#Three Ways to Avoid Angering the Goats

[thatsbelievable]

[engie-ivy]

(I feel like I haven't posted in too long, but here's my signature dish: Wolfstar accidental public love confession with Super Oblivious Remus)

“That has got to be the most embarrassing thing to have ever happened in Potions class.”

“Well, I don’t know,” Remus says, sitting down on the bed across from Sirius cross-legged. “You weren’t there when this one guy asked why his potion didn’t work, and then his fifty-year-old professor had to explain to him in front of the whole class that the guy he has a crush on actually fancies him.”

Things You Can Learn In Potions Class

“Black!” Wilkes grabs Sirius by the collar of his robes and shoves him against the wall.

“Why, hello Wilkes,” Sirius says calmly. “To what do I owe this... enthusiastic greeting?”

“You listen to me-!”

“You’ve surely gotten my attention.”

“I’m warning you, Black,” Wilkes spits. “You stay away from my girlfriend!”

“Gladly,” Sirius replies instantly. “Now if you could please have this conversation with your girlfriend as well? Though I might suggest you do it without the ‘shoving against the wall’-part.”

Heloise Lestrange. Wilkes’ girlfriend. Her parents are family friends of the Blacks, and they stayed at the Black manor for a week during the summer. There, Heloise had let her eye fall on the handsome, rebellious, oldest son of the Blacks.

Remus couldn’t really blame her, especially with her boyfriend having both the looks and personality of a goat. Well, maybe that’s a little uncalled for. Some goats are actually cute.

Back at Hogwarts, Heloise didn’t let her boyfriend being around stop her from making eyes at Sirius, causing rumours to fly about what had happened between the two during the summer. Though according to Sirius, that was mostly him hiding in his room in his attempt to avoid her.

“I swear, Black,” Wilkes hisses. “If you dare hook up with her...”

“I’m no expert in relationships, Wilkes,” Sirius says dryly. “But you might have some bigger problems if you assume your girlfriend will cheat every time someone more attractive than you comes along. Because, let’s face it, that’s a substantially large group.”

“You little...” Wilkes brings his fist back.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” James says calmly, stepping up beside Sirius with his wand drawn.

“Come to defend your boyfriend?” Wilkes sneers.

“Aw,” Sirius says. “Your girlfriend, James, you must think everybody wants me! Honestly, I’m flattered. Do you perhaps have a little crush on me?”

“In your dreams!” Wilkes’ face flushes red in anger.

“Oh, are you blushing?” Sirius coos.

Wilkes opens his mouth, but at that moment professor Slughorn opens the door to the Potions classroom, calling for the Gryffindors and Slytherins to enter.

Avery grabs Wilkes’ arm and drags him inside, probably knowing Wilkes is only going to embarrass himself further.

Sirius pushes himself away from the wall and straightens his robes. “What a tosser.”

“Did really nothing happen between you and his girlfriend?” Peter asks again. “I mean, she’s rather pretty, and if she’s in your house throwing herself at you... Plus, pissing Wilkes off seems like an added bonus.”

“Pete, she’s a Slytherin!” Sirius exclaims. “The pureblood, Sacred Twenty-Eight, blood supremacy kind!” Sirius shudders. “Honestly, I’d rather compete with Evans for the giant squid’s affections.”

“Oi!” James scoffs.

“Come on, Prongs,” Remus says, slapping him on the shoulder. “If Sirius snatches up the giant squid, your chances might increase!”

“Remus John Lupin!” Lily, passing by on her way to the classroom, pauses and places her hands on her hips, giving Remus a mock-glare. “Are you seriously implying that the giant squid would chose this plonker-” She gives Sirius a playful nudge “-over me?”

“Oh, bring it on, Evans!” Sirius grins, walking after her into the classroom.

Remus pairs up with Sirius for Potions. They always do, mostly because after three exploded kettles, Sirius is the only one still willing to pair up with Remus. At first, Sirius tried to teach Remus, but after fishing green slime out of his hair for over a week, he decided it was better for Remus to just watch.

Now, Remus might not be very proficient at potion brewing, but sitting and staring at Sirius, the focused look on his face, the way he bites his lip in concentration, how his eyes light up when the potion changes colour at exactly the right moment... Well, that Remus can do.

“...Moony? Moony? Moony!”

Remus gives a start, realizing Sirius has asked him a question. “Sorry, what was that?”

Sirius chuckles. “I asked what do you smell?”

Remus inhales deeply, but even with his enhanced sense of smell, Remus doesn’t pick up anything from the clear, colourless liquid. “Ehm, nothing?”

“Excellent!” Sirius grins.

“Alright everybody!” Professor Slughorn claps his hands. “Let’s see... Rosier, can you tell me what potion you have just brewed?”

“I guess... Veritaserum?”

“Indeed! The truth potion. Ten points to Slytherin!”

“Figures,” Sirius grumbles under his breath. “Giving the easy question to a Slytherin, so he can give his own house easy points.”

“If you’ve gone through the steps correctly,” professor Slughorn continues. “You will have obtained a potion that is without colour, without smell, and without taste. Thereby, ideal to slip to someone unnoticed. It is important that you learn what it feels like to be under the influence of the truth potion, to experience it pulling your mind, bending your intentions, and twisting your tongue, so that you can recognize these symptoms.”

Nervous whispers echo around the room. Brewing potions they do often enough, trying them out is another thing. “When I call your name,” Professor Slughorn says, drawing the class’ attention back. “You’ll fill a flask with your potion, walk forward to come stand in front of the class and take one sip. I will then ask you one question, a simple question, just your name, nothing more. You will try as hard as you can to lie. That way, we can immediately see whether your potion was brewed correctly. Please, do not pretend your potion works if it doesn’t. This isn’t for a grade, so it is in your own best interest to be honest, so that we can decipher where the mistake lies, and you have a chance to improve.”

“And one more thing,” professor Slughorn adds after letting his words sink in. “Someone in front on the class under the influence of Veritaserum is placing themselves in a very vulnerable position. Therefore, only I will ask a question, just one question, and I want nobody else to ask anything, or even dare speak. If you try to take advantage of your classmate who has taken Veritaserum, I will deduct one hundred-” Shocked sounds are heard throughout the classroom- “Yes, one hundred points from your respective house,” Professor Slughorn finishes, looking around the room sternly.

They watch James grimace and make a face like he’s having a stroke, before sighing in defeat and replying “James Potter.” Peter immediately squeaks “Peter Pettigrew.” “Marlene McKinnon,” Marlene replies directly, before her eyes widen in surprise. After a lot of stuttering and stammering, Frank manages to say in a shaking voice that his name is Hank. After some back and forth, professor Slughorn determines that he used only two Jobberknoll feathers instead of three, which makes lying difficult, but not impossible. Frank’s shoulders sag, but he visibly brightens once professor Slughorn tells him that he must have a very strong mind to be able to lie even with only two Jobberknoll feathers. “Fabian Prewett,” whom professor Slughorn had thought was Gideon Prewett replies, and professor Slughorn scolds the twins for having switched places again.

Eventually, Sirius fills his flask and walks to the front. Remus isn’t worried in the slightest that the potion is anything less than perfect. Everything Sirius does is perfect.

Sirius takes his sip, and professor Slughorn opens his mouth to speak, but then Wilkes shouts from his bench “Do you want to hook up with my girlfriend?!”

Professor Slughorn tries to intervene, but Sirius, caught off guard and under the influence of the truth potion, immediately replies. “Absolutely not. I’m in love with Remus.”

A stunned silence falls over the room, as Sirius stands in front of the class, looking shocked, his face gone pale.

Then Wilkes snorts loudly. “Merlin’s beard, I really was worried over nothing!” He says mockingly. “I can’t believe you’re a bloody-”

“Mr Wilkes!” Professor Slughorn interjects sharply. “You have already cost your house one hundred points, and you better believe that me being Head of House for Slytherin won’t stop me from making it two hundred if you so much as dare to open your mouth again.”

Wilkes notices even his own housemates glaring at him furiously, and he snaps his mouth shut.

The sound of a door slamming shut alerts the class to the fact that Sirius has stormed out of the room. Everywhere, groups of people start talking to each other in hushed tones.

“Silence!” Professor Slughorn demands. “We will continue with class. So, who’s next...”

“Professor!” Remus raises his hand.

“...Yes?” Professor Slughorn eyes Remus warily.

“You haven’t told us what we did wrong,” Remus says.

“Wrong?”

“Well, yeah,” Remus glances around the room, seeing his schoolmates blink at him. “Clearly, we made some mistake with our potion. Instead of truth serum, we must’ve accidentally made some sort of love potion or something.”

The whole class stares at Remus in disbelief.

“I can assure you,” Professor Slughorn says. “That it is absolutely impossible to accidentally brew a love potion using the ingredients for Veritaserum.”

Remus frowns. “Well, there has to be some sort of explanation! What else could’ve made Sirius have such a reaction?”

Remus can hear James softly groan beside him.

Professor Slughorn wrings his hands uncomfortably, looking like he wants to be anywhere but here having this conversation. “Mr Lupin,” he says slowly. “The most logical explanation for the potion causing this reaction, is Mr Black being, in fact, in love with you.”

Remus stares at his teacher. “He’s not.”

“Yes, he is!” James and Peter say, Lily, Marlene, Dorcas and Mary say, Fabian and Gideon say, Avery, Rosier and Mulciber say, the Bloody Baron says, the portraits on the wall say.

Remus looks around the room, processing, and then raises his hand again. “Professor!”

“Yes, Mr Lupin?” Professor Slughorn asks reluctantly.

“May I be excused?”

“Oh, thank Salazar.” Professor Slughorn releases a breath. “I was almost considering deducting points of you hadn’t asked permission to leave. Yes, please, go!”

Remus hurriedly leaves the room and rushes up the stairs out of the dungeon.

Sirius, sitting on his bed with his knees tucked against his chest, looks up as Remus enters the room. He sighs. “That has got to be the most embarrassing thing to have ever happened in Potions class.”

“Well, I don’t know,” Remus says, sitting down on the bed across from him cross-legged. “You weren’t there when this one guy asked why his potion didn’t work, and then his fifty-year-old professor had to explain to him in front of the whole class that the guy he has a crush on actually fancies him.”

Sirius blinks. And then bursts out laughing. “Godric, Moony! I literally stood in front of the class, took Veritaserum, and said ‘I am in love with Remus Lupin’, and your reaction was ‘Hmmm, what could this possibly mean?’”

Remus hides his face in his hands. “I’m never going to live down this embarrassment!”

He feels Sirius shift on the bed, and when he peaks through his fingers, Sirius is sitting right in front of him, leaning in with a suggestive smile. “Maybe I can help take your mind off of it?”

As it turns out, Sirius is very good at that.

With Sirius straddling him, pinning him to the bed and snogging him senseless, professor Slughorn is definitely the last thing on Remus’ mind.

[caddeter]

A few months, I made a post talking about how the ‘planned from the beginning’ excuse the RWBY FNDM loves to use makes no sense.  I got into a very brief argument with @crimsonxe before deleting the post and apologizing for writing it out of anger.

I am now taking that apology back, because the RWBY FNDM has repeatedly proven it deserves no form of respect no matter how small or basic.

I was hoping to rewrite the post using the other user’s replies, but unfortunately I couldn’t find them in my email trash bin.  So I’m going to be rewriting it based on memory.

One of the points I made was that, in Volume 3, there was a short scene where Penny expressed a desire to stay at Beacon, specifically saying that she ‘had an idea.’ The person who responded to me said that this idea didn’t ‘go nowhere’ because Penny dies at the end of the Volume

...  Bitch, that’s why it goes nowhere.

It’s like saying the ending of Jurassic World: Fallen Kingdom where dinosaurs are now loose on the mainland wasn’t completely ignored by the next film because Dominion was all about an evil corporation trying to kill competitor crops with a swarm of prehistoric locus.  It doesn’t change the fact that Fallen Kingdom’s ending was very clearly setting up a different story.

Or that the Pokemon anime didn’t drop the golden Pokeball plotline because it was delivered to Professor Oak and we never learn what it was about.

They also said that all that really mattered to Silver Eyes was that the Grimm are afraid of them, and it’s perfectly okay that CRWBY didn’t figure out why until Volume 3

That’s like saying it would have been perfectly fine if Avatar The Last Airbender took three seasons to figure out what an Avatar is.

Ruby’s Silver Eyes are strongly implied to be the reason Ozpin let her into Beacon.  If I’m expected to believe they’re important, why the fuck wouldn’t you figure out what they do first thing.

A plothole is when there is a hole in your plot’s internal logic.  How are you supposed to avoid plotholes if not even you know what’s going on?

Another point they made was that the writers figuring out their worldbuilding before they start the story or where they want the plot to go is them ‘doing me a favor’

As I said in the original post:  No, that is the writers doing their JOBS!

Let me put it to you this way:  Imagine you go into a restaurant and order a cheeseburger:

Do you expect that burger to be cooked?

Do you expect it to have a bun?

Do you expect a plate or a tray to carry it with?

Do you expect the restaurant to have tables you can sit at?

Do you expect the floors to be clean with a wet floor sign warning you of when it’s slippery?

Saying that the writers are ‘doing me a favor’ when they figure out where they want their story to go or how their magic systems work or what their world is like is like saying that one manager I had was ‘doing me a favor’ every time he came in half an hour late rather than miss have his shift like that one time.  That’s not doing a favor, that’s doing the least they could.

Doing me a favor is when Ben 10 throws in nods to fan opinions and responses in their show as quick little gags without mocking the people who hold those thoughts.

It’s when William Hartnell, the actor who played the First Doctor, kept track of what every button and switch on the TARDIS console did because he wanted to make sure he never used the wrong one because he feared viewers would notice.

It’s when Arkhane Studios defines the world of Dishonored down to the calendar.

It’s when the Ink Tank makes And Beyond, a series dedicated the the culture and societies of each of Ben’s aliens.

It’s when Linkara, GOAT he is, makes an entire, full length analog-horror movie as an April Fools joke.

Doing the audience a favor is going the extra mile.  It is not figuring out your plot points the moment they become relevant.  If that’s what you define as good writer, than please, do tell me, what’s bad writing?  If your standards are this low, then what would you consider a bad story?

They also claimed that I was wrong to make such criticisms of RWBY because Miles Luna is just a human being

I could make an entire post detailing how ‘people make mistakes’ is a terrible way to counter criticism (and in fact, I did), but instead, I’ll just leave you with a choice quote that describes one of the biggest problems with it:

There are writers and directors out there who put painstaking efforts into their stories to make sure everything is as concise and logical as possible. There are also writers and directors who don't put in those efforts at all. If inconsistencies in plot and character action "don't matter at all", then how can you even appreciate those efforts made by filmmakers who legitimately care? You're not just delegitimizing those who discuss their films. You're delegitimizing the filmmakers themselves. You're saying there's no difference between a lazy script littered with inconsistencies versus a thoroughly researched, laid-out, thoughtful script that made every effort they possibly could to make the story, characters, and universe as consistent and believable as possible. That's just nonsense and it's upsetting that you refuse to see any value whatsoever in filmmakers who put those extra efforts into their work.

Adam from YourMovieSucks.org, a professional movie critic.

They also said that they, as a writer, have reworked entire timelines because they came up with one new character

First of all, what you describing here is the planning process.  It’s revise then release, not the other way around.

Second of all, real nice anecdotal evidence you have there.  Wanna hear some of mine?  I wrote up history and culture for vampires and werewolves, notes detailing my own soft magic system, and worldbuilt an entire underwater society down to the clock for fun.  At that point, it shouldn’t feel like I’m asking the writers to reverse the Earth’s rotation when I expect them to figure out why Ruby’s Silver Eyes are special or how Magic works.

Another one of their ridiculous claims was that foreshadowing could ruin a show’s mysteries

Dumbass, mysteries are where you need foreshadowing the most.  Ask any established mystery writer, they’ll all tell you the same thing:  The best practice is to figure out the ending first and work your way backwards.  It requires thought and care to make sure the ending is satisfying and the journey to it is enjoyable and engaging.

Even if the audience figures out where the story is going, that just means their paying attention and are invested enough to think about the story.  And last I checked, the audience being invested in your story is a good thing.  Take it from me, I have a very strong idea for where Slime Rancher 2′s story is going, and I would be elated when it turns out I’m right.

If the only quality your story has is that it’s ending is ‘a surprising twist,’ then that just shows how shallow the rest of the story is.

Edit:  Linkara has a quote that perfectly explains why this idea is stupid:  “Of course we can’t [solve the mysteries].  It’s not really a mystery.  It’s you guys making up random contrivances to resolve each new cliffhanger.”

The last thing they user did was perpetuate the conspiracy theory that the RWDE tag was created to somehow destroy RWBY and Rooster Teeth while also saying the show doesn’t need defending from us as they defended it.

Ah, yes, because criticizing something is such a threat to it and the people who make it.  Just look at what happened with Twilight.  That series became the laughing stock of the internet, and then it...  Kept going.

Or what about Sword Art Online.  Mocking it became ingrained in the anime community, and then it...  Kept going.

Or Sonic The Hedgehog.  That series has a bad game every other release, and then it...  Kept going.  And each time it actually listens to the feedback it gets and tries to fix the problems people had.

Criticism is not a threat to a piece of media or the people who made it.  If anything, we’re doing RT a favor by criticizing RWBY.

But even then, let’s pretend, for just a moment, that there somehow was a conspiracy to destroy RWBY and Rooster Teeth for whatever reason.  Do you know what our EEVIIIILLL plan would be?  It’d be a simple two steps:

Step 1: Sit back

Step 2: Watch

Anything we could say or do to Rooster Teeth wouldn’t be nearly as bad as what they do to themselves.  Or do you think all those ex-employees reporting workplace discrimination and crunch culture so terrible it caused PTSD are in on it too?  We aren’t the ones trying to destroy Rooster Teeth.  Rooster Teeth is the one trying to destroy Rooster Teeth.

And even if that wasn’t true, why would an easily blockable tumblr tag be any threat to them?  We say this about a hundred times a day, but the entire point of the tag is for the FNDM to blacklist it so that they don’t see criticism.

And just to articulate how easy it is to blacklist a tag on this website:  I figured out how to do that all on my own and I can’t find my blocklist.  If that’s not good enough for you people, then what do you want us to do, go to an entirely different website?  Yeah, like that would stop you from complaining about us.

Furthermore, out of all the series in all the media in all the world to try and destroy, why do you think we would target a low profile web animation from a company that’s only really popular in machinima?  Don’t you think a more high-profile franchise would get this treatment?  Like Star Wars?

They probably said some more dumbass claims, but these are all I can remember.

[firebolt-bombardment]

I like the concept of nine circles and three types of sin but the way dante went about structuring the circles angers me the more i learn about it, so guess what! We're gonna reorganize hell (and heaven while we're at it)

0th Circle is Limbo, it's the circle beneath the heavens but also above hell, between the two. It holds those unfit for either afterlife, including phantoms stuck there (they flit between limbo and earth until they're freed or their business is finished)

peccata carnis, mentis et mundi

(Hell is circles of punishment going deeper and deeper into the earth, important thing to note is that lower circles are not worse nor are higher circles better. We're all sinners here, its just organized based on your primary sin.)

1-3 sins of the flesh

1st circle is Sloth, the sinners here are punished with backbreaking hard labour

2nd circle is Gluttony, where the gorgers reside in an frozen tundra and are constantly chased by ravenous icy swines

3rd circle is Lust, it's sinners are dragged, dropped, and disemboweled by large birds and goats

4-6 sins of the mind

4th circle is Wrath, a pit of flaming tar where the wrathful are submerged and cursed to forever be itchy but not be able to scratch them

5th circle is Pride, these sinners are subjected to a more psychological punishment, plagued with visions and terrors as they try to complete meaningless errands

6th circle is Envy, the envious have their heads in bags and their hands bound as they stumble around a desert trying to avoid cacti, scorpions, and the like

7-9 sins of the world

7th circle is Greed, they crawl through a pit of needles filled with poisons and viruses

8th circle is Violence, the violent are divided into three more rings,

1. Against Neighbors, they are immersed in a river of boiling blood and shot with arrows if they get too far out

2. Against Self, turned into trees and clawed by harpies

3. Against World, placed in a desert of raining fire and acid

9th circle is Deceit, the traitors, falsifiers, and liars are trapped in a frozen lake (Cocytus) while the politicians and grifters have their heads turned backwards and eyes blinded by their tears. Finally the hypocrites must walk around in cloaks made of lead

virtutes carnis, mentis et mundi

(Heaven is pretty much the same all around, peace and love and whatnot. Same as hell except based on your main virtue.Three types of virtues are same as the three sins [flesh, mind, world])

1-3 Spheres- Zeal, Moderation, Chasity

4-6- Patience, Humility, Kindness

7-9- Generosity, Honesty, Mercy

[thesunicarusfellfor]

WAIT WAIT— what if 👀 what if Yandere!Tubbo and Yandere!Tommy falling for the reader at the same time

BROO— THE ANGST POSSIBILITIES

ooooooOOOOO DAMN this one is gonna be good! I love the way you think! So I wrote this as headcanons, but I will write this as an actual story if requested. ^^

This is not exactly implied romantic??? I'm still scared about writing their characters as directly romantic????? I'll probably get braver about it but still lowkey worried.

Yandere!C!Tommy x GN!Reader x Yandere!C!Tubbo Headcanon/Fic

Tommy, at first, completely denied even acknowledging your existence.

Until he saw someone interact with you.

Then he would start pulling out his sword or glaring at them from across the room.

He would definitely pin them in an alleyway and threaten every single one of their canon lives.

Tommy, please. Niki was just trying to give you cookies.

He's the kind of Yandere that would greatly keep his distance both physically, emotionally and mentally. Basically, he would be a Tsundere Yandere.

Tubbo, on the other hand, would be extremely sweet to you.

Need netherite? He had an extra few ingots ready in his pockets!

Interacting with someone who wasn't him? Was he not good enough for you??? Fine. You don't deserve him.

He would cry to you and make you feel guilty OR completely ignore you for a week straight until you come crawling back to him and apologizing.

Straight up can flip emotions like a switch.

The first time either of them realized the other liked you as well, was when they were listening to Mellohi on their bench, watching the sunset when they saw you having a conversation with Ranboo at the bottom of the cliff.

"What're they doing talking to him?" Tommy growled lowly and leaned forward to glared at the enderman who was talking to you. He reached for his bow n' arrow before Tubbo grabbed his arm, stopping him in his tracks, "What? I don't want them talking to anyone but me."

"What do you mean 'anyone but you'?! You avoid them like they're a virus!" Tubbo stared at him, digging his fingers into Tommy's bicep a small bit to show his anger a bit more, "They should only be talking to me."

The blond turned towards his brunet friend and yanked his arm out of his grasp, "Excuse me?" He glared into Tubbo's dull blue eyes, gritting his teeth, "You do nothing but give them stuff!"

"And you treat them like shit and avoid them!" The smaller of the two retorted angrily, trying to keep his tone level enough to where you didn't hear.

Mellohi, the music that had been playing mere moments ago, slowly came to a stop and left nothing but silence and tension in the air. You had noticed them arguing from below, but Ranboo (who had heard their entire argument) decided to pull you away from them and bring you to the Tundra.

"Are you trying to take everything from me?!" Tommy tightened his grip on his diamond sword, although part of him knew that if Tubbo equipped his netherite armour, there would be absolutely no competition whatsoever.

"Take things from you?! They're a human being and you choose to ignore that fact when you ignore them or call them terrible names!"

"I treat everyone like that! You already have Ranboo, I don't understand why you're chasing after them with hearts in your eyes when you're fuckin' married! Loyal much! Oh wait, you aren't loyal, you EXILED ME!"

"It's platonic! I told you that already! And you're starting this again now, Tommy?!"

Ranboo actually felt nervous leaving you alone around both Tommy AND/OR Tubbo after hearing their entire argument that day.

Tommy, although now a lot nicer, became extremely clingy towards you and constantly would walk over and drag you away mid-conversation with anyone that wasn't him. ESPECIALLY if you were talking to Tubbo.

Man would bring you everywhere with him if you would let him.

Netherite mining? Get your pick.

To get new discs? Pack your bags, we're going on an adventure.

Straight up does everything he can do to get you away from Tubbo because he's petty.

He tried giving you as many gifts as Tubbo, but mans is broke.

Tubbo would get extremely annoyed by Tommy even just walking through the area when he was with you.

Would start to hold your hand or link arms with you (if you're comfortable), just so Tommy couldn't pull you away as easily.

Started to try guilt-tripping you into living in Snowchester, and even tried to get you to live in the mansion.

Ranboo actually lied to Tubbo, saying he was scared of enderwalking and hurting you, to convince Tubbo not to guilt-trip you further into living in the mansion.

Tubbo's constant gift-giving got so much more extreme.

Want netherite ingots to make armour?

Nope. No lifting a finger.

He already made you fully enchanted netherite god armour anyway.

Has definitely tried to convince Ranboo to let him involve you in the platonic marriage.

"Ranboo! My beloved!" Tubbo called jokingly, walking into their home. He kicked the snow on his boots before pulling down his hood and taking off his hat, hanging it on the hook as he took off his footwear, "I have a proposition for you!"

The monochrome-coloured man lifted his head and set down the journal in his hand, the ink likely still wet judging by the quill in his hand, "Yeah? What's that?" He placed the feathered pen in the pot of ink and turned to face his platonic husband.

"What would you say to extending our marriage to three people? Like a polyamorous relationship. Like Sapnap, Karl and Big Q?" Tubbo sat down in the chair beside him, watching as Ranboo was left reeling for a few seconds.

"W-well, one, I think you mean expanding. Two, with who?!" The tall male sat up quickly, bumping his leg on the table from his minor flailing, "A-and, and, what about Michael? Are you sure they can be trusted with him?"

Tubbo held out his hand to calm his friend down, making his friend put his hands down so he didn't accidentally hit something, "You know what I meant, and (Y/n)! Y'know... Like, the one with (h/l) (h/c) hair, (tall/short)! (Y/n), them!"

"Yeah, yeah, I know who they are, it's just..." He paused to gather his words, glancing away from his friend. In all reality, he wouldn't mind inviting you into the platonic marriage, even if he knew Tubbo felt more romantic feelings towards you. He didn't shut up about it. It was the fact that he was worried about what kind of mental manipulation Tubbo would do to you if you did agree to be in the marriage. Or even what Tommy would do to you or Tubbo!

"...Just?"

'Your relationship with Tommy is beyond screwed already... Imagine what would happen if both of his friends left him to be in a platonic relationship with me. Tubbo, all of us would be in severe danger.' He thought silently before taking a breath. "I-I don't have my enderwalking state under control... I'm already scared for Michael enough, and I don't want to hurt her as well... Give it some time and we'll see. Please.." He whispered, lying through his teeth. Ranboo knew you were damn good at protecting yourself and could knock his long and lanky ass to the dirt within seconds.

Tubbo's bright shiny eyes seemed to glaze over for a moment as his smile began to falter, "Ah... Yeah. I guess that makes sense. For their safety I suppose." His normal look returned and he gave him a smile, "Yeah, that does make a lot of sense. I'll ask again next month to see what happens."

"What... What about Tommy-"

"What about him?" He demanded sharply, his smile vanishing in mere seconds which caught Ranboo off guard yet again, "He doesn't need to be in their life. He would do more harm to them than good!"

Ranboo was left gaping, his mouth moving but not creating any sounds. He watched as Tubbo eyed him carefully before he got up, murmuring something about grabbing food then going to bed.

Once the goat hybrid was completely out of sight, Ranboo reached for his memory book and took the quill again.

'Protect (Y/n) from Tubbo and Tommy. Get them out of DreamSMP.'

Ranboo was scared for you.

He was stuck watching as these crazy two men fought over you, threatened you, manipulated you... It was worrying, to say the least.

Don't get him wrong. If he didn't have an adopted son, a platonic husband that he still cared about despite him being another Dream at this point, and a Syndicate to protect him from, he would've packed everything and ran, bringing you with him.

He was practically walking on eggshells around this man that he had once been extremely close to!

It practically sent shivers down his spine...

Eventually, it got to the point where Ranboo had gone to your house in the ungodly hours of the morning to talk to you.

This man LITERALLY crept into Tubbo's room AND Tommy's house to make sure they were both asleep before going to talk to you.

"Ran... Boo?" You asked, yawning softly as you leaned against the door, your hair all frizzy and messed up, "What's up? It'sssss... Like 5:30am. The sun is barely even up..."

"(Y/n)... Can we go inside? Please... There's something very wrong.." He murmured softly, his memory book tightly held in his grasp as he glanced around. Tommy could be waking up sometime soon, and he did not want to get caught talking to you. He would certainly be down a canon life before he could even say 'sorry'.

You watched the nervous man in front of you and nodded before stepping aside to let him in. Peaking outside, you looked around for what was causing him to panic but went back inside once you didn't see anything. "What's wrong?" Softening your tone, you gestured for him to sit at the table while you made coffee.

Once he had a fresh mug of coffee in front of him, Ranboo slowly began to gather his nerve and speak. He told you everything he could remember, and even opened his memory book to tell you about the things he didn't remember. Everything from the fight where Tommy and Tubbo's friendship completely went downhill a few months ago, to the threats Tubbo used against Tommy, the manipulation against you, the threats he had received by talking to you, and even Tubbo's violent mood switches when talking about you or Tommy.

The entire time, you just sat there wide-eyed as you listened to him ramble on about his fears and worries, and everything in between. He even mentioned wanting to actually divorce Tubbo because of how scared he was for you and his own life. "I don't... Not... Believe you... But this is- this is a little difficult to believe." You knew the enderman hybrid wouldn't lie about something so serious, and he definitely wouldn't be shaking like a leaf if it was a joke or a lie.

"Y-yeah, I expected that... But I really do care about your safety, honestly. You know I wouldn't joke about this kind of thing, especially about Tubbo." He murmured softly, looking at his crown laying on the table in front of him, "In all honesty, I came here this early because I was scared about Tommy trying to kill me if he saw me talking to you..."

"He wouldn't ki-"

The door slammed open dramatically and there was a cheerful shout of your name, "(Y/n)!!! Let's go mining for diamon-" Tommy walked into your kitchen, only to freeze mid-step and midfacial expression. His expression went from surprised to annoyance to a grim smile, "Hello Ranboo!" He gave him a smile that was more like baring his teeth as he twirled his axe nonchalantly.

He was going to hurt him...

[7-wonders]

Honey Honey, Nearly Kills Me (werewolf!Duncan Shepherd)

You understand that Duncan Shepherd is a busy man. You knew that when you first agreed to go on a date with him, and three months into what's now a full-blown relationship, you especially know it now. His busy schedule is not something that you hold against him, considering you're pretty busy yourself. Still, one of the only rules you mutually had was that, when you're spending time together, work and life and everything that kept you away from each other was only supposed to be tended to if absolutely necessary.

That core guideline is the reason that, as you sit across the table from him, you're silently fuming.

This is the third time he's checked his phone in as many minutes, and you're getting pretty sick of it. All night he's been off. His eyes have been constantly shifting around the restaurant, and his body language is extremely tense. He keeps drinking glass after glass of water like he ran to get here instead of driving, and there's a little bit of sweat on his brow that makes you wonder what he was doing before dinner.

As far as you're aware, there's no looming deadline for Congress to push through tonight, and his staff at the Foundation know not to call him on his evenings unless the building is on fire or the FBI is sniffing around (which, apparently, happened to him before). So why the hell does he keep looking at his phone like he has somewhere better to be?

You sigh in annoyance, deciding to test how well he's paying attention by saying something completely out of left field. "So anyways, when the goats came running through our archives, it was quite the shock. Had to make sure they didn't eat the papers, and all."

Duncan hums.

"You're not listening at all, are you?"

He finally looks at you, and you can almost feel your anger seeping away when he shoots you a sheepish smile. "I'm sorry. I'm being a really terrible person right now."

You fight the urge to say that it's okay, because you've been working on trying to be more assertive. "Is something on your mind?"

"It's just...getting late, is all."

Now you check your own phone. "Dunc, it's six o'clock."

"Yes, and I have stuff I need to do. You don't know everything about my life, Y/N," he snaps.

You recoil as if he physically slapped you with his words. You've never seen his emotions change so fast, and he's never spoken to you in such a tone before. Looking away from him as you feel the heat of anger rising to your face, you motion to the waiter that's been serving you. "Can we get the check, please?"

"Absolutely. Will this be on one tab this evening?"

"Ye--" Duncan starts.

"No. Two, please." Duncan's stunned into silence. Rightfully so, you think.

Silently, you each pay your respective bills before walking outside and getting into the car. The sunset is beautiful tonight, and you'd make a note of it to Duncan if you weren't so upset at him. You purposefully walk just a little bit faster than him to prevent him from opening your door like he normally does. Petty, but it gives you enough satisfaction to get you through the car drive.

Well, you'll get through the drive if Duncan doesn't kill you on the way home. He's driving like he's being chased, weaving in and out of traffic with a white-knuckle grip on the steering wheel. You grab onto the handle above your seat as tight as you can, genuinely worried that you're going to get into a crash.

"Will you slow down!" you yell after he narrowly avoids sideswiping another car. The traffic finally begins to thin, and it's then that you notice that you're heading out of D.C. Suddenly, every true crime podcast you've ever listened to comes flooding to the forefront of your mind.

You really don't want to be the next case covered on Morbid.

The sun continues to set, but it doesn't get darker. A luminescent full moon slowly begins to take center stage, and if you weren't worried about being murdered and chopped up into small pieces, you might take time to admire it. You've been driving for at least half an hour now, and you think you'll reach Baltimore in record time if Duncan keeps driving like this.

"Where are we going, Duncan?"

"Away from the city," he says tensely, not taking his eyes off of the road.

"I can see that, but why are we going away from the city?" you ask. He doesn't respond, and you can feel your chest tighten with fear. "Are you going to kill me?"

Duncan laughs, and you really don't know what to make of it. "It's the exact opposite. I'm trying to protect you."

"This is a funny way of showing it."

He's sweating even more now, you can see it glinting on his cheekbones in the light of the moon. Suddenly, Duncan veers off the road, taking his immaculate, expensive Benz down a dirt road in the middle of a forest somewhere between D.C. and Baltimore. Duncan would never get dirt on this car if he could help it, or even take it on a slightly bumpy road lest a stray pothole knock the car's alignment out of place. You're on the verge of hyperventilating now, and you shakily force the door open and tumble out of the car the moment he slams on the brakes.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Your voice echoes through the trees, only birds and whatever other animals call this forest home around to listen to you.

Duncan also exits the car, attempting to cross around to your side. You move the opposite way, trying to keep distance between you two. "Look, to put it simply, I forgot what day it was."

You laugh in disbelief. "So you decide to snap at me and proceed to drive like a bat out of hell for 20 miles out of the city?"

"There's a lot that you don't know about me, Y/N." His hands run through his hair as he paces back and forth, getting more and more agitated.

"Y'know, you've already said that once tonight, and that's what got us into this situation." Duncan groans, stumbling backwards away from you as he grips his head, looking like he's in pain. "So tell me! What is it that I don't know about you?"

"Do you believe in the supernatural?"

You scoff. "What, like ghosts? That's seriously what we're doing right now, telling ghost stories?"

"More like werewolves." He lifts his head from his hands, and the breath escapes your lungs. His normally-blue eyes are gone, replaced with irises that glow red. And that's not a simile; they're literally glowing.

"What the fuck," you whisper to yourself.

"I only have a little bit of time, baby, so I'm going to explain as best as I can." He tugs his shirt up over his head, and you realize that he's stripping, which is the least surprising thing to happen tonight. "Five years ago, I was bitten by what I thought was a wild dog when I was vacationing in Aspen. I went to the doctor, they ran tests for rabies and infection and they all came back negative. I thought I was fine, until the next full moon came around."

He bends at the middle in pain, and you can see his muscles flexing in his back. You want to go help him, but something in your mind tells you to stay put.

"Then, I learned what had really bitten me. Apparently, werewolves run a very connected network across the US. The D.C. werewolves knew I had been bitten, and were more than happy to take me in and show me the ropes. They said I had been bitten by a rogue werewolf, one that refused their body's attempts to shift back after the full moon ends."

"So you're a werewolf." You're not questioning him, rather, you're trying to wrap your head around what he's said by repeating it out loud.

"Yes, one that's--" a strangled yell rips from his throat, "one that's trying everything to hold back from shifting right now."

His hands shake as he reaches to the ground, grabbing his car keys and tossing them towards you. You fumble them, but manage to catch them before looking at him in confusion.

"I didn't mean for you to find out this way. Truth be told, you've made me distracted in the best ways. Distracted enough that I forgot when the full moon was when I asked you to go to dinner with me tonight."

"It's okay, Dunc." You're not sure what you're comforting him for, but you want him to know that you don't hold anything against him.

"You need to leave. Take my car, go back to the city, and go home."

"What about you?"

He screams, and you swear you can hear bones breaking. "I'll be fine. Please, I won't be able to bear it if I hurt you. Get in the car, Y/N."

For once, you don't argue with him. You climb into the car through the passenger side before sitting in the driver's seat and locking the door. Looking out the window, you only see a flash of his eyes and hear the howl of a wolf before jamming the keys into the ignition and peeling away from the forest.

When you reach the main highway and begin to drive back to D.C., tears start to fall. Not because you're scared for yourself, but because you're scared for Duncan. In the span of an hour, you've thought you were going to be murdered, driven out to the middle of nowhere, scared out of your wits, found out werewolves were real, and learned that your boyfriend was a werewolf.

Duncan, on the other hand, had to reveal his most shameful secret in a way that he wasn't comfortable with. And in your opinion, that's worse than all that you've been through. Even as you reach the bright lights of the city once again, your mind is already made up with what you'll be doing tomorrow.

You're up before the sun, driving back to the spot where everything changed less than twelve hours ago. With two large cups of coffee and a bundle of clothes in tow, you wait. Sure enough, when the first light of dawn begins to peek through the trees and the morning sun awakens, Duncan comes stumbling out of the woods. He's naked, and leaves are stuck in his hair. It's entirely unlike Duncan, and you sigh when you think about the kind of night he must have had.

Leaving the heat on and the car running, you grab the clothes you had grabbed from his apartment and get out of the car. He only notices you when you close the door, the sound waking him from whatever post-shift stupor he was in.

"Y/N?" Duncan says, unsure if what he's seeing is real. "You're here. You came back?"

"Of course I came back." You push yourself off of the side of the car, holding out the sweatpants and sweatshirt that you had managed to find among the button downs and slacks he's so fond of. "I come bearing gifts."

"You're a godsend, I'm freezing." You toss the clothes to him, averting your eyes as he gets dressed. Even though you've seen him naked before, you're not sure how he's feeling after everything that's happened.

"Don't wolves run hot?" you ask.

"Yeah, normally I do. Something about the shifting back and forth throws your systems out of whack for a little bit."

"Well, there's coffee in the car to get you warmed up a bit more, and I--oh!" You're cut off by Duncan surging forward to wrap you in a tight hug, your arms automatically going around his (clothed) form.

"Thank you," he mutters into your hair. "I've been so scared that you would leave me when you found out, and then last night was my worst nightmare come true. I thought you were gone for good."

"Never, Dunc," you say, looking at him to get the point across. "You hear me? I'm here, with you, for the long haul. The good, the bad, the...hairy."

He laughs, and you know that everything is going to be okay. "I love you."

It's the first time he's said it, but compared to shifting in front of you, it's the easiest thing he's ever done. There's no hesitation in you, either. "I love you too."

He kisses your forehead softly, and you melt in his embrace. "You said there was coffee in the car?"

You nod. "And the heat's on full blast."

"That sounds like a dream," he sighs. "You're a dream."

"Let's go, then. Don't want you turning into a pup-sicle."

He groans at your pun, making you snicker. "You're not gonna stop with the wolf jokes, are you?"

"Never." You grin at him, and he knows that everything is going to be alright.

//

idk tiny baby taglist: @dark-mei-rose @blakescoven @angelicmichael ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[wordsablaze]

5 Times Witchers Were Too Asexual For This

…and the one time Jaskier firmly got it through their lovable and yet ridiculously thick skulls that a little confusion here and there doesn’t change how much he adores them.

A/N: self-indulgently inspired by the sheer amount of times i've mentally gone "aha nope, i am too ace for this" - happy ace week <3

-

1 - Geralt

Geralt can never comprehend how Jaskier gets into so much trouble.

He’d always thought the worst kind of threats came from mages and their ridiculous games of illusion and power but travelling with Jaskier makes him reconsider because it’s genuinely concerning how many people have death wishes on his behalf.

“Who is it this time?” Geralt asks, folding his arms and promptly cursing at himself for doing so as it proves he can be just as dramatic as the bard he’s trying not to concede to.

Jaskier grins, clearly picking up on the same thing. “It doesn’t matter, my dear witcher, because you already know you’re coming with me!”

“I do not!” Geralt argues, unfolding his arms and glaring.

“Oh come on,” Jaskier scoffs, winking at him, “we both know you’re already trying to figure out how to get out of wearing the clothes I’ve already had made for you.”

Geralt sighs. “Jaskier…”

But said bard has already left the room to return downstairs and as the sound of his lute travels through the inn, Geralt groans to himself.

He’s still groaning to himself when he’s dressed in three different shades of blue but he and Jaskier arrive at the feast the next day. He hadn’t bothered to ask what the occasion was so he just settles in the corner and watches as Jaskier weaves his way between everyone, biting down the part of his heart that yearns to be right by Jaskier’s side.

Hours pass before he’s forced to move, spotting a rather tall stranger crowding Jaskier against a wall and feeling the subtle scent of fear radiating from them.

“-idn’t mean to, I swear! I’m certain you can also appreciate the beauty of-”

“My wife?” the man interrupts, practically spitting anger.

Jaskier laughs nervously as Geralt makes his way over, clearly stalling for time. “You must believe I had absolutely no inkling that she was betrothed and while I’m aware my apologies will not undo our actions, I implore you to perhaps-”

“Jaskier. There you are.” Geralt says, glancing between him and the angry husband.

“And who are you?”

At that, Jaskier bristles. “Were you not listening to my performance? I just sang about-”

“A Witcher. What, did he also sleep with your… uh…?” the man falters, clearly deciding that he’d rather not offend someone who carries around swords.

Geralt and Jaskier share an amused look before Geralt shakes his head. “My bard was cursed with… irresistible urges… by a mage. You can’t blame him for it.”

He’s almost certain Jaskier will grumble about this particular excuse for days - to which he’ll remind him that at least it’s not the one where he was kicked by an ox - but the angry husband seems to buy it, throwing him a pitying look.

“I didn’t know, I’m sorry,” he says sincerely.

Jaskier clears his throat. “Yes, well, it’s not something that one should sing about publicly, is it? You know how troublesome rumours can be…”

The man nods understandingly before leaving, at which point Jaskier punches his arm. “Geralt, you prat!”

He shrugs, a tiny smirk on his face. “I wasn’t entirely wrong.”

Jaskier seems to consider this before humming, leaning forward to plant a kiss on Geralt’s cheek. “Thank you.”

He doesn’t get a chance to reply before Jaskier has slipped away to continue performing but really, it goes without saying that although Geralt doesn’t understand Jaskier’s actions half the time, there’ll never be a day where he doesn’t want to protect him from the consequences.

-

2 - Eskel

Eskel can never predict when the scent of watermelon will fill the air.

It’s a strange scent that he thinks should probably please him but for some reason only serves to surprise him every time it radiates from Jaskier at seemingly random moments.  To his credit, Jaskier tries his best not to make it too obvious or slip away before it becomes too overwhelming but sometimes it catches both of them by surprise and there’s no avoiding it.

He and Jaskier have been travelling north for a few months when they reach a town that Jaskier seems to recognise, immediately elbowing him. “Eskel! Eskel, darling, this is the town I was telling you about with that absolutely magnificent tailor!”

Eskel hears the question without Jaskier having to ask and smiles. “Yes, we can make a quick detour.”

Jaskier grins, squeezing his hand in thanks as the two of them continue walking. As expected, Jaskier launches into a comprehensive description of every doublet he’s had made by this one specific tailor as they make their way there, Eskel only really half paying attention.

“Jaskier!” someone calls out excitedly.

“Mikhail!” Jaskier calls right back, waiting until Eskel nods in amusement before letting go of his hand and embracing the man who must be the tailor.

Leaning against a wall, Eskel watches as the two of them start discussing the latest fabric patterns and shapes of buttons - he’s not even remotely interested but if Jaskier can learn how to take care of goats for his sake then he can stick around during a discussion about fashion.

And anyway, it’s a rather nice workshop, quiet and calm in comparison to the rest of the town. He doesn’t mind waiting, focusing on the sound of Jaskier’s excited voice as he lets his eyes close, one hand on the hilt of his sword just in case.

It’s only when he hears Jaskier gasp and the cool scent of watermelon fills the room that he opens his eyes again, raising an eyebrow automatically. Jaskier glances over to him immediately, clearly about to explain, but Mikhail whispers something to him and he reddens, biting his lip.

“Really? Buttons?” Eskel asks, equally as confused as he is amused.

Jaskier just shrugs. “I’ll, uh, catch up with you later?”

Part of Eskel wants to know what in Melitele’s name Jaskier finds so appealing about buttons but also, he really doesn’t. He’s learned from experience that sometimes - almost always, actually - not knowing certain things about Jaskier is better for both of them.

“Don’t get in trouble, bardling,” Eskel warns as a way of politely taking his leave.

“Love you too!” Jaskier calls after him, and not that he’ll admit it if asked but Eskel doesn’t stop smiling even after the scent of lust fades away entirely.

-

3 - Lambert

Lambert can never figure out why Jaskier flirts with almost everyone.

Not that he has anything against Jaksier’s flirting and the way it seems to plant warmth inside his chest but really, it seems pointless to flirt with so many strangers. And yet Jaskier does it the same way he breathes, which is to say he does so without really thinking about it. And every time, Lambert watches as he trades carefully constructed compliments in exchange for food or wine or coin or literally anything else.

“Lambert? What are you frowning about?” Jaskier asks, flopping into the space across from him.

When Jaskier raises an eyebrow, he only frowns harder. “I’m not frowning,” he lies.

Jaskier snorts. “And I’m a witcher.”

“You wouldn’t know what to do with a sword if your life depended in it,” Lambert retorts.

“Depends what kind of sword,” Jaskier replies, stealing a potato from his plate.

He tries to think back to a single time where Jaskier has successfully beaten anyone in a swordfight but when his memory draws a blank, he frowns again. ���You’re bloody useless in fights unless we give you daggers.”

He doesn’t realise that Jaskier is trying really hard not to laugh until he does exactly that, almost choking on the potato before shaking his head. “Sorry, sorry, just- gods, you witchers are so adorable.”

“Adorable?” Lambert echoes incredulously, seemingly destined to frown for the entire evening. “Like f-”

“Jaskier!”

“Fabiann! It’s been too long!”

Lambert grumbles under his breath but tunes out their mindless flirting out until Jaskier abruptly stands and coughs pointedly. “Lambert, I’m afraid I might need to leave for a little while.”

What?

Oh.

It doesn’t exactly take a genius to figure out that for some reason, simply talking to someone is apparently far too appealing for Jaskier to handle.

“We leave at dawn,” Lambert reminds him.

Jaskier blows him a kiss before grinning and leaving with Fabiann. Sighing, Lambert turns back to his plate only to find that he doesn’t have any potatoes left. For some reason, that annoys him far more than the bard’s departure.

He ends up turning in early but the other patrons are too loud and he hates every second of each minute that passes. That is, until the door to his room opens and lets in not only the one person who won’t be punched for entering without knocking but also the soft scent of lavender.

“Are you still awake?” Jaskier whispers.

After a moment, he hears Jaskier sigh before the bed gently dips behind him and one of Jaskier’s arms settles on his waist.

“I’m sorry for leaving,” Jaskier murmurs into his skin, shifting even closer.

Only because Lambert can’t stand the subtle guilt in the air - they’ve talked about this but the bard stubbornly refuses to continue feeling bad - does he place his hand over Jaskier’s and feign a yawn. “Shut up, Jaskier.”

“Adorable,” Jaskier replies, kissing the back of his neck before pulling the blanket further onto them both and proving that okay, maybe he can accept that adjective under very specific circumstances.

-

4 - Vesemir  

Vesemir can never understand why Jaskier loves Kaer Morhen so much.

He loves the place more than anything himself, of course he does, but there’s always a lingering bitterness in each room, a lingering reminder that the walls had once been witness to pain and sorrow and heartbreak.

Jaskier doesn’t see any of it.

Instead, he fills any room he walks into with music and smiles and displays of affection that Vesemir hasn’t seen witchers indulge in for decades. It takes a few visits but soon enough, he’s on the receiving end of those displays as well and it's just as beautiful as it is surprising.

He finds himself loving the keep more when everyone smells of happiness and training sessions are filled with laughter instead of grumpy insults but those are aspects of life that he’s almost certain only a witcher can appreciate and as far as he knows, which is pretty far thank you very much, Jaskier is not a witcher.

“Who stole my salts?” said bard yells, jolting him out of his musings, “I know you can all hear me! Give me back my salts, you handsome thieves!”

Vesemir chuckles to himself as he hears the telltale sound of Jaskier running through the halls, no doubt going to fail in locating his bath salts because he’s almost sure he smelt them in the springs yesterday. He goes back to reading, ignoring the general noise of Jaskier hunting the others down in the name of bathing justice until the bard bursts into the library, flushed and breathless.

He looks almost guilty as he spots Vesemir. “Apologies, Vesemir, I didn’t mean to intrude. I was merely- well, you most likely heard everything, right?”

When he nods, Jaskier glances around again, a small grin blooming on his face. “Does that window overlook any training grounds perchance?”

Vesemir sighs. “No, you cannot attempt to throw something at them from the window.”

Jaskier has the audacity to pout but judges his tone well enough, making his way over to the window anyway. It’s only when the unmistakable scent of arousal appears that Vesemir somewhat regrets his decision; he looks over to Jaskier, who seems torn between wanting to flee out of embarrassment and wanting to continue staring out of the window for the rest of the day.

“I- I don’t really have an explanation for this but uh, witchers?” Jaskier manages, gesturing outside to where Vesemir knows the other three are probably mid-brawl.

“All I wanted was to read in peace, Jaskier.” Vesemir pinches the bridge of his nose, closing the book.

Nodding quickly, Jaskier places a hand over his chest. “I swear I won’t even think of entering the library for… for a whole week! Yeah, I can do that, I’ll make sure to stay as far as possible for as long as you like but just um, could you maybe not hold this against me, please?”

Vesemir wants to explain that he couldn’t possibly hold Jaskier loving his boys against him but he’s pretty sure Jaskier knows that and is just nervously rambling so he walks over and gently claps the bard on the back of his head. “As long as you’re not stupid enough to jump into a fight just because you’re attracted to it.”

“No promises,” Jaskier replies, winking.

-

5 - Kaer Morhen

Kaer Morhen can never shut its doors to Jaskier.

And really, none of the resident witchers would want to do anything of the sort since they love bringing their bard home for the winter and they love having a non-witcher around because he brings comfort with him. Unfortunately, he also sometimes brings about immense exasperation.

Nobody’s complaining, of course, because they’d rather die than disrespect one of the few people so openly welcome at the keep, but that doesn’t stop them from sometimes needing to walk out of the room to avoid punching something or someone.

Naturally, a bunch of wolf witchers walking out of the room wherever Jaskier confuses them is utterly hilarious to anyone else who visit.

Especially Aiden.

He and Jaskier get on remarkably well, much to Lambert’s relief, and it only ever takes a few days for the rest of them to get used to the scent of Cat once again. They never get used to the way the two of them interact though, trading words at rather worryingly high speeds. It’s usually not a bother until Aiden starts showing off his swordsmanship.

“Wait, you’ve never done that last one before!” Jaskier exclaims, closing his journal as he leans forward, his eyes wide.

Aiden grins. “Glad you noticed, I learnt it last season.”

Lambert throws an apple at him, scoffing. Aiden simply catches it, taking a bite before throwing it to Jaskier, who may or may not loudly yelp as he receives it.

“Show off,” Lambert grumbles, folding his arms.

Taking a moment to bow, Aiden turns back to Jaskier. “Want to see the rest of my sword tricks?”

Jaskier chokes on the bite he’d taken of the apple but nods even as he coughs, ignoring the concerned looks he gets from the wolves. He gets about halfway into the apple before Aiden’s movements are just a little too smooth and intricate for his heart to handle. Well, not just his heart.

“For gods’ sake, Jaskier,” Geralt mutters, swiftly standing up and making his way out of the room.

“I’m not to blame here!” Jaskier calls, trying his best not to think about everything he’s practically being baited into thinking about.

Eskel is the next to sigh. “You think too loudly sometimes.”

Aiden watches in utter bewilderment as both he and Lambert make their exit too, the two of them grumbling about wanting to eat in peace. He turns to Jaskier with one eyebrow raised.

“They’re not fond of when I smell like sex to them,” Jaskier explains sheepishly, “and I’m pretty sure it’s a wolf thing.”

There’s a slight pause before Aiden nods slowly. “That explains a lot actually. Why didn’t I pick up on that while travelling with Lam?”

Jaskier’s not sure if that’s meant to be a rhetorical question or not so he takes a chance. “I’d be surprised if you did, they feel bad about it so they act as if they’re allergic to discussing it.”

Then something seems to occur to Aiden and his eyes widen comically. “Wait, all the wolves?”

Catching on immediately, Jaskier goes red. “I’ll have you know, Vesemir was somehow the easiest to communicate with about all this.”

“You’re crazy,” Aiden laughs, bounding over and taking the apple back despite Jaskier’s half-hearted protests even as he decides to respect the bard just a little bit more.

-

+1

Jaskier can never guess when he’s going to have a crisis.

He wishes he had some witcher-like ability to detect trouble before it arrives but alas, he doesn’t. He doesn’t have the power to stop himself panicking and he doesn't have the power to prepare for every possibility and he doesn’t even have his witchers and by the gods does he yearn for their presence.

But he’s not selfish, he isn’t going to ask them to accompany him to bardic competitions because a city full of bards being bards is most definitely too overwhelming for them. He’s sure they’re more than happy killing drowners and bruxae and wraiths and who knows what else wherever they are but he’s certainly not happy.

Although that’s a lie, of course he is.

He loves being around his fellow bards - some more than others, of course - and he loves that they can effortlessly switch between discussing chords, sharing the latest court scandals, and making fun of one another’s love lives. What he doesn’t love, however, is being alone at the end of every day.

“I hate this room,” he mutters to himself as he flops onto the bed.

“No you don’t,” Geralt says quietly.

Jaskier is loath to admit that he jumps so badly he literally falls off the bed.

“There’s that grace and dignity we all love,” Eskel teases.

“What the he--eyy!” Jaskier manages as Lambert all but tackles him, sending them both back to the floor he’d just picked himself up from. Neither of them move to get up though.

“There is a perfectly adequate bed right beside us, if you would kindly give me a moment to recover from your pleasant but wholly unexpected arrival!”

He hears Geralt and Eskel laugh and the next thing he knows, he’s sandwiched between three witchers on the bed that’s mercifully large enough to accommodate all four of them. He’s almost entirely certain Priscilla had something to do with that upgrade and makes a mental note to thank her later.

“You smell sad,” Geralt says eventually, frowning.

Jaskier sighs. “I’m not sad, my dear, I’m just worried that three of you won’t enjoy your stay here, what with all the… bardic watermelon.”

Eskel’s arm around his waist tightens. “We don’t mind if you don’t mind.”

Jaskier’s face scrunches up as he tries to make sense of that and Lambert, who’s curled up in front of him, snorts. “You’re gonna give yourself wrinkles.”

“Take that back, I am not!” Jaskier argues, pouting. Before he can be totally distracted, he manages to turn his entire body around so he’s now facing Eskel and Geralt. “Are you going to explain what I’m meant to be minding?”

Surprisingly, Geralt finds his words first. “Just that… that we can’t always help you. We can’t be what you need or what you want and-”

“I am going to stop you right there before I end up punching you,” Jaskier interrupts, his voice a strange mix of cold and loving.

“It wouldn’t hurt,” Lambert supplies reassuringly, now from behind him.

Jaskier groans, butting his head against Eskel’s in frustration. Not even particularly hard but Eskel looks so confused that Jaskier ends up wiggling out of their cuddle pile and glaring at three of them when they sheepishly sit up.

“Did the lot of you trade all your marbles to get here?” he asks, folding his arms.

Lambert opens his mouth to reply but Eskel clamps a hand over it, correctly assuming that they’re not meant to answer that.

“I won’t lie and tell you I’ll only say this once because I will gladly repeat it whenever any of you act like you’ve forgotten but, my loves, I do not care. I do not care if you don’t enjoy all the same things I do and I do not care if your desires are different to mine. The only thing - and you must believe me for I would never ever lie about this - that I truly care about is you. All three of you.”

“But we don’t always know how to take care of you,” Geralt whispers, his voice filled with enough emotion to rival half of Jaskier’s ballads.

“Don’t you?” Jaskier asks, tilting his head to the left. “Tell me this, Geralt: why are you here?”

“You don’t like being alone after important performances,” Geralt replies without missing a beat.

Jaskier grins at him before turning to Eskel. “And you?”

“You deserve to have our support,” Eskel says softly, as if it were a common truth.

Lambert shrugs when Jaskier turns to him. “Why would I let you get drunk alone?”

Waiting until they’re done being amused, Jaskier glances between the three of them. “Don’t you see? You already know exactly how and when to take care of me. I can manage what little you can’t and I am more than happy with that because I am more than happy with you. Each of you. Just as you are. Do you understand?”

“If we say yes, will you stop being so bloody dramatic?” Lambert asks, definitely not swallowing an obvious lump in his throat, definitely not.

“We understand,” Eskel adds before Jaskier can reply, a soft smile on his face.

The four of them settle into their cuddle pile once again, Geralt reaching over Eskel and placing his hand on Jaskier’s waist as he whispers, “Thank you.”

Jaskier wants to laugh because he honestly can't see how his gorgeous, kind-hearted witchers continue to think they're not the most perfect bunch of people on the continent despite the flaws they actually have and the ones they only think they have, and he has no idea why they can't see that if they're lucky to have one of him loving them, he's thrice as lucky to have three of them loving him.

“The pleasure is all mine,” Jaskier whispers back.

-

credit to that one post i can’t find atm about what lust smells like to witchers as well as @cloudspeck for giving me names for minor characters !! also, sorry for the canon divergence / ooc vibes but i just wanted some fluffy ace validation, yaknow? 

-

thanks for reading! masterlist | witcher blog: @itsjaskier

[piratewithvigor]

Stars

Chapter 4: 2013

In which our hero goes camping again

“Come on, we should be there soon, shouldn’t we?”

“Can’t you stop griping and just enjoy the walk?”

“How can I? You spent the three months before we moved here telling me about how dangerous this place is. Quizzing me on how to defend myself against 400 different species.”

“Aww, are you scared?”

“No!”

Kane couldn’t help but laugh. Daniel was terrified out of his wits. It was almost painfully obvious. Every time he thought Kane couldn’t see him, his eyes kept darting around the trees surrounding them. Inspecting the trees for things that might want to kill them. Which was fairly useless; everything in the Valley wanted to kill them, but nothing would dare. They knew they were under protection of the Undertaker and the creatures of the Valley respected such protection.

Even still, it just took one rogue beast to end both of them and turn them into dinner. They wouldn’t hesitate if they were hungry; the only vegan in the Valley was Daniel.

He took Daniel’s hand gently, doing his best to soothe his husband. Having had hardly any touches that weren’t meant to hurt him for decades, sometimes the gentler touches took Kane a little longer to get used to. Daniel was still the only one he could bear to touch for an extended length of time and certainly the only one he could bring himself to initiate such a touch with.

The gesture didn’t go unnoticed. Daniel exhaled softly as he squeezed a little.

He’d been excited for this trip. Hiking, camping; they were some of his favorite hobbies outside the ring. It was usually like pulling teeth to get Kane to want to come along. But he’d suggested this trip. The trip he used to take with his family on the first weekend of autumn. Spending the night in the woods of the Valley together, bonding. Kane didn’t talk about his family from before the fire too often, so Daniel was certainly not going to question why he brought it up then. Of course, at the time, the excitement had overridden the recollection that camping in the Valley was about equally dangerous as camping on a cliff face in the Grand Canyon. Except the danger was only held at bay by an unspoken supernatural promise.

So many questions from the Valley were better left unasked and just accepted.

“You’re gonna like it,” Kane promised. “It’s pretty. A lot of really soft grass.”

“I trust you.” Daniel wasn’t going to add that for as long as he’d lived there, he’d hardly seen any living grass, let alone really soft grass. Kane was excited, so he was going to keep his worries at bay. “You’re sure you remember the way, right?”

“Spent a night here every year for six years. I could find the clearing in my sleep.”

“Maybe, but that was thirty years ago.”

“Are you calling me old?”

“A little.”

“Take it back, or no s’mores for you.”

“That’s blackmail!”

“That’s life.”

“Okay, okay, I take it back.”

“Not good enough.”

Daniel exhaled in exasperation. “I’m sorry I called you old.”

“Thank you. I’m sorry I called you a goat.”

“You didn’t call me a goat.”

“I know. Now I’ve got one apology saved up for next time I do,” Kane grinned and avoided Daniel attempting a swat to the back of his head.

“You’re damn lucky you’re cute.”

“I know.”

Kane wasn’t exactly sure how he’d tricked Daniel into liking him. When they first met, they had some of the most awful fights Kane had ever been a part of. Both physically and emotionally. He hated Daniel at first. They would scream at each other until Kane was as hoarse as he’d been when he was re-learning how to talk. They were the tag team champions together and a formidable duo, but nothing like any other tag team Kane had been a part of. Everything felt wrong and off working with Daniel and it wasn’t because he felt like beating him more than their opponents. They just… had nothing in common. Except that they were both fueled with enough rage to be sent to anger management therapy together.

Kane had been gritting his teeth and hardly keeping himself from throwing Daniel through a wall every week. Until one week. The week of the trust falls.

“Daniel, just fall backwards, and Kane will catch you.”

“I will?”

He didn’t want to catch Daniel. Daniel didn’t want to be caught by Kane. Dr. Shelby was insistent. If they did this exercise, they might have a real breakthrough. Breakthroughs meant they could stop coming to these damn therapy sessions. Whether it was the promise of a breakthrough or the threat of having to do the exercise the next week, Kane wasn’t sure, but Daniel turned around.

“Kane, I trust you.”

He’d been stunned silent for a moment. Almost forgot to catch Daniel. But he didn’t. He caught Daniel’s shoulders easily and kept him from hitting the deceptively hard floor. The weight of a man who trusted him so completely so quickly was in his hands. He’d shoved Daniel upright to avoid letting him know his hands were shaking from getting so quickly overwhelmed with emotion. Dr. Shelby had been so proud of them. Moved them right on to the next phase of the exercise: working together. They were both instructed to catch some loser from the group. Even though they both put out their arms to catch him, he hit the floor hard as they pulled their arms back.

“Did you know that I wasn’t going to catch him?” Daniel had asked.

“Did you know that I wasn’t going to catch him?” Kane replied. A quiet smile had spread over Daniel’s lips.

“I think I finally understand you, Kane.”

They’d kissed for the first time that night. Still fought like cats and dogs, but in moments alone in the hotel rooms, they kissed. Sometimes they went further, sometimes they didn’t.

“We’re almost there,” Kane broke the silence, pointing with the hand that wasn’t interwoven with Daniel’s.

“Where? I don’t see any grass anywhe- holy shit…” The sight of the little clearing filled with lush, green grass seemed to take Daniel’s breath away.

“What do you think? Worth the hike?”

Daniel didn’t answer. Almost like he was dumbfounded such a soft place could exist within the harshness of the Valley.

“Daniel?”

“Very worth it.”

“You good setting up the tent while I gather the firewood?”

“Kane, I fucking swear, if you leave me alone in these woods, I will shit in your sleeping bag.”

One argument about proper firewood, one argument about tent raising techniques and three arguments about setting fires later, both of them were lying in the grass, watching the smoke from the dying fire rise into the night air.

“You shouldn’t be able to start a fire by hugging a log,” Daniel mumbled, snuggling up to Kane’s chest.

“I know.”

“How do you do that?”

“I don’t know.”

“It’s weird.”

“Can we change the subject?”

“Sure. To what?”

“Dunno. Know any good camping stories?”

“Well, there was one time I went camping with AJ and she needed to pee, but the bush under her was poison ivy and-”

“A different story!” Kane groaned, shuddering at the idea. Either because he didn’t want to know what happened with the poison ivy or because he didn’t want to know anything more about AJ than he already did. She was responsible for sending Daniel to anger management, so Kane owed her for that, but he didn’t want to know anything else.

“Okay, there was a time my family had a reunion at a campground and my aunt chopped up apples and tossed them in apple pie spices, then wrapped them in tin foil and stuck them in the coals of the campfire. Smoky apple pie filling.”

“Sounds tasty.”

“Should’ve told that story before so we could have done the same.”

“Maybe next time.”

He could promise a next time. He could swear that a year from then, he would still love Daniel. They would still be together. They could lie down in the grass and look up at the stars. They could marvel at how big the universe was and how miraculous it was that they found each other.

Far up in the night sky, a red star and one a little bigger seemed a little closer together.

[s-creations]

Return the Flames - Chapter 11

All at Dead Bird Studios knew of Amos' (The  Conductor's) ability. How the owl could suddenly erupt into flames if  angered enough. When the studio first opened, Dominic (DJ Grooves) was  told that Amos had his ability under control. Nothing to worry about. No  possible loss of anything from an open flame.

A few years later however, and that control seems to have lessened to a dangerous degree.

It should have just been a simple, week long drive to fix the problem. It really should have been.

Dominic should have asked a lot more questions and should have been prepared for a twist ending.

_________________

Fandom: A Hat in Time         Rating: General Audience         Relationships/Pairings: The ConductorXDJ Grooves       Warnings: Eventual depictions of violence, slow burn relationship, named characters, attempt of an accent, being hunted down, a race against time (sort of).

Author's Note: This was the chapter I've been waiting forever to write. This is what got me to write this story. This deals with backstories for both characters, so I hope you enjoy it! 

Amos was not happy with the pounding headache he woke up. Sure, he was honestly used to it. Still doesn’t mean he liked it.  He let out a groan, silently berating himself for drinking so much once again, and moved to get up. Only to have something hold him in place. It took a while for his mind to put together that he was pressed against Dominic. The penguin snoring softly, hair a bit of a mess and his sunglasses askew on his face. An arm wrapped around the other director, Amos unable to move away. The owl felt his cheek becoming warmer. Realizing he felt the familiar warmth in his chest growing once again. 

 “And how are we feeling this morning?”

 Further awake and startled into action, Amos was able to break free. Feathers puffing up in embarrassment upon seeing the Elder in the doorway. 

 “...What happened last night?”

 “Ah ah, I asked a question first.”

 Amos really did not like this goat.

 “I have a peckin’ headache. But ‘m honestly used to that. The flame is back. So, whatever was put in me is gone. And ‘m ready for this whole thin’ ta be over with.”

 “That’s a fair assessment. As per your question, you became drunk last night after which you shared a rather… ‘intense’ dance with Dominic. And when you couldn’t support your own weight, you both retreated here. Where I’m going to assume you two just went to sleep.”

 Amos groaned, rubbing his forehead. Why did he feel like a teenager being caught by their parents? “Sounds like it was quite the party.” 

 “You certainly made it one. Now, you made mention that the flame has returned.”

 “Aye.”

 “Then you two will need to finish the rest of your journey. It will only be a one to two day treck. I would recommend you leave as soon as possible. Your car will remain here and you can retrieve it after you’ve returned to the village. But walking would be best in order for you to avoid unwanted attention.”

 Amos sat up further at that. “Do you think they’re here? The agents?”

 “I doubt a pursuer who’s done what they have so far would give up at the end of the line. While the jungle will provide coverage, you two will need to move carefully.”

 “Right...right…”

 “I will have a few packs put together for you. Wake Dominic, you will need to leave soon.”

 Amos merely nodded at that. He attempted to wake his companion as soon as they were left alone. The penguin seemed unconcerned at sharing a bed with the owl when he woke up. More upset about supporting his own headache than anything else. It took awhile for them to collect themselves and join the outside world. Bags waiting for them when they finally emerged.

 “Just head straight for the mountain. You can’t miss it and there are no natural obstacles in your way. Be careful you two.”

 Those were the Elder’s final words before they departed.

 The trek was quiet. Amos caught up in his own head to think about conversing with Dominic. It was both a joy and a strange sorrow in the thought that this ordeal was almost over. 

 He was tired of being chased, being hunted down, being in constant pain. To think it was almost over raised his spirits slightly. Only for it to be stomped back down in fear of what was going to come after. Was he going to survive this? Were he and Dominic an ‘item’, as his daughter liked to say. Were these emotions only being created because of the situation? Did he want it to be real? Was he willing to let someone get close again?

 “It’s getting dark.” Dominic’s voice cut through the buzz in Amos’ mind. The owl looked up to see the sky painted in that familiar colors of sunset. 

 “Uh...yeah, it is…”

 “I’m not a huge fan of tromping through the jungle in the dark. We should set up camp.”

 The owl’s ears twitched. Looking between the sinking sun and the mountain. It was a lot closer than before, they could honestly make it there before tonight fully arrived if they wanted to. But if Dominic wanted to sleep, Amos wasn’t going to argue.

 “Sure… One more night of peace?”

 “Yeah, something like that.”

 They fell quiet after that. A small, smokeless fire was soon burning away between the two. The sky a deep purple with stars starting to dot the night sky. With how wide and ever expanding space seemed to be out here, Amos was becoming nervous. There was no coverage of a hotel or a hut to keep the night sky away. The constant reminder just hanging over his head.

 Letting out a sigh, Amos reached over and dug further into his bag. Another sigh, this time of relief, sounded as he pulled out a familiar fermented fruit. “Maybe the old goat wasn’t too bad. Heads up Dominic.”

 The penguin fumbled slightly as he caught the said fruit, voicing his frustration with a deadpan, “Really.”

  “One final hurrah.”

 Dominic frowned as he watched Amos take a large bite of his own fruit. The penguin let out a soft sigh, deciding the owl may have a point, and took a bite as well. While he was able to hold his own and cut himself off when he needed to, Dominic was soon supporting a flushed face and a drunken owl. Laughing and beaming as he joined the other in singing shanties that they both only knew a few words to. Or that their drunken mind was making them forget the words. 

 As they belted out the final note, they collapsed onto the ground. Lying head to head as they laughed, slowly calming down as they stared up at the sky. Even with what felt like impending doom was on the horizon, Dominic was happy at that moment. He wasn’t sure how this was going to end. But, at the moment, he just wanted to enjoy the atmosphere. The calm, the quiet, the false peace with the possibly threat being mere steps away from where they lied. 

 He let out a yawn, feeling himself starting to drift off…

 “Ma couldn’t have kids.”

 Dominic flinched slightly. He rolled his head to the side to look at Amos. “Pardon?”

 “She couldn’t have kids,” Amos repeated, “No matter how many times she tried. Or how badly she wanted it. Nothin’ worked. Married three times. Got the reputation as a bed hopper. ...I think she thought that havin’ a kid would brin’ her some kind of happiness in her life…”

 “In a final desperation, she prayed for a higher power to help. And the Celestial Phoenix appeared… She was pregnant the next day. Ostracized the day after. Who ever heard of a God appearing before a divorced and ‘bed warmer’? She told me she didn’t care because she was so happy ta be carryin’ me. Then I was born and… I honestly think I made everythin’ so much worse.” 

 “Amos…” Dominic frowned, unsure of what he could say.

 “Ya can’t look at this ugly mug and tell me this is a solver of problems. I honestly believe I made things worse. I was the demon child created from wedlock with a mother who’s insane. We had to leave the backwash of a town when our house was burnt down. Ma was mentally broken when I was a teenager and only became worse with her age. ‘M pretty sure she was gone before she finally passed away.”

 “My wife left when Amelia was born. She...the wife...married me in a sort of novelty. A stab at her stuffy family by havin’ a monstrous thing be her husband instead of nobility. But when Amelia held more of my features then was ‘acceptable’, the wife had to leave. She couldn’t handle it. I raised Amelia the best I could. I was hopeful she could have a happier, easier life than what my childhood was.” 

 “Only for her husband to leave. Because Amelia fell ill after givin’ birth to all the kids. It was too much responsibility for him. ...She’s always smilin’. I do wonder sometimes how she turned out so perfectly. When she has a...a curse of a father. Because that’s what I am. ‘M a curse. I shouldn’t even be here! Only divine intervention brought this monster into reality. So the laws of nature themselves had to be broken. And all it produced was a cursed, hideous creature that is me. My own body is even tryin’ to tear itself apart. I’ve been tryin’ to destroy myself since I was born and no one is safe. ‘M a walkin’, tickin’ bomb of destruction.”

 Dominic swallowed weakly, feeling sick as he watched Amos breakdown. What was he supposed to say? What could he say?

 “My father is an ice tycoon.”

 Amos slowly looked over to the flushed penguin. 

 “What?”

 “Ah, so… That largest commodity from the Moon is ice.”

 “I know that.”

 “Right, well, it only comes from three different families. Mine being the top company, run by my father. We’re the typical high brow, snooty people you’d think of. Appearance is everything to us. We have to be as clean as the ice we produce.”

 Amos sat up slowly, swaying slightly. “Ya can’t control the creation of ice that closely. It’s ice.”

 Letting out a small huff and sitting up as well, Dominic laid his hand out flat, palm up. The owl let out a chirp of shock as a chunk of ice was formed. Resting directly in the center of Dominic’s hand. “We can make our own ice. Quite literally.”

 “No peckin’ way… Wait, did ye make that wall of ice before? When those government goons were chasin’ after us?”

 “Uh...yeah. I really only intended to make the road slick and trip them up. I was a little on edge at the moment.”

 “That was peckin’ amazin’.”

 Dominic laughed softly. “It...just comes naturally.”

 Amos laughed this time, almost falling back onto the ground if Dominic hadn’t kept him upright. “Peckin’ amazin’... So, yer loaded right? Ice companies make a lot.”

 “No… I’m disowned,” Dominic’s feathers puffed at the owl’s raised brow, “Parents weren’t happy that I wanted to become a movie director. I’m the oldest of four and the only male. I was supposed to take over the business. But I made it very clear how I wasn’t interested with it in any way. So, I was given a choice. Join the business or never talk to them again. And...here I am…”

 It fell quiet for a moment. Dominic had never told anyone this before. Not even his Moon Penguins knew his full story. They were just aware that the director wasn’t on good terms with his family. But, if Amos was sharing the sacred life’s story, why shouldn’t Dominic?

 “I didn’t know ya had siblings.” Amos eventually voiced. 

 “Well, I didn’t know you were part mystical fire being. So I guess we’re even.” Dominic teased, smiling hearing Amos laugh at that.

 “That’s fair. Ta be fair to myself, however, I never thought I would be in a situation like this.”

 “We were also never on good speaking terms with each other before either.”

 “Aye, another fair point. Did ya ever think how weird it was that we both were given the same studio?”

 “Oh absolutely! We really should have gone to the main office to complain about that.”

 “But then we would have argued about who would be kicked out first.”

 “It would have been you for sure.”

 “As peckin’ if!” They shared another laugh at that. Amos eventually leaned over to rest himself against Dominic. The penguin welcomed the contact. “...Tell me about your siblings.”

 “Three sisters.”

 “Oh, fun.” 

 “Hey, how do you think I came across this amazing sense of fashion?”

 “Thought you were color blind to be honest.”

 “How rude.”

 Amos chuckled before pushing Dominic gently. “Anyway, three sisters?”

 “Abigail is only one year younger than me. We were very close growing up. She had a backbone sturdier than I could ever hope for and stuck up for me when our parents started their ‘talks’. As far as I can tell, she’ll be taking over the business… I hope she’s okay with that.”

 “She sounds like a business woman.”

 “I think you’d get along with her. Shila’s next. If you think I’m a diva, you need to meet her. If attention wasn’t on her at all times, she would throw an absolute fit. She was actually one of my first actresses. Gave me my first headache too.”

 Dominic paused to listen to Amos laugh softly. He really loved that sound. “Last is Bethany. I don’t really remember much of her. She was only two when I left. I do remember she was very quiet. With wide curious eyes. I really hope she was able to keep that curiosity…”

 “Abigail made sure to do so, no doubt in my mind. If she was as determined to keep ya safe, ‘m sure that focus went to Bethany as well.”

 “I hope so… I hope they’re all okay…”

 “‘M sure they are.”

 The penguin hummed softly, attention on the large, luminous sphere that was above them. Amos shuffled closer, his chin resting on Dominic’s shoulder. His attention going to the same place. “...Do you miss them?”

 “Every day.”

 “Have you tried to find them? Talk to them?”

 “I think they’re on the Moon still...and I’m not overly fond with contacting that place.”

 “Honestly, that’s fair.”

 Giving another hum, Dominic reached up and scratched behind Amos’ ear. The owl let out a small chirp as he pressed closer. “...Did you ever think your life would end up like this?”

 “I knew I would eventually have to travel here. Another burden to carry because of my birth right. But I wasn’t expected to be hunted down…or the company… I know I don’t say it. In fact, I’ve said the opposite a lot. But…’m glad you came.”

 “More of I berated you to let me come because you’re so stubborn.”

 Amos laughed. “Ya got me there…”

 “...I’m glad I came along as well. I would have been worrying the entire time.”

 “I’d probably be dead at this point if you hadn’t come.”

 “That’s frightening to think about,” Dominic frowned, wrapping his arm around the other. “Do you think we could call this feud over? I’m...honestly so tired of it.”

 “Yeah… ‘m too. It should have ended a long time ago…”

 “We’re both just two, old, stubborn fools.”

 “Oi, easy on those adjectives.”

 “I’m describing both of us. Calm down… How do you think the crew will react?”

 “Shocked but absolutely thrilled. I think everyone's more over this than we are.”

 Dominic laughed at that. “Yeah, probably. We should make a movie together. After all of this.”

 “Ah...kind of a big step.”

 “But I think it’s an appropriate one.”

 “...Yeah...yeah, I think it is too.”

 They fell quiet once more. A warm, happy buzz falling over them. Dominic’s eyes on the dancing fire while Amos’ remained on the Moon. Both falling asleep curled next to each other as the luminous orb traveled over them.

[shrike-nest]

D&D Character Ask Post

In Honor of D&D, Here are 100 Questions answered about my character Alistair. Done from a prompt reposted by @mechmech and @scatterpatter , and also gonna tag my DM @aerial-ace97

What Does He Smell like: Ozone, Sandalwood, Pine

Voice: A light baritone, sometimes slipping into a bit of a lit from his native island (similar to a Scottish brogue/Irish lit)

Motivator: Before he met his group? Power and Adrenaline. Now? Redemption.

Most embarrassing memory: (TW: Animal Death) He doesn’t really remember this as he was terribly drunk at the time, but he and his crew stopped in a city that held goats as a sacred animal. With a terribly “bright” idea, he wondered how far a goat could fly? Because goats fly. Throws the goat off of the third floor of a building. Then proceeds to have a not very respectful Coffin Dance-style funeral for said goat.

How does he react to pain: Lots of swearing and anger.

What does he wear: He wears dragon scale armor that has three deep gouges in it from where he was previously killed. A faded and slightly ragged admiral style coat on top, leather breeches, and give this man some high calf pirate boots. He also always wears a green headband to keep his hair back, and occasionally an eyepatch to hide his demonic eye.

Most positive relationship: In terms of character development, it might be Torvid, as Torvid inspires Alistair to be a better moral person. In terms of wholesomeness? His partner/hopefully soon fiancé, Atwater. Atwater was able to show Alistair that he can have positive love in his life, without having to fight so hard for it.

The weirdest thing he has ever eaten: Corren’s cooking

Sleep: He suffers from nightmares and now more recently night terrors. Because he technically doesn’t need to sleep from effects of his class, he often chooses not to. However, when he does sleep, he sleeps hard, snores lightly, and octopus cuddles anything in his bed.

Favorite food/ kinda food: He actually really loves a dish similar to pao de queijo (Brazillian Cheese Bread).

Most insecure about: His ability of being a leader.

Like to wear: He enjoys fairly tight fitting clothing to prevent too much flapping when he flies or moves around quickly.

How do they react to feelings of guilt: Denial and self doubt

React to betrayal: A very quick and violent anger that chills to a long lasting and cold hatred. He doesn’t forgive easily.

Greatest achievement: After being mutinied against by his former crew, being wanted and supported as a leader for his current adventuring party

Too little sleep: Pretty robotic, but he doesn’t get exhausted anymore or feel any physical effects of not getting sleep due to his class.

What are they like drunk: He’s a very cheerful and boisterous drunk. Makes and laughs at many jokes. Can fall into a melancholy pretty easily though if he thinks on certain thoughts too long. Deflects with humor!

Music likes: 80s hair band music, and 70s-80s rock.

Right or left-handed: Right handed

Fears: He’s claustrophobic, but also has a fear of being vulnerable and getting his heart broken again.

Favorite weather: Sunny Day with a slight chill.

Favorite color: He really likes blue.

Collect anything: Well technically he used to collect gold and other high priced artifacts. He doesn’t really collect anything anymore.

Hot or cold weather: This man controls the weather. He enjoys his thermostat of life to be at a nice 70 degrees F.

Eye color: His natural eye color is an emerald green. His left eye is a demon cat eye, with a gold iris and black sclera.

Race/ ethnicity: He’s a human in the world of Sekrezia, but in IRL, he’s probably northern UK.

Hair color: Ginger/Auburn, with some sun-bleached streaks in it.

Happy where they are currently: … Well his adopted sister and brother just died in the last game so nah. BUT- as kind of a whole, he’s happy to be where he is now as a person compared to how he used to be.

Morning person: Yup. He tends to wake with the sun if he sleeps, and once he’s awake- he’s awake.

Sunrise or sunset: He loves the sunset. It calms and amazes him that he survived another day.

Messy or organized: He’s messy. Kind of an ADHD procrastination kind of messy.

Pet peeves: Disloyalty, undeserved ego trips, other weather veins that mess with his control of the weather,

Objects of significant importance: O’Malley, his halberd. He earned his weapon when he became a captain, and it has saved his life numerous times after.

Least favorite food: After being stuck in a cave for over a year? Anything with mushrooms.

Least favorite color: He’s not a fan of dark reds or browns. Reminds him too much of dried blood. (oooh edgelord)

Least favorite smell: Cauterized Flesh, Rotting Fish

The last time they cried: Last game. But before that? When he found out that Torvid killed his father. Before before that? When Atwater died. Before before before that? When he woke up alone in the desert after the mutiny.

Were they with anyone when they cried: His party. His party and both sides of the war that was going on. And no one.

One time they got injured: He actually died in a fight with a dragon, not with the dragon, but with a bat crony of the dragon.

Scars: He’s got a scar in the shape of a jagged p on his right cheek, a claw scar from when his eye was gouged out, and he also has the marks from the bat crony when he died. Alistair also has lightning scars on his arms that led to minor nerve damage that occurred when he first was learning how to use his magic.

Mental health issues: ADHD, Depression, Anxiety

Bad habits: Lashing out when he doesn’t know how to process his emotions

Why might someone dislike him: … Lemme get the list. So if we ignore the fact that he used to be a feared sky pirate, earning the nickname “Orphaner of the Skies”… he can be a flippant asshole sometimes. He can often forget to stay in touch and update people on important topics. Also, some may dislike him because he insists on being their dad (*cough* CORREN *cough*)

Why might someone love him: Alistair is very loyal to those he trusts and he can often fall into caretaker type tendencies.

Believe in ghosts: Yeah. He’s seen them and fought them. Also dated one.

Anyone they would trust with their life: Mecha, Corren, Tristan, Atwater, Jerry, Mephistopheles, and Torvid.

Romantically interested in anyone: Atwater!

Dating/ Married: He is currently dating Atwater

Like surprises: Not really

Birthday: His weave day is in Summer, Sibelya 13th.

Celebrate their birthday: He used to. Doesn’t really anymore, mostly because he hasn’t had much reason to celebrate or the time.

Family: His parents are dead, but he still has his adopted aunt Imelda. He also views Tristan as his brother, Corren as his little brother, Mecha as his sister. Atwater is his romantic partner, and he is now the step father of Atwater’s child, Crestwell. He also is the adopted father of Liam (deceased) and Liam’s twin sister, Serana.

Close to their family: Yes

MBTI type: ENTP

Zodiac signs: His Sekrezian Sign is Xamatang, The Coming Storm

Hogwarts house: Gryffindor

Alignment; Chaotic Neutral but he’s steadily making his way towards Chaotic Good

Nightmares: Yes. Often about his ex, Ghost. He also has nightmares about losing those he considers family.

View on death: If it happens, it happens. Once someone is at peace, leave them be.

Something they always laugh at: Seeing his group smile and joke around.

When bored, what do they do: Fly, tinker with magic, practice magic, research magic.

Enjoy the outside: Very much so.

Accent: I can’t replicate it, but I imagine it’s somewhere between a Scottish and Irish accent. However it has faded as he hasn’t been home in a very long time.

Upon seeing a slice of chocolate cake, the first reaction: *Poke it*, *Look at it*, *Look around*… *Shrug*, My cake now.

If they knew they were going to die what would they do/ say: He would find his party, if he can- gives them hugs, and hopefully be able to die watching the sunset. “Find what makes you happy and hold on to it. You all deserve to have happiness in your lives.”

Feelings about sex: He likes it. He also has a pretty damn high libido.

Sexuality: Bisexual

Squeamish around blood: Somewhat. It makes him uncomfortable now because he’s scared that he likes the sight of it still.

Anything they find gross: Rotting bodies and decaying bodies.

TV trope: Father Figure, Tragic Backstory, Anti-Hero

Enjoy helping people: Yes, he finds it comforting, like a form of redemption.

Allergies: Minor shellfish allergy

Pet: Does Meph count as a pet? I mean, he usually hangs around Alistair as a cat.

Quick to anger: Depends on the situation, but yes.

How patient is he: Not very. He gets very jittery and anxious easily. He’s getting slightly better at that.

Good at cooking: Somewhat, he tends to overdo it on the spice.

Favorite insult:” It’s cute when you try.”

How do they act when happy: The biggest doofiest smile, and he can’t help but laugh occasionally.

What do they do when they learn about others’ fears: He keeps it secret, but tends to go out of his way to help them through it, or help them avoid their fears.

Trustworthy: If you earn his trust, yes. A million times in return.

Do they try to hide their emotions: If it benefits him? Yes. And he’s damn good at it. But if he feels it’s not necessary to do so, his heart is on his sleeve.

Exercise regularly: Yes. His constitution is ridiculous and so he often finds ways to keep up and improve his stamina and strength even further.

Comfortable with the way they look: Yeah. He can get a lil cocky about it. But this is a man who uses bar soap on his hair.

Features they find attractive on others: Eyes and hands.

Personalities they find attractive: He likes those that can keep up with him intellectually, but also on a wittier level as well. He really views self-confidence as attractive.

Do they like sweet foods: Yes.

Age: He just turned 42.

Tall or short: He’s 6’0”

Glasses or contacts: Nah

Consider herself attractive: Yup

Sense of humor: Sexual humor, dad jokes ftw, but can also throw in some dark and self-deprecating humor nowadays.

What mood are they in most often: Most recently, a sort of determined melancholia. But he used to be very self-assured, confident, and flippant.

What angers them: Child abuse, betrayal, hurting those he cares about.

Outlook on life: “Just keep going. Roll with the punches. Because that sun is going to rise again, and you’re going to get to try again, try something new, find something new.”

What makes them sad or depressed: Thinking of those he has lost, thinking of Ghost, falling into his own insecurities.

Greatest weakness: He often jumps into situations without thinking them through. He tends to be very “leap before he looks”

Greatest strength: His determination and resiliency

Something they regret: Losing contact with his crew and Imelda, not being a better leader in his eyes, his past of piracy, and in some ways- all his deals with Mephistopheles, even the one that granted him his magic.

Biggest accomplishment: Isn’t this the same as greatest achievement?

Favorite memory: Sitting by the campfire with his group and all of them laughing, joking, and smiling with each other. With the good ol occasional ribbing at Corren’s expense.

[flowersandskeletons526]

“The Harshest Future We Could Have Imagined” - Lumity Future AU Fanfic Part 4

Luz catches up on training.

Part 1    Part 2    Part 3

---

Luz yelped and dodged three massive stone spires that sprung from the ground.

“Spikes?!” 

Eda cackled, doubling over and almost dropping her  paper and pencil. Scrambling to her feet, Luz huffed and glared at her teacher. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched Amity sit on a stump and hide a laugh behind her hand. 

“You know, when I imagined your training, I thought it was going to be more smelling moss and eating snow,” Luz panted. 

“Oh please, I did enough of that trying to teach the new troublemaker over there.” She pointed to Amity, who rolled her eyes. “She’s the one who found that glyph.”

Luz frowned. Amity shrugged. 

“Eda had me licking rocks in a cave and I angered a rock demon. It broke a stalagmite and I found the glyph inside. It was growing like tree rings.” 

“And now Eda can attack me with spikes.”

“Hey, you wanted to show Willow that you know how to fight. You don’t have the same range of magic as Belos’ soldiers and you’re not ready for a staff yet, so you need to learn as many glyphs as you can and use them to fight inherent magic. You have to train outmatched because you’re going to be outmatched on the battlefield.” 

“Give me a staff! Then I won’t be outmatched and I won’t have to worry about running out of paper or getting skewered!”

“You’re not ready, Luz. If you’d been here…” Eda’s voice trailed off. Luz bit her lip and glared at her feet, avoiding looking at Amity. The reminder sent a pang through her heart. Eda sighed. “Maybe it would be different. You’d complete your education and have your staff, but right now, you have to catch up. This war changed things. It changed everything.” 

A hush fell over the yard. Luz nodded slowly and sighed.

“I know,” she murmured. “So let’s learn some new glyphs. How do I do the spikes?”

“What, you think you’re going to skip learning from the island? Geez, kid, how much did you forget? No, you’re going to learn the same way you used to. From little Miss Perfect, this time.”

Amity choked, face going red. “What?”

“I’m too old to be traipsing all over the Boiling Isles finding new glyphs with you. This is how it’s going to be: I’ll teach you to fight, Lily will teach you history and the inner workings of the Emperor’s coven, and Amity will train you in magic the same way I trained her.”

“Amity doesn’t use glyphs.”

“But we do.” She tapped beneath her one gray eye. “She learned glyphs with us after you left. That was one condition of learning from the strongest witch on the Boiling Isles.”

Luz looked to Amity. Amity shrugged one shoulder.

Eda clapped her hands together. “Speaking of which, that training starts today. Now. Amity, it’s up to you where you want to take her, but you’re going to be doing this every day that you have the time. Willow already agreed to start handling more of the rebellion.”

“You asked Willow for permission to let me train Luz?” Amity asked. 

“No, I told her to be aware that she would be taking on more leadership responsibilities. I don’t ask permission from anyone. You know that.” Eda crossed her arms. “Luz, she does want you to fight with them. She just wants you to be ready first.”

“We all do,” Amity chimed in. She stood next to Luz, staff in one hand and the other resting on Luz’s shoulder. “You’ll get there.” 

“You will. Now, you two get going. I am going to go take a nap.” 

Amity passed Luz her staff as Eda disappeared into the house. “I’ve never shown you Raja, have I?”

“Not yet.” 

“Take her.”

Luz took the staff and inspected the palisman sitting on top. It wasn’t simply a snarling tiger; two goat horns sprang from its head, and a pair of feathery wings was folded against its back. Luz rubbed a thumb over the tiger’s paw and turned to Amity.

“A winged tiger?” 

“She found me when I was looking for a tree. I started carving her, thinking I was going to do a falcon, and then my mind went blank and she turned up.” She smirked and patted the wooden animal’s head. “I already had the codename Tiger, so it was only fitting.”

“Where did you get that name, anyway? I understand Willow and Gus being Thorn and Clone, but how did you get Tiger before you found your palisman?”

Amity chuckled wistfully, flashing her fangs. “I was wearing face paint for camouflage on a stealth mission that sort of looked like stripes. One soldier was about to find me so I tackled him and let him go but scared him half to death. He started running around saying the rebellion had a tiger demon after that. It’s on my wanted posters. I’m the ‘Tiger Demon.’”

Luz guffawed, studying the palisman once again. “That’s awesome.” 

“Emira thought it was funny.” Amity’s smile disappeared. “Edric would have, I think. Before.” 

Luz touched Amity’s hand. “Hey, you don’t have to think about that right now.”

“I’m always thinking about it, Luz.”

“Well, now’s your chance to not think.” She swung around the staff and stopped inches from Amity’s face, oblivious to how the shorter girl blushed. “Take me to the cave where you found the spikes!”

Amity giggled and hopped on the staff, holding out a hand. “Come on.” 

Luz grinned from ear to ear. She sat behind Amity and wrapped her arms around her waist. The wooden wings on the palisman extended, just like Owlbert, and they launched into the air. Luz let out a loud, whooping laugh as they rose to the clouds, clinging to her old friend as the staff carried them over the Isles. 

She rested her chin on Amity’s shoulder. “I forgot how much I missed this!” 

“Not everything on the Isles is bad now,” Amity laughed. She covered Luz’s hands on her stomach with one of her own. “All the magic is still here, figurative and literal.” 

Luz leaned back. She took in the rising bones of the ancient fallen giant, the wispy yellow clouds and purple sky, the oddly colored trees. Between the great fossilized islands below her and the beautiful witch wrapped in her arms, a double edged blade of elation and longing struck her heart. She held Amity tighter. 

Amity stiffened and tried to ignore Luz’s head resting between her shoulder blades. 

“I missed this place, Amity,” she sighed. “The human world is my home, but… I think I always belonged here. With you.”

Amity gripped her staff tighter. “With me,” she mumbled under her breath.

“What?”

“I-I said probably!” 

Luz lifted her head. “You think so?”

Amity sighed. “Yeah, I do. Even though life’s gone to shit, I… I mean, we, we really, well… needed you. Here. W-We needed you here.”

Luz smiled and gave Amity a quick squeeze. “I wish I was. Do you really think Willow will let me fight once I get back into magic?”

“She will. Willow’s just worried right now. Worried about you, worried about the rebellion. I’m a commander but she’s the real leader. She’s always been.” 

“Because she tried to assassinate Belos?” 

“She almost succeeded. I’m just glad she got out of there before he hurt her worse than the scar on her face. But, we did learn one thing from it.” 

“What?”

“He bleeds.” 

Luz shuddered, then startled. “Oh! I forgot!” She reached under her shirt and retrieved a small triangular pendant, strung on a fraying cord. She handed the souvenir to Amity. “I’ve kept this since we rescued Eda. I want to give it to Willow now. Show her I’m ready and I’ve been ready.”

“What is it?”

“A piece of Belos’ mask. I hit him in the face with an ice spike.”

Amity chuckled. “Of course, you did.”

“Do you think Willow will reconsider when I show her this?”

“It depends, Luz. That was a long time ago and you are out of practice. It’s a new world.”

“I know. That’s all you guys keep telling me.”

Amity sighed but didn’t press further. Luz huffed, closing her eyes and leaning on Amity until they began their descent. 

They landed outside the mouth of a large cave. Thin stone spines hung from the ceiling and sprouted from the floor, gashed with deep claw marks. Luz shuddered at the thought of what could have made those. Amity nodded into the cave and sparked a jet of pink fire in her palm, leading the way into the depths. Luz followed, listening to their echoing footsteps and the click of Amity’s staff against the stone floor. 

They weaved between the rocks by the light of Amity’s fireball. After about a half hour of walking, Amity glanced over at Luz. A tiny smile graced her lips.

“Y’know,” she said, “when Eda first brought me down here and started training me with her methods, I thought she was insane. Well, more so than normal. Compared to Lilith’s teaching, it was a little, well…”

“Unorthodox?” Luz suggested. 

“That’s it. I didn’t think I would ever learn about magic by licking rocks and eating snow.”

“Yeah, learning from Eda was always a little odd. It teaches you a lot, though.”

“It taught you how to steal my wand and anger a Slitherbeast.”

Luz laughed in surprise. “You remember that?”

“Of course, I remember that. That’s when we made the Azura book club. I’d never forget that.”

Luz smiled fondly, thinking of Amity’s blushing face and the twins teasing her… 

Her heart sank. The twins. Edric. 

Titan, Edric. 

“Luz, are you listening?”

“Hm? Oh, sorry. Spaced out. What did you say?”

“I asked if you were ready to get the glyph.”

“Yeah! Okay, what do you want me to do? Fire magic? Karate kick the stalagmite in half to get it?”

She struck a pose as Amity tilted her head. “I have no idea what a karate is. No, Eda told me to train you exactly how she trained me. Which means that we are going to be using that to get the glyph.”

Amity drew another spell circle and sent a large light orb into the air. A ways down the tunnel, the light reflected off shiny brown scales. Luz sucked in a sharp breath, and Amity put a finger to her lips. A six legged creature faintly resembling a large dog lay sleeping between the spikes. Armored scales puffed and flattened as it breathed, and one large eye was situated in the center of its long face. Haphazard fangs poked out of its mouth. It kicked one leg in its sleep, which Luz found reminiscent of King and by extension very cute. 

Nudging her with her elbow, Amity smiled at Luz and slowly drew another circle as she spoke. “When I did this,” she whispered, “I accidentally stepped on it. I’m not doing that again, so we’re going to improvise.”

“Improvise how?”

She completed the circle. A firework blasted from her hand, whistling down the tunnel, and exploded on a far wall. Luz covered her ears as the explosion echoed. The rock demon jolted awake. Its single eye fixed on them.

“Uh, Amity? What now?”

The creature roared. 

“Run!” 

They took off back towards the mouth of the tunnel with the monster crashing after them. Luz screamed as Amity laughed, the creature snarling and snapping at their heels. Barely managing to outpace the rock demon, they hurdled over spikes and ducked low hanging ceilings by the light of Amity’s fire spell. Luz stared at her old friend in terrified shock.

“This is how you learned the spell?!” she squawked. 

“More or less!” Amity replied.

“How did you not die!” 

“I almost did a few times! Training with Eda, remember?”

“What do we do now?”

“Try to get it to hit a spike!”

Luz glanced behind her at the demon. It glowered at her savagely. She pushed Amity’s shoulder.

“Go left!”

Whistling to the demon, Luz grabbed its attention as Amity split off. She weaved between spikes and watched the demon do the same. A towering stone loomed ahead of her.

“Luz, look out!”

She leapt to the top of the spine at the very last second. 

The demon jumped too late. 

It slammed head first into the rock with a thundering crack. Luz jumped aside as half of it came crashing to the floor, shattering into pieces. Amity grabbed her by the arm and yanked her back while the rock demon staggered to its feet. It shook its head, whimpering, and slunk back into the midnight depths of the cave. Luz let out a tired, relieved laugh as Amity dropped her arm. The witch stepped over to the broken spike and gestured to the now flat surface revealed. 

“Come get your glyph,” she said, smiling. 

Luz grinned and stepped up beside her. Amity was right; the glyph sat inside the stone like a ring in a tree. Fumbling for her paper, Luz hastily copied it down and slapped her new glyph on the ground. Amity yanked her back as the paper glowed. 

A thin, sharp spike shot up and smashed into the ceiling. Luz burst out cheering while Amity crossed her arms and smiled. 

“Spikes! I can do spikes now!” She jumped into Amity’s arms. Amity stiffened in shock, face going red. Luz pulled back, still holding Amity as she grinned down at her, Amity’s hands resting against her chest. “Thank you so much!” 

“As long as you keep them away from me,” Amity chuckled. 

Luz smiled sheepishly, remembering their early rivalry days. “Hey, you tried to squish me with an abomination.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me.”

They smiled, reminiscing, holding each other in gentle silence. Luz dragged a hand down Amity’s arm as they gazed into each other’s eyes. Her fingers bounced over a long, raised scar running down her bicep. She frowned and looked down at the strip of pale tissue. Amity looked away.

“What’s this from?”

“An old fight. It was just a flesh wound, it wasn’t anything serious.”

“It looks serious.”

“It wasn’t, really. I’m okay now, anyway, so it doesn’t matter.”

Luz bowed her head with a sigh. She pulled Amity closer and rested her chin on her shoulder. Amity disentangled her arms, wrapping them around Luz’s neck as tears pricked her eyes. Luz rubbed Amity’s back as she closed her eyes. 

“You have no idea how much I missed you,” the human mumbled. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there to help you guys. I’m sorry I couldn’t keep my promise to you.”

“What promise?”

“I’m your fearless champion, remember?”

“Luz, that was for Grom.”

“I meant it for more than Grom.”

Amity held her tighter. “You had to go back. You know you did.” 

“There’s nothing for me in the human world besides my mom. I should’ve stayed here.” 

“Well, you’re back now. That’s all I care about.”

Luz sighed and buried her face against Amity’s neck. Amity, hardly able to think with Luz’s warm breath on her skin, carded her shaking fingers through the human’s hair. She couldn’t remember how many times she had imagined this, imagined Luz in her arms, holding her tight amidst the disaster their world had become. She shuddered and let herself relax into Luz’s embrace. 

“I can hardly believe you’re here,” she admitted without thinking. “I missed you for fucking years, Luz. I didn’t know if you were ever coming back, or if you were safe in the human world, I didn’t know anything.”

“I’m sorry. I should’ve been here with you, Amity.” 

“Don’t apologize.”

A huge roar split the quiet. The two jumped apart in time to see the rock demon barreling at them again. 

“Ah okay heartwarming discussions can wait until later!”

----

The next few weeks continued like that. Luz would follow Amity all over the Isles, retracing the years of training she missed from Eda. With each new glyph she added to her repertoire, she added new memories to make up for all the years she missed, most of them to do with a certain golden eyed witch. 

Amity, laughing beneath a forcefield that Luz summoned in the boiling rain.

Amity, covered in abomination goo after another failed attempt to find a glyph in it. 

Amity sitting in the sunlight. 

Amity grinning at her. 

It was amazing until Amity was called away to lead the rebellion. She would disappear for a day or two, sometimes longer, only to come back without an explanation and a myriad of new scars. She didn’t talk to Luz after; she didn’t talk to anyone, save a quick hushed briefing with Eda and Lilith before disappearing into her room. 

Luz left her alone when she got like that, after a few warning looks from Eda and a fumbling, patchy, halfhearted explanation from Lilith. But in the end, Luz got the message herself. Amity’s haunted, shadowed eyes were explanation enough. 

The outbursts were worse. Out of nowhere, any little inconvenience would have Amity shouting and cursing at the top of her lungs, eyes alight with pain and rage. Only Eda and King could calm her down when she got like that. Luz watched sadly as Amity curled up on her sleeping bag, hiding her face in trembling hands, with King draped over her back with sad eyes. 

Sighing and shutting the door quietly, Luz left them alone and went to sit between Eda and Lilith on the couch. Eda nudged her with her elbow and passed her a mug. Luz took a swig and almost spat it out. 

“Oh gross, what is that?” she coughed. 

“Apple blood.”

“How do you drink that?”

“It’s an acquired taste.”

“Everything you consume is an acquired taste,” Lilith chimed in, sipping a cup of tea. 

“Hey, remember when you cursed me?”

“Oh for the love of the Titan!” 

Luz managed a tired giggle as the sisters squabbled over her head. Her grin disappeared as soon as it arrived, and she slumped into the cushions. Eda noticed and laid a hand on her shoulder.

“Kid, what’s wrong?”

“Does this always happen now?” Luz asked. 

Eda sighed and leaned back, sipping her apple blood. Lilith cleared her throat. 

“Amity has seen too much for someone your age,” she began. “They all have. It has taken a toll on them, and, for Amity, at least, this is how it manifests. Just let her work through and she’ll be fine.”

“How long has she been doing this?”

“Since her first few battles. The big ones, anyway,” Eda answered. “They’ve all got their own way of coping. This is Amity’s.” 

Luz sighed and looked over her shoulder in the direction of their shared room. “I don’t get it. She seems so happy when we’re training and then out of nowhere, this.” 

“Huh, wonder,” Eda snorted. Lilith shot her a look, and the younger Clawthorne turned aside. Luz frowned at her feet. 

Lilith tapped Luz’s shoulder. “Why don’t you go talk to her?”

“Weren’t you two just saying to leave her alone?”

“We said that this is how she copes. She’s never been all that open to us, but she might say more to you.” 

“I’m going to talk to her.” 

“Luz,” Eda called, “don’t push.” 

“Okay.” 

She knocked lightly on the door to their room and stepped inside. Amity was curled into a ball on her bed with King laying on her. King jumped up to meet her, hopping into her arms and climbing onto her shoulder.

“She hasn’t said anything since she got home,” he whispered. “It keeps getting worse.”

Luz gently pushed him off. “Hey, Amity,” she said gently. 

“What?” Amity mumbled into her hands. 

“Do you want to talk?” 

“About what?”

“Anything.” Luz sat down on her own bed beside Amity. The witch uncovered her eyes, and Luz offered a smile. Amity sat up.

“Did Eda and Lilith send you up here?”

“Not necessarily. I wanted to check up on you.”

“I’m fine, Luz.”

“Really? You don’t seem fine.” 

“I am.” 

Luz sighed. “Okay.”

Amity pulled her knees to her chest and sighed. Luz sat back, idly drumming her fingers on her legs. Amity hid her face. 

“Three people,” she mumbled.

“What?”

“There were three casualties today. Not dead, but too hurt to fight. One has a broken leg, another was cut to shreds, and the third…” Amity shook her head as her voice trailed off. “There was so much blood, Luz. There’s always so much blood. I can’t stand to be in that fucking healer’s building just because it stinks so fucking badly. I can’t stop smelling blood…” 

Luz touched Amity’s arm. When she didn’t pull away, she wrapped her arms around her and flopped down onto the bed. Amity stiffened, ready to thrash her way out of Luz’s grip, but the gentle hand that found hers calmed her within a moment. She screwed her eyes shut and tried not to cry as Luz pressed her face against the back of her neck. 

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. She pressed her front against Amity’s back. “I wish I was there to help.”

Amity shook her head. “I never want you to see shit like this.”

“I’m sorry you have to.” She pressed closer. “Are you hurt?”

“No.”

“Good. Promise me you’ll be safe if I can’t be out there with you.”

“I don’t need you to protect me, Luz.” 

Amity’s scroll buzzed. She sat up out of Luz’s arms to look at the message and frowned. 

“What is it?” Luz asked. 

She stood. “Willow wants to see us.”

“Us?”

“Yes, both of us. Let’s go.”

[hailbop1701]

ReaperXFemaleReader

Doom: To Hell And Back

Chapter 7: Off The Deep End

Helloooooooo! Queen of all typos here with chapter 7! I just wanted to say that I love you all and that I have opened requests for Doom (2005), Almost Human, and Star Trek.

You and Reaper had just caught up with Sarge who had met up with Duke and the Kid. “System reboot. Time required to begin renewed operation: five minutes. Quarantine cordon is breached.” the computer rang out. You grimaced, “Oh that’s not good.” you muttered. Sarge shot you a glare, “This mission is no longer containment. Get all the weapons and ammo you can. We’re going through. Move!” he barked. You turned back towards the infirmary, “Where do you think you’re going, Crow?” Sarge’s voice echoed around you. “I’m running low on medical supplies. I’m going to restock while I still can,” you said without slowing down or looking back. You faintly heard Sarge yell a few more things but you couldn’t help but not care; ‘he’s spiraling, declaring the situation as it was. It wasn’t going to end well.’ you thought grimly. 

You tilted your head ever so slightly when the sound of running footsteps caught up to you. John strode purposely next to looking worried, “I thought you were on your way to the armory?” you asked, matching his increasing pace. “Sam’s not answering,” he said voice tight, “Well come on then!” you said and started running. John seemed surprised for a moment before he started to follow you, his feet hitting the floor with dull thuds. You skidded to a halt in front of the closed nanawall; Dr. Carmack’s lower back half still hung there limply. You grimaced and slammed your fist down on the button on the control panel, the body fell to the floor with a crunch. “Sam, why didn’t you answer your comm.?” John asked as soon as he entered the room with you behind him. 

Sam looked up from what she was doing and gestured you both over and John huffed, “We gotta go now!” he said urgently. Sam shook her head, “Why did they take Goat and not Destroyer? Why Carmack and not Dr. Thurman?” she said quickly. John looked confused at what she was getting at, “What?” 

Sam stood up quickly, “Lucy had the 24th chromosome but she wasn’t a monster. She died protecting her child, not devouring it. Why did the same chromosome that made her superhuman turn Stahl into a monster?” she asked wildly. “Let’s go,” John said impatiently gesturing toward the exit. “Just give me a minute!” Sam begged; you sighed and shook your head and started to gather the supplies you needed. But Sam’s thought process made your head spin, you moved to pass Reaper but he grabbed your arm dragging you to a stop. “Wha-” you were going to argue but the look on his face made you turn and look at Sam. She showed you exactly what she just showed her brother, She took forceps and dragged it across the slug looking thing that came from Dr. Carmack. It reacted severely, the slug thrashed and hissed and then became still, “That was brain matter from Portman.” she whispered, setting down the forceps. She picked up another pair and repeated the motion, the slug kept still. “Brain matter from Destroyer,” she whispered. 

“It chooses who it infects,” you whisper awed, “Ten percent of the human genome is still unmapped. Some say it’s the genetic blueprint for the soul.” Sam said with a grin. You looked down at the slug almost unseeing, “Makes sense on why they left. Made the synthetic chromosome, some turn out for the better while others not so much.” you said and the twins were quiet. Your eyes widen, “We need to go now!” you said whipping around to face Reaper. He looked almost startled, “Yeah (Y/N) I know that’s what-” he said but you grabbed the arm that was still holding onto you. “John, not everyone will be infected. They don’t have to die,” you said urgently eyes on fire. His breath caught and he let you go. For a split second your arm tingled but you shook it off and rushed for the door with the Grimm twins behind you. “What’s going on?” Sam asked from behind you. “Sarge is going to kill them all,” John growled picking up his pace. You skidded to a hard stop next to the computer console in the Ark room, you started up the sequence as John and Sam showed up. “Ark travel in ten seconds.” the computer rang out. You stepped up so you were between the two siblings, “ Ugh Ark travel.” you mutter disgusted and Reaper couldn’t help but smirk. 

“You wanna go first?” You asked with a raised eyebrow and John rolled his eyes moving forward. You watched as Reaper was engulfed by the swirling silver mass one last time, “Sam go.” you urged after the computer started the countdown again. Sam took a deep breath and stepped forward; the clock counted to zero and Sam was gone. Taking a shuddering breath you stepped up to the plate, the computer’s female monotone counted down and you braced as it hit zero. 

The sensation of everything and nothing hit you like a ton of bricks, you stumbled out and almost fell to your knees. You would have if Reaper didn’t catch you, “Thanks,” you gasped your jaw clenched. John held on until you could stand on your own, “It’s okay, deep breaths.” he whispered to you. You slowly straightened, holding on to his shoulder “God, I hope to never do that again.” you chuckled dryly. That’s when you saw bodies that littered the Ark room floor; “Oh my god.” you gasped eyes wide. John squeezed your shoulder as Sam looked over at the both of you with unshed tears in her eyes. 

Gritting your teeth you activated your Comm. “Sarge, what’s your position? Sarge, come in. Do you copy?” you voice cold and even. No response. You scowled and Reaper turned his Comm. on, “ Come in, Sarge. Do you read me? Over. Sarge, come in, do you copy?” he asked his voice a low growl. A few seconds passed by before Sarge’s voice filters through, “Loud and clear,” he said sounding almost chipper. A severe scowl crossed your features, “so childish.” you mutter with a shake of your head. The three of you moved forward carefully stepping over the dead. 

Reaper’s eyes narrowed, “Look, do not kill everybody. I repeat, do not kill everybody. They’re not all infected.” he said calmly. Static only greeted you, “Do you copy?” Reaper repeated. Another pause, “Copy that.” came the C.O.’s response with the sound of a gunshot. Sam flinched while you and John just looked at each other, “John.” you said warningly. The man beside you looked conflicted, “I know, I know.” he said avoiding eye contact. You stopped by the computer console and scanned the screens. Sam and John were huddled together whispering back and forth, they’re conversation seemed pretty heavy so you kept your attention on what was in front of you. You tapped at the keyboard; pulling up the security feed. “Sarge and Duke are on their way,” you said looking up through your lashes before looking back down again. John suddenly looked a little flustered but you assumed it had to be because of what was happening. What you didn’t see was Sam hiding a smile behind her hand; John cleared his throat and worked to get his thoughts under control. He saw that Sam was watching him intently, “stop,” he warned and she waved it off. 

Sarge and Duke took that moment to enter the room; Sarge peers over your shoulder, “What are you doing?” he asked a little too close for comfort. “I’m looking at security footage, I was hoping to track the infected that traveled through the Ark.” you muttered trying to hold in your anger and frustration. Sarge straightened and crossed his arms, “You don’t have to kill all of them. I don’t think everyone is infected, or even capable of being infected.” Sam said gaining Sarge’s attention away from you. You look up at Duke who was standing a few feet away; you motioned for him to come over. He sauntered over to you and bent down over the desk, “is it true?” he asked in a whisper. You give a small nod, “yeah saw it for myself,” you whispered back. You moved your finger on the touchpad and promptly frowned, ‘where is everyone?’ you asked yourself. 

“Can you go over to that terminal and bring up the quarantine clock?” you asked Duke, he nodded and moved to the other end of the desk. He set his gun down and began to slowly tap at the keyboard with two fingers. Snorting you looked up at the argument, 

 ”Am I glad to see you guys. That thing cut right through the door. I tried to use the grenade but it came at me too fast. Followed me through the Ark, and started to kill everybody. It was horrible.” a voice broke the tension. You all looked over to see Pinky rolling in and immediately stopped when Sarge pointed his gun at his head. Pinky held up his hand’s eyes wide; you walked quickly over to Pinky ignoring the gun pointed in your general direction. You placed a hand on Pinky’s forehead and tilted it so you could look at his neck from all sides. “He hasn’t been bitten. He’s clean,” you said stepping away from the shaking man looking Sarge in the eye. 

Sarge glared at you lowering his weapon slightly, “I say who’s clean and who’s not.” he hissed teeth clenched. You narrowed your eyes squaring your shoulders; despite not saying anything the challenge was pretty clear. Pinky clammed up beside you and babbled trying to save himself, “Sarge!” another voice broke the standoff, the Kid entered the fray. Sarge’s eyes turn from you to the young private, “There’s a storeroom to the south. It’s got, like, 20 people inside of it. We gotta do something.” he said panting worn out. Your eyes flicked to John, he stood ramrod straight. Fists clenching and unclenching; he looked conflicted. His eyes flicked and caught yours, ‘You good?’ he silently asked and your lips thinned.  A clear ‘no,’ 

Sarge wasn’t happy with the Kid, “Your orders were to clear that sector. Is it cleared?” he asked anger seeping into his every word. The Kid looked shocked, “N-no, I told him to stay put. They’re okay. They’re just scared shitless.” he said. You couldn’t see him but you could hear the fear in his voice. Turning your body ever so slightly you slowly inch to get closer to him; you didn’t take your eyes off Sarge or the sidearm that was still gripped in his hand. “We kill them all. Let God sort them out,” he said coldly. Out of your peripheral, you saw the Kid shake his head, “This is wrong. I think-” 

“-Son, you don’t think. That’s an order. We’re in the field soldier.” Sarge snapped voice booming. The Kid stiffened, “Sarge if nothing’s found them…” the Kid tried again; you held your breath and moved another inch or two. “You will obey the direct order of your commanding officer.” Sarge seethed, teeth bared. Your heart thudded in your chest as you moved another few inches, you were a few feet away from him. “No.” the Kid refused and you truly wanted to praise him, but now wasn’t the time to disobey Sarge right to his face. “Now.” Sarge boomed; Sam squeaked from where she retreated. Duke stood in front of her by the terminal; the Kid squared his shoulders to be like yours. Defiant. “Go to hell,” he said fists clenched by his side. You were close to him now but not close enough; the shot echoed through the room and sent painful echoes through your head. 

“Holy shit!” Duke yelped and Sam screamed, “oh my god!” 

The Kid fell to the ground, blood spurting from his neck. His terrified wide eyes were on you pleading for help. You moved a few steps before another shot rang out, this time it hit the floor by your feet. “Don’t move Crow,” Sarge growled. Reaper screamed at Sarge angrily but the larger man paid him no heed, you and Sarge didn’t take eyes off of one another. You glared and trembled in anger; he seemed more relaxed now that the fly in his ear was gone. You had to watch as John tried and failed to stop the bleeding; you had to watch as the Kid died, his eyes boring into you. Once the Kid was still and unseeing Sarge lowered his gun off of you, “It was his first mission!” Reaper shouted at his C.O. and Sarge rolled his eyes, “And it’s not gonna be my last. I need soldiers. I don’t need anybody else but soldiers.” he said with the curl of his lip. 

He waved his gun at you again, “You’re on thin ice little girl,” he warned making you bristle like a pissed-off cat. Reaper stood slowly nostrils flaring, he stepped over the Kid to get closer to you and his sister. He put his hands on his primary weapon tensing for a fight that will inevitably break out. The cocking of another gun sounded from behind you, you stiffened and turned. “Drop the weapons. I mean it. I have no intention of being killed by a madman. Drop the weapons.” Pinky shouted brandishing the handgun Mac must have given him earlier. 

Your eyes went from pinky to the creature that lurked behind him; you slowly backed away from the wheelchair-bound man toward Reaper. You caught Duke’s eye and subtly motioned for them to get back.  Duke wrapped an arm around Sam who held a hand to her mouth to keep from crying out. They cautiously moved back towards the far wall; you squeaked slightly when your foot hit the Kid’s leg. Reaper reached out a hand to your elbow and eased you back. The demon growled bizarrely its eyes were on you, it’s growling became louder the further you moved away. Pinky’s eyes were wide in fear, “There’s something behind me, isn’t there?” he squeaked. 

The demon roared and grabbed Pinky flinging him around in the air. His screams echoed the Ark room and you felt someone push you to the ground. You whipped your head around to see Reaper on the floor with but his eyes were half-closed. “John!” you yelped and scrambled over to the prone man. He groaned as you checked his face gently, “hey come on we gotta move.” you urged gently tapping his cheeks. His green eyes fluttered open to meet yours, they then darted around to the chaos that was happening around you. He nodded, “I’m good.” he murmured, patting your elbow. Sighing in relief you moved, gripping Reaper’s arm to help him to his feet. 

You swung your rifle from your back and surged forward with Reaper at your hip, “Move!” Sarge ordered rushing after the demon; “Sam keep back!” John ordered and eyed Duke for a second. Duke nodded and kept in front of the good Doctor. One by one you all passed through a nanowall and down a darkened corridor. Halfway down Sarge held up a closed fist, “Listen,” he cautioned. You held your breath straining your ears, the pounding in your head became worse by the passing hours. Sarge quickly turned eyes wide, “Withdraw! WIthdraw behind the nanowall.” he shouted urging you all back the way you came.  You gasped seeing what Sarge saw; a horde of infected sprinted down the corridor in your direction. Turning on your heels you ran back, your feet barely touching the ground. 

Reaper fired off some shots behind you and called for a magazine; you got through the nanowall and turned. You raised your rifle as Reaper sprinted through; Duke tossed him a mag and you fired on the first infected you saw. Sarge slammed his fist down on the control panel attempting to close the nanowall. He hit it too hard because the wall began to splutter and flicker on and off, ‘great!’ you thought bitterly. “(Y/N) move!” John shouted from behind you, you swung around and quickly moved to a better position. “Fuck! The wall’s not closing!” Duke shouted and Sam screamed as arms shoved past the malfunctioning wall. One managed to grab onto Sarge’s leg, “I’m not supposed to die.” he shouted, and then he was gone.  You backed up so you were shoulder to shoulder with Duke protecting Sam, “John let’s go!” you shouted as you covered his retreat. He fired a couple more shots before moving back, an abrupt growling broke your focus. Looking down on the grate you and Duke stood on you saw it, gasping you pulled Duke off and you both crashed to the floor. “Holy shit!” he screamed, firing into the grating. 

Sam ran to Duke and pulled him up while you scrambled to your own feet running after Reaper. “Come on!” you shouted making sure they passed you. You emptied your clip before following them down another adjacent hallway. Duke held open a door for you waving a hand wildly for you to hurry. You practically flew into the room slamming into a bunch of crates and boxes; the door closed with a thud and a hiss. Without taking a breather you, Duke and Reaper piled anything you could get your hands on in front of the door. After you had run out of heavy objects you leaned against a wall breathing heavily. You closed your eyes and ran a shaky hand through your mussed up hair, opening them again you eyed John. He leaned against the opposite wall looking pale, “John?” you questioned moving closer to him; he lifted his hand to wave you off but it was covered in blood. He slid down the wall, eyes drooping he watched as you rushed to his side, 

“Sam, he’s been shot!” 

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[galaxythreads]

Thor (Thor: TDW)

Muted. 

Thor in the Dark World is muted. I don’t mean this in a negative way. Thor has undergone a brutal beating since his first steps onto MCU. 

When the movie opens, we’re seeing the aftermath of Thor’s family in ruins. Thor has disowned Loki. Maybe not verbally, maybe he’s not even aware that he’s done so, but Thor has denounced his brother. His best friend. Closest confidant. A person he could rely on for decades. 

And this leaves him utterly miserable.

He’s trying to distance himself from everyone. He won’t talk to the Warriors or Sif, he barely speaks with his parents. 

Odin keeps handing out unhelpful advice about romance, as if trying to throw Thor into functioning again by making him care for a woman. Odin could have cared less about Thor’s romantic interests in Thor 1. But when we arrive here, Odin is suddenly all over Thor/Sif. (And yes, I absolutely believe this is Odin also attempting to sway Thor away from a mortal. He wouldn’t have called Jane a goat otherwise.) 

But Thor and Sif’s relationship has always struck me as more of a brother and sister thing than romance. And Odin trying to get them “together” must have been awkward and uncomfortable for both of them. (Small side note, but Sif avoids Odin the entire movie. Even in the middle of a battle, where she is a general in the army, she avoids him.) 

How is Thor supposed to discuss anything he’s feeling with a mother who’s focused on his sibling, and a father who could care less about said brother, but also him? Odin’s attempt to “help” is assuming he knows everything. Including how to fix Thor’s problems. 

There’s a reason Thor says “my father doesn’t know everything.” 

Thor’s main motivation, main joy is his family. The “death” of Odin destroyed him in the first movie, and Loki’s suicide left him broken. Thor’s purpose for a thousand years was utterly obliterated in three days. 

Loki arrives in the Avengers, and Thor makes an attempt to reach him. When Loki doesn’t reach back (can’t, because of the Other, but Thor doesn’t know that), Thor tries to keep a distance after their initial conversation, and keeps that mindset well into the second movie.

We are not told whether or not Loki was allowed visitors, but it’s safe to assume that he wasn’t. 

If this is the case, then Thor wasn’t even legally allowed to talk to Loki, and get his side of the story. And without that perspective, Thor can only make assumptions. Disownment, was, I think, the easier path for him. It doesn’t hurt if it’s not his problem anymore, right?

So he delves into distractions to avoid how his family has broken. 

Helping maintain order in the Nine. Doing anything to avoid Asgard and Loki. 

Even Jane, to an extent, falls under this. His concern for her is, I think, is sincere. I also think that he thinks of himself and Jane as his most “ideal” life right then. When he was with Jane, thinks weren’t great, but they were better. It’s almost like Jane is his comfort daydream. 

But rather than approach her and talk, he maintains a distance. How can Thor think of Jane, be with Jane, without thinking of this: 

“If you destroy the bridge, you’ll never see her again!” 

Because in the middle of their falling out, in the middle of Loki’s attempt to get Thor to kill him, he has to stop and think about Thor’s happiness.

Thor must have been rattled, later,  when he thought about this. Because I doubt that Thor doesn’t think about this day often. 

So he shuts down emotionally in an effort to survive. Thor can’t even cry at his mother’s funeral. He barely smiles at anything, even seeing Jane, the first woman we’re aware of that he sincerely loves, fails to cause him joy. 

He’s emotionally closed off, almost half-dead in his responses in TDW. The terror he feels at the thought of getting close to anyone whispers through his every action. In avoiding Jane, Darcy, and co. In pulling away from his family, and his friends. 

And because of this, the Warriors and Sif are so protective of Thor in this scene: 

“If you even think about betraying him...” 

This, I think, has very little to do with Loki physically harming him. This is them inadvertently saying, Thor is fragile right now. Thor has barely spoken to them in the movie at this point, but even they recognize that Thor has been emotionally crippled. 

And Loki spends almost their every minute from when he leaves the cell trying to get a rise out of him. Mockery, jibes, anger. Anything to get him responding. Loki, I believe, thinks that Thor’s apathy is used to punish him, but this is Thor’s only coping mechanism. To have someone push him from there is as scary as it is a relief. 

Because this is when Thor starts responding. Living. 

This says so much about their bond, broken and jagged edges at this point, that the simple fact of talking to each other, even in anger, seems to offer so much relief as much as it does pain. 

And it’s here, in this scene, that I think that Thor claims Loki as his brother again. Not in so many words: 

“I wish I could trust you.” 

I wish we could be what we were. Do you remember? When we were brothers? 

And Loki doesn’t miss a beat. “Trust my rage.”

Things can’t be the same. But I will still help you.  

Thor realizes here that his family isn’t gone. Loki calls him brother frequently. Thor may have lost his mother, his father in every what that matters, and Asgard is under threat, but he still has Loki. 

The relief of this causes Thor to start living. He’s far more animated after this scene than the earlier part of the movie. Thor starts reacting. He cries when Loki dies. He mocks Malekith and goads him into battle. When he leaves Asgard, he goes to Jane.

He allows himself to be emotional vulnerable with her. 

He’s gone full circle.

Closed off to tentatively opening again. 

Thor 2 is Thor’s weird bounce and hop around the healing process. This is where he recovers from the emotional weight of the Avengers and the first Thor. It is, I think, the first time he processes everything that’s happened.

An emotional shut down to a hesitant opening again. 

[reordering-the-planets]

MBTI personality types as ancient Greek gods and godessess

ESFJ Aphrodite (Ἀφροδίτη): Born out of the foam of Uranus’ (God of sky) castrated parts that his son, Titan Cronus, had thrown to the sea. Thus, she emerged from the Ocean in all her beauty and grace and all the water Nymphs and all the Winds came to bow before her. Goddess of love and beauty, of pleasure and of passion as she was, all the men desired her and all the women envied her graces. She married Hephaestus, she desired Ares and she loved Adonis. One could always glimpse her winged son, Eros, god of desire, flying above her as she would’ve often whispered to his ear the next mortal whose his heart was about to be shot by Eros’ arrows.

ENFJ Apollo (Ἀπόλλων): God of light, of sun, of music, of poetry, of truth, of knowledge and protector of the arts. He was everything and he knew it all. People worshiped him all over the known world and build him the most gracious and marvelous temples and oracles, where sunbeams would make the white marbles shine as bright as the sun. In return, Apollo through the voice of gifted diviners would reveal to them what would the future hold. He played his lyre and his daughters, the Muses, would come over from the valleys to accompany his sweet melodies. He loved and protected the young as he, himself, remained a young man forever. He was a healer, but if the mortals were to infuriated him, he would bring the greatest of the plagues on them.

ISFP Artemis (Ἄρτεμις): Twin sister of Apollo as they where both children of Zeus and Leto. Quieter and humbler by nature than her twin brother, she found her call in the deep forests, the mountains and the moon. She befriended all the living things of the wild and devoted herself to their protection. Always bearing a bow in the hand and a handful of arrows on her back, she would hunt in the forests, but she’d never become violent, always honoring her prey. Although she took an oath to remain a virgin, young Orion became her hunting companion and he managed to win her heart. Their love was never meant to blossom, as Artemis shot Orion with an arrow by accident and killed him.

ESTP Ares (Ἄρης): Son of Zeus and Hera as he was, he would grow to become a forceful and a fearful one. Gifted with great physical strength and an everlasting blood lust, he excelled in the battlefields and become a soldier model for the Spartans. He was Aphrodite’s secret lover and together they had many children like Eros, who followed his mother, and Deimos (god of terror) and Phobos (god of fear), who both followed Ares as his warfare companions. The other gods tended to avoid him and on the great Trojan war he was on the losing side, therefore triggering Zeus’ anger towards him. Later, the Romans acknowledged his military intelligence and worshiped him by the name of Mars.

ESTJ Athena (Ἀθηνᾶ): If someone contrived to impersonate the essence of the ancient Greek spirit, it would look like her. It does not surprise that she was goddess of wisdom, handicraft and warfare as well. All three basic elements of the city that she fought with Poseidon for, thus founded and gave it her name, Athens. Athena always wore a helmet, brandished a spear and kept her shield with Medusa’s head on it (that Perseus had gifted to her for helping him in murdering that marine beast) by her side. Legend has it that she was born fully armored from Zeus’ forehead. However, Athena would never initiate an  unreasonable, blood spilling war against her enemies like Ares would do. Wise and strategic as her mind was, Athena favored those with strength and bravery, like Hercules and Perseus, with courage and valiance, like Bellerophon and Jason, as well as those with a sharp mind, like Odysseus, aiding them in multiple ways.

ENTJ Poseidon (Ποσειδῶν): He is known as the sea god, but in fact there was not an element that wouldn’t bow to his will. Poseidon was ruler of the seas, the rivers and all the running waters. He was commander of the earth, the soil, the storms and the mighty earthquakes. He was protector of the noble horses and, as many say, he was the true king of Atlantis. Although he lost supervision of Athens to Athena, the Athenians didn’t forget his volition to become their guardian and they worshiped him almost as much as her. They build him a magnificent temple on the windy top of Cape Sounion, where the waves of the great Aegean sea would crush the rocks beneath it. Poseidon would often help seafarers reach their destination safe and sound. Damn those who would dare sail without a sacrifice to his name for appeasing the tides. A tremendous storm created by a swing of his trident would crash their ship to an unknown land or, even worse, he would drag them all the way down to his wet kingdom. 

ENTP Zeus (Ζεύς): The father of the Gods wasn’t an easy one. As every king that walked the earth, the sea or the skies before and after him, he was whimsical, temperamental and stubborn as a bull. In fact, there were times that he would take the form of a real bull or an eagle, a swan, a bear, a serpent, a flame or even a shower of gold, always to seduce a new love interest of his own. Europa, Cassiopeia, Leda, Alcmene and Ganymede are just a handful of all the women and men he desired and approached while transformed into a creature of beauty, with the sole intention of sleeping with them. It’s no wonder that his wife, Hera, was always mad at him, thus she was the only one that ever managed to scare him a little bit. However, he was Father of everyone and everything. Mortals should not forget that without Zeus, the world would still be at the hands of his tyrannical father, Titan Cronus, whom Zeus with the help of his brothers and sisters managed to overthrow. Thus, he became the true ruler of the skies, bearer of the thunder and enforcer of law and order as well. Among mortals, he was yet another mighty symbol of civilization and justice.

INTJ Hera (Ἥρα): She wasn’t the wife next door. She was the queen of Gods and protector of all the women. Someone could even see her as one of the very first symbols of feminine power in ancient cultures. Her rightful rage towards her unfaithful husband, Zeus, was the fuel of her many vengeful actions against him and his lovers. Although she refused Zeus’ first marriage proposal, after marrying him, she became goddess of marriage and patron of the household and childbirth. Hera could be your worst enemy (even Zeus was sometimes afraid of her), but also your most valuable ally. But, most of all, she was true to herself and to her worshipers. After all, she was the queen-mother of the world.

INTP Hades (ᾍδης) or Plouton (Πλούτων): After the Gods defeated the Titans at the beginning of time, the males ones (Zeus, Poseidon and Hades at that time) gathered together to drew lots of ruler-ship over the world. Although Hades was the eldest between them, Zeus received the sky, Poseidon the earth and the sea, but Hades’ fate was to become king of the underworld. He took Persephone, Demeter’s daughter, for his wife and made her queen at his side. A giant three-headed dog guarded the doors to the underworld, thus making entrance to anyone alive almost impossible. Hades didn’t care for the affairs of the world of the living, or even for the matters of the rest of the gods. Although he wasn’t evil, mortals avoided to refer to him by his name in case they drew his attention. They mostly called him Plouton, which meant “rich”, as all the precious minerals came from the underground, thus the boundary of Hades’ kingdom.

ISFJ Demeter (Δημήτηρ): A rather motherly figure and a well-respected goddess. Demeter loved the earth and everything that came from the soil. She protected farmers and brought to them a good harvest year after year. The humblest seed took root whenever blessed by her. Nothing was more precious to her than her own daughter, Persephone. When Hades abducted Persephone with the intention to marry her, Demeter fell in deep sorrow and not a single thing would grow anymore. Everyone was desperate, and an era of great famine was upon the humans.

INFP Persephone (Περσεφόνη) or Kore (Κόρη): It is said that before her abduction by Hades, Persephone was called Kore, which means maiden or daughter. She was, in fact, the beloved daughter of Demeter, that one day while she was peacefully gathering flowers, Hades came and abducted her, as he was deeply in love with the girl. Demeter was so angry and sad after that incident, that forbade the earth to produce and she begun to wander around looking for Persephone. Zeus heard the cries of the hungry mortals and persuaded Hades to release her. Hades tricked Persephone to eat the seeds of a pomegranate before leaving the underworld, but she ignored that if someone tasted underworld food, they were obliged to come back. Demeter agreed that Persephone would spent half a year on earth and half below it. As a result, the time that Persephone returned to Hades as queen of the underworld, Demeter’s sorrow of her daughter’s absence would make winter on earth. As soon as Persephone come back to earth, she would bring the spring with her. Thus, people worshiped her as a goddess of the springtime and the flowers.

ENFP Dionysus (Διόνυσος, Diónysos) or Bacchus (Βάκχος): This one knew how to enjoy life to the fullest. As the god of wine, theater and ecstatic dance, Dionysus was an emblem of freedom and basically... fun. With vines in his hair, a thyrsus in his hands (a wand of ivy vines and leaves) and a smile on his face, Dionysus would stroll the valleys with his many followers, dancing ecstatically, driving them to divine mania. Mortals would call him “the god who comes”. His companion included goat-legged satyrs and maenads. The last ones were women who, after coming to ecstatic frenzy through dancing and drinking, would please Dionysus through blood-offerings, which in some cases meant that maeneds would kill men with bare hands. Dionysus is said to be a god who dies and rises back from the dead. His many, divine powers still remain a mystery to many of us, mortals.

ISTP Hephaestus (Ἥφαιστος): His form and character does not remind of a god. He was a shy one and would rather spend his time crafting weapons on his hot anvil. However, Hephaestus was the god of fire and served as a blacksmith of gods and heroes. His many creations include Hermes' winged helmet and sandals, Aphrodite's girdle, Achilles' armor, Heracles' bronze clappers, Helios' (god of the Sun) chariot, Eros' bow and arrows and all the thrones of the Gods in Olympus. The legend has it that he was Hera’s son, one that she made by herself out of jealously of Zeus giving birth to Athena out of his head. However, Hera ejected him from mount Olympus, because he was lame on one leg. Hephaestus took revenge against Hera by crafting her a magical golden throne, which, when she sat on, it didn’t allow her to stand up, thus making both her legs useless.

ESFP Hermes (Ἑρμῆς): Also known as the “divine trickster”, the messenger of the gods and the guide to the underworld. Hermes was a pleasant god who protected travelers, merchants, shepherds, athletes and thieves, as he was all of those things himself. His appearance is quite known. A young man with the top of his head full of playful curls, wearing winged sandals, winged petasus (traveller’s hat) and holding the kerykeion (a short staff entwined by two serpents and surmounted by wings). Always being on the move, Hermes loved playing tricks on other gods and mortals.

ISTJ  Hestia (Ἑστία): Hestia was one of the six children of Kronos and Rhea (among Zeus, Hera, Hades, Poseidon and Demeter) and therefore one of the oldest Gods. She was goddess of the home and domesticity as her name suggests (Ἑστία means “hearth”) as well as protector of households. Mortals used to gift her the first offering of every sacrifice in the household. During the founding of a colony, flame from Hestia's public hearth in colonizers’ mother city would be carried to the newly founded one. Hestia rejected both the marriage proposals of Poseidon and Apollo, and took an oath of virginity (like Artemis). She cared little for the conflicts of gods and mortals and tended to her domestic matters. Hestia was the simplest and humblest between gods and even offered her place in Olympus to Dionysus, making him the 12th Olympian god in her place, thus showing her divine magnanimity.

INFJ Asclepius (Ἀσκληπιός): He was originally the son of Apollo and a mortal woman. His father offered him, when still an infant, to centaur Chiron to mentor him. Chiron taught him the art of medicine, but an ancient legend says that a snake returned a favor of Asclepius back to him by licking his ears clean and passing him secret knowledge of healing. In order to honor the snake, Asclepius made a rod wreathed with a snake his divine symbol. This very rod is still nowadays associated with healing and medicine. Asclepius mastery of healing reached the level of bringing people back from the dead. This act infuriated Hades and forced Zeus to kill Asclepius and turn him into a constellation known as Ophiuchus ("the Serpent Holder"), which many claim it to be the 13th sign of the zodiac circle.

[akimmito]

Heroes are made by the path they choose

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Master List

Chapter 13

Being married to Lila Rossi, now Agreste, for six years has been... an experience. The woman goes through life following her own path and coaxing people left and right, while he cannot say or do anything without the sole control over his mother's life being lost. Why would a man like Gabriel Agreste who claims to love his wife so much do such a vile thing? The worst thing is that he managed to sustain him legally and catch him with the last woman in the world he would have thought of marrying.

He must remain married to Lila as long as his mother remains in a coma or the hospital will be forced to kill her. Adrien has no other words for what would happen if he divorces her, but it's so sad to be married to a woman he doesn't love and he's the only one who must fulfill the damn contract, because if they discover an infidelity is the same as divorcing.

His mother deserved more, if she had followed that childhood love instead of his father, she woulded be happy...

Chloe and Marinette have been looking for ways to free him from torture, even Felix decided to help in order to free him from his sad fate. At least, it stopped being Chat Noir or that could have played against him, with how easy Lila manipulates people. He get migraines just from imagining making a mistake.

"Adrien, I'm going out to eat with Alya." Lila appears in his field of vision in her usual expensive way, always looking like he's attending a fashion event (which means expense and that translates directly to him working as a slave in different contracts. She makes her money, sure, but her expenses exceed those gains.) She barely looks at him as she checks her phone, probably talking to Alya or one of her lovers, not that he really cares.

"Sure, say hi on my behalf." She turns to leave, but Adrien stops her. "Remember that today we will have dinner with Michel Laforet for next month's charity event. "

"I wouldn't forget it."

They say goodbye barely looking at each other. Adrien is busy reviewing the job proposals, Marinette sent him a couple of locations to investigate a few weeks ago, due to a group of drug traffickers who settled in Paris and need to know their links, he of course must follow their leads and possible connections to find a way to disrupt it. He's now free to continue his work, especially since the MT is busy dealing with Akuma.

He was very surprised when he saw his first Akuma in seven years, he is also quite fearful of what this new villain intends. The way he has attacked, his champions are very different and, consistent with his cousin, he seems to be trying to measure the heroes. For that reason, he approves of Marinette's approach of keeping Luka in a safe place so that no one notices the use of the second chance, that way the villain will never know if his plans could have been altered in any way.

Wait this time it doesn't last for several years.

Now if he could understand why they want him to model in a banana suit for a soup ad, maybe he could consider it.

-----

The Anibiotic: How are bananas and soup related?

Wild goat: If it's another one of your jokes, I swear by Satan that I'll burn your house down

Silent Hill: I approve the plan

Plasticine: Your jokes are really bad, bro

Dragon Tamer: I think this is a serious question

The Antibiotic: It's a modeling proposal

Needle: They offer you the weirdest roles

Plasticine: Like the sardines!

Three balls: that was good

Not in hell: Maybe it's a way to get attention by putting two discordant elements together

Not in hell: You guys are that strange

Almost pretty: Pleasant

Wild goat: We are great, you know, there is no other creation as stylish as us

Not in hell: I would keep my comments, but I completely disagree

Dragon Tamer: If you start a discussion about this, I'm going to ban you from the chat

Wild goat: Tyranny! I will arm a revolution

Plasticine: Maybe it's banana soup. You don't understand art!

Three balls: Neither do you

Perfect Crime: You’re a disappointment

------

John Constantine was not planning to spend his morning avoiding being stabbed by a ten-year-old boy, nor avoiding being eaten by two German shepherds. But there he's, avoiding the edge of a Swiss knife as he tries to shake off two huge dogs without hurting them, because he's sure the boy's murderous intentions would triple if he hears a single screech from one of his pets.

He may not have met Damian in person, but he know enough about him from the chats and from what Marinette shared with him.

"Look, kid, stop, okay? Damn, I haven't drink enough for this... "

"Why?"

"I don't read minds, kido, you'll have to explain yourself." Damian frowns and presses the knife against the blonde's neck, if it wasn't for the dogs he couldn't have him subdued. The Kwami hesitate about what to do, they are talking... only in a very violent way.

"Why are you do with my mother?"

"Did they give you the talk yet? Because it would be very uncomfortable for you to receive it from me. ”John looks at the boy, who doesn't flinch at anything and seems ready to stab him. It would be better to collaborate, he doesn't want to harm the child, he can only imagine the adorable woman's anger if her son is hurt in some interaction between them. "Sure... Sexual attraction, simple like that. I don't pretend to be your father or to be a stable romantic couple, she deserves something much better than me. I'm just content to enjoy our time together, happy?

"Don't you want to be my father?"

"No, I'm the worst candidate for that position. What made you think that, kid? "Now it's his turn to frown. Much love can be had (he will not deny it), but both are aware that they would be the ruin of the other, he doesn't want to condemn her to a life as dark as his and expose her to all the demons that follow him, she truly deserves something better than misery fllow him.

He also knows that, despite all his complaints, Plagg has told him that he's its true owner and that his soul is balanced with that of Marinette, that's why they gravitate around each other and could trust as if they were born together. That doesn't mean they are romantically good to each other. Sexually? Magical, but the romance in their lives has been tragic and putting that together, well, it could be a problem for everyone.

"You've been with her for four years."

"We are mainly friends, confidants. Do we have sex? Yes, do we want to get married and have more children? No... We would just be miserable. Those stories that soulmates are happy together? Son, these are lies, romantic shit from movies and junk books.

Damian recoils, shocked by the information, all of it. Her mother had hinted at a casual relationship, but the look in her eyes told him otherwise. Soulmates? That doesn't exist, but the Kwami didn't exist for him either until his mother introduced them to him. Wretched? He need to analyze what he have learned.

"Why do you say that?"

"Experience, son. Do you want to sit down or go for a walk? The second seems to excite your friends more."

Damian snaps his fingers and the hounds stand beside him, freeing Constantine. Her kind gaze is very dark, long-suffering and ironic.

Just when he's about to answer, the alarm on his phone goes off and he knows what it means.

Akuma attack.

"Go away, I won't say anything."

Damian nods and Kaalki opens the portal, just look at the man's tired posture for a moment before breaking through the portal back to the MT. Agatha and Edgar just behind, have a job to do.

-------

Chloe B. @BourgeoisQueen

What a wonderful day for an Akuma attack. Somebody take the stick out of the villain's ass because the beast is horrible, nor Hawkmoth dared so much

Dick Grayson @TheFlyingGrayson

WHAT HAPPENS WITH PARIS? IS IT A VIOLET DOLPHIN WITH BAT WINGS?

The Last Hours @Toogoodtodie

@TheFlyingGrayson Paris would appreciate if you blocked any information on the city from external sources in the country, if you do not know how, you can contact the @MaxKan_Tech offices to receive information

Dick Grayson @TheFlyingGrayson

@Toogoodtodie ok?

Max K. @MaxKan_Tech

@TheFlyingGrayson @Toogoodtodie Subtle, Anthony. Please, Mr. Grayson, contact my office and we'll make your stay in Paris much more pleasant. You can also contact the prosecution to find out the legal procedures for staying in Paris and the security regarding the Akuma

Marc @MarcAC_twt

Does our villain use drugs?

[dustedmagazine]

Dust Volume 7, Number 4

Axel Ruley x Verbo Flow

A little bit of optimism is creeping into the air as Dusted writers start to get their shots. We’re all starting to think about live music, maybe outside, maybe this summer. But as the spate of freak snow storms demonstrates, summer’s not here yet, and in the meantime, piles of records and gigs of MP3s beckon. This early spring version of Dust covers the map, literally, with artists representing Pakistan, Australia, Canada, Sweden, the UK and the USA, and stylistically with jazz, rock, punk, rap, improv and many other genres in play. Contributors include Jennifer Kelly, Justin Cober-Lake, Bill Meyer, Ray Garraty, Patrick Masterson, Tim Clarke and Bryon Hayes.

Arooj Aftab — Vulture Prince (New Amsterdam)

Vulture Prince by Arooj Aftab

Arooj Aftab is a classical composer originally from Pakistan but now living in Brooklyn. Vulture Prince, her third full-length album, blends the bright clarity of new age music with the fluid, non-Western vocal tones of her Central Asian roots. “Last Night,” from an old Rumi poem but sung mostly in English, lilts in dub-scented syncopation, the thump and pop of stand-up bass underlining its bittersweet melody. An interlude in some other language shifts the song entirely, pitting vintage reggae reverberation against an exotic melisma. “Mohabbat” (which is apparently Urdu for sex) soothes in the pristine instrumentals, lucid guitars, a horn, scattered drumbeats, but smolders and beckons in the vocals. None of these tracks feel wholly traditional or wholly Western and modern day, but sit somewhere in a well-lit, idealized space. Timeless and placeless, Vulture Prince is nonetheless very beautiful.

Jennifer Kelly

 Assertion — Intermission (Spartan)

Intermission comes from an alternate timeline. Founding drummer William Goldsmith started his musical career in Sunny Day Real Estate and had a notable stint with Foo Fighters. To cut the biography short, Goldsmith took a decade off from the music industry. He's returned now with Assertion, joined by guitarist/vocalist Justin Tamminga and bassist Bryan Gorder (both of Blind Guides, among other acts). This band picks up in the late 1990s, imagining a new path for post-hardcore/post-grunge music. The trio's name suits, as the songs' energy and the lyrical assertiveness develops the intensity of the release. The group works carefully with dynamics, neither parroting the loud-quiet tradition nor simply pushing their emo leanings toward 11.

“The Lamb to the Slaughter Pulls a Knife” epitomizes the album. The track sounds like Foo Fighters decided to get dirtier rather than more arena-friendly, while the lyrics mix violence with emotional persistence. First single “Supervised Suffering” finds triumph in endurance, turning the aggressive chorus into something of a victory. “Set Fire” closes the album with something more delicate, but it's just the gauze over a seething anger. Goldsmith's time off seems to have served him well, as does collaborating with some new partners. Assertion makes its case clearly and effectively, and if the intermission's over for Goldsmith, the second half sounds promising.

Justin Cober-Lake  

 Michael Beach — Dream Violence (Goner/Poison City)

Dream Violence by Michael Beach

“De Facto Blues,” from Michael Beach’s fourth solo album, is a barn-burner of a song, rough and messy and passionate, the kind of song that makes you want to take a stand on something, who cares what as long as it matters to you. It snarls like Radio Birdman, slashes like the Wipers and follows its muse through chaos to righteousness like an off-cut from Crazy Horse, just back from rockin’ the free world. It’s got Matt Ford and Inez Tulloch from Thigh Master on guitar and bass, respectively, Utrillo Kushner from Colossal Yes (and Comets on Fire) on drums, and Kelley Stoltz at the boards, and it’s a killer. The rest of the album is varied and, honestly, not uniformly astounding, but there’s a nice Summer of Love-style psych dream in “Metaphysical Dice,” a slow-burning post-rocker in the title track and a driving, pounding punk anthem in the opener “Irregardless.” Beach has been splitting his time between San Francisco and Melbourne, Australia, and lately settled on Melbourne, where he will fit like a native into their thriving punk-garage scene.

Jennifer Kelly

 Bloop — Proof (Lumo)

Proof by BLOOP (Lina Allemano / Mike Smith)

The trumpet is already a catalog of sound effects waiting to happen, and Lina Allemano knows the table of contents by heart. So, to shake things up, she has paired up with electronic musician Mike Smith, who contributes live processing and effects to Allemano’s improvisations. A blind listen to Proof might leave you with the impression that you’re hearing a horn player jamming with some outer space cats, and we’re not talking about hip, lingo-slinging jazz dudes. In fact, everything on these eight tracks happened in real time. Smith’s a strategic intervener, aware that too much sauce can spoil the stew, so he mixes up precise layering and pitch-shifting with more disorienting transformations. It’s hard to say how much Allemano responds to the simulacra that surround her brass voice, but there’s no denying the persuasiveness of her melodic and timbral ideas.

Bill Meyer

 Bris — Tricky Dance Moves (TrueStory Entertainment)

Bris left some music behind when he died in 2020, but it took almost a year to shape these recordings into a proper CD. The label CEO Mac J (a fine artist himself) could easily capitalize on his friend’s death, stacking Tricky Dance Moves with features from the artists Bris never would have worked with. Yet the album was prepared with the utmost care, not giving an ugly Frankenstein monster feel. Bris’s references to his possible early death are scattered throughout the whole tape: “Heard they wanna pop Bris cause they mad I’m poppin.” Almost every song could be easily turned into a prophetic tale (a cheap move one wants to avoid at all costs). Nonetheless, something is missing here. Or maybe it is just an image of death that disturbs the whole picture, making us realize that this is the last we’d hear from Bris.

Ray Garraty

 Dreamwell — Modern Grotesque (self-released)

Modern Grotesque by Dreamwell

I recently read an interview with Providence’s Dreamwell breaking down in almost excruciating detail the influences that led to the quintet’s sophomore full-length Modern Grotesque. I kept scrolling past Daughters and Deftones and Deafheaven and increasingly disconnected influences like The Mountain Goats and Nina Simone. I went back to the top and looked again. I typed Ctrl+F and put in “Thursday.” Nothing. This is preposterous. I may not be in the post-hardcore trenches the way I once was, but even I’d know a good Full Collapse homage if it swung a mic right into my face the way this one did; hell, just listen to “The Lost Ballad of Dominic Anneghi” and tell me singer Keziah Staska doesn’t know every single word of “Paris in Flames.” That may not look like flattery on a first read, but too often, bands striding the emo/pop divide have chased the latter into sub-Taking Back Sunday oblivion; what Thursday did was much harder, and Dreamwell has ably taken up the torch here. That they did it unintentionally is a curious, bewildering footnote.

Patrick Masterson

  Paul Dunmall / Matthew Shipp / Joe Morris / Gerald Cleaver — The Bright Awakening (Rogue Art)

It’s a bit perplexing that reeds player Paul Dunmall hasn’t spent more time playing with American musicians. He’s firmly situated within the English improvisation community, where he’s perhaps best known for his longer tenure with the quartet Mujician, and his ability to double on bagpipes has allowed him to establish links between improvised and folk music. But

his jazz-rooted approach makes him a natural to work in settings such as this one. When Dunmall toted his tenor to the Vision Festival in 2012 (even then, it could be costly to lug multiple horns on a plane), he found three sympatico partners in Fest regulars pianist Matthew Shipp, double bassist Joe Morris and drummer Gerald Cleaver. They all hit the ground running, generating a barrage of pulsing, roiling sound for over 20 minutes before the piano and drums peel off, leaving Morris to sustain momentum alone. Dunmall’s gruff, spiraling lines find common cause with each of his fellows, and the gradual addition and subtraction of players from that point makes it easier to hear the exchange of ideas, which often seem to take place between dyads operating within the larger flow.

Bill Meyer 

 Editrix — Tell Me I’m Bad (Exploding in Sound)

Tell Me I'm Bad by Editrix

Wendy Eisenberg’s rock band is like her solo output in that it snarls delicate, self-aware, mini-short stories in complex tangles of guitar, hemming in high, sing-song-y verses with riffs and licks of daunting difficulty. The main differences are speed, volume and aggression (i.e. it rocks.) and a certain communal energy. That’s down to two collaborators who can more than keep up, Josh Daniel on surging, rattling, break-it-all-down percussion and Steve Cameron, equally anarchic and fast on bass. The title track is an all-out rager, thrusting jagged arena riffs of guitar and bass forward, then clearing space for off-kilter verses and time-shifting, irregular instrumental interplay. “Chelsea” follows a similar chaotic pattern, setting up a teeth-shaking cadence of rock instruments, with Eisenberg keening over the top of it. “I know, perfectly well, that we’re not safe, safe from the men in power,” she croons, engaged in the knotting difficulties of the world as we know it, but winning.

Jennifer Kelly

Elephant Micah — Vague Tidings (Western Vinyl)

Vague Tidings by Elephant Micah

The new Elephant Micah album, the follow-up to 2018’s excellent Genericana, has an apposite title. Vague Tidings conveys an atmosphere of feeling conscious of something carried on the wind, a story passed on that may have shifted through various iterations, leaving only a sense of its original meaning. All that can be sure is that this is sad, sober music, unafraid to brace against the chill of mortality and speak of all that is felt. The instruments — guitar, piano, percussion, violin and woodwinds — move around Joseph O’Connell’s voice in stiff yet graceful arcs, distanced by an unspoken etiquette. Repetitive melodic figures, stark yet steady, gradually accumulate weight as they roll along like tumbleweeds. It’s a crisp, forlorn country-blues, in no hurry to get nowhere, carrying ancient wisdom that seems to acknowledge the empty resonance of its own import.

Tim Clarke

 Fraufraulein — Solum (Notice Recordings)

Fraufraulein’s music is immersive. Anne Guthrie and Billy Gomberg beam themselves, and us along with them, Quantum Leap-style directly into multiple environments in medias res. Through the clever employment of field recordings, they transport us to a hurricane-addled beach, performing a voice/piano duet as driftwood missiles careen through the air. In another “episode,” the manipulation of small objects conjures up the intimacy of a water garden filled with windchimes. Partners in both life and art, Guthrie and Gomberg are also consummate solo artists. He is a master of spike-textured drones, while she explores the intimate properties of physical entities. Like a child tends to resemble one parent while borrowing subtle traits from the other, Solum identifies more with Guthrie’s electroacoustic tendencies than it does with Gomberg’s electronics. This is in stark contrast to 2015’s Extinguishment, which felt a little more balanced between those two modes. Both approaches work, yet Solum feels more meticulously crafted and nuanced. Careful listening unveils multiple subtle tones and textures, and each piece is an adventure for the ears.

Bryon Hayes

 Gerrit Hatcher / Rob Magill / Patrick Shiroishi — Triplet Fawns (Kettle Hole)

Triplet Fawns by Gerrit Hatcher / Rob Magill / Patrick Shiroishi

The album’s title implies a crew you wouldn’t want on your yard; while those adolescent ungulate appetites do a number on your bushes, the hooves are hacking up your grass. But if they knocked on your door, saxophone cases in their respective hands, you could do worse than invite them around the back for some blowing. Hatcher, Magill and Shiroishi present with sufficient lung power to be heard fine without the reflective assistance of walls, even when they aren’t making like Sonore (that was Gustafsson, Vandermark, and Brötzmann, about a dozen years back). This album, which was released in a micro-edition of 100 CD-Rs on Hatcher’s Kettle Hole imprint, builds gradually from restrained melancholy to pointillistic jousting to a climactic blow-out, and the assured development of each piece suggests that each player was listening not only to what each of the others was doing, but where the music was headed.

Bill Meyer

A.Karperyd — GND (Novoton)

GND by A.Karperyd

On his second solo release, GND, Swedish artist Andreas Karperyd broodingly ruminates on snatches of musical ideas that have been percolating in his consciousness over extended periods. Anyone familiar with his 2015 debut, Woodwork, will find these 55 minutes similarly immersive, as Karperyd manipulates live instruments such as piano and strings into shimmering, alien tapestries. Opener “The Well-Defined Rules of Certainty” appears to take Fennesz’s Venice as its blueprint, issuing forth cascading, percolating tones that tickle the ears. “The Desire to Invoke Balance with Our Eyes Closed” and “Failures and Small Observations” have a Satie-esque elegance to their piano lines, albeit refracted via a hall of mirrors. The 12-minute “Reminiscence of Tar” sounds like a slow-motion pan across the hulking mass of a shadowy space station. And closing track “Mummification of an Empire” slowly fries its piano in static, then unfurls wistful melodica and throbbing synth across the wreckage.

Tim Clarke

  Kiwi Jr. — Cooler Returns (Subpop)

Cooler Returns by Kiwi jr

Kiwi Jr.’s brash, brainy indie pop punk vibrates with nervy energy, like the first Feelies album or Violent Femmes’ 1983 debut or that one great S-T from the Soft Pack. Those are all opening salvos for their respective bands, but this one is a second outing, suffering not a bit from sophomore slackening. Instead, Cooler Returns tightens up everything that was already stinging on the Toronto band’s debut and adds a giddy careening glee. An oddball thread of Robin Hood-ness runs through the disc, with Sherwood forest getting a nod in the title track and “Maid Marian’s Toast” tipping the love interest, but these songs are anything but archaic. “Undecided Voters,” the single jangles harder than anything I’ve heard since Woolen Men, slyly upending creative pretensions in a verse that goes: “You take a photo of the CN tower/you take another of the Honest Ed sign/Well, I take photos of your photos/and they really move people.” Has it been done before? Maybe. Does it move us. Yes indeed.

Jennifer Kelly

 Kool John — Get Rich, Die $moppin ($moplife Entertainment)

A year ago, Kool John was shot six times. Yet you wouldn’t know about it from the general mood of Get Rich, Die $moppin, his first tape since then. He does name one song “6 Shots” and explicitly mentions the shooting accident a few times on other songs, but his bouncy music says he wasn’t hurt bad after all. The beats perfectly match the rhymes, playfully ignorant and ignorantly playful. Kool John still doesn’t mix with broke people, doesn’t return calls if it’s not about money and “doesn’t get stressed out.” Instead, he gets high. His new tape is nothing groundbreaking, even though he’s pretending that is: “If I had no legs I’d still be outstanding.”

Ray Garraty

Nick Mazzarella / Quin Kirchner — See or Seem: Live at the Hyde Park Jazz Festival (Out Of Your Head)

See or Seem: Live at the Hyde Park Jazz Festival by Nick Mazzarella / Quin Kirchner

 Perhaps the most remarkable thing about this recording is that the titular festival happened at all. While most festivals either canceled or went on line, Chicago’s Hyde Park Jazz Festival dealt with COVID by spreading out. Instead of big stages and indoor shows, last September it staged little pop-up events on sidewalks and in parks. So, if the sound of See or Seem feels a bit diffuse, it’s because it was recorded with a device propped in front of two guys playing on a grassy median. There are moments when the buzz of bugs rises up for a second behind Nick Mazzarella’s darting alto sax and Quin Kirchner’s brisk, mercurial beats. But the thrill of actually playing in front of some people (or actually being surrounded by them; when there’s no stage and social distancing is in effect, it makes sense to walk slow circles around the performers) infuses this music, extracting an extra ounce of joyousness from Mazzarella’s free, boppish lines, and adding a restlessness charge to the drumming, as though Kirchner really wanted to squeeze as much music as possible into this 31-minute set. This release is part of Out Of Your Head Records’ Untamed series of download-only albums recorded under less than pristine conditions. A portion of each title’s income is directed to a charity of the artists’ choice; the duo selected St. Jude’s Children’s Research Hospital.

Bill Meyer

 Dean McPhee — Witch’s Ladder (Hood Faire)

Witch's Ladder by Dean McPhee

Finger-picked melodies cut through haunted landscapes of echo and hum on this fourth LP from the British guitarist Dean McPhee. Track titles like “The Alchemist” and “Witch’s Ladder” evoke the supernatural, as does the spectral ambient tone, reminiscent of Chuck Johnson’s recent Cinder Grove or Mark Nelson’s last Pan•American album. Yet while an e-bow traces ghostly chills through “The Alder Tree,” there’s also a grounding in lovely, well-rooted folk forms; it’s like seeing a familiar landscape in moonlight, well-known landmarks suddenly turned unearthly and strange. The long closing title track has an introspective air. Pensive, jazz-infused runs flower into bright bursts of notes, not quite blues, not quite folk, not quite jazz, not quite anything but gorgeous.

Jennifer Kelly

 Moontype — Bodies of Water (Born Yesterday)

Bodies of Water by Moontype

Margaret McCarthy’s voice swims across your headphones like being on an innertube drifting languidly downstream. Typically, saying someone’s vocals are like water indicates a degree of timidity or laziness, obscured in reverb or simply buried by the mix, but on Moontype’s debut LP, it’s a compliment: McCarthy floats across the different styles of music she makes with guitarist Ben Cruz and drummer Emerson Hunton. You notice it not just because she often sings of water or because it’s right there in the title, but also because the Chicago trio hasn’t settled on any particular style yet — just listen to the three-song stretch at the heart of the record where achingly beautiful alt-country ballad “3 Weeks” leads into “When You Say Yes,” a sub-three-minute power-pop number Weezer ought to be jealous of, followed immediately by crunching alt-rock swoon and first single “Ferry.” All the while, McCarthy lets her melodies drift to the will of the songs. I’m reminded of recent efforts from Great Grandpa, Squirrel Flower and Lucy Dacus, but the brief, jazzy curveball of “Alpha” is a peek into whole other possibilities. Bodies of Water is a fine record, but perhaps its most exciting aspect is how much ground you can see Moontype has already conquered. One can’t help but wonder what sonic worlds awash in water await.

Patrick Masterson   

 Rob Noyes / Joseph Allred — Avoidance Language (Feeding Tube)

Avoidance Language by Rob Noyes and Joseph Allred

The 12-string guitar can emit such a prodigious amount of sound, and there are two of them on Avoidance Language. If Joseph Allred and Rob Noyes had planned things out in order to avoid canceling each other out, they might never have picked their instruments up, so they just started playing and listening. The result is not so much a summing of two broad spectrums of sound, but an instinctual blending of similar textures that ends up sounding significantly different from what either musician does on their own. Even when Allred switches to harmonium or banjo, as he does on the album’s two shorter tracks, the music rushes in torrential fashion. Their collaboration is so compatible that it often seems more like a recital for one big stringed thing played by one four-handed musician than a doubled instrumental duet.

Bill Meyer

NRCSSSST — S-T (Slimstyle)

NRCSSST by NRCSSST

There’s no “I” in NRCSSSST but there’s plenty of swagger. The Atlanta-based synth pop band, formed around Coathangers drummer and singer Stephanie Luke and Dropsonic’s Dan Dixon, taunts and teases in its opening salvo “All I Ever Wanted.” Luke rasps appealingly atop Spoon-style piano banging, and big shout along choruses erupt from sudden flares of synths. It’s all hedonism, but done with conviction. You haven’t heard a big rock song kick up this much fun in ages. “Love Suicide” bangs just as hard, its bass line muttering like a crazy person, unstable and ready to explode (and yet it doesn’t, it maintains its restraint even when the rest of the cut goes deliriously off the rails). Dixon can really sing, too, holding the long vibrating notes that lift these prickly jams into anthemry. It’s been a while since a band reminded me of INXS and U2 without sucking, but here we are. Sometimes guilty pleasures are just pleasures.

Jennifer Kelly

 Zeena Parkins / Mette Rasmussen /Ryan Sawyer — Glass Triangle (Relative Pitch)

Glass Triangle by Zeena Parkins, Mette Rasmussen, Ryan Sawyer

Harpist Zeena Parkins and Ryan Sawyer have a long-standing partnership in the trio substitutes Moss Garden, a chamber improv ensemble with pianist Ryan Ross. But swapping in Danish alto saxophonist Mette Rasmussen brings about a change, not just in instrumentation, but attitude. She plays free jazz like a punk, impatient and aggressive, and Parkins and Sawyer are up for the challenge. This music often plays out like a battle between two titans, one blowing and the other pummeling, while Parkins seeks to liquify the ground upon which they stand. She sticks exclusively to an electric harp whose effects-laden tone is disorientingly alien, blinking beacon-like one moment, low as a backhoe engage in earth removal the next. The combination of new and old relationships promotes a combination of instability and trust that yields splendid results.

Bill Meyer

 claire rousay — A Softer Focus (American Dreams)

a softer focus by claire rousay

In film, soft focus is a technique of contrast reduction that lends a scene a dreamlike quality. With A Softer Focus, claire rousay imbues her already intimate compositions with a noctilucent aura. She has created a dreamworld with sound. One glimpse at the glowing flowers that grace the cover art created by visual artist Dani Toral, with whom rousay closely collaborated on this release, and the illusory nature of the record is revealed. The reds, oranges, blues and purples of deep twilight are reflected in both the textures rousay weaves into her soundscapes and the visual themes that Toral conjures. Violin, cello, piano and synth are the musical origins of this warmth, which rousay wraps around environments crafted from the sounds of everyday life. She recorded herself moving about her apartment, visiting a farmer’s market, observing kids playing and just existing. These field recordings of the mundane, when coupled with the radiance of the musical elements, are magical. Snatches of conversation become incantations; auto-tuned vocals are the whisperings of spirits; fireworks explode into brilliant shards of crystal. With A Softer Focus, rousay takes a glimpse into the beauty of the everyday, showing us just how precious our most humdrum moments can be.

Bryon Hayes

Axel Rulay x Verbo Flow — Si Es Trucho Es Trucho / Axel Rulay (La Granja)

Axel Rulay must be kicking himself right now. With more than three million plays on the original version and more than five million on the remix that adds verses from Farruko and El Alfa into the fray, the Dominican is cruising into our second pandemic summer with an unbeatable poolside anthem — and to think, after years of clawing his way up through the industry dregs, working to get his name out there, all he had to do was make himself the chorus over Venezuelan producer Manybeat’s 2019 tropical house trip “El Tiempo.” Presto: Massive visibility in the Spanish-speaking world and a song that ought to transcend any linguistic barriers unlocked even if the best I can manage is a title that translates as “If It’s Trout It’s Trout.” Expect that long-desired Daddy Yankee collabo to follow any day now.

Patrick Masterson

  Rx Nephew — Listen Here Are You Here to Hear Me (NewBreedTrapper)

Rochester rapper Rx Nephew trailed brother-turned-archrival-turned-back Rx Papi’s coming out party 100 Miles and Walk’in by just a few weeks with the 53-minute all-in proposition Listen Here Are You Here to Hear Me. Unlike Papi’s Max B-ish smoothness, Nephew is all rough n’ tumble through these 17 tracks, provocative pump action with narrative bursts of violence and street hustling delivered with a verve most akin to DaBaby or, in some of his more elastic enunciations, peak Ludacris. A recent Creative Hustle interview provides some insight: The first time he went into the booth, “I didn’t write anything. I just started talking about selling crack and robbing people.” The stories haven’t stopped since. If he can keep putting out music as engaging as Listen Here…, Rx Nephew is destined for more than just the margins; until then, we have one of the year’s densest rap records to hold the line.

Patrick Masterson

 Nick Schofield — Glass Gallery (Backward Music)

Glass Gallery by Nick Schofield

Nick Schoefield, out of Montreal, composed these 13 tracks entirely on a vintage Prophet 600, the first synthesizer to designed to employ the then-new MIDI standard established by the instrument’s inventor Dave Smith and Roland’s Ikutaru Kakahashi. The instrument has a lovely, crystalline quality, floating effortless arpeggios through vaulting sonic spaces. Though clearly synthesized, these pieces of music resonate in serene and peaceful ways, evoking light, water, air and contemplation with a simplicity that evokes Japan. “Water Court” drips notes of startling purity into deep pools of tone-washed whoosh and hum. “Snow Blue Square” flutters an oboe-like melody over eddying gusts of keyboard motifs. The pieces fit together with calm precision, leading from one beautiful space to the next like a stroll through a museum.

Jennifer Kelly

  Archie Shepp — Blasé And Yasmina Revisited (Ezz-thetics)

The Ezz-thetics campaign to keep the best of mid-20th century free jazz on CD shelves (yes, CD, not streaming or LP) breaches the walls of the BYG catalog with a disc that issues one and a half albums from Archie Shepp’s busy week in August 1969. Blasé is a stand-out for the participation of singer Jeanne Lee, whose indomitable and flexible delivery as equal to the demands of material that’s be turns pungently earthy and steeped in antiquity. But the rest of the band, which includes Philly Joe Jones, Dave Burrell, some harmonica players, and a couple members of the Art Ensemble, is also more than equal to the task of filtering the blues and Ellingtonia through the gestures of the then-contemporary avant-garde. “Yasmina,” which originally occupied one side of another LP, makes sense here as an extension of the raw, rippling “Touareg,” the last tune on Blasé, into exultantly African territory.

Bill Meyer

 Juanita Stein — Snapshot (Handwritten)

Juanita Stein was the cool, serene, Mazzy Star-evoking vocal presence in the Aussie dream-gaze outfit Howling Bells, and she plays more or less the same role on her third solo album. Yet she is also the source of mayhem here, kicking up an angst of guitar-freaked turmoil on “1,2,3,4,5,6” then soothing it away with singing, hanging long threads of feedback from the thump-thump-thumping blues-rock architecture of “L.O.T.F.” and crooning dulcetly, but with a little yip, in the trance-y title track. This latter cut reflects on the death of her father, a kindred soul who wrote a couple of Howling Bells songs for her and passed away recently. It distills a palpable ache into pure, distanced poetry, finding a cool, dispassionate way to consider the mysteries of human loss.

Jennifer Kelly

 The Tiptons Sax Quartet & Drums — Wabi Sabi (Sowiesound)

Wabi Sabi by Tiptons Sax Quartet & Drums

Over its 30 years together, the Tiptons Sax Quartet has done less to hone its sound and more to figure out how many styles to embrace. The group (typically a soprano, alto, tenor, and baritone sax joined by percussion and even including some vocals) can dig into trad jazz but sounds more at home in exploration, adapting world music or other traditional American styles. The title of their latest album, Wabi Sabi refers to the Japanese concept of finding beauty in and accepting imperfection. The Tiptons, despite that sentiment, don't approach their play with a sloppy sound; in fact, they're as tight as ever. The understanding of impermanence and imperfection does help contextualize their risk-taking. When they turn to odd yodeling on “Moadl Joadl,” they find joy in an odd vocal moment that highlights expression and discovery over formal rigor. When they tap in New Orleans energy for “Jouissance,” we can connect the dots between parades and funerals, celebrating all the while. The whole album serves as a tour of styles and moods, always with an energetic potency. If it's more of the same from the Tiptons, that just means continuance of difference.

Justin Cober-Lake