#and really all that does also burn down to people just really being unable to be normal about intersex bodies

[shrews-things]

Re. last reblog, this whole issue pisses me off so much and like, if people were more normal about intersex bodies, I think *everyone* would be less ashamed of their bodies

[fairyofshampgyu]

Super shy !

genre: smut, baker au, college au, crack

Pairing: shy loser virgin bakery worker ! soobin x college customer ! reader

Warnings: sub soobin, dom reader, clubbing, loss of virginity, riding, hand job, titty groping (can’t be a Soobin smut without him being obsessed with boobies be fr), premature ejaculation,

word count: 2.9k

As soon as you stepped into the newly established campus bakery, walking up to the counter and observing all the pastries, contemplating for a rather long time before you end up deciding on what you’d usually order anyway, Soobin couldn’t help feeling like his world got totally turned upside down. The sight of you rendering him completely speechless and unable to even think.

Time seemingly going by so slow like in the kdramas as your shiny hair majestically blows in the non existent wind inside, smile brightening up the entire bakery. He could practically see the roses blooming around your face like in the mangas. Was this love at first sight?!

Realistically, no.

But were you incredibly attractive to him and a breath of fresh air to the moody, stressed out college students that purchase a single coffee and stay for hours completing assignments with their backs concerningly hunched over? Hell yes.

And unfortunately for Soobin, he does not do well with pretty people. At all. Not realising you had even ordered, too in awe and preoccupied with taking in all your features until he’s snapped back to reality with the clearing of your throat and he can already feel his cheeks burning up horribly fast. Oh god. He really, really hopes it’s not evident right now.

“S-sorry…What did you say?” He begins apologising profusely to you, too embarrassed to even look you in the eyes, staring off more to the side. This was definitely not his best customer service.

With a chuckle, you brush it off and state your order again, “I said could I have the strawberry swirl cheesecake please?” If Soobin could look at himself in third person, he would so be face palming right now. Or better yet, maybe he could just go up and like, punch himself straight up or something for acting like such a loser.

“Ah right... That’s ₩7500. Cash or card?”

You pay with cash and Soobin, very nervously, fumbles around to garner the right amount of change to hand you, though doing it in the most awkward way possible and his palm makes direct contact with yours as he hands the money, making him blush even more and let out a small obvious gasp at the feeling of your soft hand. Oh my god. Why did he do that?! He really hopes you didn’t find that weird.

You only let out another chuckle, thanking him before you’re leaving the bakery in an elegant manner and Soobin is left to sigh and watch your back disappear. Damn it. He’ll probably never see you again. You were so pretty and so cute, too cute even-

“You’re such a virgin.”

His thoughts about you are abruptly dissipated by his coworker and unfortunately best friend, Choi Beomgyu who gives him the stupidest, most annoying grin he would definitely like to slap off his face right now.

“Just shut up.” Soobin grimaces and rolls his eyes at beomgyu, bringing a batch of freshly baked cookies out of the oven behind him and placing them into the display glass one by one.

"You’re pinker than the strawberry macarons we sell. That's saying something." Beomgyu raises an eyebrow at him with sass.

So does that mean you could see how flustered he was getting then? Oh no! Soobin clears his throat and narrows his eyes at beomgyu anyway. “Am not.”

“Are too! Anyway, all I’m saying is that interaction was painful to watch. You’re really giving pathetic, loser, virgin right now. I cant lie.” Beomgyu attempts to stifle in one of his obnoxious laughs.

Soobin is quick to snap back, "You've only ever slept with one person!"

"S-so!! At least im not a virgin!" Beomgyu’s cheeks also become the equivalent to the strawberry macarons as he scrambles to try and defend himself, brows furrowed and cheeks puffed.

“Well, the concept of a virgin is purely societal anyway. It doesn’t actually matter. It doesn’t mean anything really.” Soobin bitterly replies, continuing to work whilst his counterpart does completely nothing like most of the time. It's usually soobin that does work, remind him not to agree to beomyu's silly ideas of getting a job together ever again.

Beomgyu scoffs and snickers at this, "Whatever. You’re just saying all that to make yourself feel better because you’re a loser. LMAO"

"I’ll punch you right now."

"Then we'll both be fired~”

A poor customer still awaits at the counter to be served, standing in bewilderment and tiredness. Waiting for the two bakers to finish bickering and sighing as they don’t seem like they’re going to stop anytime soon.

Soobin doesn’t expect to see you again, in complete honesty, he’s almost forgotten you even exist after you never come again. But he’s in luck and more than pleasantly surprised when he hears the bell to the door go ding!, indicating a customer had walked in. He looks up from the cake he was decorating and in comes you looking cuter than the first time he saw you. He tries not to mess up the cake and he stands up straight almost instantly when he sees you, waiting for you to order and trying to remain calm.

You laugh and point at his cute nose when you come up to the counter. “You have like, icing all on your nose.”

“O-oh. I do?” He points at himself and you nod in reply. He feels himself going redder by the minute. He must look so stupid right now! And he urgently brings his sleeve up and tries to wipe the icing off his nose to not make himself look an even more of a complete fool in front of you .

“Ah wait no. Let me do it!” You lean over the counter as you see him struggling and wipe it off the top of his cute bunny like nose instead for him.

And that was the end of soobin. The end.

-

You become a regular at the bakery and soobin becomes a regular of embarrassing the absolute shit out of himself each time he sees you. He really doesn’t think he can top the previous comedic disaster that occurs when you enter, yet he always proves himself wrong, the awkwardness reaching new heights each time. From dropping trays of pastries, spilling drinks, nearly slipping in front of you, giving you a ₩50000 note when it was only ₩5000 change, the list goes on and on. He’s actually surprised he hasn’t lost his job yet.

And there’s also always a disappointed beomgyu shaking his head afterwards ready to make fun of him when Soobin promises to make a move but freezes every time you’re in sight, too much of a pussy.

“I’m calling an intervention.” Beomgyu declares and sighs after the nth time of soobin making absolutely no moves on you whatsoever, “Soobin, my man, my bro, you desperately need to get banged. It’s painful seeing the way you act. Your little crush is not gonna like you with the way you act. That’s it. We’re going clubbing tonight after this shift. No buts.”

“But-”

“I said no buts!”

“You know I hate clubbing.”

“You’ve never even been with me despite my constant pleads.” Beomgyu shakes his head and makes a dramatic pained face at his way.

“So? I know I’ll hate it.”

“You’re such a hater bro.”

“Yes I am. And I take pride in it. I’m a hater of everything.”

Beomgyu just sighs. He was utterly hopeless.

Unfortunately, there was no way Soobin could get out of this because beomgyu was having absolutely none of his protests and excuses and that’s how he ends up finding himself at the club anyway after his shift, sitting off to the side as he watches beomgyu disappear somewhere into the crowd. Soobin sighs as he downs his jack and coke. This was going to be a long fucking night.

-

In the dimly lit club, soobin’s discomfort was palpable, like a fish out of water and you noticed instantly upon arrival. It’s that cute tall baker boy who always serves you! You excitedly make your way and sit next to him, he looked a little lonely. “Hey! You work at that bakery on campus. I go there!”

Soobin’s eyes nearly fall out of his sockets at the sight of you sitting next to him and he nearly chokes on his drink as he splutters on his straw and nods. Act calm, act calm, act calm, act calm. Act cool and mysterious.

It’s you! You’re speaking to him?!

“So…these things not really your scene, huh?”

“Gee. How did you ever notice?” Soobin attempts to smile and joke with dry humour but it executes a little more awkward and nervous than how he would have liked.

You also try to carry on the conversation since this is the first time you’ve got to ever actually talk to the cute boy before. “I’m very intuitive. I can just sense things like that.”

He laughs at that too, feeling a bit more comfortable around you now. “No but yeah, I’d much rather be at home right now sleeping. Can’t say I’m much of an advocate for getting stupidly drunk with sweaty people you don’t even know with terrible rave music and flashing lights that should have an epilepsy warning”

“I get it.” You chuckle at how passionate he gets talking about how much he hates clubbing, frown on his cute face. “So why are you here then?”

“Friend wanted me to. Said I needed to finally get laid or whatever.” Soobin rolls his eyes and sips on his drink again, motioning his head to the direction of beomgyu on the dance floor, clearly drunk off his ass now.

“Oh, you’re a Virgin?”

Soobin’s ears go red when he realises what he said to you. “O-oh um y-yeah I guess…”

“Are you waiting for like marriage or the right person or something?” You question, genuinely surprised. He was tall and very attractive and it was rare for college boys to not hook up every single night these days.

“God no. Just never happened. I don’t really care for things like that. It’s probably overhyped anyway and doesn’t even feel that good. Like porn is highly unrealistic anyway.”

“You think so?” You chuckle at him and he nods, continuing to cutely sip on his drink with his straw. “Well maybe you should to try it out first and see for yourself.” Your words start to become a little flirty as you grow more confident talking with him and also because of the alcohol making you slightly tipsy now. “Sorry, but do you want to get out of here?”

“Yes please.” Soobin’s eyes widen even more at your suggestion and he’s more than happy to get out of here with you especially.

“Umm your friend is a bit….out of it right now.” You watch beomgyu drunk from afar, whipping his long hair back and forth claiming to everyone around he’ll be able to do it fast enough to lift off his feet and fly like a helicopter.

“He’ll be…he’ll be fine I’m sure”

Soobin has no idea what good stuff he must have done in his past life to get to this moment right now, in your room, making out with you, in your bed. Did he mention making out? With you?! The customer he’s been crushing on for months?! Holy, he might hyperventilate right now. It all feels like a dream. Is this real right now?

You cup his cheek and move into his lap, continuing to move your lips against his and soobin’s ears and face are all flushed, breathing loud of enough for you to hear and he looks all nervous and a little shaky.

You stop kissing him but he chases after your lips still and you stroke his cheek, “Are you okay Soobin?”

He’s only able to nod, lips parted and eyes all glazed over. He’s so out of it just from making out with you it’s crazy. But so cute too.

“C-can you…can we…just want…”

“What do you want, baby?” You chuckle and stroke his cheek as he manages to utter some words. The petname only makes his head go even more haywire.

“W-want you…”

“What do you want me to do?” You giggle and coo at him.

He shyly shows you the boner he’s had this entire time. You can’t believe he got a boner just from some kissing. “Can you-will you touch me…please? Need it…” He pleads at you nervously, so red in the face.

“Are you sure?”

He nods his head exceptionally fast and you begin to unbuckle his jeans as he watches you take his flushed and hard dick out, breathing only becoming heavier. Damn, you didn’t think he’d be that big.

You take him into your hands and his mouth his already agape, gasping when you slowly start to stroke him.

You pump his big cock at a steady pace so as not to overwhelm him too much, though twisting and thumbing at the tip occasionally that has him drooling at the corner of his mouth and beads of precum dribbling out heavily from his cock. It’s endearing how far gone he is just at you stroking his dick slow, shy whimpers and other noises eliciting from his mouth.

You unbutton you shirt with your other hand as you continue to pump him and his eyes go crazed at the sight of your tits, you guiding his own big inexperienced hands to grope at them and he does, slumping his head into your neck and shoulder moaning into it and still groping and squeezing at your tits.

With a sudden yelp you feel Soobin’s cum spurt up and leak into your hands, his eyes rolling back as he whimpers continuously from his premature orgasm.

He doesn’t lift his head from your shoulder yet, too embarrassed to face you but he eventually does, eyes still half lidded, trying to catch his breath and he’s hard again. “W-will you fuck me? Please please please. Wanna feel it, wanna feel you, please?” He practically begs, still panting out.

“Are you really sure, Soobin? With me?”

“Yes please! Only want you.”

You study his face for any hesitancy but it’s clear he’s so set on wanting you to fuck him. So you wrap your hands around both his wrists and bring him to lay down on your pillows instead, you still straddling his lap.

When you’ve undressed your lower half, you bring his dick and slide it over your entrance a few times, he moans out loud, hands coming up shyly to cover his face and then you sink down incredibly slowly on his massive length . Soobin’s jaw drops and breath hitches at the feeling of his dick finally in your warm pussy, a strangled moan ripping out of him. He could seriously cum just from being in you right now, but he tries so hard not to or you’ll be disappointed and he doesn’t want to see you disappointed or embarrass himself even more.

“You good, baby?”

“M’ f-fine. Just-Just need a minute.” Soobin shakes out.

You take his hands away from his face and lean down to softly kiss him instead, trying to calm him down and he effuses into your mouth, kissing back passionately with his eyes closed.

“I’m ready now…” He pulls away after a while and looks you in the eyes.

So you start to slowly move, riding him, going up and down on his virgin dick. Soobin’s mouth hangs open in endless moans and gasps and whimpers, face buried into your pillow to the side and his hair all messy now. Whole body flushed and shaking underneath you.

“Better than you thought, baby?” You grunt out, bouncing on top of his cock.

“So much better. O-oh my god, f-fuck…ah!” So maybe sex wasn’t overhyped after all. Because goddamn, you feel so fucking good. Maybe it was just you. But Soobin truly feels like he’s gliding on fluffy clouds right now. All the times he’s touched himself not even coming close to how he feels right now stuffed in your pussy as you fuck him, watching mesmerised as your tits bounce with each movement. He could die here right now in full contentment. Oh how he was so wrong.

It’s not long at all before Soobin can’t hold it anymore. His hips bucking up and breath hitching as a loud strangled mewl tumbles out of his mouth and you feel hot cum fill you up suddenly that makes you still your movements on him. He lets out a long slurred groan and then goes limp beneath you, eyes closing shut and open as he fades from conscious to not every now and then. Is he really that fucked out?

After a while, he finally somewhat recovers and comes back to you from his high, still panting out and chest rising up and down. He looks up at you with a small shy smile on his lips, arm thrown over his forehead.

“You know I literally only go to the bakery because of how cute and silly you are and how you always make a mess of yourself whenever I walk in” You chuckle and admit, drawing shapes into his chest.

“W-wait you knew I liked you?” Soobin asks, shocked and feeling embarrassed again.

You laugh, “Come on, you made it rather obvious.”

Please actually reblog !!!!!! and leave comments !!!! guys 😭 if you like the fic. It’s really appreciated and so nice tysm !<3🙏💕🌷🌷! It’s incredibly discouraging and irriating when fics have such little reblogs ☹️. At least send an anon in the inbox if you don’t want to rb, don’t just like. Feedback is always appreciated it make writers want to actually write :)

A/n: having serious writers block rn but forced myself to write this in practically one sitting (it was so painful) and has not been proof read at all so if it makes no sense I apologise 😭

[wonryllis]

ᨓ ENHYPEN FINDING YOUR WRITING ACCOUNT OF THEM.

. . ──𝖺𝗅𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗇𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗏𝖾𝗅𝗒, 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖽𝖾𝗅𝗎𝗌𝗂𝗈𝗇𝖺𝗅 𝗌𝗂𝖽𝖾 𝗂𝗌 𝖾𝗑𝗉𝗈𝗌𝖾𝖽.

﹙ 𝒘𝐞𝐛 ⭑ 𝒅𝐞𝐭𝐚𝐢𝓁𝓈. ﹚ enhypen discovering your top secret. fem!r. fluff, crack maybe a bit requested. wordcount` 664. アーカイブ ARCHIVE?

𝗵𝗲𝗲𝘀𝗲𝘂𝗻𝗴 he would be so giddy, and embarrassed and shy to find out that you write about him, boy is too flustered about the fact that you make fan content to even question anything else. it'd take a few days for him to let it all settle into his mind and then oh my god it's hell, he'll look up your account secretly even though you told him not to and then he'll keep saying random things he picked from you pieces to tease you. "my pretty doll, i will burn the world to save you"

𝗷𝗼𝗻𝗴𝘀𝗲𝗼𝗻𝗴 he is so so so sooooo embarrassed like he'll forget whatever he was up to when you accidentally let it spill that your latest post of him was doing so well. he will simply ask if you write about him and when you hesitantly admit it he'll be like okay great i hope you account does well??? he loves being the one you write for but he doesn't want to embarrass you by speaking any more of it. although from time to time he will ask for some updates on how it's been going.

𝗷𝗮𝗲𝘆𝘂𝗻 he is so happy you don't understand the level at which he is like platinum gem rank happy. he'll immediately sit with you beg you to show him your account and let him read through the fics, even the other members' he's just so curious he can't sit still. he'll read one with like heeseung as a secret agent and then tell you he would have been a better suit for it. then he'll read a spiderman one you wrote for him and then ask you if you wanna try the upside down kiss.

𝘀𝘂𝗻𝗴𝗵𝗼𝗼𝗻 he stopped working, system crashed. unable to believe for days that you got a fan account about him and on top of that you write things about him. thinks he's dreaming until you speak of it again and he's like you weren't joking?? will ask you things about it like what you write and how it works, if people like his fics and what aus you write him in and why you think of him as fitting for an au. a literal question bank, will inquire about every little detail but never look it up himself.

𝘀𝗲𝗼𝗻𝘄𝗼𝗼 he's like in disbelief but like in a happy really elated way so excited to see you account, your aesthetic, your follower count, your writing style. just about everything and he's so supportive like you go girl, he'll also most probably make an account himself and follow you. commenting on each fic and sending asks like 'guess who baby (⁠ ⁠◜⁠‿⁠◝⁠ ⁠)' he will also look through other accounts to come up with better advice to grow you space. will save the pieces you write about him to reread.

𝗷𝘂𝗻𝗴𝘄𝗼𝗻 the happiest kitty in the world, will leave everything literally drop it the second you tell him you got a writing account of him whether it's accidental or intentional. ask you the username and read all of your pieces about him in one sitting. definitely will get jealous to see others you wrote for and more if you someone else has more fics than him. will immediately give you new ideas like plan out a whole plot and then tell you, it's about him and you in an alternate universe so you need to write it.

𝗿𝗶𝗸𝗶 he is immediately teasing you to cover up the embarrassment he feels, like an internal struggle of why should he be the one embarrassed when you are the one who write fanfiction about him. will take your phone from you open your account and read it aloud, though halfway in he'll genuinely get invested especially if it's a social media au, going 'm not like that!' every chapter and when he's caught up to the latest one, he'll bug you to reveal what happens next, after all it's his story!

taglist ( open. ) @kangseulgithegreat @s00buwu @luvyev @pockyyasii @nctislifue @ashtxrie @miniature-tragedy @jayujus @brachives @thoughtsmeander2tumblingblindly @eeunoia @nxzz-skz @shawnyle @enhaswirlds @enhasnuggles

[franzkafkagf]

okay so i want to hear about your take on aegon i know you like him and all (so do i no matter how much i wish not to) but whyy

yess thanks for asking, I love being insane about him<3

I think Aegon is such a wildly tragic character– many asoiaf characters are but I'm so drawn specifically to him; he didn't want power or responsibility or the crown. It all was bestowed upon him against his will, and he shouldn't; putting on the crown is his definitive death sentence. The coronation scene has got to be one of my favorites in the season– he is quite literally walking up to be butchered like a sacrificial lamb, there are tears streaking his cheeks in the scene! I love the tragedy of it, the way it couldn't have been avoided anyways; his fate was sealed from the very start! He was quite literally dead from the very beginning.

I'm going off a mix from the book and the show but I actually love what they did with the character in the show? The book version does have some hard-hitting moments from him that are missing ("What sort of brother steals his sister's birthright?") but there wasn't that much there in terms of characterization and relationships. And wow, did they deliver on that in the show; I'm gonna give whoever came up with his mommy issues a forehead kiss.

Because YES! He and Alicent are reflections of one another– Alicent suffered under the heavy boot of Otto, turned into the perfect daughter, turned into the perfect queen for him. She recognizes that this was wrong and abusive of him, then she turns around and does the same thing to Aegon– the poison DOES drip through, the wheel is NOT broken!! It's BRILLIANT.

@atopvisenyashill put a GREAT tag under one of my posts–

#he looks like her and he’s weak like her so why can’t he get strong like her.

While Alicent persevered, Aegon crumbled under the pressure. He is miserable when we meet him– and he should be! He is unfit for the role of king, but it is his destiny nonetheless, everybody tells him so. It destroys him.

It's so sad too and I cannot help but to feel bad for him. No one knows where he is in ep 9, I don't think he has anyone to confide in; it must be lonely. Everybody seems to have written him off already– he is a drunk and a failure at being heir, being a son, being a father. He tries to prove them wrong later, and does in some aspects.

His loneliness plays into another aspect of him that I really love; his desperation to be loved. He will never be enough for anybody, he probably knows it deep down.

"[Aegon is] desperate to be loved but destined to be hated." – Tom Glynn-Carney

Obviously there is the carriage scene with Alicent that shows this. But I also really love the moment in his coronation, where he basks in the people's affection and cheers. He is poised to bleed out in front of the throne, he was crying and fighting for his life not to take the crown just minutes before. But now he's here and they love him and he can't help but love that.

He takes the crown to protect his family (the show does hint at that with Alicent telling him as much in ep. 6– in the book it's much more explicit with Criston pressuring him on the day of the coronation itself) and then his son DIES because of it! And he drinks and rages and drinks some more; he must've blamed himself. He goes to battle, flies too high (figuratively), and he FALLS; he burns and falls to the ground. He isn't made to be king. He knows. He does it anyways.

"You have already written yourself into legend, you survived dragonfire" – Larys Strong in season 2 (probably)

He survives, he is gone for over a year, unable to do anything but he SURVIVES. He escapes the capital, takes Dragonstone, he falls AGAIN, he loses most of his family; but he still goes on. Fueled by what? Maybe anger, or bitterness or just pure lust for revenge. It doesn't matter. He must've realized somewhere on the way that this was always meant to go this way, ever since he put the conqueror's crown on. It doesn't matter.

And then he dies and it's not grand or spectacular or anything like that. He drinks poisoned wine, nobody even sees him die, they only find him after. It's so uniquely lonely.

[luxaofhesperides]

Post-Apocalypse + Soulmate AU ; requested by @burr-burr!

When Danny was a kid, he used to imagine how the world would end. It was never a zombie apocalypse or the fallout of a nuclear war, but the death of the sun, the expansion of their star in death that would swallow their planet whole, leaving no survivors.

It would have been nicer than the post-apocalyptic world he stands in now, knowing that it’s his fault the world has ended. 

He’s still struggling to wrap his head around it. To understand that all of this is his fault because he cheated on one test, desperate to pass after being unable to study for it with how exhausting and time consuming fighting ghosts is. Everywhere he looks, there’s more destruction. His own home is rubble, with only the partially untouched Ops Center remaining to let him know that this is where he once lived.

The rest of Amity Park is in worse shape. Buildings are hollowed out, the skeletons of their foundations visible, if they still remain standing. Most homes have been burned to the ground, leaving blackened corners of walls and nothing else. The roads are cracked and difficult to walk through, as if an earthquake tore through the city. Cars are scattered along the road, overturned or left abandoned, doors still open.

Danny has yet to find any bodies. He doesn’t know if that’s a good sign or not. 

He’s only caught a few glimpses of his future self, the cause of all this, and can’t bring himself to chase after that monster. He feels sick to his stomach knowing what he’ll become. 

That monster has to be stopped. The world has already ended, but that doesn’t mean his future self can be allowed to go on like this. If there are any survivors, they need protection. They need to know they’ll be safe to try to start rebuilding, and that can only happen if his future self is dead.

Danny knows what he has to do; he has a responsibility to protect what little remains of Amity Park, and to do that, he needs to kill himself. 

But his head it spinning from the horror of the situation and his throat is tightening up the way it only does when he’s about to have a panic attack.

He needs to stop his future self, but he also can’t stay another second in the ruins of Amity Park without destroying himself.

The guilt sits heavy in his chest as he goes ghost and takes to the sky, flying blindly towards the setting sun. Danny doesn’t know where he’s going, and he doesn’t really care. He just needs to get away for a bit, until he can calm down and put together a plan of attack so he can take out his future self in one go.

He just…

He never thought he’d be a monster. But here they are.

Flying away from Amity Park reveals the truly harrowing extent to which this world has suffered under his future self’s hands. There are no intact cities or towns. Roads are broken beyond repair, highways littered with empty cars, most bridges crumbling into the rivers below them, and everything is covered in overgrowth. All signs of humanity’s careful cultivation of the world has been erased. The earth takes back what humans took from it, covering everything in green. 

There is no movement. No people. Barely any birds flying beneath him. 

What remains of the world is silence.

Danny is terrified that there’s no one left. That his future self has so thoroughly destroyed the earth that no human survivors remain. 

That gives his guidance, some idea of where to go: a big city. Any big city, really. 

He flies lower, searching for some sort of landmark, or a sign that will tell him where he’s going. A rusted over green sign farther down the road tells him that he’s 50 miles from Gotham.

Oh, Danny thinks, Maybe Batman can help me.

If anyone could survive the end of the world, it would be the superheroes, right? If anyone stands a chance at defeating his future self, it would be a superhero. Superman might have been a better choice, but Metropolis is the opposite direction and multiple states away; Danny’s not sure he can make it before his future self catches wind of him and hunts him down. 

Danny has no doubt about what would happen to him if he’s caught; there’s a reason he hasn’t seen any ghosts around, after all.

Gotham is a city of secrets and rumors. What little he’s heard of it is baffling and, frankly, insane. There’s no city in the country like it and Gothamites prefer it that way, stubbornly loving the home that will kill them. For all the manmade horrors they survive on the daily, they would be more prepared for the end of the world than anyone else. 

Gotham may be another casualty of his future self’s destruction, but it also offers him hope.

Danny follows the broken road towards Gotham, pushing himself to fly faster than he ever has before. What should have been a half hour flight is completed in fifteen minutes. 

As soon as the towering buildings of Gotham, dark and semi destroyed, come into view, Danny drops from the sky and returns to human form. The strain from pushing himself has exhausted him and he feels it like an ache in his chest, his heart twisting and trying to burst from how hard it’s beating. 

He collapses to his hands and knees and gasps for breath on the outskirts of Gotham. 

It takes a good few minutes to calm down and breathe normally, then another to gather his strength to stand up and begin walking. 

The world is eerily quiet as he enters the city, feeling the chill fall upon him as he is consumed by the shadows of tall buildings. It’s much more intact that Amity Park, but there’s no denying the destruction that still surrounds him. Buildings are empty and worn down, decaying and slowly being consumed by new growth. Burnt out husks of overturned cars fill the street, leaving Danny to carefully pick his way around them, unable to walk in a straight line. 

He feels like the only person in the world. He feels like he’s being watched by a hungry eyes. 

Danny shivers and walks faster. 

The deeper he goes into the city, the more he starts to hope that he’s not alone in this world. There’s small signs of life: the smell of smoke, recently burned, certain streets cleaned up, makeshift walls constructed from rubble to block access to certain areas of each block.

He swears he can see people move above his head, but anytime he looks up, the windows of every building are empty. 

“Batman,” he whispers to himself, “I just need to find Batman.”

He turns a corner and continues walking. Apartment buildings give way to stores and businesses, all with their windows broken and nothing on the shelves. Then the buildings end abruptly and he’s left staring at an overgrown park that resembles a jungle more than it does a part of the city.

The scent of something sweet lingers in the air. Fruit, perhaps, or flowers. 

If he was left in the aftermath of an apocalypse, he would go to where he could find growing food. If there’s anyone left in Gotham, he’s willing to bet they’re in here, surviving off of what food can be grown in the confines of the park. 

Danny crosses the road and takes three steps onto the grass before someone appears beside him and points an electrified baton at him.

“Who are you?” they demand, eyes hidden behind a cracked helmet, but the bottom half of their face is visible, revealing scars crossing on dark skin. 

Danny takes a step back, eyeing the electric baton warily, and lifts his hands to show he means no harm. “Danny. I came from out of town. I was hoping to find people here.”

“You don’t look like you’ve been traveling.”

His clothes are clean and intact and he has none of the world-weariness that weighs down this Gothamite. Danny winces, and says, “My situation is kinda complicated. But I did just get here. I’m looking for help, actually. Do you know where I could find Batman?”

There’s a long moment of tense silence, then he hears a quiet sigh and the helmet comes off. An exhausted looking man looks at him with one blind eye, turned a milky white, and his voice is low and stricken as he says, “Batman’s dead. But maybe I can help you.”

“Batman’s dead?!” Danny repeats, shocked.

“Yeah. Sacrificed himself in one of the last times Phantom attacked Gotham. Got me and Nightwing out of that encounter alive. We’re really the only heroes left in Gotham, not that there’s much need anymore with everyone trying to survive.”

Phantom killed Batman. His future self killed Batman. 

Danny feels sick to his stomach.

“Oh,” he manages to say. 

The man’s expression softens. “Don’t worry, we’ll help you as much as we can. Why don’t you come on in? Ivy can get you some food if you’re hungry.”

Danny nods numbly as he follows the man deeper into the park. He walks with ease, taking paths that only become visible when he walks them, leaving Danny to follow close behind. It takes some time before he realizes that the plants are moving out of their way just enough that they don’t trip, and when he looks back, the path is covered again, hidden from sight.

He’s taken to the heart of the forest, where the trees shift to the side to reveal a large encampment of survivors all living together. Beds are strung up as hammocks between trees and rope ladders dangle from branches to help people move up and down. The ground is full of small fire pits, a few in use to make make food, and sections in the back full of vegetable and herb patches, separated by berry bushes. 

The people here all look tired and worn down, but they still smile and speak in light voices, adjusted to a new life after surviving so much horror and destruction. He even spots a few people using powers, or just looking different, including one large man who looks like a crocodile. 

“Pick up another stray?” a raspy voice asks, humor lighting the tone. They both turn to see a woman with long red hair and a green tint to her skin be lowered to the ground by a vine. She’s also heavily scarred and her right arm is completely gone, replaced by a wooden limb covered in moss that moves as if it’s always been a part of her body.

“Hey Ivy,” the man greets, “I don’t think this one is staying. He came to Gotham looking for Batman.”

The words make Ivy’s gaze sharpen, and Danny feels a trickle of dread go down his spine. She’s dangerous and standing before her feels as if he’s in the mouth of a hungry beast.

“Is that so,” she says, voice flat. “How interesting. I’ll let you two talk somewhere more private.” Her gaze flicks to the side, and when Danny turns to look, he can see some of the people in the encampment observing them warily, bodies tense and poised to either flee or attack.

Ivy turns and the plants part for her. Danny waits for the man to begin walking before he follows, trying not to feel trapped as the plants close the path behind him. She takes them to a small pond full of water lilies, gives the man a careful look, then leaves, swallowed up by the plants.

“Is everything okay?” Danny asks hesitantly. “I didn’t mean to cause any trouble.”

“Nah, you’re good,” the man replies, “It’s just that people don’t trust me much.”

“Why? You’ve been really nice.”

The man shrugs. “My soulmate is Phantom. He’s the one responsible for doing all this and killing almost everyone we love. I didn’t know until the first time I fought him, but they hate anything to do with Phantom, including me.”

Danny’s heart stutters in his chest. This is his soulmate.

Most people don’t subscribe to the belief that they’re meant to be with their soulmate. Meeting your soulmate is rare enough that most people don’t try, and plenty of people have spoken of how important it is to have a variety of relationships, to not close yourself off for the slightest chance of meeting your soulmate. 

Danny never looked for his; he didn’t want to subject them to his parents, and then he became a halfa and gave up on all dreams of having a normal life or any relationship with someone who didn’t know he was Phantom.

And now he’s here, in a ruined future, standing before his soulmate who understandably hates him for destroying the world. 

“You’re Phantom’s soulmate,” Danny breathes. His hands are shaking. He wants to cry.

The man sighs. “Yeah. I am. Not that it’s stopped him from trying to kill me. Don’t worry, kid, I’m not working with him. I swear.”

“He’s your soulmate and he hurt you.”

“He hurt everyone,” he says, then gestures at his blind eye. “This is barely a thing compared to what he did to other heroes.”

Danny can’t find the words to expression his horror at seeing the damage he did to his own soulmate. His future self is heartless and cruel and bloodthirsty. He has to be stopped.

He doesn’t want to kill his soulmate. 

“I came here for Batman,” Danny says, “Because I thought he could help me stop Phantom.”

“That’s rough, kid. Batman couldn’t beat Phantom. I don’t think anyone can. We’ve tried, but most heroes are dead and we can’t just go out there and risk the lives of everyone here. We gotta focus on survival, not revenge.”

“I have to stop Phantom.”

“Sorry kid, but that’s a terrible idea. Don’t go out there trying to be a hero. You can stay here, alright? Ivy will get you set up and the others will help you settle in.”

Danny takes a step back and shakes his head. “No. I have to stop him. It has to be me.”

“And why is that?”

“Because I’m Phantom,” Danny whispers. 

The man immediately reaches for his electric batons again, taking a step back. “Not funny, kid,” he says with a tense voice. 

“I’m not joking. I am Phantom, just from the past. I’m not supposed to be here.”

“You’re Phantom?” the man repeats. “You. You’re just a kid, and you’re going to destroy the world one day?”

“I don’t want this to happen! That’s why I need to go back, so I can stop the event that will set me down this path. And to go back, I need to defeat the Phantom that exists here.”

“He’ll kill you, kid.”

“That still solves the problem, doesn’t it? If I die here, then he’ll never live long enough to destroy the world. He’ll die too.”

The man stares at him with cold eyes, then turns away, dropping his hands away from the batons. “Don’t turn this into a suicide mission, kid,” he says. “The Phantom who’s here isn’t you. You don’t have to pay for his crimes. Just… stay here and I’ll go fight Phantom.”

“He already hurt you,” Danny says. 

“What’s a little more hurt? I can handle it.”

“No,” Danny says firmly. He shoves away the fear and hurt in his heart and finds his strength in determination. No more running away. No more hiding. 

The timeline should not exist. He can’t hesitate at the thought of erasing this version of his soulmate from existence; he’s tired and injured and an outcast in the only community that still exists in Gotham. He deserves better. Everyone here does.

And to give them a better life, Danny needs to stop this one from ever happening.

“This is my future. It’s my responsibility. I’ll stop it and make sure this never happens. And… I’m sorry for everything I did.”

“It’s not your fault, Danny. You’re not this version of Phantom.”

That’s not at all true, since Danny’s actions lead to the end of the world, but he’s not going to argue when he’s preparing to fight a stronger, more ruthless version of himself. He takes a deep breath, then goes ghost and floats into the air. 

“Before I go,” he begins, hesitantly, “What’s your name? Since you’re apparently my soulmate.”

The man smiles sadly and answers, “Duke. If we ever meet in your time, tell that version of me to look for my mom’s favorite book.”

It’s an odd request, but if it’s important enough to be asked for, then Danny will do it. “Your mom’s favorite book,” he repeats, “Got it.”

“Take care, Danny. Good luck out there.”

Danny nods and takes one last look at his soulmate, older and worn down, stubbornly getting through each long day, and swears to make things better.

Then he flies off, ready to fight his future self and make things right again. 

. . .

He thinks of his soulmate for years after he’s back in the present. The timeline where his future self exists is gone and the world is safe, but he still remembers the pain he caused Duke. 

When the time comes to apply to universities, Danny sets his sights on Gotham. His parents take him on a trip during spring break to tour the campus, and it’s after the tour, as he wanders around on his own, that he bumps into a student walking out of a building.

“Sorry,” they both say at the same time, reaching for each other to help each other keep their balance. 

As soon as their hands meet, it’s as if lightning runs through him. From the look on the other guy’s face, he felt it to. 

This is his soulmate.

“Duke,” Danny says, amazed and disbelieving all at once. And the request crosses his mind, something he wondered about almost every night since he returned to his time. “Look for your mom’s favorite book.”

“How—?”

“I met you in the future. You asked me to take back a message for the you that’s here. So: look for your mom’s favorite book. What does that mean, by the way? I never asked.”

Duke blinks, then slowly retracts his hands from Danny’s. “My mom’s favorite book was a hand bound journal from my dad. They were soulmates and he wrote about their first year in a relationship together. It’s full of pictures, and she loved it more than anything. That message is to remind me to have faith in soulmates, to believe that something good can happen to me.”

“Oh! That’s… wow, sorry, I didn’t mean to pry into something so personal.”

Duke shrugs. “It’s fine. I needed the reminder. I would have already run away by now if you didn’t say that. You already know my name, but I think now’s a good time to introduce ourselves.”

“Right!” Danny says, flustered. He sticks his hand out, which Duke shakes with an amused smile. “I’m Danny. Fenton. I’m coming here next semester.”

“Duke Thomas. I’m a freshman here and I’d really love to get your number.”

He’s not hitting on Danny, not really, but it still makes him blush. The way Duke looks at him is full of light and laughter, so different from the exhausted and wary way he looked in the future now rewritten. 

This is what the future version of himself tried to kill. He doesn’t understand how anyone could ever hurt Duke when he’s so full of life. 

But he’s safe now. Everyone is; Danny changed the future and what lies ahead is wholly unknown to him.

The world is safe and full of promise. 

No matter what comes, Danny is sure he and Duke are going to be just fine.

[mischiefandlies]

A lesson in culinary disasters...

Loki x Reader

Masterlist

Notes: Thor is the embodiment of the phrase "thirty going on three". Also, I really had to work to find things that could go wrong with making spaghetti. Luckily, I work with children, so know how sevearly idiotic people can be.

Warnings: nilt

Enjoy!

“There's spaghetti on my ceiling.”

Both Loki and Thor looked away sheepishly.

“WHY IN FUCKS NAME IS THERE SPAGHETTI ON MY CEILING?”

“… well, m’Lady-”

“Darling, I didn’t-”

“I left you two alone for ONE DAY!”

They each share a glance.

“What?” you say dryly.

Thor sighs and turns away, while Loki comes over to you. “My love, me and Thor will deal with this shenanigan. I promised I’d make you dinner, and I'll make you dinner. Just go and relax and I’ll come and get you when the time is right. Perhaps watch another one of those comedic films with Lang, the two of you seem to enjoy those.”

“Thought you got jealous when I watched movies with him?” you said.

“Angel, Lang couldn’t find a single hostage in training yesterday. If he is unable to locate a human sized test dummy, I don’t hold out much hope of him finding a clitoris. Besides,” he continues “I'm sure his penis is just as small as the rest of him.”

You just roll your eyes as he ushers you out the door. “And don’t burn my pans! And so help me God if you break my stove, I’m going to shove that blender straight up your-”

The front door slammed shut behind you. “Loki, I don’t think she is happy with us,” Thor stated. “I see very little chance of you being able to seduce her if you continue to act so childishly.”

“Remind me again who threw pasta at the ceiling?” Loki said through gritted teeth.

“Well, me, but Jane said it is important to use the pan to flip what you are cooking.”

“What Jane failed to mention, you ignorant buffoon, is that is for cooking pancakes.”

“Loki, pancakes are eggs and flour. Pasta, according to this detailed list on the packaging, is eggs and flour. I see no reason why the rules would change.”

Loki put his head in his hands. “Thor, how about I handle the cooking from now on?”

“And what are we making?”

“Spaghetti.”

“And balls of meat?”

“No Thor, just spaghetti.” Loki says, “Let’s not walk before we can run.”

Thor gasped. “But where are the balls of meat? Jane always makes balls of meat to go with spaghetti.”

“Thor, we have no meat.”

The blond just smirked. “I can assure you brother, I have plenty of meat. It is not my fault you are of such scrawny, runt-like nature. Why, do you not remember in our youth when we would play, and you would always…”

Loki left him to his prattling, and used his magic to clean the kitchen, remove the strands of spaghetti from the ceiling, and refill the kettle. He had wanted to make you something homemade, and so had asked his brother to assist, thinking Jane would have taught him something. Unfortunately, Thor was even less equipped to be sue-chef than him. Since you had left them to their own devices, they had made your kettle explode, set off the fire alarm, and Thor had cut his hand. They had since given up on making a tomato sauce and had lowered their standards enough to consider plain spaghetti a meal.

“Thor, snap the spaghetti in half and put it in the pot.”

Thor picked up a handful of spaghetti and instead of holding it in the middle, he took it by the ends, snapping it in front of him and spraying the kitchen in broken spaghetti pieces. His brother just looked on, muttering insults in their mother tongue. He took a pot down and filled it with the water out the kettle while Thor scuttled around on all fours picking up shards of pasta.

“Thor, for the love of all things holy, just put the spaghetti in the pan.”

Thor turns to the pot on the stove, and sticks his fist full of spaghetti into the boiling water, completely submerging his hand.

“AAAAH LOKI MAKE IT STOP”

“Take your hand out the pan Thor.”

Thor flings his arm up, spilling the boiling water all down himself.

“LOKI IT BURNS!!!!”

“Of course it does, its boiling water.”

“FIX IT.”

“No.”

“LOKI I AM KING OF ASGARD. YOU ARE UNDER OBLIGATION TO HELP ME. YOU WILL FIX THIS THIS INSTANT.”

“Thor, as the prince of Asgard, I am not obligated to do shit. Perhaps do as the Midgardians do when they are burnt. Run it under cold water.”

Loki turned away to magic up the complete shambles his brother had managed to achieve (again), and –for the fifth time today- boiled the kettle to make pasta. Thor had clearly misinterpreted his instruction, because he was running the pan under the tap.

“Loki, I fail to see how this is helping, I am still in a great deal of pain-”

The dark-haired god swiped the pan back. “Your arm, you utter cretin. Run the cold tap and hold your ARM under the water.”

Having distracted his brother enough to successfully put spaghetti on to boil, he began to grate some cheese.

“LOKI, I WANTED TO DO THAT.”

“You’d get blood in the cheese.”

“I won’t. I promise. Pleeeeeeaseee?”

“Fine.”

Thor enthusiastically leaps over to grate the cheese, while Loki stirs, drains and dishes out the pasta. In this time, not only has Thor zested the cheese instead of grating it, he has also zested a whole block of cheese and the top layer of skin on his fingers. The cheese was completely sodden with blood.

"Thor, what did I just say?"

"Pretend it's tomato sauce brother? She will never know!"

When you finally return from Langs, you find Loki, Thor, Strange, and Stranges medical kit all sat on your sofa. Thor's entire arm is bandaged, and Wanda and Steve are chatting away in your kitchen, making something that smells delicious.

“Fucksake Loki.”

“I’m sorry darling.” he says, “I tried, I really tried, but it just never worked, and I-”

“I know, love,” you cut him off. “Just tell me if you need cooking lessons, yeah? I can’t say I’m fond of coming home to find my kitchen in a disaster. I’ve just had a long day. I shouldn't've snapped. I’m sorry.”

He wraps you up in his arms. “Me too love.”

“Lo?”

“Yes sweetheart?”

“Have you ever heard of take away?”

[creedslove]

JOEL TAKING CARE OF YOU WHEN YOU HAVE PROBLEMS WITH YOUR MOM 🍓 - HEADCANONS

No outbreak!Joel Miller x f!reader

A/N: this is so personal it hurts, my relationship with my mother is terrible and today was one of the days she pushed me to the edge and I thought I was going to explode with negative feelings until I broke down and I sobbed. Also, just proving my point that my life problems would decrease by half if I were married to Joel Miller 😢

TW: Shitty mom

• Joel knows damn well the reason why people often tell mean mother-in-law jokes or why their reputation is so bad; and the truth is that it is not even because of the way your mom treats him, but because of how she treats you

• it just infuriates Joel at the same time it breaks his heart to see what she does to you; the way she's so manipulative and mean, the way she acts innocent after saying the worst things a mom could say to a daughter and pretend she didn't really mean that way, or you are overreacting

• and it absolutely shatters his heart to see that even after all the emotional pain she puts you through, he sees how you somehow look for her approval affection, no matter if he has already told you to ignore her, he knows it's deeper than that, it's just the result of a lifetime of emotional damage she's done

• being unable to help you more effectively, he does what he can: he holds you, he soothes you, dries your tears and reminds you you are more than what your mom says, he reminds you he knows you are telling the truth and that you aren't just overreacting, he knows that whenever she says "it wasn't that bad" it was indeed that bad and whenever she insists on saying that whatever traumatic experience she caused you she doesn't remember because it never happened, he is aware it left a deep scar on your mental health

• and even if Joel thinks this is not very effective at all, he has no idea of how precious and important this is to you, because it validates your feelings, it shows you you aren't alone, it shows that you are respected as an adult and overall as a person, it shows you that he loves you, the good kind of love, not the supposed kind of love that burns your mom insists on giving you

• Joel doesn't give a shit if your mom says she has anxiety or whatever other crap she uses as an excuse, no mental problem in the world gives anyone the right to treat another person, let alone a daughter, the way she treats you; it doesn't matter if she wants to pass as mentally unstable, he can see right through it, she is only unstable when it's convenient for her, so that leaves Joel with another adjective for her: cruel

• he knows your relationship with her has ups and downs, sometimes you are able to spend the whole day together shopping or just hanging out and having fun, but there are days she makes a living hell out of your mind

• and even if Joel isn't the most educated guy in psychology, he knew it wasn't healthy to bottle up these feelings like you often did, because sometimes you would explode

• and today was one of those days: something small suddenly became a huge thing and before you knew it, your mom was already screaming at you as if you were a child, making you feel worse and worse and all that rage you had bottled up exploded, because you were so tired of having to walk on eggshells, never knowing if you would have an easy day or if you'd have your mental health ruined again

• so when Joel got home from work, he immediately noticed something was off; you were sniffling and trying to hide your red puffy eyes, you were so sad and you'd completely lost your appetite and the moment he questioned you what had happened - having a pretty good idea of what you were going to say, you simply broke down and sobbed

• and at that moment he didn't think of anything else other than holding you into his arms, his body was so warm and comfortable and you felt relieved to have a grip on him, to feel his muscles, his beard, to smell his scent, everything reminding you of what a loving person really was

"shh it's okay darling, you'll be fine, you don't have to tell me what happened, it's gonna be okay, I'm here and I believe you"

• Joel whispered against your ear and simply didn't move until you broke the hug, seemingly to calm down for a while; and not only that, while you took the relaxing shower he suggested you to, he made you tea, because cooking might not be his strongest suit, but you take such good care of him, he wants to at least pay you back a small portion of it

• even after shower, he can tell the tears are easily going to spill at any minute, so he decides not to talk about it, instead, he suggests watching something to distract you, it doesn't matter to him if it's a movie, a tv show or that low quality soap opera you found on Netflix you swear you only watch it ironically but you got too invested in it, he just wants to see you smile for a bit

• cuddles all the way while you both watch tv, even if you're not paying attention because honestly why does he like to watch cars exploding so much? but the important thing is that you love Joel and you're so thankful for everything he does for you

• and to finally finish a terrible day, you both make love, not fucking, but making love. It's slow, gentle, sexy and intimate. Exactly what you needed, a full dose of Joel to make you feel better ❤️

____

[bonny-kookoo]

Jungkook

Dearly Beloved 🔞 Final.

In which you've got a crush on your coworker- and a stalker problem.

Tags/Warnings: I do not condone any of Jungkooks questionable actions, this is fiction, soft Yandere!Jungkook, stalking, criminal actions (trespassing, stealing), obsession, he's really not quite right in the head, mc is kind of stupid for not involving police but wbk

Additional Chapter Warnings: insert 'oh no' tiktok meme here.

Length: long?

There is no taglist for this fic.

-> Masterlist

•━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━•

He's gonna do it. He has to. What if he misses his chance? You already love him.

You just don't know it yet.

But the entire day at the office, someone steals your attention away. There's always someone standing at your desk, asking pointless things, chasing you around like a slave for things that could've been a fucking e-mail. Why do you need to go and copy something for Yaerin when she's got to working legs?

Maybe if she didn't wear those high heels she constantly trips in she would be able to do her job correctly. Or maybe she's simply a viper, trying to work you down until you burn out, unable to offer this place anymore of your energy. She's done it before. She'll do it again.

People like her disgust him. She's rotten to the core, especially considering how she constantly soils the office seats in the meeting room with her disgusting perfume every time she fucks another one of the higher ups in there. He knows it's happening, has walked in on her and a CEO once- and while he told her that her secret was safe with him, he really only did it to have something up his sleeve if he ever needed her for something.

Does that make him just as rotten as her? Maybe. But all is fair in love and war.

He can't help but fidget at this point, watching how you clearly try and stay nice to a coworker currently attempting to convince you to go drinking with everyone after this shift. You don't like karaoke, you don't even drink in social settings because it makes you anxious- Jungkook knows these things.

He would never ask something of you that you're not comfortable with- he'd take you out for your favorite fast food instead to eat it in the car while listening to crappy pop-songs on the radio. That's what you love.

You've mentioned it before. And he never forgets those things.

Who's that man to you anyways? He can sense the tenseness in your muscles as the guy leans on your table, clearly taking up space and showing that he's not going to leave anytime soon- and Jungkook feels his anger grow inside his chest. You don't like this guy. He needs to get him away from you.

"Uh- Steven, right?" Jungkook meekly asks, the man's face snapping to him with an annoyed smile.

"Yeah. What's up kook?" He jokes as if they're best buddies.

They're not. Jungkook couldn't care less if the guy died in a ditch.

"I think Yaerin wanted to talk to you about something being wrong with the calculations for last month?" Jungkook stammers, needing to uphold his image. And also, he can't help it- his emotions make him quiver a bit, muscles unable to stay still as he rubs his hands. "She said it's urgent." He presses.

That's actually only half a lie. It's not urgent- but that whore did want to talk to him about something. There probably won't be much talking involved except maybe a command to take his dick further down her throat- but Jungkook doesn't care what they do. The only thing he does care about is that he fucking leaves.

Which he does, finally, making Jungkook take in a deep breath as he watches the man walk off.

"Thank you so much." You say behind him, and when Jungkook turns around to look at you, you're gazing at him with such warm eyes he feels his trembling body levitate on nothing but thin air. Everything's alright again- if he could look at you like this for the next years of his life, he'd thank every god in existence for it. "I have.. a hard time telling people no." You sigh, running your hands over your face.

"That's.. that's fine." Jungkook nods, a little awkwardly, smiling back. "I'm not that.. good at it either." He chuckles, and you laugh along, already feeling a lot better.

"Do you.. uhm.." You look at your keyboard for a second before you lick your lips- is that new lipgloss you wear? Or did you eat something that stained them? Jungkook isn't sure, but he wants a taste. "Do you wanna.. grab a drink or two after work with me?" You wonder, rushing the sentence out, and Jungkook's lips part a little, eyes round and open as they stare you down with their boba-pearl charm.

"Uh- yes! Yes, sure!" He nods, closing his mouth, before he pats his pants, looking for his phone. "W-wait, I'll uh- I'll give you my number!" He rushes out, writing it down with trembling hands on a sticky note, before offering it to you, who smiles shyly.

"Alright!" You nod. "I'll.. see you tonight then?" You ask, and Jungkook nods, entire body set aflame.

"Tonight."

•━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━•

He fucked up.

He fucked up.

He fucked up.

He's pacing in front of your door because you surely know. You had to have found out- there's no way you didn't. The moment you texted him, he knew you knew-

because he gave you the wrong number. In his panic, he gave you a number you already have.

Is the police on its way? Did you call the cops? Or another friend maybe to beat the shit out of him? You must be terrified, creeped out to no ends, and he can't blame you. What the hell did he even do? This isn't right.

"Jungkook?" You ask, ripping him out of whatever panicked episode he was going through, wild eyes staring at you who's looking at him with an unreadable expression.

It's quiet as you stare each other down, tension able to be cut with a knife for a good while, before you speak.

"You could've.. just said something." You mumble, and Jungkook isn't sure what you mean. There's a variety of things and situations this sentence could apply to- and he doesn't want to out himself if he's not caught yet. If there's just a simple chance of getting away with it, he will take it. "Do you... like me this much?" You ask, and he's swallowing thickly now.

You clearly want an answer, but he doesn't know in what context. What is he supposed to say.

"I mean, I knew something was off when.." you explain, playing with the strings of your hoodie as you fumble with your words. "When.. I wasn't scared." You admit.

"Because it was you all along."

His entire body grows cold, veins freezing over as he gets his confirmation. You know. You know, and you're probably going to tell him next that you've already asked for a restraining order-

Wait. What do you mean by you weren't scared?

"Do you want to.. come in with permission this time?" You ask, trying to lighten the mood, but he's confused. This isn't the reaction he thought he'd get.

"I-" he starts, stammers. "I'm sorry." He presses out. "I don't.. I just-" he fails to find appropriate words because he really doesn't know why he's like this. He knows it's a problem, he knows he's sick- it's obvious, that little sane part of him is aware of the pure wrongness of his actions up until now.

"I know." You say, nodding, before you step aside to let him inside.

"I can't." Jungkook denies. "I can't- I shouldn't, I'm not- don't let me in, don't ever let me in-" he worries, unsure what's wrong with him now. Is this what realization feels like?

If that's the case, he wants to go back to insanity, because this is torturous.

"Its fine." You reassure. "You're.. I'd really hate to see you leave right now." You deny, offering compassion. "You're not well right now." You say, and he agrees.

But he's never been well ever since he met you almost a year ago.

He'll never be well.

"You're too.. you shouldn't. I might hurt you." He explains in a hurry.

"You won't." You deny. You're not sure why you're so convinced about it- maybe because he's had the chance to hurt you so many times and didn't. Or maybe because you're so lonely that you'll take this love no matter how tainted it is.

"Please come inside." You ask once more.

And slowly, with great hesitance, does he enter your home, painfully wringing his hands as if to keep himself occupied.

"When my mom had a brain stroke, years ago, she changed a lot." You explain, walking in to fill up two glasses of water before you set them on the coffee table in the living room area, sitting down on the couch right after- inviting him.

He takes the invitation. His eyes sting with unshed tears.

"She suddenly hated me. Hated almost everyone." You remember. "The doctors said that it can happen. That if we.. injure just a tiny little specific part of our brains, our whole personality changes." You retell, and Jungkook listens, unsure where to look now.

He's been here before, but he's never seen the apartment with the lights on.

"But we still got along until she passed." You nod. "She went to therapy, and reconnected with me and her old friends." You say.

"I'm.. I think I know what you're suggesting-" he says, before he puts his face in his hands. "But I don't want to." He denies.

"Why not?" You worry with a soft tone. "Jungkook, you're not a bad person. You just need help." You offer.

"But what if my love for you is just mental illness?!" He yells out, panicked, eyes now leaking tears. "I don't want them to kill that. I want to stay- I want to stay sick if it means that I still love you.." he weeps, looking at you with desperation.

"Then we'll rebuild it." You shrug easily. "I'll make you love me again." You say, and Jungkook breaks.

"C-can I touch you?" He whimpers from the other side of the couch. "Just a bit?" He wonders, and you nod, opening your arms.

Welcoming him, because he's not a threat or a danger or a monster.

He's just a little sick.

[dullgecko]

Riz obviously suffers the most from racism, often needing to be disguised when they travel or just straight up murdering the assholes that can’t keep their mouths shut. Obviously the bad kids made a Riz Protection Squad… Wait, why is Riz the president of his own protection squad? “Riz, wait, put down the knife. We’re supposed to protect you.- WHO GAVE HIM A MISSILE LAUNCHER!?”(Missile launcher was a joint effort of Fig, Adaine, and Gorgug. Made to specifically target racists.)

It wasn’t very surprising that Fig also had to deal with racists, mostly from religious humans and elves. She didn’t know what to do the first time a Helio follower berated her for existing, it was one of her old friends in middle school too, she ended up crying in her room and wouldn’t let Sandra Lynn comfort her. After the second time she just started hissing exaggeratedly to scare them off, as well as threatening to set them on fire, it still hurt though.(After sophomore year she started expressing how much it actually effected her, mostly with the bad kids but she did open up to her parents too…Eventually.)

Gorgug was mostly left alone, simply because the racist were scared of him, but the times he does face discrimination he sorta just stares at the person until they walk away or until one of the bad kids just suddenly appears and beats up the person insulting him. (Adaine and Ayda made a spell that signals them if someone is being mean to Gorgug, since Adaine canonically believes that if someone is mean to him then they’re automatically evil. Ayda fully agrees.) The first time it happened was unfortunately in elementary school with his teacher and it continued the whole school year, he didn’t tell anyone until he brought it up during a family dinner in between sophomore year and junior year. No one had ever seen Digby and Wilma look so pissed before, not even Gorgug.

Fabian got a lot of shit for not being a “pure blood” of a human or an elf, but he never actually cared about it. It confused him the first time, like yeah, of course he’s not fully a human or fully an elf, that’s how genetics works. Fig and Ragh had to explain it to him for about two hours before he realized what they meant(Power-points had to be made), which resulted in a very long overdue murder trip to the assholes house. (He’s very proud of himself for finding the address without Riz’s help.)

Adaine never really had to deal with it, at least not towards her. She would get the odd comment of being uptight because she’s a high elf, but they would already be on the ground before they could say anything else. One of the few things her and Aelwyn agreed on while growing up was how horribly racist their parents are and how they would never be like that. After getting adopted she would speak up more openly for her friends and new family, gladly standing in the line of fire to lessen what the others had to hear. She also verbally abused Arthur until he made a system in the school that would make someone unable to speak if they try to be racist, sexist, or homophobic.

Kristen faced racism towards humans maybe two times, and each time she just laughed and screamed “So this is what I was missing out on!”. The others were not impressed, in fact they’re all very pissed and on the hunt for the asshole who insulted her.… “Riz…Get the missile launcher.” (Kristen got a little emotional and hugged them all after they got back. No, she doesn’t care about the amount of blood they’re all covered in. And no, she won’t ask about the weird bag or why they’re taking it to the basement…Or why it’s still moving.)

BONUS! Ayda makes them all write down the names and descriptions of people who hurt them(There’s no way out of it, they have to.), then goes to each person’s home and either makes sure they can’t say anything hurtful again or, if they’re already taken care of, just burns down the place and curses their blood line. Good pirates don’t discriminate in any way, and she will see to it that everyone will pay for hurting her paramour and her friends.

Riz has to deal with it a lot, but most of the time he just ignores it because it isnt worth getting into a fight over. ESPECIALLY when he was younger, and infinitely more puntable (its how he got so good at sneaking, he had to deal with it less if people didnt even notice he was there). It became less of an issue when he started packing heat, and EVEN LESS of an issue once he became a multiple confirmed dragon slayer. Sure, he still encountered the assholes sometimes but absoloutly /ruining their lives/ is just a fun little side hobby now. Oh you called me a slur? Oh no how did your wife find out you were cheating and where did she get that folder full of proof?

Outside of Solace its a bit rougher but he humors his friends desire to protect him, he even accepts a souped up arcubus from them that he keeps as a backup weapon just in case (but he's too attached to his own to use it). Anyone that gets past his friends to attack him though is leaving with more holes than they came with initially.

---------

Fig just laughs off anyones attempts at being racist these days. Fig is an archdevil, if anyone is racist towards her she simply makes a note of it for later. She might not do anything to hurt them in the moment but there are receipts, and she will be collecting her dues when they finally kick the bucket.

----------

The generally racist opinion of half-orcs is that they're dumb, slow and violent. Gorgug is none of these things, he's just quiet and actually thinks things through before replying (which might make it seem like he's a bit slow but its more that he's thoughtful). One of his teachers in middle school constantly made him the butt of jokes, and propped him up as an example that none of the other kids would want to be. He was careful to never loose his temper around that teacher just so he wouldnt fit the stereotype the way they wanted.

When his parents find out about it years after the fact, the teachers car is found dismantled in their driveway the very next morning. Every single piece that could be taken apart done so, and most of the metal pieces were left in a bucket of salt water. No one saw who did it and there was no evidence at the scene.

------------------

While Adaine doesnt have to deal with much by way of racism she /does/ have to deal with a lot of gross race-based fetishisation. Especially since she fits the idealised archetype of thin, blonde, kind elven wizard woman. More than one person has tried to flirt with her in a very gross way and been absoloutly /laid out/ by whichever of the bad kids was with her at the time (she's once witnessed Riz notice her getting harrased after coming around a corner, climb a chair, table then partially onto a display shelf to knock a guy out once. Very funny because it was one the only time she's seen him strike someone with a closed fist, rather than claws.).

----------------------------

Kristen laughs it off at first but she's a little more upset about it than she thought she would be later. She just doesnt have the same experiance with it as the others so she doesnt have the same coping mechanisms.

--------------------------

Ayda is a force to be reckoned with and is /usually/ the reason why Figs racist-punishment-wing is receiving their guests early. If they sincerely apologise and make amends she will let them off with a warning, but since she herself is not of the same race as the ones she enacts firery revenge on the ofen double down on the assholery and seal their fate.

[syzygyzip]

The Soul Still Burns: Analysis of the Lords of Cinder (DS3)

What follows is a short essay on the Lords of Cinder from Dark Souls 3, exploring their symbolism on spiritual and metatextual levels. After that is a related reading of Slave Knight Gael, the final adversary of the Dark Souls trilogy.

The Lords of Cinder are in many ways the primary adversaries of Dark Souls 3. This title they share, “Lord of Cinder,” refers to a personage who has rekindled the first flame, keeping the cycle of light and dark going.

Cinder is a substance which continues to burn without the presence of fire but does not reduce to ash. So euphemistically, it seems that the Lords are somehow stuck in their process of purification, and the game suggests that the world is stuck along with them; this is why it is the Ashen One’s task to “set them upon their thrones”—to hurry them along and thus allow the world to follow its natural decline. As individual characters, each of these Lords represents a different attitude that complicates and prolongs the cycle.

Through these stubborn Lords the game is commenting on at least two things. On the metaphysical level, it reflects the Buddhist idea that certain attitudes keep people reincarnating over and over again, unable to extricate themselves from the material world of suffering (samsara). While on the metatextual level, the game is suggesting that certain attitudes keep players coming back to Dark Souls again and again, starting new games, making new builds and revisiting old files.

The idea there on the metaphysical side finds an easy analogy in Buddhist doctrine: the “three poisons,” the three root causes of suffering. These are hatred, greed, and delusion. What’s interesting is that these essential vices also fit pretty easily onto the different types of players that are being caricatured by the Lords. We’ll break these correspondences down in a second.

But First: Why Do They Correspond? So we have these sets of three. Three lords, three poisons in Buddhism, three types of Souls players. How convenient. When we analyze art, we sometimes ask, “Huh, is this structure really there, or am I projecting it into the material?” And if the structure is really there, baked into the work, that doesn’t mean that it’s due to developer intention. Archetypal forms sometimes show up in work via an unconscious influence, be it due to the cultural milieu, personal psychology, or some a priori biological disposition of the human being.

And the thing about Dark Souls is that it’s an unusually honest piece of art, in that its creative team allows their own free associations and intuitions to show up in the work without too much self-censorship or questioning. They make space for a mystery to show up on its own terms, and in leaving its riddles unanswered, there is more space for discovery by the people who play it.

It should also be said that cultural ideas persist for a reason. Beneath the ethics and ideology of the people who originally named the Buddhist “three poisons,” there may be something timeless, something perennially descriptive of human nature. If that is the case, then it would make sense for this same triplicity to unfurl itself in other cultural products. So for one reason or another, these three poisons, these addictions, show up diegetically in the characters and are also expressed in player psychology.

I say all this just because sometimes I feel very aware of the disconnect between much of Souls lore discourse and the broader field of mythological study. Since we are gamers first, there may be this tendency to want to “solve” the lore, but that’s not what we’re doing here. Myth functions because it elaborates our experience of the world through affective resonance; it attaches images and characters and stories which help us anchor our own prelinguistic impressions of the world, cultivating our sensitivity there.

Anyway, let’s look at these Lords.

Abyss Watchers Poison: Hatred The lore of the Abyss Watchers is pretty clear: they have an obsessive fixation on the abyss, and are ready to raze an entire town if they suspect abyssal encroachment. This obsession has literally possessed them, as they are now “abyss touched.” Gaze too much into the abyss, etc. They carry such strong contempt for the disavowed object that they don’t care what comes between it and their sword. This is clearly demonstrated by the fact that they are a brotherhood yet are unhesitatingly slaughtering themselves again and again. Hatred has made them blind, and has also caused them to resign their individuality (they are identical, mere instruments of a transpersonal grudge). They cannot die, their hatred keeps them locked in combat.

Type of Player: competitive | Interest: combat The Abyss Watchers are a representation of PvP addicts. They have no powers other than tenacity; they perform the same combos repeatedly. When you are really gripped by a PvP binge in Souls, you often end up doing the same thing again and again. The fight takes place in a mausoleum, on top of many chambers filled with human remains. The fact that this boss fight is instructional about combat, specifically about looking for tells (a cloud of dust always signifies the end of their combos) might be another clue. There is no limit to how good you get at Souls PvP; every foe is an opportunity to improve timing and strategy. You can just keep stacking anonymous bodies under yourself.

Aldrich Poison: Greed Aldrich invokes the concept of supremacy many times: he is in the supreme area from Dark Souls 1; in the supreme boss room of that area; he wears as a crown the former supreme lord of that area. This is because he devours lords; he tries to take prestige upon himself through acquisition and incorporation—greed.

Type of Player: completionist | Interest: content Aldrich is a commentary on completionist players. He is someone who “plays the game to death”, acquiring every object, reaching every achievement, devouring the soul of the game through taking everything into himself. He becomes bloated by consuming as much of the game’s content as possible. The old God whose likeness he has adopted is Gwyndolin, who was, in narrative terms, the one pulling the strings in the land of the Gods. And in gameplay terms, he is a secret boss. So on both counts we have someone who is elusive, and exists more or less at the boundary of the gameworld. When a player tries to see every last little morsel of a game, they become somewhat like Gwyndolin, a manipulator of a virtual world. If you know too much about a game, you have the risk of being less immmersed.

Yhorm Posion: Delusion In Buddhism, the poison of delusion secretly underlies the other two poisons, as the impulse toward hatred and greed are ultimately born of some false view about reality. This is akin to how the profaned capital sits below the rest of the kingdoms. To beat Yhorm you essentially have to “play pretend” with him, picking up a fake super-weapon, or fighting alongside Siegward, a knight who appears to be somewhat deluded about the state of the world, enthralled in the same fantasy as Yhorm himself.

Type of Player: lore researcher | Interest: meaning The profaned capital is full of statues—fixed images of myth; and empty goblets—treasures with no utility. Not to mention the area with the swamp which is full of symbolic imagery, but serves no narrative or mechanical purpose. The entire profaned capital challenges us to make sense of it; it is the ultimate temptation of lorekeepers in DS3. It throws at us a disproportionate amount of reference to DS2, which is famous among Souls players as the least thematically sensible Souls game. The Greatshield of Glory is found right outside Yhorm’s room, in a conspicuous room full of treasure, and yet it is a very impractical shield and offers very little lore value. If a lore-minded player picks it up, it directs them to a legendary personage from the War of Giants, which raises far more questions than it answers. The same is true of much of this area—the Eleanora, the Monstrosities, the Profaned Flame itself—they are all there to get you to speculate. These are the players who come to Souls games again and again, trying to find the “ultimate meaning.” They seek the grail, claim to find it, and then chuck in a pile with the others.

Yhorm's story also imitates the primordial Artorias myth: forsaking his shield in preservation of something more valuable. Other than that Yhorm is largely a cipher when it comes to biography, with a void for a face, which itself epitomizes what must remain at the center of mythology and storytelling: mystery.

Sit Down and Seek Guidance So we have the three reasons that people become fixated on Souls: the combat, the achievements, and the mystery. But there is a fourth lord of cinder boss, who is conceptually apart from these three: the Lothric Twins. They represent yet another kind of person who must keep playing Dark Souls: the developers. Lothric is striving to produce “a worthy heir,” a proper sequel to Dark Souls 1. The Princes are bound to their chamber as the developers are bound to their project, as that is their curse—“but you may rest here too, if you like.” In this context we can see their duality as the dual nature of having to work on the game and also play it to death. The privilege and the loftiness of the promise of a great piece of art (Lothric), and also having to go back "into the trenches" of the work itself (Lorian). Notably, neither of them can walk, they just teleport around. They are stuck at work, trying to bring the new world into being. Also I can’t go this whole essay without mentioning the obvious: that the Ashen One is bringing Lords to their thrones, and we players and developers have to assume our little chairs and couches when we access this world.

Playing Beyond the Point of Pleasure Of course the most extreme example of someone stubbornly remaining in the world no matter what is Slave Knight Gael. He is looking for pigment, which seems to be a euphemism for the substance of humanity (the Dark Soul). He wants to give it to the painter, the world-creator, so that a new world can be made. He is willing to indulge in a wasteland of abject violence for as long as it takes in order to renew something. Ironic that he is probably only prolonging the current world in his obsessive drive to recycle it faster.

Let’s examine the relationship between the figure of the painter and her relationship to Gael. That she is a spiritual entity is obvious: we never see her touch the ground, she is always in an upper room and lifted on a piece of furniture. Among other things, she is a clear metaphor for life springing eternally. A creative child who continues to paint despite kidnapping and imprisonment. She is the heart of the painted world, itself a place that symbolizes the idea of the representation of reality.

I want to make sure this is clear, because it is a bit of a kaleidoscope to consider. Any subject in Dark Souls stands for many things, but something that the painted world specifically represents is the very concept of representation. So of course the places in our imaginations are painted worlds, but so is this physical world of appearance, the maya of mundane reality. Not to mention that a work of art is a painted world, and the game we’re discussing is a painted world. When a work of art is able to recreate itself in itself, we can see this funny effect of mirrors reflecting mirrors infinitely. This results in seemingly inexhaustible symbolic content—there is so much potential to find meaning and create connections. Because Moby Dick represents a work of literature; the Tempest represents a play; Twin Peaks represents a TV show, these works can offer extensive insights not only into their medium but into the nature of reality. In these and other examples, the representation of the medium within the work may or may not be a single subject, but since Dark Souls is formally a game about levels and level design, the painted world is the heart of its self-reflexivity. The painted world can be pointed to as the summary of this fractal device. And the personification of that device, its ambassador to the player, is the painter.

The miracle or divine child is also an archetype familiar to us from Lothric, in their struggle to produce the “worthy heir.” Reality seeks salvation through the appearance of grace. They want it in a clear, incontestable form—to be able to point at it and say, "thank goodness we went through all that, because look, now here is the meaning, here is that which validates all that came before." In the world of Dark Souls 3 the religion of the masses is the Lothric stuff; meanwhile knowledge of the painted world is much more obscure. Lothric’s religion is obviously regulated and hierarchical, while Gael’s devotion to the painter is highly personal and private: he carries around a scrap of painting; he prostrates to a hidden idol in a small chapel; he considers the painter his family. He is emotionally close to the object of his worship.

But whether it’s Lothric or Ariandel, they are anticipating the divine child to redeem the world. As an archetype, the child ultimately represents surprise. The possibility of being delighted by life in its creative novelty. The child as an archetype appears in our own behavior when we do something without any sort of contrivance or mental interference, doing something in the world which doesn’t seem to have come from who we conceive ourselves to be. This is miraculous. Such an action enchants the world, and there is no explaining it, even if it may weave all kinds of stories around itself, retroactively framing things that have led up to it as portents or promises. (Though not exclusive to him, this trait is well-known in characterizations of Christ, and DS3 is clearly indebted to Christian iconography, so do with that what you will). Regardless of the specific cultural invocation, the divine child is a personification of something that happens within the human spirit. TFW you are renewed by a fresh and spontaneous engagement with life.

The grace of the miraculous often comes to us through play. Play is more of an attitude than an activity; the feeling of play may come to us through making a painting, or chatting with a friend, or moving around in a video game. We can play video games idly, competitively, experimentally, creatively, studiously, whatever, the feeling of “play” can show up regardless. We can sit there playing a certain game from a certain motivation, and feel totally rote and joyless, and question, “Why am I doing this?” Or we might sit there and play the same game with the same motivation, feeling totally lit up by it, its purpose to us obvious and self-validating. We are not even questioning why we are doing it, we are enjoying life.

This is really the ground that the miraculous tends to land on. Grace, meaning, and an immanent love of life are more likely to show up when we are in flow and not exercising our capacity for self-assessment. But like everything in life, we mistake the images and objects around us for the feeling of grace. Any given object might only be the catalyst once; it’s not about the object. This is extremely easy to see in cases of acute nostalgia; adults chase enchantment through collecting Zelda memorabilia or going to Disneyland, in pursuit of what kindled their spirit as a child. It was never really the game or the character that was doing it, it was what they were able to access within themselves.

So anyway Gael has yet to realize this. He thinks the Dark Soul is out there in something else. That it will be yielded as a drop if he just kills the right enemy, or 10,000 enemies, or goes to the right place at the right time. You can see that this is something of a synthesis of all the other Buddhist defilements: there are elements of completionism/greed, violence/hatred, mysticism/delusion. There is even the suggestion of the developer of these games again, in that Gael is a “slave,” forced into participation in the world to assist some creative apotheosis. (Isn’t it funny that his weapon is a worn-down executioner’s sword?—whether the person coding or the person playing, we are all “executing” command after command). The thing that really keeps him on the wheel is something beyond any of the player types and their vices; it is almost some sort of pure, amoral automatism, a churning drive that on one side resembles wanton nihilism, and on another side single-minded piousness. Is one disguised as the other, or has Gael somehow stepped beyond this binary? Yet another dichotomy in Dark Souls that begs to be reconciled, but whose tension creates the opportunity to participate creatively in its expansive mythology. When things are held apart we can move between them.

To really understand Gael, we have to contend with the question of a person’s relationship to their own soul, since that relationship is so plainly suggested by Gael and the painter. (This question, by the way, is much elaborated in Elden Ring, with its repeated foregrounding of the image of the maiden or “consort”). If we were to see Gael and the painter as partitions within one person--whether she is his soul, or his inner life, or his better nature, whatever—then in any case Gael is the side which goes out into the world and experiences it. He is the creative extension into the world as its active participant and realizer. Yet he is clothed as the warrior, the executioner. While the one who is dressed as the artist, the painter, just stays in her room and imagines the world—but this is where the magic of creation is really felt. We involve ourselves in life, or in a game, but we are only really changed and renewed when that exterior experience is “brought home” into the inner life. We do something “in the game,” but the act of “painting,” in renewing the world through our creative interpretation, is a decidedly interior experience.

[stackslip]

your post about fma03 are good and i'm stuck thinking about scar for hours at a time again. stories talking about 'revenge' can read really bad to me because a lot use 'this oppressed minority trying to fight state violence is bad' plotline. fma03 was honestly pretty unique in that scar was this tragic hero instead. it's sad, it's clearly difficult for him and he see him struggle, but everything he does was also necessary to prevent further genocide.

YEAH, it's a trope i absolutely loathe and scar in the og manga is its poster boy and everyone and their mom loves to pretend it's super progressive or something lol. there are aspects to scar's manga character i wish i could have enjoyed more were he not constantly scolded by half the cast for being an Evil Murderer when the war criminals' redemption arcs are assumed to be done by now and they're good people we should all root for. bc like. i genuinely LIKE the idea of scar's brother's other arm being about reconstruction. i LIKE the concept of scar holding destruction and rebuilding at once, and being able to one day move on and participate in the rebuilding of ishbal! but it comes with the idea that he is wrong for wanting to destroy amestris's military and the people who've murdered his people in the first place, it comes with him calling himself scum for being a Bad Murderer, it comes with the only other major talking ishbalan character BEING A MEMBER OF AMESTRIS'S MILITARY, UNDER THE COMMAND OF A WOMAN WHO CURSES HER BROTHER OUT FOR NOT HAVING JOINED IN THE GENOCIDE, basically scolding scar in turn for daring to want revenge. lol. i likewise would like the thing between him and mei a lot better if it didn't feel like it didn't play in tropes of "this big brown scary man is actually sweet bc this cute pale skinned girl makes him Soft" which.... i'm not fond of. i like mei and his relationship to her a lot, I Do Not Like The Framing. i do not like what arakawa does with scar in the manga, and this will always, ALWAYS be my biggest contention with fma, my line in the sand that i refuse to back down. so many things i can chalk up to taste, but i'm never not going to argue that scar's treatment in the og manga is absolutely abysmal.

in comparison, the way 03 reframes scar from his very first appearance as someone a lot more vulnerable/human and understandable, how his violence is put into context for what amestris has done to him and how al and him have this direct connection and mutual understanding, down to al flat out saying "if someone killed my brother i'd probably want to burn down the world too".... it's just. really good all around. scar's arc does not revolve around the elrics' plot, but when he does encounter them it's not so ed can scold him for being a murderer--because scar can and does bite back ed for participating in the military in the first place. his encounter with lust, the dynamic between him, his brother and his brother's love and how all three of them have been denied even their very names and identity in the aftermath of the genocide..... unbelievably bleak. how lust and scar likewise are trying to reclaim an identity as specifically Ishbalan in different ways too! lust by remembering what she was made from, going against dante and realizing what has been taken away from her, dying while proclaiming I WAS A WOMAN FROM ISHBAL. and then you have scar, who refuses his past name because he died with his brother and he died with the old ishbal. amestris murdered him along his people. there's no coming back from this. and like.... it's tragic, because it means scar is doomed from the start. he sees himself as a ghost and he is unable to not be one. but he also *chooses* to do something of it. to not simply pursue revenge but to actively stop amestris's military from repeating the genocide in liore! he is STILL enacting violence, he is using ishbal's own old alchemy and usurping amestris's claims so he can turn their own weapon back on them. ishbal was murdered for amestris's principles, and likewise scar is going to destroy as much of the amestrian military as he can in the name of not only avenging ishbal but stopping it from ever happening again! and his plan works. it works, and it's tragic, but also triumphant. it's tragic because scar was a good man.

that's the difference between the treatment of scar in og fma and 03. in the former, scar is the one character who has to Grow Into A Good Person, because it is assumed that no good person should use violence even to defend their people and avenge genocide. because violence is the prerogative of the protagonists, and because it is easy to remove the "bad people" from the premise--you can just excise them as a tumour, and then amestris is no longer a fascist and genocidal hell state. never mind that a sympathetic character (one often touted as a feminist icon ffs) is actively defending her choice to participate in the genocide to the end and derides another for NOT participating in it, but apparently she's fine! but scar has to Learn To Forgive and becoming a good person means settling down and things will magically improve. and scar has to learn this from the elrics, even as they talk down to him and see him in a very negative light, because apparently the two blonde protagonists understand violence better than a survivor of genocide does.

in 03, scar is a good person. or at the very least, he's entirely justified. and he might not be right 100% of the time, but he is from the beginning considered to understand a lot more of the world than the elrics are! he is a tragic hero because he died long ago, and there was no other path for him. and he isn't.... wrong. it's been shown in 03 that ishbalan survivors literally get hunted and displaced wherever they go. they can't rebuild, as long as amestris is as it is! you can't just spout platitudes about how violence is bad, because even if you give up violence it will show up at your door and burn your refugee camp and the only way to counter is meeting it with violence yourself. where ed sacrifices himself at the end for his brother in another tragic hero ending, scar sacrifices himself for not only the memory of his brother but for all of ishbal AND liore to be able to live. and he's right! he's destabilized the military enough that when roy makes his choice and kills bradley, the military has been crippled and is forced to take a step back, and amestris is suddenly on the defensive and no longer able to take on offensive wars. ishbalans and liorites are shown rebuilding in peace, as amestrian soldiers are no longer able to attack them. scar's sacrifice worked. he took on the identity of old ishbal's avenging ghost, and he pushed it to the end. he finally accepted his brother's love and sacrifice, and sacrificed himself in turn--like the elrics do! his last words are words of love. they're tender. in the moment that he kills hundreds of amestrian soldiers, music swells. yes, it's tragic. fma 03 isn't saying that justified violence is all glory and roses, it's still painful--the soldiers' death isn't a fun happy time, but.... they were coming in to murder thousands of liorites, possibly rape some of them like they did rose. their lives, 03 says again and again, are *not* more important than the lives of marginalized people. they've made their choice. violence here was the right call, it was an act of love, and it is framed as such. scar's final act is mirrored by the final act of the protagonists, there too an act of love. scar in 03 is so much more humanized and respected a character than he is in the manga, and regardless of 03's other failings or differences in taste, i will argue that his story in 03 is more relevant and real as ever today as it was during the political context of 2003-04

[icestarphoenix]

geez isp, second fandom you actively participate in and you already made another power system

i really liked the hc’s and explanations for some of the boxers’ more inhuman feats. while it could be boiled down to cartoon logic, the brain tinglies really got me goin on the ideas train and now i have a magic system

Edit: now with a part 2 :D

Punch Out: Worldbuilding and Magic

Every human intrinsically has the ability to manipulate magic, which is a force that can alter reality. People either don’t know how to use it, use it without knowing, or train to be able to harness it. Some have a natural talent or potential for magic while others don’t.

It’s difficult for the boxers to directly affect their opponents with magic during a match. Them being guarded and wary also guards against outside magical influence. For example, Great Tiger’s clones are corporeal and capable of touching physical objects. Although, during a fight, magic from his opponent interferes with his clones and causes them to pass right through. Very focused magic, however, may be able to break through someone’s defenses. It just wouldn’t happen in a boxing match with the need to focus on the physical fight itself.

Below the cut are the specific ways some boxers perform magic and/or some tidbits about them. This isn’t the definitive list of magic users, just the ones I thought of with more interesting ideas.

Glass Joe, with all his fights, subsequent losses, and age, should really have more lasting injuries than he does. It’s his tenacity that made his unconscious use of magic heal his body at a much faster rate than normal. Joe’s not any more resistant to pain or injury, oh no, just that he can fully recover from physical traumas more severe than others can handle.

Piston Hondo uses meditation to simultaneously hone his focus and his magic. His ability to keep up with the Shinkansen on foot is from hyperfocusing on his magic. While in a match, he of course cannot reach that level of speed, but meditating and rigorous training let him get closer and closer to doing so.

Bear Hugger’s ability to understand and communicate with animals originates from magic, but he chalks it up to animal magnetism and just being really empathetic.

Great Tiger has trained all his life in using magic, and as such he has the most versatility and best control over it. He is an example of what an expert magic user is capable of.

Don Flamenco has a naturally poor aptitude for magic, but he uses what he can mainly to make plant life prettier. His use of magic sustains and even lets flowers flourish, brightening their colors, strengthening their smells, making them bloom, etc.

The cut roses he has on hand are real flowers, and despite carrying the same ones around for weeks, they are still alive, healthy, and maintain their strong scent with his magic.

The strength of his magic also heavily depends on his emotional state. Confidence will boost it to the point where he can uppercut a bull into the sky. Shattering this confidence will weaken his magic and he becomes unable to sustain even a single flower.

Aran Ryan doesn’t think he’s any good with magic and sees himself as just particularly lucky. However, he is actually unconsciously using magic to subtly alter reality around him to his favor. He just believes he has the “Luck of the Irish” on his side.

Soda Popinski’s abnormally high magical potential from a young age caught the attention of scientists who began experiments with him to bring out this latent talent.

Ironically, all the treatments and sugar-coated medications Soda’s taken over the years has dampened his ability to perform magic normally.

Instead, that potential starts to come out when his body is processing large amounts of sugar. Soda’s extremely fast metabolism quickly burns away the glucose and gives him magically enhanced vitality and physical abilities.

The experimental serum Soda took in his TD match overclocked his magic use past what his body and mind should handle, and all the bottles he drank made it so he was very much not okay after the match was over. He took several weeks to recover.

He had the potential to become an even stronger magic user than Great Tiger. Soda doesn’t realize this since he never learned how to harness it like Tiger does.

Bald Bull makes an effort to not use magic, as he blames his constant hounding by the press on a potential unconscious use of magic attracting them to him. All his physical feats are completely natural.

In fact, his disdain for using magic is so strong that, when in a rage, his unconscious use of it nullifies other people’s ability to perform magic. As such, matches with Bull are determined purely by technique, skill, and raw physical ability.

If Bull is calmer, then magic use around him only weakens rather than nullifies.

Great Tiger realized this very quickly when he was floating by Bull and then unexpectedly face-planted onto the ground.

[unexpectedbrickattack]

Some (scary, Huge) fake peppi sketches i managed to get out recently

Ramblings under the cut heehee

Wanted to emphasize his HUGE and Hulking body. Hes got Similar movesets to the ingame fake peppino, but theyre fundamentally very Peppino-esque; he is strength and speed based just like Peppino instead of being (primarily) unpredictable and speedy. Thinking of the grab still being one handed but its more like him grabbing Peppinos shirt/body, and immediately chucking him against the wall (similar to peppinos two-armed grab)

The shouldercheck that Peppino does is mimicked with Fake Peppino using his hand as a mace/heavy weighted head weapon.

Runs up the wall on all fours instead of the regular run he does ingame (similar to Peppino using his hands to help with wall climbing)

He is INCREDIBLY loud and shrill during this fight; his voice echoes over itself and its very fast and unintelligible. Hes got very loud and nervous laughter bubbling up alongside the shrill screaming so its just NOT a fun time for Peppino at all.

He is normally very docile, but bc of some hcs I have wrt to him and pizzahead (and the tower overall), he is EXTREMELY stressed out and out of control when Peppino goes through his boss gate. Once he gets his ass handed to him AND he exhausts himself w the chase sequence, Fake Peppino is calmed down enough to think rationally again. And he has decided that Fighting Sucks and he would much rather just keep making pizzas lmao

(yoinking this from discord bc i do Not want to paraphrase lmao)

[I make my peppino SO hulking despite being short so i wanted to convey that same kind of Hugeness but like, if he had the extra height to go along w it Like peppino throws his weight around so i wanted fake peppino to do the same; hes very fast but also incredibly destructive and brutish]

[Im trying to find the best way to put it but like. In the same way getting angry gets u worked up and ur face gets hot and ur heart starts pumpin, the same thing will happen to fake peppino, only it translates into his body starting to bubble up and boil. Which looks AWFUL and it FEELS awful and it further aggravates him when hes burning up and falling apart So he will escalate very fast and essentially go blind w rage until he either passes out or gets knocked out]

[I want him to be a somewhat close parallel to peppino; act first think later. Everything makes him emotional and just like peppino, it will build up out of control very fast, and make him blow up in anger before he can think of a better way to handle it]

[ALSO wrt to fake peppino fighting i want the direction to be less ‘oh that is a weird freaking thing’ and more like ‘that a scary huge monster what the fuck IS that’ Like he makes the ground shake in his own pizzeria when hes chasing after peppino like hes throwing his weight around in such a way that makes him feel like the tank from left 4 dead. Big mans. Charges after peppino, misses; and where peppino would just bonk the wall, fake peppino makes a crater in the wall before shaking off the debris]

[hes not really throwing temper tantrums hes like. JUST as emotional and unable to ‘mask’ as peppino is but he does not have the 40+ years that peppino had to at least have the awareness to be ‘im destroying my own home’]

[I feel like. He is just as fast and strong as peppino, the difference being that peppino has Self Restraint, even if its not Alot And body limitations like breaking limbs n such, but fake peppino does not have that hindrance]

[He and peppino arent like emotionally unstable they are just incredibly volatile when under immense stress. Like most people!! Peppino is just under maximum stress 24/7 and fake peppi is a brand spankin new peppino that finds everything raw and stressful

(From a tagentially related convo)

[hes got a weirdass hobbled together nervous system (since u always see those nervous system diagrams laid out w a floating brain lol)

Its very human like but also inconsistent in some places ie he can feel pain but not All the time. The human body is very VERY complex and theres so many things working together to make shit happen. A nervous system but no bones to help hold it up and send it through the body; its floating in doughy goop ALL the time. His skin isnt Real skin so it doesnt have the same kind of like. Setup to easily receive pain and touch overall. Stretching his body out makes it hard to actually access the nerves so hes often unaware of Pain. But he can Feel things happen. I dunno]

[(responding to the idea of Fake Peppino getting hit with something blunt vs getting impaled or stabbed and grazing his nervous system)

[YES its like literally hitting a raw exposed nerve. The same pain youd get from a fucked up tooth i think however, if u managed to do that his instinct to protect himself would go haywire and hed literally try to maim you or die trying. He has no built in shock response to extreme pain like a normal human does]

[socksenjoyer]

ok haha life series au idea time let's go bc i need to get this off my chest. I love being cringe 💞🌸✨

SO victorian/maybe georgian era life series AU. Supernatural shit is common but shunned from everyday life. Grian is the son of a rich family who vanished in.... mysterious. circumstances. So now he has the entire gigantic house to himself. His friends -- the life series members -- are mostly supernatural entities but Grian himself seems (mostly) human. They often visit him and vice versa, everything seems nice.

He's even visited his mysterious shut-in neighbour, who is a vampire trying to hide it VERY badly. Mumbo's only companion for the last few years has been his robot, Grumbot. Mumbo struggles to communicate with anyone because he's exceedingly anxious and incredibly ominous, but Grian has decided he WILL be friends with this strange man, so they are friends. Grian introduces him to the wonderful possibility of just asking for (animal) blood, instead of stealing it like a fricking chupacabras. Grumbot goes to live at Grian's house, because at this point Mumbo is just living with Grian. It's good. Everything's good.

Then, Grian barricades himself in his room, completely covering the window and absorbing himself in some kind of work. He refuses for any lights to be turned on in his vicinity (too bright) and instructs Mumbo to post a number of letters, one to each of the life series members. Each member tells the member that they need urgently to go to Grian's house NOW. Mumbo posts these letters, along with his own postscript explaining that Grian is obviously very sick, everyone starts to make their way there.

People start to arrive (scary!!) and chaos ensues as both the area Grian wants to be kept dark and the number of people increases. Since Mumbo can see fairly well in the dark, he's the only one who can get down the hallway to communicate with Grian. A few people become suspicious, as they don't know Mumbo (only Scar really knows him and impulse and skizz have at least met him) and he could easily be lying about what Grian's saying. One person, Gem, is exceedingly suspicious. She does NOT like Mumbo's general vibe (hmmm gem i wonder why gem) (ok in all seriousness she used to be a monster hunter, particularly a vampire hunter. She doesn't tell anyone this, but her old prejudices kinda start to show through). Everyone arrives but Pearl and Lizzie because Pearl is literally countries away and Lizzie is doing secret things...

One night, Grian tells Mumbo something, and tells him strictly not to tell anyone else. Turns out Grian is not Grian! He is in fact an eldritch horror that has been inhabiting Grian's body for the past *checks notes* fifteen years! This doesn't really change anything between them, since Mumbo and most of the lifers have never known the 'real' Grian, and it also doesn't answer any of anyone's burning questions, such as:

-why are we in this house

-what's the deal with the eyes? there's so many eyes, spinning and turning, always seeming to stare in one direction, maybe at me. i see them when i close my eyes now they're so bright i cannot think i cannot breathe all i can do is stare like a deer in headlights oh god oh god

-how do i know what a deer in headlights is? And why does Ren keep calling people 'dude'?

-What's up with Grian?

We don't out people in this house, so Mumbo doesn't tell anyone.

Only a day later, when everyone's asleep (apart from Mumbo insomnia gang💯🔥💯🔥 also he craves human flesh or whatever)(by extension Gem is also awake because hmm suspicious......) humongous hands appear, unable to be destroyed or escaped, taking people out of their beds and seemingly into the floorboards. It seems Grian is controlling them, but he can't be reached and didn't seem aware of what he's doing. It's only when Scar says something very quiet into Grian's ear that they both get dragged down No Childrenstyle and the hands stop. The only people remaining are Gem and Mumbo, thoroughly shaken up by the whole experience.

The goal then becomes to get along long enough to figure out what's going on and save everyone. First thing they do is send letters to Pearl and Lizzie, letting them know what's happening and maybe to hurry. They also send letters to Cub (knows stuff about magic) and Doc (knows stuff about interdimensional shenanigans) in the hopes they can help. Cub is very busy and says he might not be able to make it for a while but everyone else gets their ass in gear to come help.

Gym & mambo become tentative friends. They start to try and decipher Grian's notes, which appear to have been written in a completely unknown language. While they do this, something begins to happen around the outside of the house. Stone statues begin to appear, in a clockwise manner, completely buried apart from their arms, which poke out of the surface. Their first thought is to dig the statues up to see the rest of them, and doing this prompts the worst headaches and hallucinations (so many eyes and blinding lights blinding me blinding me in glory) either of them have ever felt. So we will not dig them up. They work out that the hands may well belong to the other lifers, since there's space for 14 people. Unbeknownst to mumbert and germ, the hands are also appearing in order of player deaths.

At about the same time Scott's statue appears, about a week after the disappearances, Mumbo mentions that Grian revealed something about himself near the end (the eldritch horror stuff). Gem is convinced this could be important and a little pissed that Mumbo is withholding crucial information. He refuses to tell her because it's not his secret to tell, and he doesn't think it would help them anyway. This entire argument devolves into Gem drawing her sword (which is so heavily consecrated that Mumbo physically recoils at being in the same room as the bare blade) and maybe accusing Mumbo of projecting his own fear of discovery onto Grian (Worth mentioning that Mumbo hasn't told her that he's a vampire but the fact he has to step away from the sword as if it were blasting the full concentrated power of the sun was kinda the last straw in figuring it out). Mumbo also gets incredibly pissed and asks why she even has that sword because the average person isn't carrying that shit around. So Gem admits she used to hunt vampires. Everyone gets to be furious until they sit down and have a nice talk HAHA ONLY JOKING THEY STEW ABOUT THIS SILENTLY AND ARE ONLY GETTING ALONG BECAUSE THE CIRCUMSTANCES DEMAND IT!! THEY ARE SILENTLY PISSED AT EACH OTHER FOR FUCKING CHAPTERS BABY.

Around the time Impulse's hands show up, Lizzie arrives. She is absolutely fucking going through it. She confirms that the hands of Joel are his because she recognises his ring. After the 'sorry your husband got buried and turned into a statue' talk she begins to help shed light on the language Grian has been writing in (it's standard galactic but with the added fun little twist that it is not encoding something in english but a whole new language only spoken by.....watchers!!! muahaha).

Bdubs' hands show up. Everyone is tense and upset and sleep deprived, and they've hit a wall. Lizzie can tell some shit has gone on between Morbius and Gort and suggests they maybe...talk to each other about it? They're both about to admit that they don't want to stay mad at each other but WAIT all of a sudden hold on. There's hands outside. That's Scar and Grian's hands and they're POETICALLY TANGLED TOGETHER, NO CHILDRENSTYLE? They both rush outside because that means everyone's here, so what now? Mumbo puts his hand on top of theirs and before Gem can warn him he is grabbed and pulled into the ground. Panicked, Gem goes to find Lizzie who is also nowhere to be seen, and in a dramatic final girl moment she fucking figures it all out OH MY GOD IT ALL MAKES SENSE AND THEN GEM ALSO IS TAKEN BY THE HANDS ANNNNND SCENE

Doc arrives at the house finding it completely empty, apart from Grumbot, who powered off a while ago because there was nobody left in the house. Doc powers Grumbot on to find answers, which is where we get a recount of the events from (Grumbot's been here.... the whole time!).

So yeah. I might end up writing this or comic-ing it or whatever. If anyone wants to use my idea w/credit please go ahead i would actually pledge my soul to you if you did that. Just you guys wait until you hear about the sleepover demon summoning au.

[oubliette-odette]

The Reluctance of Love Pt. 1

I don't like the fated mates trope. But I think it's because I don't personally like how people write/interpret it (no hate, just not for me. Also I'm asexual so...I'm built different or something. shrug). So this is me trying to write fated mates my way.

Orc Male x Half-Elf Male, Fated Mates, Forbidden Love, Slow Burn Part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22 23, 24, 25, 26, 27, 28 Word Count: 2443 (average 18 min read) Content Warnings: mention of mating, nothing happens....yet ;) All orcish is from orcishdictionary.com, created by Matt Vancil. Not beta-read. Criticism is welcome, but be sure to distinguish criticism from hate.

My world shattered the day I saw him, my raebukan, my mate.

The pride of Orc tribes is centered on two things. The first being the pride of our warriors who defend and conquer in the tribe's name. The second, the pride of bearing and rearing many children together as a tribe through the groupings of mates. To ensure that all children be born strong, our bodies experience lordhovid - an intense physical pull that is described as a boiling in the blood that occurs upon seeing your mate. Lordhovid does not still until physical intimacy.

Most orcs experience lordhovid many times in their lifetime, gathering multiple partners that together rear large broods of children. The larger the brood, the greater pride the patriarch of the brood holds within the tribe and rises in rank of influence.

I, Drunrag Ularat, had never experienced lordhovid.

There had never been signs that I would ever feel the sensation of my blood burning for another. And while my brood brothers and sisters from my litter all began to bear children of their own, I remained. I remembered the way my broodmothers whispered to one another behind my back about me. I heard theories that I was unlucky, cursed, born dishonorably. My broodfather soon pretended that I didn't exist. My brothers and sisters did the same.

I tried to remain faithful that Gruumsh would change my fate, that I would lock eyes with a fierce orc-woman and feel the burn I heard so often about. But each looked back at me with only a coldness I had become too familiar with.

I left home, unable to bear the dishonor I continued to bring to my family. And I struggled through my young adult years earning my pay through hard manual labor. I learned to read and write in common to gain favor with those who hired me. I learned that my brute strength wasn't the only quality about me that could bring me honor. The older I got, the less I travelled, until I settled into a small merchant town on the coast, and worked in the forges during most of the year, crafting weapons and tools. The guilt and shame that I carried from my failure as an orc soon faded as the years passed and I settled into a rhythm that worked best for me in the quiet buzz of my coast town. I soon understood my true feelings from my childhood. I was relieved that I never had to juggle romance and physical intimacy. Even despite my lack of mate - I don't know that I ever really understood mating the same way as my tribe. It didn't make sense to me, and I didn't really want anything to do with it.

Until that fated day.

I had woke that morning with a pounding headache, and I remembered grumbling about it as I shuffled out of my room. The space was always cramped - due to my size - but it felt near claustrophobic that morning. I ran the back of my hand against my blurry eyes and blinked furiously as I peered into my food storage - only to find an onion as my offering for breakfast. I grumbled and reached for the snapsack I kept draped on my single chair and the pouch of coins that i shoved deep into the pockets of my breeches.

The morning was quiet, and the sea air was invigorating most mornings, but that morning, breathing it in only made me sneeze and the pounding in my head knocked harder against my skull. I groaned outwardly. As I walked down the cobblestone path towards the market circle, I felt a tightening sensation in the pit of my stomach with each step. Nausea overwhelmed me. Strange, since orcs have excellent constitution and I hadn't eaten a thing since the day before. I swallowed down the bile that built in my throat and forged ahead.

The market was always busy at any hour and I learned to know which vendors were more kind to me than others. It was still fairly common - and expected - to get strange lingering stares and off-kilter remarks made in my direction. I learned to ignore it, but today I already felt too unsettled to be able to shrug it off as easily as normal. I stopped by a bakery and exchanged my gold for a warm loaf of bread, then made my way down to where a stall was selling freshly picks fruits. Golden globes of fresh juicy fruit tempted me and I retrieved another set of coins before reaching for three shiny, firm globes into my sack.

As I deposited each one in one by one, I felt the tingle on the back of my neck that was someone was staring at me. With a fruit still in hand, I glanced to my right, ready to face a disgusted customer.

It was then that I looked up and met his gaze.

He was small. Maybe not by human standards, but I still considered most humans small - so he was also small to me. Willowy and thin, brown skin and long coppery curls, the ends teasing his skin around the base of his smooth, tantalizing neck. I spotted the soft pointy ears of a half-elf. Not quite as long and slender as an elf, but gently sloped up to a rounded point that poked through his mop of hair. Green-gold eyes - reminiscent of the fruit in my hand- met mine. They were large, curious eyes that looked back at me unflinching and kindly.

I couldn't look away. I didn't want to look away. He was beautiful. His lips were curled upwards naturally - like he always had a joke or funny story to tell. His lips parted as he gazed back at me, an open mouth smile just for me. There were no thoughts in my mind.

The burning began in my heart. A strong pulsing rush of boiling blood that started to spread and sear through every part of me. I stood there, unable to move and unable to look away from him. I felt so much joy, so much elation upon the sight of him, but it quickly was overrun with panic, confusion, and fear.

Never in the history of orcs had I heard of a male orc experiencing lordhovid with another male orc. It was common to have casual lovers of the same sex - but never mates. Mates were ones who promised children and the continued growth of your broods. I didn't understand - how could this man be my mate? I didn't want this. I was happy alone. Happy to be left alone. I gazed at him and the burning desire surged and bubbled until a loud, explosive breath escaped my lips. An exhalation of panic.

"Fuck." I breathed. I didn't want this.

"Sir, you alright?" The vendor asked me.

I grunted in response. I didn't break my gaze, everything in me was screaming inside me to take the half-elf and claim him here in the streets, in front of everyone. I hated that I even considered it. I didn't want that. My body and my brain remained at war, and I unable to move.

The half-elf's eyes narrowed. And he approached me slowly. The way he moved, the way his long legs and slender hips weaved through the crowd with ease, like water on glass. His eyes didn't leave me, and the walk towards me felt like it was a hundred miles between us. My breathing was growing ragged with each step. I was fighting everything not to run away...or run to him.

"I apologize if I have offended you." The half-elf said as he approached me. "I didn't mean to stare." His voice was gentle, smooth and rough at the same time. It reminded me of the sound of a harp, smooth and flowing out like song. I shuddered, my fists clenched. Closer up, I could see he had a spattering of freckles across his face, they were adorable and I wanted to spend the rest of my life counting how many existed on his body. I wanted to die for thinking of this stranger in front of me in such a base manner.

I blinked and swallowed heavily, my brain moving slower than normal. What could I do? What do I say?

The half-elf hesitated, reaching a hand out to me. I jerked back, fear and alarm and lust seizing me at once. He also jerked back. I saw that his hands were shaking. Was he afraid of me? I glanced up to his face again and saw that his eyes were wide and his lips were parting, he was breathing heavy.

He let out a heavy breath and whispered, "Can we go somewhere private? Something has come over me and I need your help."

Somewhere private.

Alarms bellowed in my brain. No. I can't be alone with him. I can't trust myself.

Before I could react, the half elf snatched my hand with both of his own. The warmth that radiated from his touch was cooler than the burning inside me and I felt my panic still. For how long I didn't know.

I let him drag me through the streets. My size didn't allow for a smooth walk, and I wasn't right in the head. I brushed and bumped against dozens of people. They likely glared at me, but I could only look at the back of my mate's head and wonder at how someone's hair could be so long and so curly at the same time and what it smelled like, what it would feel like against my cheek.

I found myself being pushed against a wall in a lonely street. I didn't know where I was. I looked down at the half-elf. His breathing was harder than before, and he stood very close to me. He only reached to my chest. My hands lingered close to his shoulders, eager to wrap around him. Around his waist. His neck.

"What did you to do me?" He said, an edge of desperation in his voice. "I don't know what I did to offend you...but please I beg you to remove whatever this curse is."

I may not be an honorable orc like my brothers and sisters, but hearing lordhovid be equated to a curse felt culturally offensive. It was true that I too didn't have any interest in these emotions, these urges. But it was the honor of an orc to experience this and feel the binding between one's self and their life-partner. And though I had grown to appreciate and become comfortable with my fate...I couldn't deny that there was a building excitement that I was finally feeling it with someone. The excitement also scared me too.

"Do you understand me?" He said pleadingly, and then he muttered to himself. "Damn, maybe he doesn't speak common."

"I understand." I managed to rasp out. My hands itched to hold him. I ignored it and wrestled through the rest of my words. "I - You are not cursed. What ails you also ails me."

"What is it?" He asked. "I'm feeling sensations that I am unfamiliar with."

"It is lordhovid. My people's mating instinct."

His eyes widened. "Why...why am I feeling it?"

I shook my head, "I don't know. This has never happened in our tribe. I am sorry."

"How do we stop it?" He asked. "Don't tell me I have to sleep with you?"

I looked away from his gaze, I couldn't bear to see him look at me with disgust. I felt a whimper escape my lips. It was too much to be so close to him and not hold him. I didn't want to hurt him, I didn't want him to be scared of me.

"I'm sorry." I breathed out.

"You...have you experienced this before?" He asked. "You seem more scared then me."

I shook my head. "I am krandad. Broken. I brought shame to my family because I was unable to mate."

"I see." He said, his voice sounding very calm under the circumstances. "And so now you experience your first...impulse...with me?"

I nodded. "I'm sorry."

He sighed. "Please stop apologizing. I'm starting to understand that this isn't really your fault."

I dared a chance to look to him. His hands were caught running through his hair, and he was also looking down. He was truly the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. I don't know if the lordhovid would change that for me either. He was simply radiant.

"What's your name?" he asked. "If I am to sleep with you, I'd like to know who you are." He put a hand on his chest. "I am Altan."

"Drunrag." I said.

"Drunrag." Altan said, and a smile returned. My knees weakened when he said my name back. The orcish name on his tongue sounded like poetry, like art. Oh, if I could hear him say my name again and again and again.

"You...are not afraid of me?" I asked.

He shook his head, "I think I'm faring better than you right now actually." He laughed.

I had to close my eyes to his radiance, his laughter was too much and I clenched my fists.

"Sorry," He said. "I can tell that I'm affecting you."

"Not your fault." I breathed. "I should just go. I can't do this to you unwillingly."

"What?' He asked.

Before I could say any more. I surged all of my strength to rip myself away from the wall and I ran and I didn't look back. My body continued to burn, and I felt an aching inside me that stretched from my body and remained with Altan. It was trying to pull me back. But I would not go. With each moment I spent with him, it had only become harder to deny my body's instinct to mate with him. I didn't want to do that to him. He was too good

None of this made any sense. I couldn't experience lordhovid so late in my years. I couldn't experience it with another species and I certainly couldn't experience it with another man. I didn't even want to begin to process the anger I felt when I had finally made peace that I didn't even want to mate with anyone.

My broodmothers had been right all along. I was broken. I was flawed and I never would have brought honor to my tribe.

I didn't open the forge that day, but instead crawled back into bed where i remained shaking and shivering.

[salty-autistic-writer]

Chapter Five of "Hold My Hand, I'll Walk With You My Dear"

Summary: 5 times Buck and Tommy talk about their fears and 1 time they defeat fear together.

"Home sweet home,” Evan says cheerily, opening the door to Tommy’s apartment and switching on the lights.

“Finally,” Tommy sighs relieved and hobbles over the doorstep with his crutches, grimacing at the aching pain in his hip. Finally no more hospital. No more people coming into his room unannounced, prodding him or telling him to do stupid tests. No more mushy hospital food he can’t stand to have in his mouth. No more. 

Now, he only has to somehow survive the endless hours of being trapped at home.

After too many weeks of surgeries, recovery and physical therapy, his doctor finally agreed to release him, though under the condition that he has someone with him who makes sure he doesn’t fall and hurt himself in the shower, that he regularly takes his meds and does his exercises.

Tommy felt a familiar pang of pain at her words. He hates to be reminded of the fact that he doesn’t have a present supportive family. They don’t even know that he almost died. Again.

Then, Evan told the doctor, “Yeah, I got this.” Without a hint of hesitation.

And Tommy stared up at him, unable to comprehend his words for a moment. 

I got this. Did Evan really just say that? He couldn’t be serious. Spending his precious free time between shifts like that? No way …

Even though there were love confessions now and talks about moving in with each other, this was too much. Tommy was about to open his mouth and protest when the doctor beamed at Evan, said, “Excellent, I’ll get the discharge papers” and left. Evan turned to look at Tommy with a bright smile on his face and gave him a thumbs up and Tommy … Tommy closed his mouth. God. Evan really was serious.

Now, he’s about to discover how serious …

“I already prepared,” Evan says, pushing his hands into the pockets of his jeans and smiling somewhat nervously, “I hope that’s ok.”

Prepared? Tommy frowns. He finally makes it to his living room - and stops. “Oh,” is all that comes over his lips. His couch is covered in several blankets and pillows. Looks like a nest. A very very cozy nest. Also, there is a ridiculously big fruit basket on the side table. And snacks. And his meds. And water bottles. Tommy is speechless.

“Ok?” Evan asks, his eyes flicking between the couch and Tommy. He scratches the back of his head and tilts his head. “It’s a bit much, right? I just thought you might want to have everything in reaching distance. So you don’t have to get up if I’m not there for a moment.”

“It’s more than ok,” Tommy says quietly, still staring. Something warm curls around his heart and it feels painful, but in a good way. “I … Thank you.”

Evan beams at him. “Come on, sit down. Do you want to take a nap or are you up for a movie? I made a list since you are criminally behind every popular franchise right now.”

Tommy limps to the couch and carefully sits, leaning back into the pillows and mumbling a “thanks” when Evan takes the crutches and leans them against the wall. Tommy puts his legs on the couch and God, it’s so comfy. No one has ever done something like this for him. His eyes start to burn and he can feel his throat tightening. He might actually start to cry.

“Are you hungry yet? If you’re hungry we can also order pizza or Chinese or whatever you - are you okay?!” Evan blurts, his eyes widening when he looks at Tommy. “Are you in pain?”

Tommy shakes his head, rubbing at his burning eyes. “No. I think I’m going to cry. And I fear I’m not going to be able to blame it on the medication since ugly sobbing isn’t listed in the side effects.”

“Ok, but are you crying because you’re in pain or because you thought about something very sad?” Evan asks, frowning in concern.

“Neither,” Tommy says and smiles weakly. “It’s happy tears.”

Evan’s face relaxes. He blushes an adorable light shade of red. “Oh.”

“Yeah. This …” Tommy gestures around. “What you did. No one has ever done something like this for me. And it’s overwhelming. But in a good way. I just have to get rid of the fear that I'm too much of a burden like this."

“I’m sorry no one has taken care of you before,” Evan says seriously. “You deserve it. You're definitely not a burden. I love you and I want to make sure you're okay."

Tommy looks away because the care in Evan’s eyes is too much right now. He wishes he could believe that, instead of fearing he is going to be too much of a burden.

“I should warn you. I’m a terrible patient. Being forced to stay at home all the time makes me antsy," he says.

“Well, you’re not going to be alone,” Evan points out, sitting on the couch as well. “And even if you are, you can always text me. Even if I am not going to be able to read and react immediately, it might help you to release some energy.”

“Okay,” Tommy says quietly, his chest glowing. God. How are you so perfect? 

And the fear returns with that thought. Because Tommy is far from perfect. That’s why he’s been alone for so long. Somehow, he always manages to mess things up. What if he manages to mess this up too? Right now, everything seems to work out. He’s been careful. Has opened up in fractions. And Evan is still here. He made all this effort and wants to stay and take care of Tommy. So maybe, this is going to last. But can he be sure about that?

“Are you okay?” Evan asks and Tommy winces. Apparently, he’s been quiet for too long.

“Yeah. I’m fine. Just a little tired,” he says, suppressing a yawn. “You don’t have to stay, you know? If you want to go home, you can. I’ll be fine.”

Evan shakes his head. “I have everything I need. I brought a bag. So unless you really want me to leave, I can stay.”

“Please stay,” Tommy breathes. A bit too fast, maybe. Too desperate. God. He’s really tired now. Can feel it in his aching muscles. And his head started to pound again. Feels as if someone would hit his temples with a hammer. He grimaces. “I think I have to take the medication now.”

Evan fetches the pills and pours him a glass of water. Tommy downs it all and then leans back, into the warm softness of the pillows. He can feel sleep reaching for him. And he’s way too exhausted to fight it.

“I’m going to go to the grocery store,” Evan tells him. “But I’ll be back in a moment, alright?”

“Alright,” Tommy mutters, not able to keep his eyes open anymore.

He feels the ghost of a warm kiss on his forehead and smiles. This is nice. He slowly starts to believe that it could always be like this. That he’s not a burden. That this is how a relationship is supposed to be. That he can be himself. And that he can allow himself to be taken care of without fear.

A door closes.

It’s alright, he thinks while falling asleep. He’ll be back when I wake up. I know.