#but stories are written as though the characters just aren’t hearing him and so aren’t reacting to what he’s specifically saying

[daydreamerdrew]

The Hulk! (1978) #24

[guildofscribes]

Okay, so I’ve been thinking… dangerous, I know, but anyway.

I often wonder how many people who write stuff about Steve Rogers have ever spoken to someone who was alive during and served during WWII. This isn’t coming from any derogatory line of thought, just a curious one since I’ve had the distinct honor of speaking to a few myself, as well as people who were alive during that time and were not part of the military due to age, medical, or occupational exemptions.

There would be diversions to behavior and speech patterns between them and the character of Steve Rogers, though the longer in conversation you go, the more their speech shifts to the way it was in the memories they’re recalling. The “formula” with which they tell the stories is different from the ones we use now, slight grammar changes start slipping in, older slang starts popping up, older turns of phrase, accents start thickening if they had a different or thicker one when they were younger, all sorts of interesting things start appearing slowly as you let them slide into memory without interruption. Usually it happens so smoothly, so slowly, that you never know when it began, one moment you simply notice that the turn was well and truly made.

Think about how awkward it can be to keep up with and change to new slang, to understand the changed in meaning for phrases as each generation ages up. Steve has a lifetime of habits ground into his bones, even in his twenties, and all of a sudden everything he’s ever known is stripped away, and all he has left is what he remembers.

While I believe Steve is self-aware enough to see that was was normal for him to say and do, like exclamations and walking to the bank and the street market for his food every week, tucking in his shirt and shining his shoes, these things that are normal to him are simply not done in the time he woke up in, and if blending in is what he wants to do, he’ll have to adapt. And adapt he does.

But Steve is also a young man without the perspective of having watched the times change over the progression of years, so the new learned behaviors are just that; learned behavior, like a broadway performance he’s acting out every day. And make no mistake, he seems to do quite well all things considered.

But back to the disconnect between the 1940’s and the 2010’s, it’s wild, a stark contrast. And given the story Steve was written into, the movies do a decent job of showing him as a man in his twenties from the 1940’s interacting with people in the 2010’s.

But mark the slightly off dialogue, the turns of phrase, and the silences. This is a man who grew up in the early 1900’s who is now told that everything about him is out of date, obsolete, outmatched, surpassed, and generally unwanted.

Except for his body as a fighter in the hardest battles to ever face the earth, people want to use that. And if he ever wants to be accepted as a person now, he has to change everything he’s identified himself with as a person from what he learned from his parents to the choices he made as a young man, to his style choices, the way he speaks to express himself, to the ideals he has built his character around… he has to change all of that foundation in order to be seen as a person instead of a relic out of a museum.

Some of the reasons I love listening to old people talk is the difference from what I see in my generation. Times were different and people were built by them in a way we aren’t being built. It’s a valuable perspective to keep in mind as history is being written around us, and one day we will be the relic nobody wants to hear or give the time of day because we have an older view of life and living.

…

…that ramble turned out much longer than intended.

Oops!

Anyway, highly recommend going on YouTube and finding videos of WWII veterans and tapes of young people in that era, listen to how they speak, what they focus on, how they conduct themselves, and maybe draw some lines between them and Steve Rogers.

Who knows, maybe you’ll even enjoy it a little.

[delawaredetroit]

What are your thoughts on Aizawa?

Personally I feel like his character as a whole was ruined in his first scene during the quirk assessment test by going back on his word to make it a “logical ruse”, targeting Midoriya over his quirk (something I always felt would be tied to class since self destructive quirks aren’t easily trained, especially if you don’t have the funds to own/regularly visit large tracts of private property with easy access to health care. Though UA’s high number of legacy hero’s and high entrance bar means they probably expect somewhat pre-trained kids), and above all keeping on Mineta (someone who constantly disrupts class and leads to an unsafe environment for the female students, limiting how much they’ll learn).

But I’m hella bias and most of that was tied to his first appearance, so I would love to hear your take on his character as a whole

I think almost everything interesting about him was written by Hideyuki Furuhashi, the author of the Vigilantes spinoff. Seriously. That's where Aizawa's backstory is and where Aizawa's characterization is the most consistent. Vigilantes Aizawa deserves the hype he gets.

Aizawa in the main BNHA manga is no favorite of mine. Many of my issues with Aizawa are problems with the narrative generally and the dissonance between how he is described versus his actions.

Aizawa at his core is a guy with a lot of trauma who projects that trauma onto his students. His favor is based on who he thinks is most likely to survive. In that context, on paper it makes sense why he would favor Bakugou and ignore Mineta's everything. Early Bakugou was skilled and didn't take risks that could cause him harm because he was a fundamentally selfish person. Mineta was a coward and not a fool so he was unlikely to die a hero's death.

Aizawa being heavily traumatize itself isn't necessarily a problem; that's some crunchy characterization right there. The problem is that the narrative tries to portray him as the concept of rationality itself in contrast to Izuku/All Might's idealism. That doesn't really work when the origin of Aizawa's attitude also comes from an inherently irrational place.

Also, the story often uses him as a mouthpiece to directly explain to the audience what they should take away from scenes. It particularly stands out when Aizawa is presenting information he has no reason to know or information that should not be new information worth commenting on. (His lines about Shouto during his fight with Bakugou in the Sports Festival is an example of the former and most of his lines during the Provisional Licensing Exam are examples of the latter).

The other issue is that after introducing these two contrasting characterizations of Aizawa as rationality itself and Aizawa as the hero who never got past the horrors he faced as a hero student, a third Aizawa who contradicted both of the prior ones was introduced: Aizawa the doting teacher, Dadzawa. And it just doesn't work with the rest of his character. It might have worked if it was something that developed over time after he was given the task of caring for Eri. But this doting teacher characterization was introduced before that without much explanation. It also feels jarring because this story is largely from Izuku's point of view where Aizawa is largely portrayed as a hostile obstacle to Izuku rather than a teacher concerned for his growth and wellbeing.

[yuesya]

Just imagine Shiki configuring canon!Satoru's body to look like how she would look if she had her own body. Then when the Satoru(x2) and Twins!Suguru show up to get Shiki, they see her "in the flesh" for the first time and her brother and boyfriend get a little emotional at seeing Shiki with her "own body". Alll the while canon!Satoru is like "what did you do to my body?! Are you able to reverse this? Hello?!"

And the other canon characters are equally confused and wary, but at least this weird female Satoru is able and willing to kick Sukuna and Kenjaku's collective asses (along with Megumi, sorry Megumi.)

I just want to make a note that this ask was sent before the snippet for twins swap AU v2 was written. Anon here has excellent story-senses haha.

.

Suguru doesn’t know what he’d expected, upon traveling to a parallel universe. Probably a world not entirely dissimilar to their own –albeit missing many people who had all ended up passing on over the years. Gojo’s voice when he’d talked about the subject had been casual and unaffected, but Suguru is familiar enough with his own Satoru to read between the lines of what remained unsaid.

It was… disquieting. Unsettling. What happened to Satoru and Shiki was a tragedy that should never have been allowed to occur, but in a world where Shiki had been completely erased… it was frightening, to hear how events might’ve played out.

(“He’s not me, Suguru. He’s not us. What happened in that world will never happen here, I guarantee it. Shiki would promise you the same, if she were here right now.”)

Still. For all the various differences in the people that Suguru had been prepared to face… it had never occurred to him that they’d land in a world that looked like it came straight out of a post-apocalyptic film instead of a normal city.

Suguru has exactly one second to register the sprawling landscape of destruction, the debris and ruin stretching as far as the eye can see –and then, his attention is drawn to the young woman standing across from them.

“Shiki?” Suguru’s breath catches in his throat, because there’s no doubt about it. The body is different, but he recognizes her, down to the depths of his very soul. Shiki. It’s Shiki, standing before them as a normal young woman, in her own body. Was this what she would’ve looked like, had she not been killed by her father shortly after birth?

White hair, long and flowing, brushing just above her ankles. Cursed blue eyes, dark and abyssal but oh so familiar. Pale white skin, smooth and–

And–

Belatedly, his mind catches up with the unexpected sight before his eyes, and Suguru can feel the blood rush to his face.

“Why aren’t you wearing anything?”

Suguru all but rips off his own outerwear in panic, leaving him in nothing but a thin undershirt. That’s still better than Shiki, though, who’s standing there with a silly little smile on her face, completely naked and utterly unconcerned about it–

“Suguru! Toru-nii!” Shiki launches herself at her brother first, grabbing him in a tight hug. Satoru returns the gesture just as fiercely, and it hits Suguru that this is the first time that they’ve hugged each other. The first time that the twins are holding each other in their arms, and the thought makes his throat tighten with emotion.

Then he steps forward and finally wrangles the girl into actually wearing something and covering herself up.

… It turns out that his shirt is far too large for her. What served as a normal-sized shirt for Suguru turned into a loose, baggy dress that barely brushed her thighs, but it’s better than the alternative. It’s better than nothing, for heaven’s sake–

Shiki bounces, doing a curious little twirl to test her movement, which does… interesting things, to the curvature of her body.

Suguru has about half a second to realize that actually, Shiki wearing his shirt is a Bad Idea, before he catches Satoru smirking at him.

Oh no.

“Shiki, Suguru here could use a hug, too!”

… And that’s how Suguru promptly finds himself with an armful of soft, giggling, mostly-naked young woman pressed tightly against his body, doing his best not to expire on the spot while Satoru is of absolutely no help at all.

“So you do like female–”

“Not. Another. Word,” Suguru mutters. Satoru acquiesces easily to the demand, smugly gracious in victory.

“I missed you,” Shiki tiptoes up and whispers simply into his ear.

This is it. This is how Suguru is going to go out: Spontaneous combustion from acute embarrassment, because neither of the Gojo twins have any sense of propriety or restraint when it comes to teaming up on him together.

But even so…

“I missed you, too,” he murmurs back, squeezing her around the waist before he can think the better of it. Then, Suguru steps back and coughs awkwardly, avoiding her eyes. “A-As did Satoru! He’s been stuck with Gojo –the Satoru of this world– all this time. You would not believe the arguments they got into –wait a minute.”

A sudden thought occurs to him.

Suguru turns back and peers down at Shiki suspiciously. “… If you switched places with Gojo… then… what happened to his body?”

“Oh… that.” Her response does not inspire any confidence in him. Neither does the way she looks askance evasively, “… Technically it wasn’t me who’s really responsible for this–”

With a sense of impending doom well-honed over the long years spent with the Gojo twins, Suguru resignedly reaches out and flatly tips her head back towards him with his fingers. “Shiki. What did you do.”

The young woman pouts. “… It was an emergency, I was fighting Sukuna! And I can’t fight properly with his body, so I… made a few adjustments…”

Suguru’s jaw drops open at the implications, while Satoru openly bursts out laughing.

“You mean this is his body?” Suguru gapes. “You turned this world’s Gojo Satoru into a woman??”

“I reconstructed his body so I could actually use it!” Shiki pouts, flipping a long lock of hair over her shoulder huffily. The young woman sniffs, “Besides, I’d say it’s an improvement over what he had going on originally.”

Hunched over and wheezing from laughter, Satoru slaps Suguru’s knee a few times. “Man, this guy’s reaction is a riot. He’s asking if you can turn it back.”

“Mm… yeah, I can probably revert the changes. I think I’ve got the hang of reconstructing this body now. But… really? Is he sure?” Shiki gestures towards the full length of her form, “At this point, I’m pretty sure my cursed technique is already carved into this body, with how much power I was throwing around while fighting Sukuna, so it’d be a bonus for him to just take over like this. Is it the face that he’s averse to? Does he want it to be prettier?”

Suguru covers his own face with his hands at the utter trainwreck of the twins’ particular brand of chaos, groaning. “… Shiki, no.”

“Shiki yes!” Satoru and Shiki chime immediately in perfect synchronicity, then burst out laughing together.

Suguru slowly shakes his head, fighting a helpless, reluctant smile.

[erisweekofficial]

Next up is the fantastic @clockwork-ashes!

🧡 She's written some fantastic general fic about Eris and his family and we're SO here for it! The Vanserra family dynamics are crucial to Eris's character and @clockwork-ashes is able to capture those important important family moments so effortlessly. There's not a lot of gen Eris fic out there so all of these pieces are truly a treasure!

🧡 It was SO tough to pick out which fic to start with, but we suggest Son of Autumn! The angst is perfection!! Read the rest of her work here.

🧡 Read more to hear from Ash!

What inspired you to start creating content about Eris? And especially about him and his mother?

I wanted to start writing about Eris right after I finished ACOSF and we got to see a small glimpse into his life. I found him so interesting and I wished we had gotten more of his character. I really do think I was inspired to create content about Eris, though, because so many talented fic writers were creating stories about Eris that I LOVED. Eris backstories were my absolute favourites. I wanted to write about Eris and his mother because Helion makes it so clear that she never wanted to marry Beron. Eris is her eldest son, she had him when she was so young with a man she didn’t love. My heart kind of breaks for her, and I really wanted to try and explore the relationship she might have with Eris.

You wrote some stories about Eris and his mother, and Eris and Beron, but how do you interpret the relationship with his brothers?

I think the relationship Eris has with his brothers is probably extremely complex. I am definitely projecting my own personality onto poor Eris, but as an eldest sibling myself, I want him to care about his brothers. Maybe he’s not the best at showing it, but if he cares, that makes his story just a little more tragic (and I do love angst). I also think that Beron would have never allowed his sons to be close or to really bond when they were younger, and considering how cutthroat the Autumn Court is described as in the books, they’re most likely all competing to become the next High Lord. I do secretly hope that Eris has at least one brother that he’s closer to, especially since Lucien and him aren’t on the best of terms. Mostly though, my interpretation is that the Vanserra brothers are always plotting and scheming and arguing with each other.

And since we are already talking about his brothers: Can you give me a name for one of Eris's brothers? And also for one of his dogs?

A name for one of Eris’s brothers that I like is Ronan because it sounds nice with the Vanserra family name added. For one of the dogs, maybe Lykos? I had a neighbour who had a huge shepherd dog with the same name and I kind of imagine the smoke hounds to be a bit similar to that dog.

What do you think would be Eris’ favourite board game? Does chess count as a board game??? Always having to think ahead and using strategy seems like something Eris would be drawn to. For a modern AU, I feel like Eris would like Clue. He’s probably observant enough to win every time 😌

[neonartistycauseidk]

Sooooo….. tell me about this rtc x catcf au of urs…. 😈😈😈😈

HOOOOOOOOGHH HUHUUUHUHHU!!! You’re asking for it!!!!

Okay, so, I’ve been thinking about this concept for the past couple months or so, and I’ve just finally settled on the roles (at least for the kids, Karnak is another thing in and of itself)…

Let’s go in order of song for the kids (in terms of roles):

Ocean O’Connell Rosenberg: Miranda Mary Piker

Noel Gruber: Violet Beauregarde

Mischa Bachinski: Mike Teavee

Ricky Potts: Charlie Bucket

Jane Doe: Veruca Salt

Constance Blackwood: Augustus Gloop

OKAY I’VE GOT SOME EXPLAINING TO DO…

Miranda Mary Piker is one of Dahl’s scrapped characters for the original “Charlie and the Chocolate Factory” book and was originally intended to be the daughter of a school master who HATED the idea of holidays/breaks from school/work and wanted to straight up ban them. In the story, she “died” after ending up inside (I believe it was referred to as) “spotty-powder machine” and, assumably, turned into spotty powder. Coming out of the factory, Miranda had red/orange spots on her face…and even in some versions…began to laugh uncontrollably as beforehand, she was a very “no-funny business” girl.

That aside, in my headcannons for her, Miranda was heavily pressured by her parents to be “a winner” and “the best of the best.” This kind of mentality sticks with Miranda and is tough to break out of. With that being said, what role fits our little over-achiever better than Ocean O’Connell Rosenberg?

Now onto Violet…Idk…it just…sorta made sense to me? If I included Marvin Prune (another of Dahl’s scrapped characters) he’s likely fill this role—-but since he’s not, Violet was the next best option. It’s half because I headcannon her as a lesbian and half because I think she and Miranda would have a rivalry with one another (like Ocean and Noel), mainly because of their strict parents who force them into reaching the “highest heights possible” in life. Also, since she’d be a female Noel…instead of Monique being her alter-ego, instead it’d be filled by “Jean Gibeau”…a male version of Monique. (She’d also change into more masculine clothing for her song).

Okay, I think this next one shouldn’t come as too much of a surprise…I mean…“The angriest boy in town”? Who do we know who fits that to a ‘T’? Well, Mike, of course! There’s also, of course all of his dialogue revolving around his phone and social media so…I mean…yeah. I get why people would cast him as Ricky (due to him being imaginative/a literal genius) but…idk, this just makes more sense to me.

Next, Charlie…Your ideas for him as Constance work VERY well…however, hear me out on this one! Hear me out! So, what do we know about Charlie? He aspires to be an inventor/chocolatier just like Wonka and is INCREDIBLY imaginative…Now, what was Ricky’s title again? “The most imaginative boy in town”…LISTEN…I MEAN…ITS LITERALLY IN THE NAME. Many people also headcannon that Charlie’s a genius, like Wonka, so—-for me, at least, it’s not too much of a stretch for him to say all of those “groundbreaking/intelligent” lines. Also, just as a note, “Space Age Bachelor Man” would be re-written to better fit his character since…uh…the cat-love stuff isn’t really…Charlie’s forte, lets say. (I feel like the name should be changed to “Space Age Candyman”, thoughts? And yes, he’s still in space…Charlie and the Great Glass Elevator exists after all).

Now…Veruca. Listen, even though I think it’d make sense to have Miranda as Jane (due to her LITERALLY being a scrapped character, thus limiting who knows her story and name) BUT…In this universe, Veruca being Jane almost makes sense. See, many people headcannon that Jane/Penny’s parents were never really there for her, per-say, and who do we also know aren’t really there for their kid? The Salts. Sure, they spoil her…but spoiling isn’t love. If anything…it turns people into monsters. But in this au, Veruca doesn’t turn into an angry, fear-mongering little rich girl…in fact, it actually leads her to become lonely and feel she isn’t loved by anyone…So, naturally, at St. Cassains (lets just say the story takes place in Uranium, still) Veruca is outcasted and seen as “the weird girl” who comes from that really rich family that nobody really knows too much about other than their famous nut business. Also, can’t leave this out…in the broadway version (referencing “Veruca’s Nutcracker Sweet”) she is LITERALLY TORN APART LIMB FROM LIMB. That includes, of course…her head.

Finally, Augustus. Yes, again, Charlie and Constance makes sense…however, something about Augustus and Constance just…fits for me. In WWATCF specifically, there isn’t a lot of evidence leading to Augustus being a jerk or even a “rotten kid” despite his parents kinda just…giving him more food to eat and him being a foodie. In fact, I’d argue any bad behaviors of Augustus are just endorsed by his parents and never addressed because…well, they caused it. (The same argument could be made for literally any of the other kids and their parents…but I digress). Anyway, in this au, Augustus never had these types of problems with his parents (or unhealthy relationships with food)…and I think that without all of that? Augustus would be a very good kid. Not a Charlie, per-say…but a good kid with a big heart. And because of that? The title of “nicest girl (or rather boy) in town” works quite nicely. It’s the only thing he’s really known for, really. His kindness…and…well…thats about it. Oh, except for the fact that his parents own the best bakery in town, of course! (Yes, the butcher shop is changed to the bakery in this…AND IT STILL FITS). Also, also…I headcannon that Augustus and Miranda would eventually end up as close friends…perhaps even lovers (blackrose, anyone?) in the future…so, in this world…bestie Augustus and Miranda just works.

So uh…that’s my casting! For the kids, anyway…Karnak I’m stuck between it being Wonka or Mr. Wilkinson (from the 1971 movie)…I’m leaning more towards Wonka because of certain headcannons I have that would make this au…EVEN SADDER.

Any more questions? (You have no idea how happy I am that I’m getting asked about this!!! EEEEEEEEE!!!!

“I’ve waited YEARS for someone to ask me about theories…! Hang on, I made a model!!! :)”

[coolstuffiseverywhere]

I have a kinda batshit insane theory that might make sense?

So, I like Tohya and Ikuko’s existence, but Ikuko always felt off to me. We don’t have enough to really grab onto to start building much of a character from her writing unlike Tohya, despite her writing more of it. I know Sayo=Ikuko is a common theory, and I think it works by the logic I’m about to suggest. This is another alternative that I find interesting though.

Ikuko is Rika. Hear me out. Tohya isn’t Battler, in other words, he isn’t the detective. The closest we have to a detective of the future is Ange, who can still see magic. Meaning we don’t actually get an objective viewpoint of the future ever.

This works based more off Featherine, but let me explain how it works in reality: Sometime after breaking the loops, Hanyuu leaves, etc(ignore Gou I’ll get to that) she decides to leave Hinamizawa, setting up a remote place to live with some servants. As heir to the furude family, she has the funds. This doesn’t actually have to be 1986, as finding Tohya and bringing him back immediately aren’t necessarily true and are also a little lucky. My guess would be she finds Tohya while on the way to look for an estate, brings him to the hospital, and they later live together. Together, they lie about her age upon finding him, as she often uses makeup to appear older(and by the time Ange or anyone meets them she’s old enough for it to not matter), to feel more her age after the loops.

Now, my actual reasoning: Featherine on the meta level always seemed weirdly divorced from Hanyuu. I can see some connections of course, it’s all the parts of Hanyuu that got buried in Matsuribayashi. But I never really could get what all their lines about master/servant meant, considering some lines Lambda said and some implications that don’t seem true in Higurashi. Thus, I suggest: Featherine is a mix of their author persona and a witch for Rika to deal with Hanyuu leaving despite being there for her entire life.

This explains Featherine being more of a recorder(although you could also read this as Ikuko’s influence, recording both Ange’s thoughts and Tohya’s story) and watcher then a writer despite also writing. It explains what Bernkastel means by “you taught me”, as she’d be quite literally talking to a manifestation of Hanyuu and Rika, the second of which presumably making Bernkastel as a way to deal with the looping and her trauma, as well as to personify her depression. Hanyuu ofc did teach actual Rika, but Featherine was always not actually Hanyuu, and a lot of the commentary was always more about Featherine anyway. The broken horn thing may make more sense as well: it’s a combination or the Hanyuu inspiration and talking about Rika’s loops.

It also explains the higurashi as a book references: they probably did also write those, Sayo might of read them!

In this scenario, Lambda would be written to be her way of dealing with Takano and her not really getting consequences, as well as her separated friendship with Satoko. Which, on that note:

Gou! I think this would be Ikuko and Satoko, but mostly Satoko, writing it! For the same reasons as the show. And I think it works better as an actual book. She’s trying to use loop’s mechanics more to understand Rika’s experience better, and also they’re both trying to process their friendship ending. I think in this scenario either Rika left before they started high school, or they just went through all of Saint Lucia’s without a loop. Regardless, I think Satoko tried to go to Rika’s school, which was likely fancier. This was just their way of trying to see how that’d actually go for them, and better process that their past relationship was unhealthy.

I think she may of also helped write some of the Lamba parts of Umineko, but that’s mostly conjecture.

This was a bit of a mess, and I’m sure more contradictions and evidence is around, but I don’t think I’ve seen anyone else suggest that some of the last book’s non-Ange future scenes are fantasy scenes. So I hope that at least helps.

[flowersofstarlight]

Okay so, @themisfitmouse explained what McBasilRocks said and finding out about the Original storyline of Epic Mickey 2, and reposting what the original plot was, I was shocked by the fact that Prescott was supposed to die in the second game, which sounded dark and insane. The Mad Doctor was supposed to be possessed by the Shadow Blot as they transformed into some kind of a monstrous, abomination creature would be interesting. And the fact that Oswald was supposed to gain a heart of his own after he and Mickey defeated the Mad Doctor and the Blot sounds a lot better than the second game’s ending.

While I still love and enjoy Epic Mickey 2 as much as the first game, there are many things that I hated about and wish we could’ve gotten the original plot that @themisfitmouse said. Epic Mickey 2 would have been greater and I think it should’ve been a little darker, not too dark at least from the concept art for both games. It also made me question why they made The Mad Doctor sing the whole cutscene when he’s on screen.

The story in the second game is poorly put together, lacks consistency, and very predictable on who the villain is. It seems like there was no thought put into it and they only did it to get a younger audience, even though most people who played Epic Mickey weren’t little kids. I also feel like the Mad Doctor is kinda pathetic. I feel like him gone for good would be a better ending than in the game. I honestly didn’t care much about the Doctor, so I think the original plot would’ve been better.

I really hate what Disney did to Oswald in the second game. He went from a well developed character to one of Mickey’s dorky sidekicks. They really didn’t take him seriously and made him idiotic. Throughout the game he’s praising the Mad Doctor, saying that he trusts him and instantly believes he’s changed.

But they really made him not learn his lessons or forgot that the Mad Doctor BETRAY him and choose to side with the Blot in the first game. In the cutscene, when he and Mickey find out what The Mad Doctor was really planning, Oswald acted shocked and said “I can’t believe the Doc lie to me.” And I was like, “Dude! He literally betrayed you in the first game and destroyed the Mean Street while singing!” It really disappointed me and I’m sure the Oswald Fans would agree.

I really think they could’ve made Oswald a bit serious, smart, and not trusting the Mad Doctor easily even though he’s giving him a chance. They could’ve made Oswald not trusting him fully, and is suspicious what the Doctor’s up to, to keep in eye on him a little bit and trying to find secrets while Ortensia and Gus create a machine that can transport Mickey back to Wasteland to find out if the Mad Doctor is still a threat. But again, they really made it so predictable in the game, it was really obvious that the Mad Doctor is still evil and lied that he changed. And then Oswald’s only concern is that people aren’t paying any attention to him. Like what exactly did you think this was going to happen when you and Mickey are on an adventure to find clues?

And the other thing that annoys me is the Mad Doctor is the only one singing the whole cutscene while on screen. I really don’t understand why they made him sing instead of just talking like Mickey and the others. I don’t see the point of why singing is necessary. It would’ve been better if he didn’t sing.

While I never played the second game, I did hear that people complain about the gameplay, sidequests and puzzles. I heard that it was tedious, confusing, and too difficult to figure out. The bosses were easy but also tedious.

The only few things I like about Epic Mickey 2 is the animation, the voice acting, Oswald and Mickey’s friendship, and Gremlin Prescott. What I like about Prescott is his personality, his voice fits his character, he has a unique design compared to the other gremlins, and I found his motivation and becoming an enemy is well written and thought out well. In fact, I think he could’ve had redemption after helping Mickey and Oswald defeat The Mad Doctor by dismantling his machines in the final battle while Gus frees Ortensia and the others.

I feel like they could’ve wrote Prescott to be a sad, prideful and bitter character to redeeming himself by helping the duo by distracting the Mad Doctor in the final battle to give them the opportunity to defeat the Doctor. I imagined at first Prescott thinks he doesn’t deserve forgiveness and is accepting whatever punishment they’ll give him, but Mickey sees the good in him and gives him a second chance. Oswald and Gus agreed, and while both of them forgive him, he still needs to atone what he has done and fix the projectors, help rebuild the town, and other things that got damaged by the earthquake that the Mad Doctor caused to bring the Shadow Blot back to life. Prescott would be surprised and may never understand why or how Mickey and the others would forgive him and have faith in him after everything he has done working with the Mad Doctor.

But I also think he would have been a great surprise villain and that would have made him an even better villain than the Mad Doctor. He has the perfect motivation and was tired of feeling under appreciated by Gus and the other Gremlins and wants to prove that he’s better and more intelligent then them, which I think makes him a better villain.

So yeah. That’s all I want to talk about Epic Mickey 2. I’m really excited to see Epic Mickey: Rebrushed! The gameplay and animation looks great, they’re fixing the camera that people complain about in the original first game and I heard they’re adding new skills for the remake that might be for combat and puzzles, which sounds cool.

I’m also wondering if the cutscenes will still have 2D animation like in the original and have actual voice acting in the remake instead of just dialogue. If that’s not the case, then I guess it’s fine. Anyway, to those who are Epic Mickey fans or enjoyed the games, let me know what you think in the comments or reblog it, because I am curious what you’re excited about the Epic Mickey remake and my thoughts about Epic Mickey 2.

[hyperfixationstation128]

Through Blaze of Fire, I'll Find My Way. A Baldur's Gate 3 Fanfiction.

Hello! This is my first fanfiction that I've written in over 11 years and I'm very excited to share it with you all! A quick note before you read, this is the first of many chapters to come about my Tav, Arcane. This first chapter depicts the very beginning of her story, so it'll be some time before you see an in-game character, but I hope you all stick around and join me as we explore! Small CW for non-canon character death.

This fanfiction does have some Irish Gaelic words and phrases, and all pronunciations and translations will be posted at the end of the story. I've tried my best to translate all phrases as accurately as I could!

Big shoutout to @galeorderbride for giving me the courage and motivation to pick up writing again. I had so much fun writing and hearing what you had to say!

The day was cold and overcast. It always seemed to rain in Daggerford, soaking the grey stone beaches and casting a saddening hue over the town, like the ever-breaking tide threatened to swallow you whole, keeping you tied to this land forever. But it wasn’t so, not for Arcane. To her, this town was home; this town that kept her and her younger siblings safe; this town where she, her mother, and grandfather practiced magic ‘til the sun sunk behind the heavy, dark sea.

Just outside the town walls, not far from the mighty moat that encompassed it, sat their quaint little home on the water. Her father Lorcan, a fisherman, was rarely home as he often set sail on his tiny sailboat for his daily catch to sell at the market. Her mother, ever-beautiful Suil, stayed home and watched after the children with the help of Arcane’s beloved grandfather Ruairí. It was Arcane’s birthday, she was turning 9 years old!

‘A very important age for a budding young sorceress’, her grandfather had explained. His words rang in her ears, filling her with excitement for the festivities to come. Mother had warned her, though, not to get too excited or expect too many gifts, but with her grandfather being all too willing to rile up her excitement, Arcane elected to ignore her mother’s words.

“Can I have my gift now, grandda?” Arcane chirped, her seafoam eyes blinking up at him. She held his hand as they walked along the stony beach, the spray from both rain and sea wetting their faces. Grandfather let out a soft chuckle that rumbled like thunder.

“You’re an impatient little one, aren’t ya?” He lifted her hand and bent down to plant a loving kiss over her knuckles, patting it lightly. “Not yet, dove. When yer father returns from his catch, then you will have your gift.”

Arcane huffed and rolled her eyes, cheeks puffing out as she pouted.

They continued their walk, they seemed to always take these walks, just her and grandfather. He would talk to her about magic, show her spells, and give lessons in the form of games. From the moment Arcane’s abilities formed, her grandfather had taken a special interest in her, a rumor setting in amongst the townspeople that he had either blessed or cursed her from the moment she was born. The way he described it, her father was nowhere to be found when her mother went into labor, so he was the one who delivered her. According to the stories about her birth, grandfather lifted the crying babe above his head and proclaimed her “Arcane, Daughter of the Weave”. Her name never really meant much to her, not in the way it mattered to her mum and grandfather, but either way, she loved hearing the story.

It had seemed like hours had passed since they set off of their trek, the sunshower slowly letting up as the sun sank behind the dark sea. On their way back, the sight of white, patched-over sails caught Arcane’s eye and she released her grandfather’s hand to bound down the shore. Her father had returned!

“Papa! Papa!” She cried, arms outstretched as he stepped onto the dock and tied his sailboat to port. Upon reaching him, she threw her arms around his leg, holding him tightly. Her father grunted and dismissed her with a ruffle of her hair before turning to unload his catch. Arcane took a step to help her father but was stopped by her grandfather’s firm hand on her shoulder.

“Good catch today, Lorcan? Or has Umberlee found you unworthy of one?” Grandfather chuckled, and Father grumbled, muttering curses under his breath. It was always this way between them, but Arcane didn’t mind it, she was just happy to have her father there to celebrate. Arcane whined and tugged at her grandfather’s pant leg, practically vibrating with anticipation.  looked down at her and smiled his warm smile, he knelt, groaning with effort as he lifted her in his arms.

“Arcane and I are heading back to the house to celebrate her birthday. If you’ve a mind for your wee one’s heart, you’ll join us.” Father didn’t respond, and as they walked back home, Arcane stared after him over her grandfather’s shoulder.

Back at home, it was practically chaos, with her brother Caelan chasing after her sisters Naoisa and Maira with a wooden sword. Arcane practically leaped from her grandfather’s arms and rushed in to defend her poor sisters. “Caelan Villarelah, you are an impossibly naughty boy!” Arcane parroted the words of her mother, wagging her finger at him with her hand on her hip.

Caelan rolled his eyes at Arcane and dropped the sword on the floor. “Just ‘cause you're older, doesn’t mean you make the rules, Caney!” He stuck out his tongue, before running to their grandfather. “Grandda, tell Caney she’s not the boss!” He begged, pointing his finger accusingly at Arcane.

Grandfather looked at her, shrugging slightly. “Well, you heard the boy, dove. You don’t make the rules.” he chuckled, offering her a knowing wink. Arcane stifled a giggle before bounding into the kitchen, where her mother, heavy with her newest sibling, swayed in front of her large cookbook, her hands dancing in the air, her magic stirring whatever delicious meal she was cooking for supper.

“Mammy! It’s my birthday, Mammy, did ya hear? I’m 9 years old and Grandda says he has a special gift for me!” Mother turned to look at her daughter, her brow cocked in a confused expression.

“Yer birthday? No, no, we celebrated that last year, remember?” The corners of her lips quivered in an attempt to mask her smile.

“Mammy! We talked about this! Birthdays happen every year!” Arcane giggled, her hands reaching up to touch her mother’s stomach. “Don’t you worry, Niamh, when you’re born I’ll remind Mammy of all of your birthdays!” Arcane planted a kiss on her mother’s stomach, pressing her cheek to the swollen bump, and as if to say they agreed, Niamh kicked.

Her mother brushed her fingers through Arcane’s wind-tousled hair, gently detangling the knots that had worked their way in there. “Of course you will, A stór(meaning: “my treasure”), because you’re the best big sister any child could dream of having,” She gave Arcane a gentle nudge, “Now go on! Mammy’s just about finished with your supper.”

And so the night continued, Arcane corralling her brother and sisters while Mother finished cooking. The children had gone through the phases of chasing one another, playing “Silence Greatshout”, to finally settling down at the table and wolfing down the long-awaited stew. Notably, Father was absent from the meal and the celebration, he wasn’t even there when Arcane blew out her candle on her sweet cake. But the feeling of missing him was easily overshadowed by uproarious applause from her family, her grandfather giving her a loving shake. The night continued, Arcane sharing the small sweet cake with her siblings, despite her mother saying she could have it all to herself. In mere seconds, the cake was gone, all evidence of its existence now reduced to crumbs and frosting smeared on the children’s faces.

“Well, now! That was a lovely celebration!” Grandfather groaned as he stood and started up the stairs, “But it is getting late. We should all start heading to bed.”

“Grandda!!” The children yelled in unison.

“You a’got Caney’s birfday present!” Maira stood on her chair and stomped her foot, her chubby face red.

Grandfather turned, dramatically clutching his chest with his hand to his head. “Ahh, my wee darlin’, ya caught me! How could I forget?” He scooped Maira into his arms and waved for the children to follow him into their living room and sit in front of him. “You, sweet Maira, ya keep me an honest man.” Grandfather made a show of waving his hands in the air, his deep voice seeming to echo off of the walls as he cited an incantation.

Silence. The children listened close, pointed ears pricked for the slightest change in sound.

“Hmm, I don’t think it worked. Perhaps if the birthday girl were to help me.” Grandfather gave a knowing look to Arcane, who excitedly hopped up and stood in front of him. “Now, dove, hold yer hands out in front of you. Remember to keep yer mind clear, yer heart open, and speak clearly.”

Arcane nodded, her brow furrowing to a concentrated frown and her eyes closing tightly. Her hands, though a little unpracticed, waved gracefully in the air, a blue glow emanating from her fingertips as she repeated the encantation clearly. Her heart swelled, her nerves stood on edge, and with a soft fizzz and woosh, her arms suddenly felt heavy and.... Was that.... Fur?

Arcane peeked an eye open. There, in her arms, lay a small kitten, his gorgeous white fur and silver stripes bristled as his fiery blue eyes darted back and forth. “Wha.... where am I? Mum?” the kitten mewed, clearly frightened by his sudden appearance within the family home.

“A kitten? And he talks! Oh, Grandda, he’s perfect!” Arcane tucked the kitten close and leaped into her Grandther’s arms, hugging him tightly.

“Not just any kitten, dove. This here creature is a careful cross between an Elven Cat and a Cath Shee.” He gently stroked the kitten’s head which settled under his touch. “There’s a breeder in Evermeet who breeds these kittens specifically for their magical abilities. He will be yer loyal companion.”

Arcane gazed warmly at the kitten, gently stroking his fur and scratching his chin. He seemed to settle somewhat, his whole body vibrating as he began to purr. Enchanted by the adorable ball of fluff, Maira and Naoisa huddled closer to get a better look, tentatively brushing their fingers against his soft fur.

“He’s so cute! What will you call him, Caney?” Naoisa piped up.

Arcane thought for a spell, biting her knuckle as she thought. “Ah, I know! Pangur Bán! After the anomnimous monk who wrote poems about his cat!” Arcane beamed up at her grandfather and mother, who smiled proudly back at her.

“He’s all yours, A stór. You be sure to take good care of him, yes?” Mother raised her eyebrows expectantly, her smile strained as if she didn’t entirely care for the idea of having a magical, teleporting cat in her home.

“I will, Mammy! I will!” Arcane placed a gentle kiss on Pangur’s head before making her way to her bedroom. She and her new friend had a lot to talk about.

Two years later

It had been two years since Arcane’s wonderful 9th birthday; she was 11 now, practically a woman, her mother would say. Mother had given birth to Naimh, her new baby brother during the Spring that followed Arcane’s birthday, Father had begun to leave port less and less over the years, it seemed, and Grandfather was as wonderful and doting as ever. Although, with age, came the dark cloud of true sight. It became rather clear that Father and Grandfather didn’t get along, constantly bickering with one another over things like rent, supporting the children, and caring for Mother, who’d recently fallen ill. With things as they were, it fell to Arcane to care for her siblings, having to forsake her daily lessons with Grandfather.

Despite how busy her days had become, there were moments - however brief - when Arcane would have a little time for herself. Late at night, after the children were all tucked in their beds, Arcane would rummage around in Grandfather’s room and steal away with his tomes, hiding away by the rocky cliff faces near her town. That is where she found herself this night, with Pangur, now grown, curled in her lap. The bright white glow of her dancing lights illuminated the pair as Arcane read and practiced her new incantations.

‘Come on, Arcane, if you can summon a magical cat, you can easily project a magic missile!’ Arcane chastised herself in her mind.

“I heard that,” Pangur mumbled, his head still resting on her lap. Damn that cat for hearing her thoughts! He sat up and stretched, tail quivering as he did so. “Yer never going to get better at your spells if you keep putting yerself down like that!”

Arcane sighed, her shoulders slumping forward. “I know, I’m just not used to these kinds of spells! These would be so much easier if Grandda were here to help me.” Her teeth clenched and her frown crinkled her nose, “But with Papa not bringing in any fish to sell, he’s had to start working again to help pay for Mammy’s medicine.” She lazily petted Pangur, making sure to scratch between his shoulders just how he liked.

Pangur leaned into her touch, a deep purr rumbling in his chest. “Don’t you worry yer wee head. Pretty soon, all of our troubles will be a thing of the past and everything will go back to normal.”

Arcane heaved a hefty sigh, standing to her feet. She was tired of having to wait for things to return to normal! She wanted her Grandfather back! She wanted her Mother back! She wanted to spend all her free time practicing her magic, not looking after her siblings. As much as it pained her to think it, the bitter taste of resentment for her father burned in the back of her mind like bile. Why did he have to be so selfish? Why was he always so selfish? Favoring the drink over his wife and children? Why wasn’t he ever involved in anything they did?

Her eyes trailed down to the book in her hands, her fingers dancing over the ornate binding, tracing the inlaid gold leaf that highlighted the title on the cover. Another heavy sigh fell from her lips. No matter how much she didn’t want this, no matter how much she wished to be elsewhere, this was her life, like it or not. She had to keep going. For her Grandfather, for her siblings.... For her Mother.

The night had become pitch black, darkened by the heavy grey cloud that rumbled overhead; Definitely time to be heading back. Arcane waved for Pangur to follow as she carefully climbed her way down the rocky cliff back toward home. She had spent far too long out there already, and if she wanted to have any energy to watch the children tomorrow, she had to get some rest. The walk back home was quiet, save for the gentle rolls of thunder and the lapping of the waves as they crashed upon the rocks. It was a sound Arcane had forsaken as a younger child. After all, how could one miss something that became a part of her daily routine?

After finally making it home, Arcane slowly made her way inside, careful not to trigger the squeaky hinge that groaned when disturbed. Inside, her father sat in his rickety chair sound asleep, a tattered book about pirates hung loosely from his fingers while he held a bottle of whisky tightly to his chest. Arcane rolled her eyes and flicked her hand, a nearby blanket folding itself over her father at her command. Her dreary legs carried her up the whining steps until he made it to her shared bedroom with the other girls. Naoisa and Maira were long since asleep, arms and legs splayed freely across the shared mattress. Arcane was careful not to wake them as she took off her boots and lifted the mattress to stash away her Grandfather’s tome.

It took some detangling of the girls’ limbs to make enough room for her to lie down, but after she did, it didn’t take long for sleep to find her.

The next morning arrived like a banging drum, startling Arcane from her sweet dreams. The girls were awake and jostling her, begging for breakfast. She barely had time to rub the sleep from her eyes before the girls were pulling her out of bed and onto her feet, their cries for food making Arcane’s head pound.

“Alright, alright, ye diabhal beag!” Arcane shooed her sisters out the door, promising them breakfast after she saw to their mother’s morning treatment. As the girls bounded down the steps, Arcane rounded the corner, grabbing the medicine on the table in the hall. With a gentle knock, Arcane entered the bedroom. It was eerily quiet.

“Mammy? Good morning, Mammy. It’s time for your medicine.” No response. She must’ve been especially drained today. Arcane sat on the edge of the bed, pouring the poultice into a little serving spoon. “Mammy? You gotta wake up. It’s time for your medicine.” Once more, silence. This didn’t seem quite right. Mother was usually quiet, save for the gentle rasp of her breathing.

Arcane placed a hand on her mother’s shoulder, giving her a little shake. “Mammy~ wake up!” She cooed. She looked down at her hand. Mother was cold. Why was Mother cold? And why wasn’t she breathing? Arcane shook her mother harder, dropping the spoon with a clatter.

“Mammy? Mammy, wake up! Mammy, please, you’re scaring me! Mammy!” Her desperate cries fell on deaf ears. Mother wasn’t waking up, no matter how much Arcane shook her. Fear gripped her heart like an icy spear, her throat tightened and her eyes burned. No, it couldn’t happen like this! It wasn’t supposed to happen like this!

“Grandda!! Papa!! Help!” Arcane cried, tears now streaming her face as she continued to shake her Mother. “Help me, please! Mammy, wake up!” Footsteps bounded down the hall and the bedroom door swung open. Grandfather! He could help! He could do anything! He could wake Mother up!

“What is it, dove? What’s wrong?”

Arcane sobbed. “It’s Mammy! She won’t wake up! Grandda, please help!”

Her grandfather gently pushed her aside, taking a seat next to his daughter and stroking her hair. “A leanbh? Ye’ve gotta wake up now. Arcane’s here, you’re scaring her. Suil? Suil, sweetheart?” Grandfather’s words wavered and caught in his throat. A quiet moment passed, Grandfather curled around Mother, his hands stroking her hair as he muttered to himself, perhaps a spell to wake her! Yes, that’s it! Grandfather would cast a spell, Mother would wake and be better than ever! Right?

Arcane waited, breathless, waiting for something - anything - to happen. Without another word, Grandfather stood and walked her out into the hall, motioning for her to head downstairs with her siblings. Arcane looked up at him, confused, her eyes bloodshot from tears. Grandfather’s face was grim, his face stained by his own tears.

“Go, now, dove. Go take care of your brothers and sisters. And send your father upstairs.” His voice was somber, his words barely above a whisper.

Arcane nodded, trudging down the stairs as her eyes stared blankly ahead. In the living room, her father sat in his chair, eyes fixated on his book as she approached.

“Papa? Grandda needs to see you upstairs.” She mumbled, shock setting in. “It’s about Mammy.... I- I think she-” Arcane’s words were cut off as her father barreled past her, footsteps quickly retreating upstairs. She, however, remained frozen, eyes staring dead-eyed in front of her. All sound fell away, all feeling lost, all time stopped. A moment felt like an eternity, the roaring silence in her mind nearly driving the young girl to madness. And then-

“No! No! It can’t be! You bastard, what did you do?! What did you do to my sweet Suil?!” Father’s voice rang throughout the house. The children stopped their ruckus. Only the sound of Father’s wailing and the crashing of his tirade filled the children’s ears.

Niamh and Maira began to screech, startled by their father’s rage. Arcane ran to their side and held them both in her arms. Father stormed down the stairs, bursting through the door into the stormy morning that awaited them. And he cried. Gods, did he cry. He wailed and shouted like a child throwing a tantrum, breaking and throwing anything unlucky enough to get in his hands.

It wasn’t long until Grandfather made his way downstairs, all light cast out of his once cheerful eyes. The children turned to face him, fear, confusion, and worry filled their eyes as they stared. Grandfather sucked in a shaky breath, before saying the words every child wishes to never hear.

“Your mother is dead.”

The day was cold and overcast. It always seemed to rain in Daggerford, soaking the grey stone beaches and casting a saddening hue over the town, like the ever-breaking tide threatened to swallow you whole, keeping you tied to this land forever. And it was just so, ever true for Arcane. This town, her home, once a place filled with laughter and joy, was now empty and cold. The tide crashed against the stony shore, rain soaking through Arcane’s cloak, setting a dark chill in her bones. It was the darkest day to end all dark days.

Her Mother was dead.

Her Mother, Suil, a once beautiful, shining light in the world, was now reduced to a cold, stiff corpse that lay wrapped in cloth and heavy stone. Her mother, Suil, a beautiful elven woman, who taught her words of her and her father’s people, who always made the best meals, who saw the good in every situation, now lay dead in the little rowboat on the shore.

It didn’t take long for word of her passing to spread through the town. Word travelled fast in Daggerford. Those whose lives were touched, even for a moment, by Mother’s bright light showed up for the funeral, offering condolences and leaving letters or small trinkets in what would be Mother’s casket. Their words rang hollow in Arcane’s ears. No amount of “I’m so sorry for your loss” or “She’s in a better place” would ever replace the fact that she’s not here! It made her angry, it filled her mind with blazing rage! They didn’t know Mother! They didn’t know how she liked her tea! They didn’t see how she sang like a ringing bell while she cooked! They didn’t see how much she cared and supported Arcane with her magic. They didn’t see her at the end! No one came to visit! It was Arcane who was with her! It was she who walked in to find her dead! And all they could say was, “I’m sorry”?!

Arcane could’ve sworn she was steaming with all the white-hot rage that burned inside of her! She wanted all of them to go away! She wanted everything to stop!

Grandfather knelt down to plant one last kiss on his daughter’s head.

‘Wait, stop!’

He began to push the little boat onto the water, knees shaking as he did so.

‘Stop! Please!! Don’t!’

With one last push, he clambered into the boat, rowing away. Rowing away from shore, away from home!

‘Stop it! Don’t take my Mammy!’ Arcane ripped herself from her father’s side, racing down the shore.

“Arcane! Get back here!” Father called after her. She would not. She would never stop trying to get her mother back! She was hers! How dare the gods take Mother from her! How dare they!

“Mammy!!” Arcane cried out, pushing through the heavy waves that crashed against her legs as if the sea itself was refusing her entry. “Mammy!! Come back!” The cloud began to darken, nearly blocking out the sun, deep, growling thunder like a hungry beast.

Further, she pushed, the hungry waters beating against her small frame, daring to drag her under. She cried, gods, did she cry. Calling for her mother, only to be met by claps of thunder, only to be silenced by mouthfuls of salty water. She refused to give up! She couldn’t! That was her mother! Her arms slapped against the water, helplessly reaching for her mother as waves forced her down with such strength only nature could possess. It didn’t take much for the sea to subvert its dominance over the young girl, thrusting her head deeper, ever deeper, into the black depths, filling her mouth and lungs with its sanguine drink. For if she wanted to be with her mother, the water would take Arcane down with her.

In the moment, Arcane was okay with this. She was okay with being dragged deeper underwater, down to sunless fathoms below. If this was how she would see her mother again.... She was okay with dying.

But fate, it seemed, had other plans for her. Desperate hands fisted her cloak and from the murky water, she was brought back to the air, breaking to the surface with such a sharp gasp, her lungs threatened to burst. Arcane clawed desperately at the water, hands outstretched, reaching for the little rowboat that had now shrunk in size. Her frantic eyes darted behind her, who would dare take her back to shore?! It was her father! He hauled the drenched girl back to shore, slapping her hands away as she threw them back to hit him. She hated him! She hated what he was doing! She couldn’t go back to land!

With one last hard shove, her father practically threw her onto the rocks, her knees left bloody by the impact. Arcane ran to push past him, but he grabbed her, holding her tightly in his arms. She struggled against her father, slapping his face, kicking his stomach, fighting with everything she had to get back to the water.

“Arcane. Arcane! That’s enough!!” He fell to his knees and practically throttled her, grabbing her shoulders roughly and shaking her. “Enough of this, you hear me?! She’s gone! Your mother is dead! She’s fuckin’ dead!” The sound of his screaming left a ringing in her ears and sent daggers into her heart. She stared back at him, the same seafoam eyes she’d inherited filled with so much rage, dare she say it - hate.

Arcane opened her mouth to argue back, yet all she could muster was a pitiful half-whimper, half-strangled gasp. Her eyes peered over her father’s shoulders, just in time to see her grandfather tipping her mother’s corpse into the sea, sinking quickly from the heavy rocks, dragging her down to her final, watery grave.

It was too much! All of this was far too much for any little girl to bear! All the shock, the rage, the drowning grief balled itself inside her chest. She felt her fingers burn with electric fire, every nerve from the bottom of her feet to the top of her head roared like a monster against its cage. And with a deep, resounding inhale that seemed to suck all air from the sky.... She screamed.

Her cries echoed towards the Heavens. Her heartbreak shook the very ground she stood on. Her body burned with white-hot swirls of pure Weave that emanated from the very core of her soul, enveloping her in the purest, rapturous glow of magic. Her eyes were aflame with a blue light. She heard her father yelp in pain and snatch his hands away from her, recoiling at the sight of his wailing child. She continued to scream ‘til the very earth beneath her feet cracked and split. And then.... Darkness took her.

Translations and pronunciations:

Súil: Pronounced like "shool", taken from the song Siúil a Rúin, meaning "hurry, my love"

Lorcan: Pronounced like "Law-kuhn"

Ruairí: Pronounced like "Rory"

Naoisa: Pronounced like "Nee-Shuh"

Maira: Pronounced like "My-ruh" (literally just Maria with the I moved)

Naimh: Pronounced like "Nayve" or "Neev"

"A stór": Pronounced like "Uh Stohr", meaning "My treasure"

"diabhal beag": Pronounced like "Dee-uh-bool" "Bee-uh-g", meaning "little devil"

"A leanbh": Pronounced like "Uh Lan-uv", meaning "my child"

[anapotatowriter]

You belong with me

Five Hargreeves x reader

A/N: I was listening to “You belong with me” by Taylor Swift in the bus, and the idea for this story just kinda struck me. It ain’t amazing, but it’s what I whipped up in like, 2 hours?

Summary: Y/N loves Five. Five loves Dolores. Dolores loves herself. :)

Contains: Swearing, some spoilers for books, AU where everyone’s a normal teenager.

ALSO, NO SPOILERS FOR SEASON 3 (Though seriously, if you haven’t watched season 3 yet, what are you doing here?)

Requested: Hell nah

“Come on Delores, meet me halfway here!” yelled my neighbor into his phone, loud enough for me to hear in my room on the other side of the street. “It was just a joke!” I heard him defend, the wide-open windows allowing me to hear his side of the conversation. I sighed at his upset expression before turning back to my homework, the blaring questions on chemistry burning my eye sockets. I pinched the bridge of my nose between my fingers, exhausted by the school week already. It was only Tuesday! The cool autumn air carried Five’s voice through my own window, the chill leaving goosebumps in their wake. I looked back up from my homework to see him listening to Dolores intently, his eyebrows creased in exhaustion. I stared at him longingly, the stress making my own heart sink. Of course, everyone knew who Delores was. She was basically the queen of our school, the whole short skirts, high heels, and cheerleader persona. Five was more surprised that everyone else at school when Dolores asked him, the broody nerd, out for coffee. I remembered that first sting in my heart like it was yesterday.

“Come one Y/N, we have to study!” exclaimed Five, pouring over a math textbook as thick as his face. “I want a nap!” I snapped back, slamming my fist against the table. “Shhhh!” I heard the librarian whisper yell for the fifth time, making me roll my eyes. “If I work for 30 minutes, you let me take a nap. Deal?” I asked the boy. “Deal,” he nodded, before beginning to explain fractals and Newton’s theory to me again from the top as I pretended to listen to his rant. That’s when a distinct sound of stilettos colliding with wooden flooring echoed through the rather large library. “You’re… Five, aren’t you?” an airy voice echoed from behind me, making Five look up from his book and my turn around. There she stood in all her glory, short brown hair framing her sharp jawline and nose, pink clips holding her bangs in place. “I am… why do you ask?” asked Five, trying to appear unaffected, though his confusion was revealed through his indifferent mask. “Just thought… maybe we could go get coffee sometime? I’ve always wanted to try a nerdy boy,” she giggled, twirling a pink string between her fingers. “Uh… yeah, uh, sure! 7 p.m. tonight?” stammered Five, making Dolores giggle and nod before walking away, hips swaying. “... am I dreaming? Or was that my crush just asking me out?” asked Five in a daze as soon as she was out of earshot. I felt a pang in my heart, watching the boy I loved get asked out by another girl. “Sure was,” I muttered under my breath before picking my bag up and getting up to leave. Five didn’t stop me, too involved in his daydream to notice me leave. I left hurriedly, chest aching as my heart sank.

“Y/N?” I heard a voice ask, making me look up from a copy of Wonder that I had probably borrowed from a friend and forgotten to return. “Oh Five. Hey,” I said awkwardly, regretting my choice of clothes, mostly made up of neutral colors. “Hey, isn’t that my book?” he asked. I looked down at the book to turn to the first page where his name was written in black ink. “Oh, yeah. Do you want it back?” I offered, holding the book out to him in a limp grip. “No, it’s fine. I’ve read the book enough times anyway. What do you think of it?” he asked, sitting down next to me on one of the park benches. “Honestly, Miranda is my favorite character. She always feels like a fish out of water, even though Via and August love her so much. She wants that life for herself, not realizing her own worth. It gives me hope that one day I’ll also get to realize the good in me,” I stated, caressing the book while avoiding eye contact with Five. “I think I like Via the most. She seems perfect, with an amazing boyfriend and family, but she has so much missed in her life because of her best friend,” replied Five, looking up at me through his eyelashes, green eyes twinkling with mirth. “Uh huh… does this best friend happen to be the most brilliant person ever?” I replied mockingly, posing outrageously before bursting into laughter, Five quickly joining in the chorus of chuckles. A strand of hair fell onto my face, which Five quickly pushed behind my ear, the light brush of his fingers against my skin making my heart speed up. He relaxed, slouching slightly against the bench while animatedly talking about his science project. “Why doesn’t he see that it’s so easy with me,” I thought to myself as he smiled at me, answering the question I asked about his project.

“Oh, Five! Why are you hanging out with this… loser? Don’t keep me waiting,” I sugary sweet voice called, a car revving to a stop in front of the park bench, making me cringe “Coming love,” replied Five, his face falling. “Five, are you sure you’re fine?” I asked, grasping hold of his hand as he moved toward the highlighter pink car. “I’m fine,” he muttered, trying to convince me with a half-hearted grin. “I know you better than that, Five. What are you even doing with a girl like that?” I asked, making him shake his head and walk away, climbing into the pink car. His dark hair and jeans collided with the princessy attitude of the car. He seemed out of place as the car drove away, and a last glance was thrown my way. I sighed, standing up and abandoning the park bench, the book lying alone on the bench.

I heard a knock on my bedroom window, startling me awake off the bed. I glanced at the clock next to my bed from my position on the ground to read 01:28. Who was knocking at my window at this hour? I swished the curtains of my window open to see Five standing on the ground, his face a few inches below the ledge. “Five? Come on up,” I stated, making the boy clamber onto the ledge into my room, immediately beginning to face the length of my carpeted floors. “Five? What’s wrong?” I asked as I sat on the bed, making him turn towards me, a glossy look in his eyes that only meant one thing.

“Oh no! Sweetheart, what happened?” I asked, making him sit next to me and pull me into a desperate hug. He rested his head on my shoulder, the material of my shirt quickly soaking from the salty tears. “What is it darling?” I asked softly, moving him so he could lay down, his head placed in my lap. “It was a fucking joke. A bet,” he said through sniffles, immediately making my back stiffen. “Do you want me to beat her up? I’m sure one good punch would get rid of all that plastic surgery she’s gone through,” I said seriously, hoping to make the boy smile. The boy chuckled through tears, making me smile as I carded my fingers through his hair, his eyes slowly relaxing. “If you hear a voice, in the middle of the night, saying it’ll be alright, it will be me,” I hummed, making the boy nuzzle his face into my thigh. I continued singing the song, one of Five’s childhood favorites, filled with memories of sugary ice lollies, buttery popcorn, grazed knees, and fireflies. Soon, quiet snores filled the room, just as the song came to a close. I placed a gentle kiss on the boy’s forehead before switching off the lights, shrouding the room ins darkness. I eased myself away from Five, picking up my pillows and moving them to the ground, leaving Five to rest on the bed.

“Y/N, wait up!” I heard a voice yell, making me pause in my tracks to wait for Five to catch up. He joined me and I started ranting about my math professor, who insisted that he would not share any of the presentations he showed in class. “I mean, what’s his problem if we have an additional source? I need everything I can get to prepare for exams!” I complained, the boy nodding along to my complaining. The bell rang, symbolling the end of the school day. “Hey Five,” cut a shrill voice, immediately stopping both of us in our tracks. Dolores stalked towards us, her heels making a thudding sound against the linoleum floors. “I wanted to talk to you… privately?” she sneered in my direction before looking at Five sweetly. “Five, don’t do it,” I disagreed vehemently, pulling at the end of his sleeves to walk away from Dolores. “Go on ahead, Y/N. I’ll see you,” stated Five, gently unclasping my fingers from his shirt before walking away with Dolores. “AGH,” I yelled, kicking one of the lockers beside me, the empty corridor echoing my yell. I walked out of the building angrily, my heart clenched and my shoulders tensed. I slammed my bag into the wall as soon as I walked into my room. Pressing my face into the pillow as angry tears pricked my eyes. “AGHHHHH,” I yelled into the pillow, my voice muffled by the layers of cloth and stuffing. “Y/N?” A voice questioned some 15 minutes later, making me look up at my room’s door to see Five standing there, a concerned expression on his face. “Are you o-” he started to ask before I interrupted him. “No. Five Hargreeves, you will now listen to me. DO NOT go back to Dolores, of all people! I know she’s pretty, smart, and has the perfect looks and the perfect grades, but can’t you see what she is doing to you? Oh, I remember you, driving to my house in the middle of the night, I’m the one who makes you laugh when you know you’re about to cry! I know your favorite songs and you tell me about your dreams… I know where you belong, I know it’s with me!” I said without a pause, before stopping to see Five frozen in place, his lips slightly parted in shock. I breathed deeply before taking a hold of Five’s hands. “Can't you see that I’m the one who understands you? I’ve been here all along, so why can’t you see? That you belong with me?” I stopped myself from saying anything more, biting my lip and waiting expectantly for his response, grasping his hands tightly. “I went to tell Dolores that I don’t love her. That there’s someone else I know, who’s been here my whole life, and who I hope will be there the rest of my life,” said Five, gazing softly into my eyes, his pupils dilated to reveal just a thin sliver of forest green. “It’s you. Y/N, it’s always been you,” proclaimed Five, leaning forward just the tiniest bit. His lips pressed to my forehead, sealing his words into reality. 

[raccoon-eyed-rebel]

📚 Walter

Astraphobia

Masterlist

A/N: Hi anon! Thanks for the ask! I hope it's okay that it's Walter comforting someone else by telling a bedtime story! A major shoutout to @geralts-yenn for checking this for at least somewhat accurate six-year-old-ness.

(This was written from a promt from this ask game!)

Characters: Walter Marshall, littlebrother!Mikey, OFC

Summary: Walter doesn't have quite the night he had planned on when a thunderstorm scares both his girlfriend and his little brother...

Word count: 1.2k

Warnings: Fluff. Mention of 'underage'(?) sex (They're both sixteen.) A mom saying a totally un-hilarious, major cringy thing.

@deandoesthingstome @geralts-yenn @ellethespaceunicorn @mayloma @keanureevesisbae @summersong69 @ylva-syverson @peaches1958 @sillyrabbit81 @livisss @peyton-warren

“Shit,” I groan as I sit up. Outside, the rain is picking up, and I can hear the beginning rumble of thunder in the distance. I look next to me, where I had just managed to get Christina mostly naked. “Get dressed.”

“Why?” she asks. “What’s going on?” It takes absolutely everything I’ve got to ignore what the finger she’s dragging down my back is doing to me.

“Mikey,” I answer bluntly. “There’s a storm coming. He gets scared.” The words are barely out of my mouth before I hear him scream in the other room. Chris and I both scramble to get our clothes back on, finishing in the nick of time, just as there’s a soft knock on the door. I chuckle when I hear it. Since when does this kid know how to knock?

“Hey, little buddy,” I say after opening the door and picking Mike up off the floor. He’s on the verge of crying. Kid really doesn’t like thunder. One look at that trembling bottom lip tells me he’s about to break, so I walk him over to my bed and put him under the covers between me and Chris. It’s cozy, for sure, because this queen-sized bed really isn’t made for three people, even if the third is a tiny one like Mikey. “It’s okay, no need to be scared.”

Never in the history of trying to calm someone down, has the phrase ‘there’s no need to be scared’ actually been helpful, but it’s the only thing I can think of. I look at Chris and pray she’s better at this than I am.

“Come here, cutie,” she says, pulling him closer. It doesn’t seem to calm him down much just yet, but he does snuggle into her arms, which is a good start.

“Bear,” he sobs softly, and I almost fly out of bed. ‘Bear’ is Mikey’s black and white stuffed dog, and he absolutely can’t sleep without it. That does make it fairly easy to retrieve, because it’s going to be on his bed – probably. Yep! Armed with Bear, and Mike’s favorite blanket, I make my way back to my room, careful not to trip over anything in Mike’s room, or the hallway, in the complete dark. It’s definitely a challenge, but he’ll never fall asleep if I turn on a light now.

“Bear is right here, Mikey,” I whisper. The first flash of lightning brightens the room just as he reaches out to grab the plushie. Chris impatiently grabs my hand and pulls me back into bed. “You don’t like the storm, either, do you?”

“No,” she admits, “I hate it.”

“You’re scared, too?” Mikey asks. Just because the tears aren’t flowing now, doesn’t mean they won’t come back, so I don’t pat myself on the back just yet.

“I am,” Chris says softly. I can’t see her face, but it sounds like she’s embarrassed about it.

“I was, too, when I was small,” I tell Mikey.

He gasps. “But… you’re not afraid of anything! You’re not even scared of girls!” I never thought I would find the start of the ‘girls are gross’ phase so funny, but I do.

“Trust me,” I tell him, “I’m plenty scared of girls.” Behind him, Chris snickers – and almost chokes while she’s at it… I really don’t need a second crisis on my hands here. Luckily, Mike is too young to understand the innuendo – at least I really, really hope he is.

Every time thunder or lightning strikes, Mike squeals like a hurt puppy, and Chris squeezes him tighter. The tears don’t come back, though, and I’m really happy he seems to have calmed down at least a little bit. I hate seeing Mikey scared. For a moment, I think we might actually be ready to go to sleep, but then Chris asks a still trembling Mikey if he wants to hear a story. Of course he does! Now, one might have assumed that because Chris was the one to offer, she actually has a story to tell him. She doesn’t. So that falls on me, I guess. Fine.

I toss another pillow behind my bed, so I can sit up a little, pull Mikey on top of me and Chris into my side. The whole thing feels so ridiculously domestic that it should probably scare me at this age – and if I’m being perfectly honest, it kinda does. Plenty scared of girls, remember?

Selecting one isn’t easy to begin with – it can’t be a story they made a Disney movie out of, because Mikey knows those by heart and will interrupt me to point out every mistake he thinks I make. I also have to keep in mind that the kid is already scared, so half of the Grimm-repertoire is out. The first three options I call out, apparently mom has already told him in the past week or something. We finally settle on Rumpelstiltskin – a story I hate for no reason other than that I have told it to him six million times. Now, instead of Mikey pointing out all the errors in my fantastic – if I do say so myself – interpretation, it’s Chris.

“Excuse me, do you want to tell this story, miss ‘I don’t know, you tell him something’?” I’m a little snippy, I know, but it’s the third time she’s interrupted me before I even managed to finish my second sentence.

“No,” she says quickly, ending her answer on a shriek and nestling into my side when lightning flashes again. I continue, and after a while, I can tell Mike is about to fall asleep. He never makes it to the end of bedtime stories. The one thing this kid knows how to do is sleep like a log. It takes a while to get him to settle down enough to actually go to sleep, but once he’s asleep… Soon, I find myself finishing the story for Chris. I’m not sure if she knows that, but I can’t bring myself to stop; she seems to like that I keep talking.

“Thanks, Walter,” she says softly when the story is up, “for not making fun of me.”

“Why would I make fun of you?” I ask. What is she thinking?

“I was every bit as scared as Mikey,” she confesses. It sounds silly, but she’s talking like she committed a crime or something.

“Good thing I was here, then,” I say as I give her a kiss on her forehead before carefully putting Mikey in between us.

“So, did you guys have fun last night?” mom asks without looking up from the food she’s making.

“Yeah,” I groan. Between almost getting pushed out of my bed by Mike and getting kicked in the shins every time Chris was bothered by the storm, I didn’t sleep a wink…

“Quite a storm, huh? Was Mikey okay?” Mom continues. I almost drop the stack of books I’m holding. She knew.

“You… Damn!” I yell. “Did I…” I can’t even finish my sentence, because I’m floating somewhere halfway between angry and impressed, and I don’t know how I want to finish that sentence.

“Did you what? Get cockblocked by your mom? I guess. I’m sorry.” I wince – as any sane person would – when my mom says ‘cockblocked’.

“Trust me, Walt, I hated saying it as much as you hated hearing it,” she laughs, “but the look on your face right now makes it more than worth it…”

[siriuslysatorusimping]

HAVE U READ THE NEW JJK LEAKS

"(ง'̀-'́)ง

MY SWEET FIGHTING ANON, HOW ARE YOU??

I’ve seen a few lil snippets but I’d stopped really keeping up with the leaks. I will say I LOVE that some of you immediately messaged me upon seeing the leaks 🥹😂 it made my morning to see messages in my inbox 💕 (this is my not subtle nudge to everyone that I love hearing from you guys, even if it’s just life updates or random shit. Pls, I get lonely 🥺)

Side note for the other sweet anon who messaged, I can’t answer that ask rn bc of obvious reasons, but I SEE YOU AND THINK OF THIS AS MY RESPONSE TO YOU AS WELL!!! IT MADE ME SO HAPPY INSIDE THAT YOU CALLED ME 'LOVE,' BTW. MY HEART DID A LIL JUMPY. 🥹💕

As for the leaks?

Me @ everyone losing their shit:

Spoilers for JJK 260 and a huge fucking Kiko rant below the cut.

I’ll believe it when it’s really confirmed. From what I saw, it was the last panel and there’s speculation on whether it’s really him or if Sukuna is seeing shit as he dies or any of the crazy possibilities.

That being said, if Gojo really is back, WELCOME BACK, YOU WONDERFUL, TRAUMATIZED BLUE-EYED BEAN OF A MAN. WE MISSED YOU SO MUCH.

And now my rant begins…

I’m on the fence. In all honesty, I think I’d finally accepted his death tbh. Because I remembered something that’s actually really interesting: some of the very best stories have stakes. They have death because it’s unfortunately a part of life. Gojo isn’t the MC of JJK, even though he’s an incredible character and I adore him and I still hate how he went out.

But while I still hate how that played out, I was actually thinking recently about how much credit we really don’t give Akutami. Writing is hard. World-building is hard. And he’s created a universe that’s truly incredible. The countless number of cursed techniques he’s written into the story, the number of characters he’s given depth possible without even meaning to? Genuinely incredible. He’s done something amazing. I had a ‘come to Jesus’ moment of realization that he’s actually an incredible story-teller. The story he’s built in his mind is amazing and I’m so glad he’s decided to share it with us. We’ve questioned him because we didn’t have all the pieces he has, but he’s said time and time again that he has things planned and he’s had things planned since the beginning. The medium he’s using to tell the story necessitates it being a bit choppy because he can’t explain every little thing every single time. There will be holes and gaps and things he reveals over time for the sake of the story he’s planned, and I know I forgot that fact when I was angry and grieving. (I’ve also been just losing my shit lately at how stupid some people are saying Akutami hates anime fans just because he killed Choso off. The number of comments I’ve seen about ‘hot characters aren’t allowed to die’ is just… these characters are more than eye candy. They have a purpose and emotional value in the story, specifically Choso as a big brother figure for Yuuji.) okay, fun lil side rant over lol

I think we forget that this is a shonen manga. Shonen are notorious for killing characters. I think of Hunter x Hunter, which Akutami has said is a big inspiration for him, the Chimera Ant Arc seemingly killed over half the cast. I’ve also seen a lot of anger at Akutami for him saying that he doesn’t care how many characters die as long as it’s a good story, and I think people missed the point because they were angry their favorite character died. But the thing is, he has a point. If the character deaths push the story forward, then it works. Yuuji has clearly had a power up that wouldn’t have happened if Gojo hadn’t died. On top of that, we criticized the month-long time skip, but these big reveals couldn’t have happened without it. So while it felt jarring, and it still doesn’t sit quite right with me, I understand why Akutami’s logic now. Again, I think of Hunter x Hunter’s chimera arc and how Gon had to watch Kite die and then fight his puppet corpse. Talk about traumatizing a fucking twelve year old. And adding to that, Akutami has literally said that this is meant for adults. He’s writing with an adult, predominantly male, audience in mind because that’s been the primary demographic for shonen for decades. So no, he isn’t writing with the female audience, or the young female audience, in mind because that’s not the genre he’s targeting. It just so happens that there’s been a huge surge in American teenagers obsessively consuming Asian media in the past few years and now it’s wildly popular among that demographic.

Basically what I’m saying is that gen z has developed the female counterpart for the fedora-wearing weirdos with waifu pillows in the obsession with hot guys in manga/anime. The difference is that they’re raging about a story following its chosen genre. But this is me generalizing things a lot and it obviously doesn’t apply to the majority of fans. I’m pretty sure a large part of our lil corner here is on the older end of gen z or younger millennial, but I could be wrong. Actually, I’d love to know what that split is 🤔 maybe I’ll do a poll.

ANYWAY, SORRY FOR THE RANT. IT WAS ME WORD-VOMITING TO START THE DAY. I HOPE YOU HAVE A LOVELY DAY OR AFTERNOON OR NIGHT!

[youngyoo-apologist]

Writing fanfic with like 90% of the plot already planned is so funny but also so painful because every time there’s a mystery I purposefully put into the story as something that will be foreshadowed to revealed and revealed later in just praying people don’t think its a plot hole.

Like for example, the timeline OG Cale and Choi Han living in being different from TBoaH with some similarities. (The major differences being that Lily Henituse is alive, and while the rest of the continent took a pretty hard hit with the war, the Roan Kingdom managed to rebuild some of itself later in the war) , this one is so important because like, things aren’t supposed to be that way! I didn’t change canon for no reason! That happened for a reason! Guys! I swear!

Same thing with like KRS and OG Cale being able to hear eachother since they were young through their dreams, like that also has a reasoning behind it I promiseeee guys I swear😭😭 it’s like my biggest irrational fear that people will think that I’m just doing these things with nothing to back them up even though I know I shouldn’t rlly think abt it too much and just write the story like I intended 😭😭

I feel like a part of writing fanfic, especially LCF fanfic that makes me so nervous is the fact that canon is already and established and really well written universe. If things change, I feel like I need to make it OBVIOUS that they changed on purpose and not cause I’m changing things for the sake of changing them.

Sometimes I re read older chapters and go “wow, the delivery of this line sucked! I should re-write that slightly” because I’ve gotten better at phrasing things but WHAT IF ITS TOO LATEEEEEEE 😭😭😭😭😭😭 when I don’t have a limited vocabulary anymore it’s going to be the day I write something real good

Like I’m reading the early chaoters of [In the Borderline] and it’s like, FUCK some of these things just look like a dues ex machina even though they have reasons behind them.

I think a huge part of it is because of the wording, and how sudden everything is, I should have emphasized the characters confusion to these things to as a way to show that yes, things are off, BUT I DIDNT BECAUSE WHEN I WAS WRITING I FORGOT TO PROOF READ 😭😭😭😭 AND NOW ITS TOO LATEEE

Idk I’m just saying stuff at this point, but I guess my point is for a story like lcf, I want my fanfic to be something good becauee I really love lcf. I want to be able to write a story that shows how much I love the characters and things I want to see happening, but without erasing importance of characters or anything from TCF because I firmly believe that KRS is important no matter what.

There are things I will never change, like KRS being the one to name Raon, KRS being the children averaging whatever years old’s father, KRS having the silver shield(cause I think that’s like THE ancient power that represents him, that and Vitality of the Heart)

In a regression fic like [In the Borderline], where the time line has diverged so much, and in general is a fic that plays the long game when it comes to plot points, I just want it to be clear that everything happens for a reason and that I’ll never change KRS’s importance to the story, cause in that fic, OG Cale and KRS are both so important.

Choi Han too but he’s like, supposed to be cool and mysterious rn I can’t reveal too much abt him and TBoaH and why the world Cale and Choi Han lived in has so many differences from TboaH novel

[mortiaddams13]

I genuinely cannot stop thinking about mid-20s Eddie owning a type writer for the aesthetic of it and because it’s more manageable to him than having a pen and ink because he got ink all over himself and his paper and his handwriting has always been almost too messy to read.  And although Eddie fucks up on his typewriter quite often at least it’s always legible and he can just redo the page and (hopefully) get it right this time around. Plus he picked up writing because he would rather stab himself with a butter knife than wake Wayne during the day by practicing playing or doing DnD at the trailer so he needed to pick up a hobby that he loved and was quiet and writing was perfect for him. And he gets so into writing that he blocks out the world when he writes, sometimes it’s past DnD campaigns and sometimes it’s future ones written like a story. And Steve and Eddie are friends but nothing more yet. Steve occasionally comes by to say hi and Eddie would always answer the door and complain that Steve didn’t need to be so polite about it he can just come in but Steve being the gentleman never does. Then one day Steve drops by with some fresh groceries because Wayne asked him to grab a few for the place that day because he was too tired from his night shift to get them (he called at around 6am and Steve happened to be awake and Wayne passed out immediatey after, knowing Eddie wouldn’t be awake until at least 11:30). Steve, hauling the groceries, knocks on the door, waiting for Eddie. He doesn’t answer so he anxiously uses the doorbell one single time because he’s afraid of waking Wayne but the only thing that can wake Wayne is Eddie singing or playing his guitar or screaming at DnD with his friends, so the doorbell doesn’t even make him twitch. But it doesn’t make Eddie, either. He’s excited to see Eddie, as he always is to come and visit his crush, his heart beating happily in his chest as though it’s skipping, and he waits patiently.  Eddie just sits at his little desk, cleared of trash and miscellaneous crap so he can have his typewriter out from where he stores it in its box in his closet and he’s writing away. Far too engrossed to hear a single thing or even remember which reality he’s actually in. So, finally, Steve just takes Eddie’s words to heart and opens the door himself, storing away the groceries that need to go into the fridge or freezer, and leaves the rest on the counter, not wanting to intrude by putting them all away. But where is Eddie? He knows-or at least is fairly certain-that Eddie is here since his Van is outside, but it’s so quiet inside the trailer that he wonders exactly what’s going on. Anxiety eats at him, memories of Season 4 flashing back to him and he quietly rushes through the trailer, inspecting every single room, praying that neither he nor Eddie are trapped in a Vecna vision even though he knows they’ve killed him already. Finally, he goes Eddie in his room. Just when he opens his mouth to get after the guy he spots the typewriter, sees how completely engrossed he is in what he’s writing and he watches, surprised for a few moments, that Eddie even has a hobby like writing. He comes closer to read it over his shoulder, and stays there for a few minutes until Eddie finishes writing, Steve feeling warm and fuzzy the entire time because there’s a character that’s described exactly the same as him but with a different name romancing Eddie’s DnD character. “Well, aren’t you full of surprises?” Steve asks, but his smile is dazzling, he’s holding the page Eddie just set down where Steve’s character and Eddie’s kiss and he turns bright red, mouth gaping like a fish out of water trying to explain to Steve or make excuses but nothing comes out of his mouth.  Steve lets him struggle for about thirty seconds before he moves in, moving closer to Eddie, reenacting the page he’s holding, and their lips are so close that their lips brush, Eddie instantly starts to pucker up and Steve grins at him. “You know, I’ve liked you for a while but I never expected it to be mutual at all.” Steve teases and when Eddie gasps a little in surprise, he moves closer, pressing their lips together and setting the page down so he can gently lift Eddie up by the hips and then ass to stand up, kissing him tenderly before it turns ravishing, Eddie’s practically seeing stars, never having expected anything like this and he’s even more certain that he’s completely head over heels for Steve.

[mgg-81]

Tossed [K.JM]

(CREDITS TO THE OWNER OF THIS GIF)

A/N’s NOTE: I've been on a halt for many months now due to the busy life, applying jobs here and there. I've tried to write during my stop but motivations sometimes come and go and I couldn't even finish what I started. Hopefully, writing enthusiastically will come to me again. Dedicated to @cxsmicmyeon, who loves Junmyeon so much!

NOTE 2: The Chanyeol fanfic requested is on the way!

NOTE 3: This was supposed to be written with Lee Know of Stray Kids as the lead, but our bunny leader fits it more.

Genre: Small fluff, Small angst, Adventure, Fantasy Pirate!AU, Merman!AU

Ratings and Warnings: Be careful with swords y'all.

Characters: Kim Junmyeon X Female!Reader

Word Count: 1,715

Date of Publication: 17-06-2023

Junmyeon shouldn’t have thought of going up and seeking the presence of humans.

In spite of that, he had no choice.

Yet here he was, breathing heavily while being pinned down by two women with their swords, his neck feeling the sharpness that if he ever moves more, blood will be surely drawn out of his skin. His legs…no…he meant, tail, ever glistened in the noon sun, him gently flapping it from time to time as if he was reminding himself he needs water. More specifically, ocean water.

Junmyeon’s head was hung low and his arms were stuck on his sides. His pulse vibrated more the longer he was lying on the wooden surface. He could only make the shape of the boots of women coming here and there as his head was still down. But he could make out their voices.

“Captain!” he heard one say, with a tone that felt like the woman was willing to bend everything for their leader on the ship. He sensed the rest of the boots following the lead.

“Well, well, well, look at what we have here,” a heavier sound of boots came about and echoed along the wood. He knew already that the owner of those boots held a strong authority around. He watched it walk with a hint of confident mockery as if the pirates themselves have caught a hidden treasure.

Once the boots stopped in front of him, Junmyeon held his breath, which was followed by the sudden disappearance of the swords that were far away from his reach. He took a deep inhale, but it made his chest ache, for he was still longing to be one with the waters below, though Junmyeon stayed still rather than looking like a wailing fish or risk being sliced into tuna sushi.

It didn’t stop there.

Junmyeon’s senses were on high alert once he felt the figure of the heavier boots slowly kneeling as if they were about to pray. A slow but amused grunt came from their lips as they continued to kneel until Junmyeon was face to face with your regal features.

You are beautiful.

Dangerously beautiful.

From hearing his fellow merpeople, most stories of pirates were made of men. He would listen to rumors about ships full of nasty and smelly men; with big egos, violent attitudes, and always having the life of the party for rum. Men, who thought they could have it all. Men, who thought they could rule the seas. Men, who were nothing but traveling meaninglessly and seeking something that probably wasn’t even there in the first place.

Junmyeon had also heard that bringing a woman to a ship brings bad luck. However, with this certain large vessel, he was sure women aren’t bringers of bad luck.

This was different.

It was the other way around, at the moment his eyes looked at you. A woman. But the familiarity of your face sent chills down his spine.

You weren’t just a captain.

You are the commander of the highly revered and feared ship of all, The Exodus of the High Seas.

Junmyeon knew about the vessel and its crew. Myths and stories revolved so much around the notorious ship, never steering away from the mouths of every land and even creatures of the sea. More so, people were more curious about who runs the ship no man could ever attempt to sink or take advantage of. It was as if a veil would cover the ship and be hidden from the view of every person who would look at the white and gold-painted ship. While the ship was painted in merry colors, the insides were blood-stained, with treasures and victories no man could ever attain.

All because of your leadership. The notorious and legendary Y/N.

Yet Junmyeon couldn’t look away.

He was supposed to cower in fear, scream for help, and try to swerve his body toward the ocean, yet his face remained frozen upon you.

For a captain who brought many stories to tell among people, you look so young. Junmyeon seemed to look at you as if you were just around his age. Obsidian eyes that sparkled with mischief, milky skin that lies underneath a signature puffed white sleeve, and your hair…hair that flows like the waves of the ocean he was longing for.

While you were youthful, Junmyeon could look upon your eyes the weight of your life being in the seas and being on the run. More so, the little faint white scars that designed your arms and neck were visible to him, telling him of victories of you that came with a price. A pirate’s life isn’t all just adventures.

“What brings you here, merman?” you asked without hesitation. Junmyeon blinked. You were talking to him. No formal introductions, none whatsoever. Just straight to the point.

“Well?” You raised an eyebrow. Junmyeon looked away from your eyes down to your left hand, fingers caressing the hilt of a sword attached to your waist. Silent or not, either way, he’d end up dead by your hands. He slowly raised his eyes back to yours and sensed you were out for the kill, body looking weary.

Junmyeon lifted himself slightly. “Curiosity got the best of me,” he answered.

You scoffed. “From what I’ve heard, folks of the sea don’t even try to come out just because they’re curious so,” you sheathed your sword out and aligned it with Junmyeon’s neck. “Try to mock me again.”

This time, Junmyeon felt the blade tear open a little on the side of his neck, drawing drops of blood. His eyes widened at your actions and glared at you as he tried to maneuver his head away from your sword.

“You know it’s bad to injure a merfolk,” he gritted his teeth.

You further pressed the sword. “I don’t care,” you sneered. “Try to fool me now. Drawing a merman’s blood won’t get in my way of knowing you’re lying.”

“Captain,” Junmyeon heard from behind you one of your comrades, hesitatingly moving forward and trying to stop you from further hurting him. “We shouldn’t—“

Unfortunately, you were on deaf ears. Junmyeon didn’t know which was more painful; the blade of your sword against his now bleeding neck or the lack of water he needed so much. While he struggled, he looked once more into your eyes; while your eyes were full of rage, there was a hidden hesitance Junmyeon could see. It wasn’t out of fear because you might injure him and be cursed, but because you might feel guilty upon taking his life, curious or not, Junmyeon could see you didn’t want to hurt him.

It was the right opportunity for him to bring about his request.

 “I’m here to find someone with a pure heart,” Junmyeon blurted, and that made your movements halt.

“A pure---what?” you frowned, reducing lightly the pressure of your sword against Junmyeon’s neck much to his relief.

“I’ve come to ask for help,” Junmyeon insisted. “I’ve encountered a lot of ships, met people, and tried to ask but to no avail.”

Junmyeon looked down and contemplated even revealing why he was searching for a human being with the purest of intentions. Surely in all of reality, every person has a bad and good side, but it’s on them whether they let good or evil prevail in their minds and hearts. Junmyeon knew you were a criminal on the run, but deep down, he knew.

He just knew.

He could not waste anymore.

“Something…was stolen...precious in the ocean that is one of the pillars of the waters,” Junmyeon explained as he was slowly feeling the dryness of the wooden floor and the sun. “That’s why…the oceans and the seas are always roaring and not letting any ship land to safety. Only a human…with a pure heart can be able to find what’s ours…and be brought back.”

“Why aren’t you the one bringing it back?” you placed your sword back on your belt and crossed your arms in a questioning manner.

Junmyeon was slowly starting to get aggravated. He was starting to feel the effects of being out of the water. His breathing became more and more ragged much to your alarm.

“A-A hum-man…stole it, a-a…human m-must b-bring…it back,” Junmyeon said with difficulty, his mind was slowly turning into mush as if a heavy anchor was pressed down on him. From his vision, you didn’t stop and waited if he would wither and die on the spot. You quickly rose and turned to face your crew, barking orders here and there like a madwoman.

Soon enough, Junmyeon felt hands carry his body. More voices echoed and rang around his ears and into his skull. He wanted to move, wanted to fight, but your crew’s grip on him was strong. Maybe you weren’t convinced enough that’s why he’s being carried right now to be tossed away in a land that would immediately kill him.

But alas, his expectations of you were wrong.

Water engulfed him and embraced him as if he and the liquid were one. Little bubbles rose on his fingers like little friends welcoming him. Soaking himself in the water, Junmyeon felt his strength going back. He’d soon realized he was brought up and laid down in a very large wooden tub enough to accumulate his size in the middle of the ship. Feeling a little of his worries go away, he rushed to the surface of the tub, to be met with your face once again.

“Here,” you said as something cold was pressed to Junmyeon’s neck, him slightly flinching from the texture.

“It’s an herb,” you added. “I…didn’t mean to injure you.”

Solace was shared between the two of you, not knowing what to say. The awkwardness was evident in your features after what you’d just done to him, and Junmyeon’s eyes softened.

“Trust me, you are,” he insisted.

Your head shot up. “What?”

“You’re a person with a pure heart,” Junmyeon clarified. “A person I’m looking for to bring back what was stolen.”

You let out a ‘tch’ before leaning your face closer to him, eyes now back to shooting daggers. “I’m a pirate…and I’m no saint.”

Junmyeon shook his head. “Trust me, you are,” he repeated.

He felt hope.

[starburstdragon]

Bouncing off the Nimona stuff, I’d love to hear your take on disability in FMA

I think FMA is a story about recovery, first and foremost. Not just from injuries but from other traumatic events too. It’s loaded with characters who are disabled and scarred and mentally ill in a way that most other stories just aren’t.

And these characters recover in different ways too! And to different degrees! And even when someone magically regains a limb or their entire body or whatever, that’s not the end of their recovery.

Ed’s automail prosthetics are also really well written I think. His regular ones are heavy as shit (possibly even stunting his growth) and he needs to work out so that he’s strong enough to use them and account for that extra weight while he does. He needs to get new ones in a different material when he goes somewhere cold so he doesn’t get frostbite. He has to maintain them or they break. They’re expensive, prohibitively so if he didn’t have military money and a bestie whos probably giving him a discount. And at several points when they’re getting repaired we see him using prosthetics that someone might use in real life!

(The manga also includes him having phantom pains from his lost limbs.)

That’s just the main character, and already we can see how Arakawa has researched how this sort of thing works and how it impacts Ed’s life (both the advantages he gets and the inconveniences he has to keep in mind).

And Ed’s far from the only character. Al’s lost his entire body. He lacks so much of his physical sensation. I’m not really qualified to speak on that (it’s rather the opposite of my problem) but I do think it’s presented in a really sensitive and poignant way. Izumi lost several organs and is chronically ill (and I think she has chronic pain specifically? It’s been a bit since I’ve done FMA things lol) and she gets physically blowback when she overworks herself. Hawkeye has scars covering her back and is (as I recall) the superior officer that Ed and Al respect and look up to the most.

Even Scar, who initially seems to be a shoe-in for all the negative tropes that bug me so much, is written sensitively and sympathetically! Honestly once we get the backstory on Ishval I’d say he’s one of the most unconditionally heroic characters in the whole story.

(Also Ling definitely has completely fucked blood sugar levels and he’s pretty cool I think. I’m not really qualified to speak on the whole GreedLing situation though you’d have to ask someone else about that.)

A lot of the characters are also majorly traumatized. Most of the military characters Ed interacts with are reckoning with the horrible things they did during the Ishvalan extermination, for example, and the narrative is sensitive to their pain even as it calls out their mistakes. The librarian (I forgot her name because again I haven’t fulled my metal alchemists in a while) reads as autistic to me and she’s absolutely crucial in salvaging the ruined library.

I haven’t seen Nimona yet, so I can’t really talk about Ballister to compare him to any of that. I might come back to this post later if I do wind up watching it. My best point of reference for Stevenson’s writing of disabilities otherwise is SPOP, but I don’t really want to directly compare anything in SPOP to FMA, either, because… there really isn’t any way to compare them? I can and have talked about this at length in the past (that video predates Stevenson making his name/gender properly known but he had discussed a bit of his feelings on the subject so it mentions his old name and uses neutral pronouns) but it feels more than a little unfair to talk about in this post just because of how much the two stories are in different ballparks wrt their disabled characters. But to make a long story short, SPOP’s protagonists aren’t physically scarred or disabled, even when it would make sense for them to be (Hordak and Spinnerella do both have physical disabilities, just ones that are never shown or mentioned when they’re not opponents, which is… eugh) and the narrative treatment of Entrapta and Scorpia is genuinely insulting to me personally.

In the end I guess it just boils down to… FMA was written by someone who expected disabled people to be part of her audience, and who researched and wrote accordingly. Nimona, despite my interest in it, was helmed by someone who previously has not seemed to have that same expectation for his works.