in feeling is Grant Morrison and J.G. Jones’ excellent original Marvel Boy miniseries, though that’s more about becoming a 20-something out in the world in the sense of wanting to burn it all down to the ground - but as I said, Runaways and Ms. Marvel do generally appeal to the same audience (and to be clear, I did like the latter just fine), as do the original Young Avengers run and Avengers Academy. Personally, I checked out and liked Avengers Arena, where all the fun teen heroes got forced into Hunger Gamsing each other on a murder island run by Arcade, followed up by them breaking bad in Avengers Undercover - please note that I’m like one of the three people on Earth who liked this book as opposed to ravenously despising it, which probably has in part do to with my lack of prior attachment to the characters involved. Also, important to note that this book is in the middle of a thematic Loki trilogy, preceded by Gillen’s Journey Into Mystery (which I haven’t read but don’t for a second doubt the quality of), and completed by Al Ewing and Lee Garbett’s truly magnificent Loki: Agent of Asgard; also worth noting that these books, and really modern Loki as a whole, are deeply rooted in Robert Rodi and Esad Ribic’s Thor & Loki: Blood Brothers. And for perfect entry books, I don’t think there’s much of anything better out there, especially for young readers, than Ryan North and Erica Henderson’s The Unbeatable Squirrel Girl, one of Marvel’s most consistently high-quality ongoings of the last several years.

4. Hawkeye: My Life As A Weapon

What: Clint Barton, aka Hawkeye, aka Hawkguy, is the Avenger who’s Just A Dude. No super-steroids and vita-rays, no magic hammer or Pym particles, a distinct lack of multi-billion dollar armor or immortality serum. Dude has a bow and arrow, and while he is very, very good with that bow and arrow, he still gets his ass kicked a frankly disproportionate amount relative to his teammates. Between meeting a dog, buying a car, and hanging out with friends - even if each incident goes significantly more wrong that they would for anyone other than Clint Barton, with non-Hawkguy Hawkeye Kate Bishop typically along for the ride - this is what he gets up to when he’s not helping save the world.

Why: Gonna show my heresy again: I’m not actually over the moon about Fraction/Aja’s Hawkeye past the first arc. But that first arc? Man oh man oh man, are they about as good as Marvel gets. This is absolute next-level storytelling on every front, with Aja and Pulido pulling out all the stops and Fraction - who by all accounts thinks more about the process of how comics work than anyone else in the field - just pouring heart and style all over the thing. It’s as tight and energetic as comics get, and the perfect introduction to Marvel’s street-level corner.

Recommendations: Aside from the rest of this run, there’s the recent Hawkeye (starring the non-Hawkguy Hawkeye Kate Bishop) by Kelly Thompson and Leonardo Romero, and there’s a generous helping of Hawkguy in Ales Kot and Michael Walsh’s Secret Avengers, a book as tight and out-of-the-box and oddly joyous in its own way as this. If you’re looking for other Marvel material that gets this explicitly experimental and afield of the house style, go for Jim Steranko’s much-loved work with Nick Fury. And for the other, considerably grimmer side of the street, aside from the Daredevil stuff I mentioned above, check out anything and everything you can get your hands on from Garth Ennis’s work with the Punisher, along with Greg Rucka’s and Jason Aaron’s.

5. Moon Knight: From The Dead

EDIT: This list was written prior to allegations made against Warren Ellis. It’s your money, but while I’d still recommend checking the book out of the library - the quality of the work isn’t going to change now that it’s out there in the universe - if you’re looking to pad your bookshelf I might recommend skipping to some of the books suggested below in its place.

What: Marc Spector was a mercenary until the day he died, betrayed in the desert before an Egyptian temple by his comrades…and then he kept going. No one knows for sure whether the truth is what his doctors have to say - that sharing his head with the likes of Steven Grant and Jake Lockley is a manifestation of DID, and he’s a profoundly sick man - or his own interpretation - that his fragile human personality buckled and shattered before the immensity when dying by its temple, he bowed his head at death’s door to the moon god Khonshu and let it seize his soul. Whatever the truth, he now knows his purpose: to defend travelers by night from whatever horrors would cross their path.

Why: There’s no story as such to be told here; Ellis and Shalvey simply show six adventures over six issues that establish Moon Knight and the scope of what he’s capable of when handled properly, ranging from straightforward detective work to psychedelic journeys through a rotting dream to a jaw-dropping issue-long fight scene. Marvel has a proud history of material skewing slightly to the left of the rest of their output, tonally and conceptually, and this is your ideal gateway to Weird Marvel.

Recommendations: For the further adventures of Moon Knight, by recommendation would be Max Bemis and Jacen Burrows’ current volume, which is following up on the seeds Ellis and Shalvey laid down quite satisfactorily, with a few twists of their own on top. Ellis himself used Moon Knight before this in his run on Secret Avengers with a number of different artists, which was very much a precursor to his work above in its high-concept done-in-one style; also check out his book Nextwave with Stuart Immonen, which is as out there as it gets for Marvel and also the best comic ever. Delving into Marvel’s spooky side, if this did anything at all for you absolutely get all of Al Ewing and Joe Bennett’s massively and rightfully acclaimed The Immortal Hulk (and if you’re looking for more something more traditional with the Green Goliath, Mark Waid’s The Indestructible Hulk is a hoot). If you really want to go to ground zero of Weird Marvel, you’re in the market for Steve Gerber’s work, primarily Defenders and his own creation Howard the Duck (who had another very entertaining via Chip Zdarsky and Joe Quinones recently worth checking out). Another notably out-there character worth checking out is She-Hulk, particularly in Dan Slott’s run and Charles Soule/Javier Pulido’s. Two more figures existing on Marvel’s weirder end are Doctor Strange - whose ‘classic’ work would as I understand it be Steve Englehart and Frank Brunner’s run, and who’s worth checking out more recently in Brian K. Vaughan and Marcos Martin’s miniseries The Oath, Jason Aaron and Chris Bachalo’s run, and Donny Cates and Gabriel Hernandez Walta’s - and the Inhumans - while contemporary attempts to push them have been a failure, there have been excellent individual successes in Ellis, Gerardo Zaffino, and Roland Boschi’s Karnak, Al Ewing and company’s Royals, and Saladin Ahmed and Christian Ward’s Black Bolt. And I’d be remiss in the extreme not to bring up Gabriel Walta and Tom King’s Vision, which I don’t want to give anything away of, but has a serious claim to being the best thing Marvel’s ever published.

6. Ultimate Spider-Man by Bendis & Bagley

What: When bitten by a genetically mutated spider Peter Parker thought he could use his newfound powers to make a quick buck, and come on, you already know this.

Why: This is the foundational modern Spider-Man. The first arc’s aged a little wonky in bits as Bendis was trying to make late-90s/early-00s Teen Slang work, but by and large, Brian Bendis and Mark Bagley’s original 111-issue tenure on Ultimate Spider-Man reimagining his early years was pound-for-pound one of Marvel’s all-time most engaging, exciting, dramatic, and authentic long-term runs. This is the template for every movie (especially Homecoming) and TV show he’s had in the last decade, a sizable part of what got me into comics in the first place, and one of the company’s most reliable perennials. You want to get onboard with maybe the most popular superhero in the world, you do it here.

Recommendations: With the remainder of the list I’m getting into more character/concept-specific reccs, and for other great Spider-Man, your best bet truly is the classic early material by Stan Lee, Steve Ditko, and John Romita as collected in the Essential volumes, which has aged unbelievably well compared to its contemporaries; Bendis’s post-Bagley material just doesn’t hold up, even with the introduction of fan-favorite Miles Morales. For other ‘classics’, your best bests are Spider-Man: Blue, and by my understanding the runs of Roger Stern and J.M. DeMatteis, particularly the latters’ Kraven’s Last Hunt. For the modern stuff, Chip Zdarksy’s current Peter Parker: The Spectacular Spider-Man is just getting better and better, I’ve heard very good things about Spider-Man Loves Mary Jane, I personally enjoyed Mark Millar and (at his peak) JMS’s runs, and while most agree Dan Slott’s soon-concluding decade-long tenure on the character has outstayed its welcome, he’s also turned in some stone-cold classics like No One Dies and Spider-Man/Human Torch, as well as other entertaining work such as the original Renew Your Vows and Superior Spider-Man. Most recently, Chip Zdarsky’s work with the character in The Spectacular Spider-Man and the high-concept out-of-continuity miniseries Spider-Man: Life Story are some of Mr. Parker’s all-time best, while Tom Taylor’s Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man is a charming relatively small-scale superhero adventure book, and Saladin Ahmed and Javier Garron’s Miles Morales: Spider-Man is easily the best possible introduction to that guy.

7. Thor: God of Thunder Vol. 1

What: Though Thor, the god of thunder and mighty Avenger, has faced limitless threats to even divine life and limb over his many millennia, only one figure has ever truly frightened him. Now, as he discovers a serial killer of deities is loose in the cosmos, he must turn to his past and future alike in order to survive the coming of the God-Butcher.

Why: The pick on this list most directly relevant to those coming in from the movies right now, I’m afraid that while a bit of this was plucked for Ragnarok, this isn’t remotely on the same wavelength. This is black metal death opera screamed through the megaphone of wild space-spanning superheroics, and not only is it the best Thor comic, it’s the perfect introduction to Marvel’s cosmic side.

Recommendations: Along with the Loki books I namechecked above, the defining run on Thor (though the rest of his continuing work there is also very much worth checking out) is Walter Simonson, which laid down a lot of the fundamentals of the character as he exists today; along with that and the rest of Aaron’s run, my understanding is that Lee/Kirby’s original run holds up very well. For more satisfying fight comics, I’d also suggest World War Hulk, and I hear Marvel’s early Conan comics were standouts. On the cosmic end, I know the Guardians of the Galaxy are where it’s at these days; they sprang to life in their current incarnation in the much-loved Annihilation, and while I haven’t been reading their current Gerry Duggan/Aaron Kuder run, it’s well-liked and probably a good place to drop on, as would be the recent Chip Zdarsky/Kris Anka Starlord, and I’d personally recommend Al Ewing and Adam Gorhan’s Rocket. Beyond them, Jonathan Hickman’s comics are where it’s really at, from his Fantastic Four to S.H.I.E.L.D. to Ultimates to Avengers/New Avengers to the big finale to his overarching story in Secret Wars; it’s a complicated reading order to figure out, but oh-so-worth it.

8. Iron Man: Extremis

What: Faced with the horrors of his amoral past and the questions of a future coming quicker than he can manage, Tony Stark faces his most dangerous enemy yet when experimental post-human body modification tech is let loose into the world and lands in the hands of a white supremacist terrorist cell.

Why: More than anything other than Robert Downey Jr. smirking and quipping, this story is the definitive model for the modern Iron Man, taking a C-lister most notable for dealing with alcoholism decades earlier and hanging out on the B-list team in the Avengers (at least until 2012), and redefining his personality, aesthetic, and role in the 21st century as a man who might be smart enough to save the world if he can ever pull together enough to somehow save himself from his own compromises and weaknesses. The road to this guy becoming a household name is paved here.

Recommendations: Prior to this, his biggest stories were Demon in a Bottle, showing his first reckoning with his alcohol abuse, and Denny O’Neil’s 40-issue run introducing Obadiah Stane and showing Stark’s darkest hour as he sinks completely into his illness. Post-Ellis, the big run is Matt Fraction and Salvador Larroca, which seizes both on the ideas here and the momentum granted by his Hollywood debut to cement his status as an A-lister; after that check out Kieron Gillen’s, which is not only a fun big-idea series in its own right but paves the way for Al Ewing’s spinoff Fatal Frontier, easily one of Iron Man’s best and most overlooked titles. Finally, while it was derided in its own time (that it was a spinoff of an event that turned him evil but the comic never especially explained the circumstances didn’t help), Superior Iron Man is also worth a look as a horrifying contrast to the rest of these.

9. Captain America: Man Out Of Time

What: A sickly young man who volunteered to participate in an experimental super-soldier program to serve his country in World War II, Steve Rogers became Captain America and protected the world from the Nazis with unimaginable courage and distinction, until the day he died disarming a drone plane rigged to blow aimed at America’s shores. He was honored throughout history…until the day he was found alive by the Avengers, frozen in the Atlantic and ready to emerge into the lights of the 21st century when needed most. Most people know that story. This is the story of what happened next.

Why: The search for the definitive statement on Captain America is one that’s driven his character for decades: after all, handling him doesn’t just mean talking about one man’s character, but the character of a nation. Successes are typically qualified, but one of the more successful creators in the pool is Mark Waid, who’s up to his fourth time at bat with Steve right now on the main book. His own most notable effort however is here, showing Rogers’ earliest days post-iceberg as he adjusts to living in what is to him the far-flung future, seeing the ways the nation has both surpassed his wildest dreams and fallen short of his humblest expectations, leaving him in the end to make the choice of whether this is truly the world he wants to defend.

Recommendations: As I mentioned, Waid’s had a few times up at bat with Captain America, and while he initial 90s stints might not be ideal for new readers for a number of reasons, his current run with frequent partner Chris Samnee is a solid crowdpleaser and a perfect place to jump onboard. Prior to that, worth checking out are Jim Steranko’s bizarre and transformative 3-issue run, Steve Englehart’s legendary Secret Empire (not the recent contentious Marvel event comic, to be clear), Ed Brubaker’s turn of the character towards grounded espionage, and his co-creator Jack Kirby’s bombastic, passionate 1970s tenure on the Captain. Currently, Ta-Nehisi Coates’ run is quite solid. Regarding related characters, for the Winter Soldier I’d suggest Ales Kot and Marco Rudy’s unconventional cosmic thriller Bucky Barnes: Winter Soldier; Black Widow had her own recent and excellent Mark Waid/Chris Samnee run, and I’d also recommend the one-shot Avengers Assemble 14AU by Al Ewing and Butch Guice, and issue #20 from Warren Ellis’s previously mentioned time on Secret Avengers; for Black Panther, his definitive runs are under Don McGregor and Christopher Priest, and I’d also note Jason Aaron and Jefte Palo’s Secret Invasion arc as showing T’Challa at his best.

10. Fantastic Four By Waid & Wieringo

What: Bathed in cosmic radiation on an ill-fated journey to the stars, Reed Richards, Sue and Johnny Storm, and Ben Grimm were transformed, and became the Fantastic Four, first family of an age of heroes! Now, years into their careers and with Reed and Sue’s young children in tow, they continue to explore new frontiers, whether battling a sentient equation gone mad, contending with an extradimensional roach infestation, or perhaps most perilous of all, Johnny trying to deal with getting a real job.

Why: Plenty consider the Fantastic Four one of Marvel’s most difficult groups to get right, but Waid and Wieringo nail the formula here as well as anyone ever has, just the right mix of high adventure and family dynamics to draw just about anyone in; this is as crowdpleasing as comics get and the perfect introduction to the best superhero team out there.

Recommendations: The FF’s another group where it’s worth going back to their earliest days of Lee and Kirby; while much of the writing’s aged awkwardly at best, they’re the absolute foundational comics of the entire universe and lay down concepts that are still getting use today throughout that universe. Past that initial run, John Byrne and Walter Simonson’s are among the best by reputation, as well as Jonathan Hickman’s as I discussed before (Mark Millar and Bryan Hitch’s is worth tracking down as well, especially since concepts there end up feeding directly into Hickman). For more outside-the-box material, Joe Casey and Chris Weston’s First Family is worth a look, as is Grant Morrison and Jae Lee’s 1234. And for the all-time best showing of bashful Benjamin J. Grimm, the ever-lovin’ blue-eyed Thing, find Marvel Two-In-One Annual #7 to see him defend the entire planet in a boxing match at Madison Square Garden. And while the team’s sadly off the table at the moment, Thing and the Torch are returning in Chip Zdarsky and Jim Cheung’s new volume of Marvel Two-In-One as they set out to find their missing family.

11. Mighty Avengers by Al Ewing

What: When Thanos takes to the skies as Earth’s Mightiest Heroes are off-planet, it’s a day unlike any other, as those left standing are forced to band together as the Mighty Avengers. And as the danger passes, the team remains, looking to truly work alongside those they protect rather than above them to make things better, even as forces conspire in the background to enslave them all.

Why: This title is something of a limitus test, in that it’s one where you’ll have to deal with it being constantly, infuriatingly forced to deal with crossover nonsense. It’s one of the big prices to pay for engaging with a larger universe, but the trade-off is that this is where Al Ewing gets set loose on the Marvel universe, drawing on every weird corner to pull together a run of genuine moral intent, note-perfect character work, and all-out adventure. This may be the ‘secondary’ team, but it’s as perfect as the Avengers have ever gotten.

Recommendations: The title itself is relaunched as Captain America and the Mighty Avengers, and as that ends but Ewing continues his time at Marvel, the characters and concepts end up divided among a number of titles: Contest of Champions, where a number of heroes are plucked from the timestream to duel for the power and amusement of the Grandmaster, New Avengers (later turned U.S.Avengers), where former X-Man Sunspot assembles a new team to act as a James Bond-ified international strike force, and Ultimates (later turned Ultimates2), where some of Earth’s most powerful and brilliant heroes band together to proactively defend against unimaginable cosmic threats; also try his mini-event Ultron Forever with Alan Davis sometime. Based on your response to numerous aspects of those titles, there’s a good chance you might be in the market for David Walker’s Luke Cage titles, Matt Fraction’s Defenders, and Jim Starlin’s cosmic 70s books such as Captain Marvel and Warlock (and make sure to read Nextwave at some point, Ewing actually follows up on that gonzo delight in some surprising ways here). For the ‘main’ team, aside from Hickman’s previously mentioned run - which while spectacular is pretty far afield of the usual tone - some suggestions might be Kurt Busiek and George Perez’s much-loved run, Roger Stern’s Under Siege, I have to imagine given the pedigree of the creators Earth’s Mightiest Heroes by Joe Casey and Scott Kolins, Brian Bendis’s extended ownership of the Avengers books, and The Kree-Skrull War.

12. Wolverine & The X-Men by Jason Aaron

What: Dwindled down to a few in a world that hates and fears them as much as ever, mutantkind has been split in two, with by-the-books Cyclops taking a hardline approach against oppression and feeling that the youth in the X-Men’s charge must be made ready to fight, while Wolverine has grown tired of throwing children into battle and has left to find a new way. Founding the Jean Gray School For Higher Learning, Logan’s found himself in the most unexpected role of all as a professor, fighting just has hard to keep the unimaginable high-tech academy and the hormonal super-powered student body in check as to fend off the supervillains inevitably sent their way.

Why: The X-Men aren’t exactly my forte, with a wobbly batting average at best over the years as the books devote at least as much effort to trying to juggle the continuity and soap opera demands as the actual sci-fi premise. There have been successes though, and few so geared towards new reader engagement as Wolverine & The X-Men, where Aaron strips the franchise down to the base essentials of a team living in a school for super-kids. It’s poppy, it’s weird, it’s touching, and it’s accessible. It’s the X-Men at its best.

Recommendations: The most direct predecessor to this run (aside from its actual lead-in miniseries X-Men: Schism, which is actually worth checking out) is Grant Morrison’s New X-Men, which takes the sci-fi aspects of the concept to the very limit in what I’m inclined to consider the best X-Men run, though it’s proven controversial over the years among longtime fans. The base of the team as it exists today is in Chris Clarmemont’s work, which I’m not wild about myself but has a few hits such as God Loves, Man Kills; if you’re looking for a modern update on the formula developed there, Astonishing X-Men by Joss Whedon and John Cassaday is probably your ticket (and the follow-up run by Warren Ellis is a great weird paramilitary sci-fi book for a bit). Jonathan Hickman’s relaunch is a radicaly and brilliant departure paving a new way forward; it’s perhaps best experienced after a bit of ‘traditional’ X-Men to understand the scale of the contrast, but check that out as soon as possible. For classic material, I understand the Roy Thomas/Neal Adams run was an early success, and Jeff Parker’s X-Men: First Class is by all accounts a charming look at the team’s earliest days. Jason Aaron’s work elsewhere on the X-Men proper was limited to the first 6 issues of the short-lived Amazing X-Men, but he had a very extended and successful tenure on Wolverine which would be my go-to recommendation for him; past that, Death of Wolverine actually satisfies, and All-New Wolverine starring his successor Laura Kinney was the best X-Men book on the stands for some time (writer Tom Taylor is also had a short-lived ‘proper’ X-book in X-Men: Red). As for the group’s many spin-offs, I’d suggest Rick Remender’s X-Force, Peter Milligan and Mike Allred’s X-Factor/X-Statix, and Joe Kelly and Ed McGuiness’s Spider-Man/Deadpool, which should serve as a decent introduction to the latter dude’s own oddball territory in the franchise along with the truly mad and utterly delightful You Are Deadpool.

[losttalongthewayy]

goodnight little love

----------cs + morning sickness in the middle of the night (( AO3 ))

my cs baby feels are in an all time high after finally finishing watching 702 tonight, so here ya go Tumblr, this has been half written for m o n t h s, so idk, happy cs baby feels y’all! these babes are canonically starting a family and I’m just feeling all the feels! Ciao <33

— ღ   —

It’s definitely not as bad as it was with Henry, not at all. Emma knows she should consider herself lucky, only being sick once a day at most, but still… by week 14, Emma’s already done with some of it. She’s tired of being tired all the freaking time. She’s bloated more often than not, and the nausea; the nausea is by far the worst.

Aside for her one, 3am long-standing appointment with the porcelain bowl every night, Emma’s been mostly ‘blessed’ with just nausea day-round and not vomit. Which she figures makes her lucky; it could be worse, she knows how much worse it could be, puking at the drop of hat —she lived it before, so she knows, but despite the lack of retching, her stomach does churn 24/7 and she’s sick of it.

She’s already missed more days at work in the last month than she has in her whole time in Storybrooke all together. She just doesn’t feel right. She’s dizzy and queasy so often, that she finds at least sleeping she’s unaware of the sickness. And it’s not as if she’s not tired enough to justify all the naps –she is.

Killian is great about the whole thing; he’s awesome at allowing her to moan and complain as much as she wants without making her feel whiny or worse, weak. He’s great. Her parents are being completely amazing as well, as is her son and pretty much everyone who knows —which aren’t that many yet, but she figures in time she won’t even have to announce it, they’ll just be able to tell.

Which worries her too, because showing does mean everybody knowing about the baby, and that’s scary. It’s also exciting though. Showing after all does mean the baby is growing, and she wants that. She wants this tiny human of hers to grown healthy so that she and Killian can meet it soon.

She is looking forward to it. It has surprised her how genuinely excited she is about it, but she is; she can’t wait for it to be born, to see it and hold it —to be there when Killian holds it for the first time.

If anything, Emma’s completely sure what an incredible dad he’s going to be —in so many ways, he already is. He doesn’t talk to it yet, but Emma knows it’s not for lack of wanting. She catches him lost in thought more often than not and it’s the baby he’s thinking about. He asks her questions all the time, what does she need, has she taken her vitamins yet, does she think the room they chose for the baby is too small or too big, should they start buying it’s clothes and toys yet. Emma’s favorite thus far, does she think the baby will enjoy the water like he does? It melts her heart, right to the core it does, and the fact that at 3 am every night he wakes up with her, just for the sake of being with her, and with the excuse that he doesn’t need his sleep as much, even when he so totally does, doesn’t hurt too much.

Is this why, when her head lifts from the very disgusting toilet bowl, and the first thing she sees in front of her is a washcloth wet to warm perfection, Emma forces herself  to throw a rather appreciative smile Killian’s way.

The guy is a godsend, there’s no question about that.

Never mind he’s been literally sent to her by a god.

Did she mention at nighttime he now keeps a fluffy blanket by the side of the toilet? All so that she doesn’t have to sit on the cold tiles while upchucking her cookies? Yeah, her guy is pretty great, all right.

“Thank you,” Emma tells him simply, grabbing the washcloth from him.

Killian nods, and scoots over to the bathroom sink to grab something else.

Perfectly timed as Emma finishes wiping at her mouth and face, he hands her a glass full of fizzy ginger ale. Emma takes it gladly, moaning a little as she immediately lifts the glass to her lips and takes a generous sip.

So maybe she should just suck this up and be grateful for everything she has —Killian, at the top of that list right now. God knows she’d take all the nausea in the world if it means they’ll have a healthy baby in a few months and Emma gets to keep its Daddy with her through the whole thing and then some.

Eventually, after taking some more sips, and feeling her stomach settle slightly, Emma sits back and breathes out deeply. Killian sits by her, his eyes on her as he tries to relax as well, but she knows he won’t completely as long as they are still in the bathroom. Instead he’ll be up in seconds if she so happens to need anything.

Emma loves him.

“I’m fine,” she tells him then for his sake. Killian hasn’t asked the question, he never does really; he always chooses to read her and simply wait until she tells him when the worst of the sickness has passed.

Which thankfully now has, she thinks.

Killian nods at her, a tender, soft smile on his face. “Would you like to go back to bed then?”

Emma shakes her head quickly at that, and then smiles guiltily at the face he gives her. Fine, fine, so maybe she isn’t feeling completely fine yet.

Busted. “Give me just a few more minutes, kay?”

“Absolutely,” he tells her. Killian sighs and leans back against the cool wall behind them. Emma eyes him for all of ten seconds before scooting closer to him. He doesn’t think about it before gathering her in his arms, tenderly pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

Emma breathes him in deeply, partly because his smell is one of the few things these days that doesn’t make her feel sick, and partly too because even after all this time, Killian, being this close to him, is still one of those things that simply make her feel secure and steady.

She needs this right now, the vivid reminder that everything’s well and she’s safe.

When Emma looks up at him, his chin shifts slightly from the top of her head, and he hums. His eyes are closed, while his arms are loosely holding her —in case she needs to bolt back to the toilet, he knows. Emma knows this is the part of the night they usually talk —or try to anyway. He’ll ask her a silly question requesting whatever story she’s willing to share, or he’ll simply start talking, tell her a tale or two from his many years of voyages.

“Love…”

There he is. “Hum?” Emma replies, still looking up at him.

Killian keeps his eyes shut for another moment, his breathing steady as well as his hold on her. ““How are you feeling?”

Her eyebrows knit, and her expression goes confused at that question. “I just sai–”

“No, I,” he trails off, shaking his head. “I don’t mean—” he tries again, his eyes opening and meeting hers now. “How are you feeling?”

Ah.

For some reason Emma does get now what he’s trying to ask. “As in not in general, physically, but…about this all, as in the kid?”

“Aye,” he nods, then dares a small smile. “As in the small, very very small kid. The one currently living inside you,” he explains making her smile.

Emma still just shrugs at the question. “You’ve been talking to my mom about me, haven’t you?” she asks, and surprisingly enough he shakes his head. “No?”

Again he shakes his head in reply, but then smirks just so and Emma chuckles. “Dad then?”

“Aye,” Killian says.

“When?”

“Ah, here and there…” he tells her, and she knows she isn’t getting more from him on that. “Point being, it’s gotten me thinking…about you, us, the babe. I’d like to know you’re well love. Not just…you know, physically well, but…well…”

Emma takes a moment, a rather long one just looking at him. She thinks about the last few days, the last month or so since they’ve known about their baby….she thinks about all the things that are different and all the things that aren’t.

She thinks about Killian.

She thinks about Henry and her parents and her family.

She thinks about her old self —the one pregnant and in jail, and…alone.

Her eyes fall to her lap and she—

“You’ve mentioned not remembering pregnancy being this bad a few times now…I’ve heard you love; I just haven’t been sure what to tell you back…”

Emma tilts her head up toward him. “Did I really say that?” She asks him instead of replying to his first question yet.

She can’t exactly place when she might have said that, but she figures it comes to show her overly tired nauseated self is also a liar on top of everything else.

This pregnancy is in no way worse than hers with Henry was —physically or any other way, really, but there’s no way Killian knows any of this.

He only knows what she says when she’s tired and feeling sulky and just oh so fed up with the nausea.

Emma hasn’t talked to him much about her first pregnancy —at all actually. She just doesn’t like to go there. She feels guilty —guilty because she gave up her son and she isn’t giving up this baby.

She’d rather never have to think about how it was to be pregnant back then but…

“Aye love,” Killian replies then, her thoughts interrupted. “More than a couple of times now…” He says, and Emma purses her lips.

“You know,” she begins, relaxing a little into his embrace. “It’s not true,” she tells him, and Killian looks at her with surprised wide eyes. “It’s…my pregnancy with Henry was…”

“What?” Killian prompts, but his tone is soft and careful.

While anyone else pushing her to talk would put her off, Killian’s soft, innocent questioning does encourage her to share this with him. She swallows at the lump that has formed in her throat and gives a small shrug. “It was rough,” to put it mildly. “It was more than that, actually. It was…well, it was…hell…”

His jaw clenches and his eyes shift from hers for a beat.

Emma gets it, simply imagining any of the painful moments he’s gone through in his life are enough to make her insides hurt. She can imagine is the same way for him and some of the painful parts of her past.

After a moment, she simply shrugs at him —it is what it is, after all.

Killian nods back, slowly. “Do you remember much?”

Emma thinks about it —she wants to emphatically nod right then. Tell him a big fat yes. That of course she remembers. How being pregnant, heartbroken and locked up isn’t exactly something she can just forget so easily.

But…

There is a but. “I remember everything, but…” There isn’t a prompt to continue this time from Killian, but Emma can almost hear it all the same by the way his eyes lock with hers. “It’s a weird thing —I don’t care about it, I’d do it all again,” she tells him honestly. “In a heartbeat I’d go through it all again because in the end…well, in the end it gave me my son, and while I wasn’t there from the start, he’s my kid and I wouldn’t trade that for the world…”

Killian takes in her words, nods slowly at her. He understands.

“This time around is…you know, tough too. The nausea is getting the best of me these days, and that’s what you hear, but it isn’t…it is not particularly bad, I promise you,” as she says this Emma actually goes and tries for a smile in Killian’s direction.

He smiles back at her and reaches up his good hand to cup her face.

“I’m good,” Emma promises. “I swear I am.” She adds, and at this, he nods. “And just as I went and would go again through hell for Henry,” she pauses thinking for a tiny moment before adding, “For you,” she says, and smirks despite the flash of heartache that crosses Killian’s face. It’s the truth though. “I’d go through just about anything —everything for this kid as well. A little bit of nausea and the whole lot of bitching that you hear, is nothing, Killian. I can take it, okay? For the kid, I can take everything this pregnancy brings…”

And suddenly she feels like she might cry so she shifts her eyes away from his.

She’s not usually this clear with words but this particular subject she wants to put out in the open and make sure they stay on the same page.

It doesn’t take away the fact that it takes a lot from her to go to all these emotional places and now all she wants is curl up in a ball and not think about it for the rest of the night…

Probably the rest of the month, honestly.

“Emma,”

She refuses to look up at him at first; she’s still struggling a bit to reel back in her emotions.

“Emma, love,” and of course as he says this he’s also shifting her face up with his hand. His hand on her jaw is soft and tender though, his eyes looking into her with love and affection that make Emma’s heart squeeze inside her chest.

She nods at him to talk then, her eyes meeting his with what she hopes is the same level of affection she sees in his. “You’re amazing love,” he tells her as if that is the simplest, yet most important fact in this world.

It makes her blush a bit, gives her that urge to look down she has to fight something fierce.

He’s smiling at her though, thumb running lovingly over the apple of her cheek as he looks into her eyes as if she’s the whole damn world to him.

“Every day you blow me away, your strength, your love for this baby, for the lad…me…” he says, a silly, sort of coy expressing crossing his face. “You’re my all, Emma Swan, and I just…it is my hope I can help make these few months if only a little bit easier….” he tells her. “Not because I don’t think you can take anything under the sun, but because I don’t want you to have to. I want you to lean on me and I want to be here and share on everything with you, all right?”

A tiny chuckle escapes her, it’s watery, but she still refuses to let those pesky tears fall from her eyes right now.

Instead, she nods at him. “All right,” she agrees simply and he beams —he positively beams at her and before Emma can produce another single thought or word, he’s leaning in to kiss her and the world around her effectively disappears.

His lips are warm, as they always —always— are, and suddenly she’s warm too —not just physically, although her cheeks certainly do feel warm and that pool of warmth in her belly demanding more sure is too, but she mostly feels inwardly warm —her heart. She feels her love for him tenfold when he’s this close —when his lips brush hers and his hand caresses her as if she’s the most delicate being he’s ever touched.

Her love for him is warm and great and…perfect in all their imperfect ways and Emma Swan sure as hell wouldn’t want it any other way.

  — ღ   —

Eventually she sighs —he’s pulled back slightly, not much really, just enough so that their noses are still brushing and his forehead is resting against hers. “We’re getting good at this, aren’t we now?” She hears him say then.

Reluctantly she opens her eyes and looks upward into his. “Huh?”

“Feelings,” he says, his smirk stupidly big and playful.

Emma groans, in absolute jest and slaps his chest.

“Sharing them and all I mean, love…”

She rolls her eyes although she does know and deep down she does agree —time together has definitely given them the ability to just talk about how they are feeling most times. They aren’t pros at it yet —by any means, it still takes much prompting and patience some days, but regardless they are getting there and that’s a good thing.

“Not lying, Swan…”

She looks at him, fights the smile that wants to form, but still nods. “Nah you’re not,” she tells him simply before just melting once more into him. Killian holds her tight to him, he’s fairly certain the worst of her sickness has now truly passed so he feels confident holding her to him is all right once more.

He kisses her hair, strokes her back, her belly for a little while too. He feels her breathing shifting slowly —feels her melting into him slowly more and more, feels her heart beating against him and peace washes over him as it always does during this portion of their nights.

He sighs, giving her temple one strong kiss again and stroking her face slightly with the pads of his fingers.

“Let’s go to bed now, love…”

She hums in response, sleep almost having taken her completely already.

Killian’s up from the floor slowly and carefully helps Emma every step of the way. She’s leaning into him almost completely, giving small steps every time he gives one. Her eyes stay closed, as they always do this time of the night, and slowly but surely, they make it back into their bedroom.

He helps her into her side of the bed, and Emma waits patiently until he climbs next to her and snuggles into his side one more time.

She’s asleep within minutes, Killian can tell but it takes him just a bit longer to do the same. It’s such a huge thing they are doing —growing their family in every sense there is. He’s lucky he thinks, to have Emma and their family and everything that they are building.

One thing he knows, and that’s how he’ll do anything for them —all of them— his family.

“Night love,” he whispers, pressing a feather like kiss to Emma’s cheek. His hand moves then and he sets it flat on her belly, his thumb stroking the bit of skin that’s showing. “Night to you too little love…”

[a-panda-reads-act-omega]

ACT OMEGA PART 26

THE 04/14/17 UPDATE

OH BOY HOW DO I WORK THIS DOODAD AGAIN BOY HOWDY I SURE FORGOT ABOUT TUMBLR FOR THE LONGEST FUCKING TIME

Whatever Alright so, I really don’t care enough to try and remind myself of what was going on during the last update so I’m just gonna get started on this one and hope for the best.

Alright so I kinda remember. Aranea just explained a ton of stuffs.

And Vriska isn’t pleased by it.

VRISKA: W8. VRISKA: So... what are you saying exactly? ARANEA: I thought I was fairly clear, 8ut I understand if this inform8tion is too jarring for you to a8sor8. ARANEA: It means that if nothing is done, everything that we know will cease to 8e. VRISKA: ... Everything. Really. ARANEA: Yes, Vriska. Everything. Every ghost. Every horrorterror. Every dream 8u88le, session, and universe. ARANEA: It will all eventually fall into The Pocket and 8e lost. ARANEA: Of course, this ensures that there is no point in time or space to which Lord English can escape. ARANEA: 8ut then again, the same goes for us.

Oh. Well shit. Apparently I was right.

They better get the fuck to work.

VRISKA: ........ ARANEA: If it is any consol8tion, from the perspective of any universes currently nestled inside of Skaia, this is 8usiness as usual. All universe die, and from the moment of the Vast Croak, they contain every instance of that universe and all of their histories at once. The residents of any given iter8tion have no real way of perceiving anything that occurs in this 8roader scope. They are free to live their mortal lives as they would have otherwise. ARANEA: As they say, ignorance is 8liss--a 8lessing that those of us among the dead cannot afford. 8ut the consequences of what we manage to accomplish will reach 8eyond such individual concerns and matter a gr8 deal to the masses yet to even 8e 8orn.

So, as I said.

They better get the fuck to work.

How do you even stop a black hole though? I mean, there’s like real world theories and shit but fuck real world. I already have sort of a theory. If they use The Tumor. Or, a tumor. I forget if that was a beta kids exclusive though, so really who knows if that’s even possible. But supposedly, the tumor has the capability to destroy the sun, so maybe if they could get some other tumor it could destroy the hole.

Why is everybody bein so J U Dgy. Fuck, just LOOK at Kankri back there. So hateful.

ARANEA: I did everything I could to prevent The Pocket from forming. ARANEA: In fact, I spent considera8le time and effort seeking out the Lost Cheru8 for myself. I planned to attempt reasoning with her, to convince her there must 8e some other way. 8ut she was far too elusive, and no doubt too dedic8ed to her cause to have listened if I HAD found her. ARANEA: So in the end, I failed, just as you did. I’m not too proud to admit that.

Well yeah, there was nothing you could ever do to prevent the worst thing possible from happening, that’s sort of a running theme in homestuck. You just kinda gotta. Find a loophole around the consequences.

Pf i forgot about double eyepatch sollux

Also, Wow Feferi sure is sad

ARADIA: i dont know about calling it a failure ARADIA: its just like you said isnt it? ARADIA: this was always bound to happen ARADIA: as i see it this is simply the story reaching its natural conclusion ARADIA: honestly im kind of excited! ARADIA: i had a hunch that this is how everything would end ARADIA: though the added context definitely makes it a lot more interesting

Goddammit Aradia pls take this seriously

FEFERI: So T)(IS is w)(at the )(orrorterrors meant. 38( FEFERI: T)(ey )(ave been w)(ispering about T)(-E -END for quite a w)(ale now. FEFERI: I t)(oug)(t t)(ey must )(ave been talking about Lord -Englis)( ripping t)(em and t)(eir bubbles apart! FEFERI: But t)(is makes muc)( more sense. FEFERI: It’s so )(ard to )(ear t)(eir sad little glubs now! FEFERI: Soon I t)(ink t)(ey will go quiet for good. 38(((

Oh. Well. I guess that’s bad. Yeah, the horror terrors dying is definitely a bad thing. God every time I take a break from liveblogging I lose so much context.

ARADIA: really? then whatever they have to say right now must be important! FEFERI: RIG)(T?! FEFERI: I am trying to listen carefully, but I must be )(earing t)(em wrong! FEFERI: T)(ere was SOM-ET)(ING about... a door?

Well you have a house. Maybe a door’s gonna pop up soon.

SOLLUX: man i’m glad i’m n0t the 0ne hearing v0ices, for 0nce.

I really just love the sassy stance Meenah’s got over there.

ARANEA: Are you sure that’s what they said? ARANEA: A door? FEFERI: Um well it sure did SOUND like t)(at, but t)(at doesn’t make any sense! Does it? ARANEA: What else did they have to say a8out this door? FEFERI: Glub! Not)(ing I can make out yet, sorry! FEFERI: Just... T)(-E DOOR.

Well. HUHM. I dunno, they’re building this up quite a bunch, so I doubt it’s just gonna pop up and they’re gonna walk through it.

OOH! MAybe they can like, seal the black hole in the house Or something

I don’t know

FEFERI: I can keep listening if it’s important. ARANEA: Yes, please do. It is vitally important. ARANEA: That door is likely our 8est 8et at circumventing our current plight! MEENAH: wait MEENAH: a door MEENAH: they couldnt b talkin about the door that showed up on the weaprawn i mean weapon

I mean that seemed obvious to me

MEENAH: right? ARANEA: Actually, I 8elieve that is exactly what they are talking a8out. MEENAH: how the fuck would a DOOR save our asses exactly ARANEA: It’s not a8out the door. It’s a8out what’s 8EHIND the door. ARANEA: If I am right a8out the nature of the juju, then that door could very well lead to another realm entirely, one completely 8eyond the reach of the ever-expanding Pocket. ARANEA: It is the key to everything--the only logical next step to t8ke! ARANEA: Everything is slotting into pl8ce!

Oh boy. Well this should be interesting. I don’t exactly know how that’s gonna stop the pocket but hey we’ll see.

MEENAH: uh... MEENAH: youre losin me serks ARANEA: THINK, Meenah. The story isn’t over yet! ARANEA: The Lost Cheru8 has done her part. We have done ours in activ8ing the weapon. ARANEA: 8ut what of the warriors? The challengers Lord English trapped inside his juju? Where do they come in? MEENAH: uh?? ARANEA: They are through that door! Them and the higher plane they have 8een trapped within for eons! ARANEA: The warriors could 8e w8ing for us to find and free them so they might do their work in repairing the damage the Lost Cheru8 has done. ARANEA: After residing in what could well 8e a macrocosm of infin8 power, surely they have the means to accomplish anything! ARANEA: What could WE accomplish 8y going there ourselves? MEENAH: uhh??? ARANEA: If nothing else, the juju is the only way we can escape the destruction of reality itself! ARANEA: It is the only path to take that leads somewhere ELSE! MEENAH: arane--

It’s probably true. Probably. I dunno. I mean, I’m really curious to just see what’s behind this door already.

oh fuck

What did le do

MEENAH: what the anglin fuck?! ARANEA: It’s already 8egun. ARANEA: Lord English is as aware as I am of the juju’s potential. 8ut it seems his 8est course of action is to aimlessly attack it. Perhaps a 8yproduct of how unsta8le he has 8ecome.

Daddy Caliborn just needs to take a moment to chill. Enjoy a lil ice cream break maybe.

ARANEA: Instead of fleeing The Pocket, he will stu88ornly try to evade his f8 even while facing certain destruction. And 8arring that, he will do whatever it takes to take doom us all with him. ARANEA: He will not rest until the juju is destroyed. May8e he could even 8e attempting to enter it himself! Either way, we CANNOT allow him to take away our last hope!

So what’s the game plan? How do they plan on getting through there with Lord English goin all fuckin berzerk on this poor house.

 MEENAH: ... MEENAH: yeah MEENAH: sure

Have some faith, Meenah.

O h thats a face.

ARANEA: “Sure”? ARANEA: You sound anything 8ut. ARANEA: Don’t you agree with me?

Call me crazy but I don’t think she does.

MEENAH: i mean yeah i guess MEENAH: all this stuff youve been spouting sounds legit MEENAH: maybe ARANEA: May8e. ARANEA: So, you don’t trust me. Is that it? MEENAH: i dunno! MEENAH: i wanna believe you MEENAH: but somefin just smells fishy MEENAH: mostly cause youre gettin kinda MEENAH: weird

To be fair, she’s always acting weird. I think the most worrying part about her behavior is how excited she is to pull this plan off. I don’t really think she’s gonna try to pull off another suicide plan. Worst case scenario, she tries to steal the glory from Vriska.

ARANEA: Weird? ARANEA: Reality is on the verge of collapse, 8ut I’M 8eing WEIRD? ARANEA: Don’t you realize what’s at st8ke?! MEENAH: Y-EA)( i do MEENAH: im just thinkin maybe we otter clear our heads before we bellyflop into anyfin ok geez MEENAH: wait for angelfish over there to synergize with the horrorglubbers or whatever ARANEA: Do you think we have time for that? At any moment, we could 8e erased forever! ARANEA: Don’t you CARE a8out DYING, Meenah?! MEENAH: i...

Nope. She doesn’t. She’s made this clear in the past (Look who’s been doing their Homestuck rereading. It’s me.)

ARANEA: You used to be so dedic8d to staying alive that you were willing to 8low us all up as a last resort! ARANEA: I know that we are all technically living on 8orrowed time. I am AWARE that every moment we’ve spent with our consciousnesses intact was a gift none of us really deserved. ARANEA: 8ut I’m not DONE YET!! ARANEA: I want to continue to exist! Don’t you?! ARANEA: I’ve 8een here for so long, trying to make the 8est of our situation, reaching new heights in skill and understanding, and yet I still...! MEENAH: 38(

Sorry Aranea, but I’m pretty sure Meenah has stopped giving a shit a while ago. Spending a zillion years alive/dead in the dream bubbles would do that to you.

ARANEA: Don’t you want to MATTER, Meenah? Don’t you want all of this to have meant something?! ARANEA: The fact that we were here, that we existed! If everything that ever was and ever will 8e is just going to disappear, then none of it will have ever meant ANYTHING! ARANEA: So please, just trust me! ARANEA: What scheme could I possi8ly have up my sleeve that would 8e worse than the alternative? What more could any of us have to lose?! ARANEA: All you have to do is listen

Yeah- Aranea you’re desperate ramblings aren’t helping to make you seem more trustworthy. You kinda need to CHILL a bit.

Oh my god. Sad mopey Meenah might be one of the best things I’ve ever seen? I wanna feel bAD because I SHOULD feel bad but it’s just too fuNny to look at for some reason.

MEENAH: ... fine MEENAH: whats ur big plan

And she gives in. All sad about it too. Good job Aranea, you made someone who don’t give a shit about nothing sad. S m h.

Goddammit Aranea she finally gives you the chance to explain your plan and you instantly go back to appearing more dramatic than you’ve earned the right to be.

ARANEA: We need to find a way past Lord English. While it might 8e within our a8ilities to defeat him as he is now, it feels to me like too much of a gam8le when so much rides on our success. We can simply lure him away with a proper distraction and deal with him l8er.

Well he’s not known for his brains so that should be easier than it sounds.

ARANEA: Really, the most sensi8le course of action is for me to call 8ack the remainder of the army. ARANEA: Perhaps it would even 8e 8est if I took control of the entire oper8tion? Surely you agree we don’t have time for any more petty squa88les. So long as I have control of the majority of our attack force, it would simply 8e more efficient for me to 8e calling the shots. Time is of the essence, after all.

Fuck yoooouuuu.  But Yeah.  It probably would be smart if You did that. Ahem.

WElp thats the end of this fucking liveblog what a goddamn miracle its finALLY RELEASED NOW PRAISE ME LIKE THE MESSIAH WHOSE RETURN HAD BEEN FORETOLD IN LEGENDS DATING BACK TO BEFORE MAN

bye

[terresdebrumestories]

Chapter 12/24: Out

✗ TECHNICAL DETAILS

FANDOM: Marvel’s MCU SERIES: SEADLA Verse, version 2.0 RATING: Mature WORDCOUNT: 4 626 PAIRING(S): - CHARACTER(S): Tony Stark, Nick Fury, Clint Barton. GENRE: Jail time sucks. TRIGGER WARNING(S): This chapter contains brief and non graphic suicidal thoughts (it’s really small, but it’s there) as well as iffy matters of consent regarding telepathy that aren’t really discussed. (Check the AO3 listing for a glimpse of what’s to come). SUMMARY: In which there is a rescue team.

DEDICATION(S): As always, to the first version’s readers, to the people who leave comments on the fic three years after its last update, and to 2012!me, who needed to write this fic a lot.

SEADLA ON TUMBLR: [Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] [Chapter 4] [Chapter 5] [Chapter 6] [Chapter 7] [Chapter 8] [Chapter 9] [Chapter 10] [Chapter 11]

Tony stares into the abrupt darkness with his heart hammering against his ribs until a green and gold flame, no bigger than a thumb, whispers to life. The light flickers over Loki’s face, makes his features handsome, childish and fearsome in turn, a thousand faces birthed and killed by a thousand tricks of lights.

It makes Tony’s head swim.

Loki, apparently unbothered, sends the flame hovering a little above his head and lights another one, then another and another, until several dozens of small fires float in the air around them, casting their light over Loki and deepening the pitch blackness around him.

“You look like the Boogeyman,” Tony blurts out through the wild rhythm of his breathing, twisting his fingers into his sheets, just to make sure the bed is still there.

The whole scene looks and feels a little like the Big Bang did, except there’s neither scientific wonder nor any sense of emotional closeness to keep Tony calm, and sweat starts prickling at his brow long before Loki shrugs and deadpans:

“Well I did do a bit of interim for him.”

Tony gapes, unable to tell whether this is supposed to be a joke or not, until his eyes catch on to a slightly-less-dark rectangle in the blackness behind Loki. He twists around a little, careful to keep his movements limited to the approximate area of the bed, until he catches sight of something moving in the rectangle, like black heavy fog trying to hide paler silhouettes. Tony thinks they look like trees, but they’re too pale to be real.

“Where are we?” He asks at last, struggling to tear his attention off the door and onto Loki.

“I suppose you could say we’re technically both in you cell. This is your mind. Well, a possible manifestation of it, at least.”

“A physical manifestation of—wait, I’m dreaming?”

“In technical terms,” Loki corrects with impossibly precise enunciation, “you are being Visited.”

“Oh right,” Tony retorts, switching from surprise to sarcasm almost before he has time to decide on it, “and you couldn’t ‘visit me’ before because…?”

“You didn’t pick up the knife.”

Tony’s face flushes red in less time than it takes to blink. What does the fucking knife even have to do with anything? And what the fuck does Loki mean, Tony didn’t pick it up? He spent literal days cutting into his arm with that stupid fucking thing, and Loki has the gall to blame him for not picking it up?

Worse, still! The bastard looks sad! Hurt, even! Like he’s the one who suffered instead of Tony! Oh, what a fucking joke, what a bastard—a week! A full week, at least, in custody, all but tortured into drinking, not knowing when he’d come out and that’s what—oh, what a fucking moron Tony was.

“Oh, forgive me your highness,” he hisses, trying not to choke on his fury, “I guess I’m not smart enough for princely mind games, after all!”

“That’s not what I said,” Loki replies in a neutral tone, one eyebrow raising with so much elegance Tony wants to punch it open, “I’m simply saying—”

“You’re saying bull, is what you’re doing. I picked your damn knife up! For nothing! I’ve been calling you for help—”

“I’m actually fairly certain you were punishing yourself,” Loki replies, drawing his head back like an offended bird.”

“You told me there was a spell in it—that you’d know if I tried to use it on myself—why d’you think I went back to cutting? The aesthetics?”

“Contrary to what you seem to believe, I didn’t actually get inside your head about a minute ago. I knew you were cutting, not why.”

“Oh, right, because that makes everything so much better!”

Tony is all but kneeling on the bed by now, body tense and boiling with the urge to start throwing punches. He’s not even picky about where: face, chest, legs, anywhere it’ll take so long as it gets Loki begging for forgiveness and the ugly mess of Tony’s memories out of his brain forever.

Loki doesn’t seem to care, if he even notices at all.

“It doesn’t,” he says with a slight shrug, “you had to call for me. I planted the knife as because I knew you were too stubborn to—”

“What? Too stubborn to die like you planned?”

Technically, there’s no wall to stop him here, no ground to slam into, which is probably the only reason why flying off and landing in an undignified heap doesn’t physically hurt. The gesture still reels him though, pulls his thoughts into a sharp sideway twist.

Fuck, he wishes it’d hurt though. Wishes it’d bleed like a proper wound so he could just stitch it up and be done with it instead of having to watch himself fester down into nothing. It’d be a bitch to go through but it’d be clean. Straightforward.

Simple.

God, he misses simple.

But it doesn’t hurt.

Loki’s face though, that gets something out of Tony, because he looks hurt. He looks like he’s hurt and betrayed, like Tony should commiserate with the poor widdle god of trickery and lies regret at sending a so-called friend flying. Like Tony should be craddling his cheek and say ‘it’s alright, you’re not really an asshole for trying to throw me into concrete, or whatever you thought would stop me mid-flight’.

Fuck that game. Tony’s most definitely not playing it.

“If I’d meant for you to die,” Loki hisses after a long, shivering pause, “All I had to do was leave you here. I could have killed you a dozen times as Lorna. Better still, I could have ignored your letter and let you do the bloody job for me, you pathetic coward!”

The lights around them burn brighter with each word, swelling with Loki’s venom and turning his hair from black to a bright copper, draws lines of runes onto his face. Tony watches the change proceed with sick fascination, blood humming in his veins as Loki’s ordinary black leather shifts into thick winter gear, his chin colors with a thick copper beard where the runes come and go like words on the wind.

It fills something primal in Tony, like he’s witnessing something he shouldn’t have access to, and there’s the beginning of a punch building up in his fist when Loki strides up to him, seizes him by the collar and hisses into his face:

“You’re a lucky coward, though, I do not intend to let you die. Be ready for an escape tomorrow. You will know when the time comes.”

Tony does punch then, as hard and fast as he can manage, satisfaction blooming into his chest when he hears Loki’s nose crack and spots blood dripping onto the elegant mustache. Fuck him. Fuck him and his mysticism, his arrogance, his every fucking thing! If he wants to think he’s above everyone, fine! But if he thinks Tony’s gonna lie down and take it in silence, he’s got another fucking thing coming.

His thing with Lorna might have worked wonder, but Tony is sure as hell not about to take another one of his lies, fuck him very much.

“Lorna was a lie, that much is true,” Loki says while he dabs elegant fingers under his nose, “but it wasn’t mine.”

He’s out of the door before Tony can try to punch him again.

{ooo}

Tony wakes up to a major kink in his neck and the taste of a hangover gone stale on his tongue. He lies on the bed like a a stringless puppet, crusty-eyed and sweaty, desperatly trying to ignore the headache forming behind his eyeballs. At the edge of his memory, shouting and pain mix with green flames in the dark, and it’s all he can do to push them back in favor of Loki’s words.

Be ready for an escape tomorrow. You’ll know the moment when it comes.

Of course he had to be a fucking cryptic with that, too. What an asshole.

Tony still hopes, though. He thinks about the not-quite-dream all day long as he lies down, unable not to wish Loki said the truth. Unable not to feel like time has turned into especially thick syrup as he keeps his hands under the pillow, clutching Loki’s open knife just in case.

Somewhere around what’s probably the beginning of the afternoon, Clint comes back with more food. He doesn’t make a show of roughing tony up this time, which is definitely progress, but he does mouth ‘be ready’ when he leaves the tray. If nothing else, it probably means Clint is on Tonys side.

In times like these, it’s a thought worth clinging to.

{ooo}

As far as Tony can tell, it’s about four when the guards start screaming. Muffled shouts and the slap of flesh on flesh fill the air for a hot second, and then there’s a pregnant silence and the hiss of Tony’s cell door sliding open. Tony, who at this point is little more than a random collection of ill-kept hair and bloodshot eyes in hospital pajamas, watches a skinny silhouette in red and blue spandex stride into the room with confident step, pause into a full-bodied show of surprise, and exclaims:

“Dude, you look like crap!”

The boy sounds something like seventeen, maybe eighteen. Barely college age, at any rate. It doesn’t stop Tony from saying he’s been worse.

It’s both true and false. Afghanistan hurt more, physically speaking. He doesn’t remember feeling that empty while he was there, though, too busy trying to figure out how to get Yinsen and himself out to feel sorry about his life.

He wouldn’t go back there just to stop being depressed though, thank you very much.

“How did you know where to find me?” He asks, following the kid out into empty corridors with Loki’s swiss knife in hand, “Clint managed to get blueprint out?”

“Yeah, and then a little spider talked to me in a dream.”

A pause, and then:

“I mean, it was really more like the biggest tarantula the world has ever seen, but it’s not as funny an image.”

Tony’s too busy trying to walk in a straight line to care much, either way, but whatever rocks the kid’s world, really. How or why on Earth Anansi got involved, he has no idea. Same goes for Spiderman, actually, but neither of these questions feel pressing enough to distract him from the very real, very urgent need to get away from this place.

So he runs.

They reach a doorway that probably leads outside about fifteen minutes into Tony’s escape, four S.H.I.E.L.D agents standing in their way with old Nazi weapons at the ready, and Tony’s heart sinks.

No way he’ll get past them.

“Okay,” Spiderman says, twisting his head until the bones in his neck crack, “no offense but I think we’ll be better off if I handle that one on my own. You’re in no shape to fight, pop.”

Tony would quip back and say the kid is being a little generous about his suit-less abilities, but he doesn’t have the time. He’s barely started opening his mouth, and one guard is down already, dragged to the ground with a clever use of silky—and sticky—rope. Spiderman runs toward the next one, yells ‘crotch!’ and hit the man with exactly that part of his anatomy, catching one of the two women in the jaw with his foot as he twists the male guard around.

The second woman manages to get a grip on him and twist his arm behind his back, but before Tony gets to helping him, he’s jumped and twisted in such a way that he broke the woman’s nose with his knee and wriggled free of her headlock.

“Phew,” he says, voice rough from the chokehold, “thank heaven for super flexibility, right?”

Tony doesn’t have time to answer before someone grabs his arm and forces him to start running. He barely realizes it’s Clint in time to avoid punching at him—and then it stops to matter, because he’s finally outside.

He was never a very outdoorsy person before but hell, he’s ready to get into full time camping right now, relishing the wind on his face more than he could have thought possible, so happy to be let out of that damned cave of a jail cell that he barely manages to hold himself upright.

“Stark!” Clint yells in his ear with the tone of someone who’s been trying to get his attention for a bit, “they’re trying to torture Banner into hulking, we gotta move out fast!”

“He’s not gonna do it!” Tony protests even as he picks up his pace to keep up with Clint, “Bruce—”

“I’m not wondering if he wants to hold it in,” Clint replies, guiding Tony away from where a gaggle of agents are fighting a man on a horse car, “I’m wondering if he’ll be able to! He’s never had to resist torture before, we don’t know how it’ll affect him!”

Tony, still half-drunk from sudden freedom, wishes he could protest. Bruce saved his life multiple times already—sometimes as Hulk, even!—but Clint as a point. This is brand new territory, and they’re probably better off getting to safety before they start pondering the nature of Bruce’s doppelganger and how it’s gonna react to pain.

Around them, the air screams with explosions and too many voices, multiple fights breaking on the ground and across the sky as Tony lets Clint and Spiderman drag him out into what may or may not be the desert of New Mexico. He thinks he makes out a voice that sounds like thunder in the chaos but, really, there’s no way to be entirely sure.

“We gotta come back for Bruce,” he manages between two steps, dodging Clint’s elbow when he shoots at an agent.

“We gotta get you to safety,” Clint says, eyes roaming the landscape around them for something, “if Banner’s smart he’ll let the other guy come out and get him out of Fury’s hands.”

“But he’s—”

“I don’t see out back up!” Spiderman yells, “Where’s she?”

“Hell if I know! You seen a cat recently?”

Tony stumbles on the uneven ground, legs of cotton and shot vision combining to mess up with his balance, but he’s still got enough brain to despair at Clint’s words. A cat? they’re hanging their survival on a damn cat? God, they’re so lost—he’s just gonna die here and get this kid who asked for nothing down with him and then—

“Oh fuck!”

Tony twists on himself to follow Clint’s line of sight, trusting the guy to take them through a manageable path...and immediately regrets his decision.

Behind them, mounted onto some kind of vaguely horse-like mechanical monstrosity, the scarred man who visited Tony is flinging people out of his way like they’re annoying flies and not full grown adults. He’s yelling something Tony doesn’t understand but, more importantly, he’s catching up to them. Fast.

“Damn it all!” Clint shouts, “Bastet! Where the fuck are you!”

There’s a flash of grayish-pink flesh by Tony’s feet, a shape running toward the artificial horse as the scarred man prepares to shoot, and then he’s flung to the ground under the weight of a hairless lion with a snarl of hatred that shakes the air around Tony.

“The portal’s behind the rock,” the lion—lioness, judging by the voice—yells over the scarred man’s struggling body, “go!”

Tony is scrambling to turn around before Spiderman even manages to grab him—there’s a sharp pain in his guts as he runs, the exhaustion finally settling in, but he doesn’t let it stop him and keep going, passing a giant boulder at breakneck speed.

He doesn’t notice the hole until he’s already falling.

{ooo}

“Finally,” a deep, cheerful voice exclaims when Tony climbs back to consciousness, “I was beginning to think you’d never wake up!”

Trying to ignore the voice, Tony keeps his eyes closed and tries to list his injuries—there should be some, considering the day he’s had...whenever he got knocked out.

He doesn’t find anything.

Nothing hurts.

There’s no fire in his veins, no throbbing in his head, no itching and pulling around the reactor, no dull ache where he thought he’d pulled a muscle running, nothing at all.

He’s not sure what it says about him that the absence of pain is what makes him open his eyes and panic.

“Alright, alright, try to calm down,” the voice says when Tony bolts upright, “it took a while to patch you up, and probably even longer to negotiate your return with Hades, let’s not go and ruin all that good work.”

Tony turns, and stares at the woman he finds there. She’s about as tall as Thor, though her shoulders and hips are slightly narrower. Long, bleached-blond hair tumbles into a thick braid over her right shoulder, and when she walks closer to examine Tony it’s easy to spot the freckles on her golden cheeks.

“What the hell?” Tony exclaims when she inspects his wrists and there’s no trace of scarring there, “Where the fuck am I?”

“The exact answer is a little complicated,” the woman says with an apologetic smile, “so for the sake of simplicity we’ll just say it’s my infirmary, for now.”

“Right. And how long have I been in ‘your infirmary’?” Tony asks with his heart in his throat.

“A little under three days. You were awake for some of it, actually, but you kept trying to tear your glowing gadget out and re-open your wrists, so I sedated you. You should be able to get out tomorrow, depending on your state of mind...i the meantime, you can visit Anansi in the next room but going further would be a bad idea.”

Tony blinks, and takes his first proper look around the room.

White stone walls, too smooth to be natural but not enough to be a modern building, curve in as if to cover whatever is inside them. Blue light, rippling over the room like it had to get through water, mixing with the light of several candles to paint the atmosphere a golden kind of turquoise. It’s unusual and somewhere halfway between magical and spooky, but it’s also oddly soothing.

Secure, more than stifling. It’s a nice change of pace.

As for the furnitures, aside from the way they curve in to accommodate the walls, they look fairly infirmary-like. A spartan bedside table for each of the three narrow cots, a roll up tray with instruments waiting to be used, and a basket filled with whatever it is an infirmary needs to throw away. To the left, a closed door. To the right, a door left ajar, the low hum of conversation filtering through it—probably Anansi’s room, then. Tony should probably go and visit.

He doesn’t have it in him to do it, though.

He didn’t expect to wake up. didn’t even really want to, either. What does he have to come back to, these days? An empty house without Jarvis? A bunch of broken dreams? More problems than he can even begin to count? And that’s taking Loki out of the equation. Loki who, unless he’s even more of a jerk than he already showed, might come walking though that door at any moment.

Wonderful.

Honestly, tony wishes he could stop thinking about him. He’s going to have to, at some point, whether he likes it or not. Might even be a good idea to do so, in the long run. Right now though, nothing in his body hurts—not even the reactor—and his mind is just numb enough to keep him from a fall in complete despair.

It’s not ideal, but compared to the past few days it’s progress, and Tony is not going to ruin it with undue concern, thank you very much.

“Aren’t you going to ask me about Anansi’s health?”

It take tremendous effort to look at the woman again. Here eyes, almond shaped with a distinct fold at the corners, are so dark they’re almost black, but they’re warm too, and comforting. Well, there’s also a hint of reproach in there, but Tony doesn’t really have the energy to care about that.

“I assume he’ll be alright. He’s a God.”

“That doesn’t mean you can’t try and be a proper friend to him. Or, you know, a polite person.”

Tony tries to snort, but it comes our more like a huff of breath. Either way, it’s not the answer the woman was angling fro, because she crosses her arms over her chest with a more obviously disapproving stare. She’s wearing an apron over a purple wool tunic, more prepared for viking ships than the imperial court of China, but what does Tony know about mythology, after all? Just ‘cause nobody talks about godly emigration doesn’t mean it didn’t happen.

“Just because you’re out of it doesn’t mean you get to be an ass, Tony Stark.”

“And just ‘cause you know my name doesn’t mean you get to use it like you’re my mom,” Tony replies without much heat, “I don’t even know who you are.”

“Only because you didn’t ask.”

The woman’s voice deepens with every sentence, like her annoyance at Tony can be measured in how many octaves she can drop. She still reaches for a bowl and holds it out to Tony, with a firm ‘eat something’ when he takes it in hand.

It’s something like gruel, bland-looking on the whole, though when Tony tries it he finds nuts, honey and dried fruits as well. He doesn’t have the capacity to enjoy it in full, that’s true, but at least it tastes of something.

There are worse thing to unenthusiastically munch on.

“My name’s Sigyn, by the way.”

The name sounds vaguely familiar, but Tony doesn’t quite get why until Sigyn adds:

“You might know me as Loki’s wife.”

[yeolsmuffin]

REWRITING THE PAST 👏HAS 👏 ME 👏 SHOOK 👏👏 IT'S SO GOOD I'M !! It was written so well, it has made me cry and be overly emotional but that's good !! You're honest to God, one of the best authors I've come across on tumblr, and I can't wait to read more of your writings 💞💞 A N D I love Married To A Monster sO MUCH 💞 AL S O PL E A SE WRITE A PREQUEL SERIES !!! I NEED IT OML !!

Oh my gosh you’re too sweet. You leave me the sweetest messages I swear. I can’t take it, my heart is overloading. How are you so wonderful? 💖💖💖 The prequel will be on its way. I’m going to try to really make it perfect so I can live up to your expectations, of course! 😊😊😊 You made my rough night so much better. YOU ARE THE BEST.