#came to me on a whim while musing about things

[anxious-shapeshifter]

I’d sooner welcome oblivion, that blissful nonexistence,

Than spend an eternity

With a god who loathes the human condition.

[pearlsinmyhair]

˖⋆˚₊⊹ his muse

hobie brown x fem!reader

this has been in my drafts for. forever. like it was summer when i wrote it on a whim. this initially started as a request for hobie with a reader that came from wealth. the vivienne westwood imagery picked up from there, and i just kinda had fun with it. and now im posting it- huzzah!

warnings: smoking (cigarettes). mentions of drinking. slight nsfw at the very end. meet-cute that leads to smut. hobie being a flirt. fem!reader.

hobie is in the midst of a creative rut that he can’t get out of, no matter how much he tries to. that is, until some inspiration walks through the door.

hobie was in a musical rut.

which never happened to him. never. if he needed a subject for a song, all he had to do was look outside for five minutes or watching the news for even less to have a subject.

that was the wonderful thing about hating the establishment: infinite cruelty, infinite song ideas.

but here he was, staring down at his guitar and picking at strings aimlessly. nothing came to him, no note or melody stuck out to him as song worthy.

he was sitting on the worn couch in his band’s makeshift studio, crosslegged and hunched over his guitar like a madman.

a soft knock came from the doorway, and he looked up to find one of his band mates hitting their knuckles against the doorway.

“you need to get out, man. you’re cooped up.” he said, stepping into the room to stand over hobie like a mother hen. “some fresh air will do you good.”

hobie scoffed, never one to take orders from anyone. but then he exhaled and leaned back, looking up at his friend with an exasperated expression.

“and where exactly do you intend for us to go?” he asked lowly, grumbling.

that’s exactly how he ended up here, in a music club full of bodies he didn’t want to touch and liquor he didn’t want to drink.

it wasn’t a traditional club scene by any means. It was a bit more artistic, leaning away from rave-style places that he’d gone to before. but it still wasn’t his preferred place.

he nursed a shirley temple, which his friend had shoved into his hand unceremoniously before disappearing into the crowd. hobie had decided that he would be the designated driver, and he understood that his band mates were going to take full advantage of that fact.

when they entered the place, his drummer had leaned over.

“maybe you’ll find a muse, hobes. i’m sure there’s plenty of pretty things in this place to give you ideas.” the boy wiggled his brows, and hobie promptly shoved him away with a chuckle.

now, he leaned against a counter and wondered what the hell he was doing. this wasn’t air. this was just distracting noise.

and said noise was becoming a little too much for his senses.

he made eye contact with one of his more sober mates, gesturing that he was going to go somewhere private. he sent a text to their group chat as well saying the same thing.

not a role model

-> heading to the back, text or call if you need me

little drummer boy

-> you’re no fun, man.

not a role model

-> 🖕🏿

he moved down a hallway, the sound of bass and electronic beats fading into a pleasant jazz sound that made its way through the speakers overhead.

the space behind the actual club was a kind of lounge, filled with warm ambiance and vinyl records and leather arm chairs. when his friends brought him here, he always inevitably retreated to this quieter space.

it was ironic really. the punk unable to handle crowds and noise. but this was a much different setting from his own shows, so he cut himself some slack.

he sunk into one of the armchairs in a side room, his head lolling back to look up at the ceiling. his head slightly throbbed, and he began to regret not drinking water.

he reached in his pocket to pull out a cigarette box.

he wasn’t a casual smoker, not by a long shot. it just helped to have something to drag on sometimes, something to burn his throat while he was thinking.

right as he put the cig to his lips, the door banged open and slammed shut once more, the lock sliding home.

his spider-senses told him to prepare, but when he looked up they stopped buzzing.

because a girl leaned against the wall across from him, her chest heaving and her eyes wide.

she looked afraid, scared. the way her fingers trembled alerted him to the sheer amount of adrenaline running through her veins currently.

and she hadn’t even noticed him yet. he took a moment to glance over her.

she wore a pretty little lace dress, black and short, with straps that barely cling to her shoulders. his eyes drifted down her bare legs to the black platform gogo boots on her feet, and he was impressed with the height she was balancing on. he knew from experience that those shits weren’t easy to master.

he had been a model once, and he knew enough to see that the girls clothes were expensive. like, wearing his rent expensive.

she took an anxious step, only to wobble like a baby deer, legs too long to stand properly.

maybe not so stable after all.

when she still didn’t notice him (too busy listening to the door), he opened his mouth to make himself known.

“runnin’ from something, little fawn?”

her eyes snapped to him, and she jumped slightly when she realized that someone else was in the room with her. her wide doe eyes did nothing to help disapprove the nickname. she opened and closed her mouth to speak, struggling to get the words out.

“i’m not running.”

he chuckled.

“no? do ya’ slam and lock doors at clubs often then?”

she scoffed at him, rolling her eyes. she took a step away from the door, though he could tell she was keeping track of any noise.

“i’m just…catching my breath.” she said, pulling at the necklace around her throat.

hobie’s eyes drifted down to it, surprised to find a string of pearls with an all too familiar saturn pendent.

his curiosity got the best of him. “real or fake?”

her eyes darted up to meet his, and she looked away in embarrassment as she said “real.”

he let out an impressed whistle. “that’s why you’re running.” he mumbled as the pieces clicked together.

she gave him an incredulous look, eyebrows furrowing in a way that he found adorable.

“my guess” he said as he stood from the chair, taking a step towards the girl. “is that you definitely aren’t supposed to be here. rich girl, pretty dress, innocent look. this place is practically forbidden for your like.”

her gaze hardened into a glare. “and what exactly is my like, hobie brown?”

he smirked. “you know my name.”

a statement. she deflated slightly.

“i’ve been to your shows.” she said, voice lowering. it was just enough to make him realize how close they were. he registered her body language quickly, noting how she didn’t shy away. so he didn’t either.

“interestin’, doll. does your daddy know?”

“don’t condescend me.”

he took a step back then, raising his hand in an ‘i come in peace’ gesture. “easy there. just askin.”

he went to grab a lighter to light his cigarette, reaching down into his jackets pocket. when he found nothing, he groaned softly.

a click made him look up, only to be met with the girl holding up a lighter of her own. he leaned forward to light his cigarette, and she held his gaze as the sizzling sound breiflu filled their silence.

“as you can see” she said softly. “i am not quite ‘my like’.”

he let out a puff of smoke, making sure to turn his head so that it didn’t flow into her pretty face. she coughed anyway.

he chucked. “what you doin’ with a light if you don’t smoke?”

she flipped the lighter in her hand, and it took a moment to notice that it was one of the silver heart ones that were popular.

“you like vivienne, huh?” he said, looking down at her with half lidded eyes as he took another drag.

“what can i say, i have a thing for punks.” she replied, looking up at him through her lashes.

oh, he was going to eat her.

“s’that so?” he asked, wanting to drag whatever admission she was holding in. he leaned close over her, and she stretched her neck to look right up at him. this close, he could smell whatever shampoo she used.

she was off limits. but he never really abided by rules, did he?

“what’re you runnin’ from, doll?” he asked, tapping his cigarette out as he waited for an answer.

“my father sent a body guard out to find me. i snuck out, and the man’s in the club right now.” she said, watching the way his lips curled around the cigarette.

the air kicked on, and the girl below him shivered. he shrugged off his jacket with a sigh, pulling it around her. she accepted it gratefully, practically nuzzling up against the collar.

fuck, he was a goner.

“better get you out of here, then.” he said, using the edges of his jacket to tug her closer. she smirked, allowing him to pull her against his body. “that would be great.”

he leaned down as he texted the chat, brushing his lips against the top of her ear as he typed.

not a role model

-> hey, i got someone i need to take home. anyone sober?

little drummer boy

-> the fuck are you on about, why would anyone be sober.

fresh meat

-> i am, go enjoy yourself hobes.

thank god for tyler, he thought as he pulled back the collar of his jacket to press his mouth to the girls jaw.

as she snuck him into her room later, the lyrics of a song began to write themselves in his head.

and as he thrust into her, her hands fumbling against her silk sheets and her moans in his ear, he realized that he had found his muse after all.

hobie’s masterlist

[hythlodaeus-mynewoldfriend]

Mayncient Day 2: Meeting

I've had this since I first came up with Anthea and figure what better time to share it than now! So anyway enjoy these two.

word count: 2,650 warnings: none, though recommend you have finished at least ShB before reading. Can be read on Ao3 here

They take a deep breath, closing their eyes, the design in their mind, a blossom with no more than eight white petals at a time with edges in varying colors and a simple dark green stem with the standard leaf pattern from prior flowers. It should be easy, a no brainer, Anthea has made much more creative ideas before on a whim, dionaea muscipula the first to come to mind. They place their fingers in the cool soil feeling the flow of aether disperse from their fingertips, smiling at the thought of just how it might look, mind wandering to what they should make next, something that’s evocative of mankind. Anthea’s eyes fly open with a gasp as they remember how much concentration is the key to getting things right. “Oh no,” they sigh, running their hands down their face, “Maybe it’ll all be fine. It’ll all work out still.”

Anthea splays their fingers slowly, peeking to see that a flower has formed, which does little to alleviate the nerves rolling in their stomach. Little by little they drop their hands until a grey toned flower stands proud before them, Huh, interesting, they think reaching a hand out, snapping it back quickly when the flower shifts into a pure white. They let out a yelp, leaning in closer with delicate fingers tracing and counting the petals. Seven outer ones, six smaller ones surrounding a bulb like center that seems to have the faintest of yellow coloring. The stem devoid of leaves as they all sit at the base, formed like a sharp feather, and all of it a soft glowing white. “Well I don’t think I could have ever imagined the likes of you,” they muse, tilting their head in search of anything else odd about it. 

Anthea jumps when the door opens, hand hitting their chest as their mentor walks in, pulling his white mask and black hood down, shaking out chin length dark brown hair. He smiles at them making his aged tawny skin glow and red undertone brown eyes light up, “Apologies, I didn’t mean to scare you, Anthea.” He walks closer eagerly searching behind them, “Have you completed your first batch of them yet?”

Anthea shakes their head, “Uhm something went a little amiss.” They step aside letting their mentor see just what was made. He holds his chin, brow furrowing as he looks back at the approved design and then the created flower. “Truly I don’t know what happened and I know things must get approved by the bureau first but-.”

“Well not everything gets approval first, Anthea,” he picks the pot up hoping to get a better look at the under petals, “Sometimes ideas are made on a whim, we just have to document it and send the design through. From there we determine if it gets studied or if we must erase it.”

“Oh. Right, yes. Silly me,” they say, giving a small hum, “What do you think they’ll say about this one?”

He smirks, “I think they might let it through considering they allowed for your carnivorous plant to be studied.” He sets the plant down crossing his arms, “Why does it glow all over like that?” They shrug, their mentor giving a small hum before shaking away his thoughts, “See to it you get it logged and to the bureau within the next day or two.”

They nod, watching as he turns to leave allowing for their attention to fall right back onto their creation, “Well you certainly are an interesting one. I hope they keep you because I want to know what secrets you’re hiding.”

The Bureau of Architecture feels busier than normal and all too crowded as Anthea makes their way to the check in line, shoulder impacting with someone rushing out the door, making them lose their balance to land against another’s chest while they cling onto the black sack containing their creation. Their arms reach out to steady Anthea with a small and quiet laugh, Anthea’s hood falling back enough to reveal their dark teal hair. Anthea blushes under the white and silver mask, righting themselves, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to fall on you like that. You’re not hurt are you?”

The stranger chuckles, letting loose some strands of lavender hair from the shadow of the hood onto a matching white mask, “I am quite alright, so there is no need to be sorry.” 

The voice puts Anthea at ease, “Good, well I mean, I’m glad you’re not hurt that is.”

The stranger tilts his head in a quick assessment, “You’re not hurt are you?”

“Hm, oh no. No, no I’m fine, thank you.” They look over to the growing line with a small groan, “I should go. Gotta check in and even with an appointment and being early you know how they can be.”

They smile at one another, both giving a light laugh and bringing attention to the person standing close that Anthea now realizes was there the whole time with an eye roll and crossing of their arms, Oh no….I think it was them I may have fallen on by that reaction. Anthea readies an apology before being cut off from the one with lavender hair as they give a slight bow, “Of course.” The two quickly make their way towards the elevator leaving a further embarrassed Anthea to shuffle away to the check in line. 

They glance back over their shoulder watching as the elevator doors close, letting out a sigh, “And this is why I don’t like coming to the city.” Anthea shakes their head, gasping midway and quickly opening the bag just enough to see the flower still intact. “Whew. Well thankfully you are safe,” they whisper moving along in the line. By the time they sit down to wait for another to lead them upstairs they can’t help but check on the flower every so often knowing it’ll be at least another twenty minutes even if they had five minutes to spare on their check in time. They watch as people go about the day and overhears talk of the Convocation’s latest events, all of which bores them to some manner and they wish more than anything they could be done with this nonsense and back to Elpis to further their research and continue to try and make their original intent. 

“Anthea!” Someone calls out, as they jump to their feet. The escort locks eyes with them, “Anthea?” They nod with a soft smile, “Good. Follow me.” The two ride the elevator up five floors and enter into a wide office space, with some scattered desks in the center of the room, and private offices with glass windows enclosing them. They’re led to one such office, their escort not even deigning to introduce them before rushing back off. There’s two white masked people which Anthea finds odd and odder still; one sits at the desk while the other stands above them watching as they write something down with the same posture as the person they saw downstairs. 

The one standing looks up at their entrance, “You may have a seat, we’re almost done here.” They nod, lowering their head as they slide into the chair directly across from the judge of their latest creation. “Ah there we go,” the standing one says, picking up the paper and examining it for a brief moment, “I shall leave you to your work now. Thank you for your assistance.” They leave the office sliding the thin curtains closed and shutting the door.

The person sitting across from them exhales removing their mask and hood revealing lavender hair that goes just past the shoulders braided loosely, paired with sparkling amethyst eyes that keep Anthea entranced until he smiles softening the angles of his fair, lightly sun-kissed face. Their brain is already spouting out ideas on flora that could be made based around him like a tree that can produce soft small flowers that come but once a year and stay until the winds of change decorate the world with their petals or a tree with branches that hang low enough to provide shade and safety from the world around them while always having a small creek or river that sings in the same manner as his laughter probably sounds, around his smile with flowers that follow the sun so they always glow with a halo, the shades of purples in his eyes that could lend themselves to a variety of petal gradients, simply put: He’s one of the most beautiful people they’d seen. “You‘re free to remove your mask if you’d like.” Anthea stiffens recognizing the man’s voice as the same one from the stranger she thinks (and hopes) fell into, Of course of all the people…. He gives a nod at their sudden rigidity, “Do you wish to begin, then?”

“Hm,” Anthea blinks a few times while the words he says gain meaning in their brain, “Oh right. Yes, sorry. Uhm….” They look down in their lap at the plant bag and stack of papers beneath it, deciding to put the plant between them with shaky hands hoping it can mask the blush they’re sure can be seen through the one they already wear. “Apologies, normally I just send paperwork in or someone else takes it for me, rarely do I ever make the trip myself, but I felt it necessary this time around.” They take a breath, sifting through the papers to try and focus on the unneeded task of making sure their proper order, before looking up to see the new centerpiece does wonders to block the distraction his all too pretty face can cause. Anthea clears their throat, “Right, well, my name is Anthea and I am here to submit new flora for approval to be studied on Elpis.”

“Wonderful,” he says cheerfully, peeking around to meet their eyes, “I’ve seen the design and have been most curious about the finished product.”

His hands reach out to open the bag, Anthea quickly shooing them away, “Well see here’s the issue, mister…,” they look around the desk hoping to find a name plate before-.

“Hythlodaeus,” he smiles, folding his hands in front of him politely, “Pleasure to meet you, Anthea.”

“Same to you,” they respond quickly, looking down at their paperwork once more, I swear he’s purposely trying to show off his face which is wholly unfair. “The issue, Hythlodaeus, is that this particular flora wasn’t approved prior. It just….happened. I didn’t mean to make something so far from the design already approved, so I’m hoping for a retro approval and subsequent approval to allow Elpis to study it.”

“Hmm, I see.” He looks to their lap, “Might I see what you have written so that I can prepare myself.”

“I could uhm also just show you.”

He laughs, “I do try to be prepared for my appointments, Anthea, and I read that the last time something like this occurred you brought in a carnivorous plant of some kind.”

“No one’s going to let that one go are they,” they grumble.

“Afraid not, but you can understand my slight hesitation in just simply opening the bag now.” They mumble their agreement, handing over the stack of papers. Hythlodaeus looks at them quietly, face unreadable with each turning of a page, until finally, “Well, well not only is it safe but it also holds much more intrigue than your last submission. A flower that is all the color white! How remarkable!”

Anthea smiles, sitting straighter with the praise, “Yes, here let me show you.” They open the bag letting it fall into a puddle around the pot to reveal the soft white glow of the flower. Hythlodaeus’ eyes go wide taking in the blossom, pulling the pot closer to spin it around. “I don’t know why it glows like that. I think maybe it’s meant to be a plant to light the way at night.”

“So it only glows in darkened areas?”

“Well-. Huh,” they purse their lips, fingers holding onto their chin delicately.

He looks away from the flower at them with a small smile, “You’ve yet to observe it in sunlight?” Anthea shakes their head, Hythlodaeus’ smile growing, “Then might I suggest we go and see together? It is a wonderful day out.”

Anthea looks up with wide eyes, “If you find it to be of importance to your decision then, yes.”

He stands, placing his mask back on before putting the pot in the bag once more, “Follow me. There’s a lovely little terrace two floors up.” Anthea follows one step behind, head down, “Is everything alright, Anthea?” He asks once they’ve entered the elevator, making their heart flutter when he uses their name. 

They nod, “Yes, I’m just lost in thought it seems.”

“A researcher like you, I find that unsurprising,” he chuckles. He weaves them through offices and hallways with ease towards the south end of the building. The glass door in front of them shows a small section of garden, a big maple tree casting enough shade to allow for one to have a comfortable meal at one of the tables underneath its leaves, and the beige stone stark against the dark colors of the building. When they step outside Anthea‘s breath catches taking in the little garden in full, with its two big trees, six tables for eating, four for games, and a number of benches with different levels of sun but all able to get the cool breeze that makes this place a paradise in the hotter months. They frown seeing a few spots that lack upkeep, something that doesn’t escape Hythlodaeus’ gaze. “Your specialty is flora, correct?”

“It tends to come out much better than fauna that’s for sure,” they let out a light laugh, “but that may be due to my lack of experience in committing to creating things from my own ideas.”

“It will come in time, but if it doesn’t then perhaps that is your gift to the star.”

They look up at him, eyebrows raising and then furrowing, “Can making mistakes truly be seen as a gift worthy to bring forth unto mankind?”

“Based on your record your ‘mistakes’ have all been seen fit to remain for research and with the ones that have been archived some have even chosen to build off of them, finding their answer within your perspective.” He guides them to sit at a partially covered game table, “If anything I’d dare say you’ve brought the most gifts to mankind for some things would never have come to be had it not been for your ‘mistakes’ as you call them.”

Anthea’s shoulders relax, smile returning, Can it really be argued that I have already begun my road to contributing to the star?. The question ruminates as they take in the terrace once more, committing the full conversation to memory when the beginning of it raises a question, “Why ask me such a thing to begin with?”

“Ask you….Oh! You looked at the flowers so sadly I was going to suggest we assist in their upkeep.”

“Oh,” they blush, “Right. I should have thought of that.”

“My creation magics I will admit are lacking and I believe it would be most helpful to have someone much more skilled at my side.” His smile is soft and reassuring, the heat from his hand warming theirs as the two have accidentally placed them too close to one another. Anthea doesn’t say anything about it and simply nods to answer his request for their assistance, “Ah, wonderful!”

“I won’t be cutting into any of your other work will I?”

“I am always conducting work, even when it looks as if I’m not.” He laughs at his own observation, Anthea joining in with a single thought, Something I hope I can come to learn as true, Hythlodaeus.

[lukeofe]

Guardians of the Galaxy 3, Rocket, And Why I Keep Thinking About This Damned CGI Raccoon

GUARDIANS OF THE GALAXY VOLUME 3 SPOILERS AHEAD

For much of early to mid 2023, I had been in a rut. My work on personal writing projects had ground to a halt, and I was now more focused on the minutia of specific lines and the emotions they conveyed in the moment rather than seeing the overall work for what it was. I was anxious, terrified that I didn't know whether I was saving my work with any given edit or ruining it.

Eventually, I figured it was time to take a break from the things. Time to let my mind rest so I could let go of this arbitrarily high standard I had set for myself. While this relieved my anxiety, it brought about a new ailment: a sense of depressing aimlessness. I had dedicated essentially my entire life to my work for so long that to be without it felt wrong. I realized that ever since I'd went all-hands-on-deck with my perfectionism streak, I had taken to eating the exact same meal three times a day. I had stopped going outside. I had stopped listening to music. My passion for life had disappeared without me realizing it, and I was left with nothing but dark musings on my own mortality and the unshakable notion that I was wasting time. That I no longer had purpose.

I was never really invested in Disney's Marvel Cinematic Universe. I had seen some of the films, but did not feel overly attached to them outside of "Hey, that was a cool movie." The one aspect of it that both I and my family came to the theaters for whenever a new entry released was Guardians of the Galaxy. I've always been fascinated by the space opera genre (there's a reason I write so much of it) and James Gunn is great at weaving comedy and sincerity into his work in equal measure to create characters that are easy to care about, something I cannot say for other aspects of the MCU. Still though, my fandom of Guardians' characters was only in passing... until in May of 2023, when I watched Volume 3 on a whim.

I'm sure you've heard of the 'Gifted Kid to Anxious Adult Pipeline.' It's something I'm fairly sure I experienced first-hand. When I was young I was considered smart for my age. I was also considered a troublemaker who hated listening to authority. At the time, I had yet to be diagnosed with Autism or ADHD, so I'm sure my teachers and the other adults that interacted with me simply thought I was 'disobedient' and just needed to 'apply myself.' I suspect that this notion carried over into my modern life and education somewhat as well.

Once I had my diagnoses, I knew that I was different. I knew I had a reason to not concern myself with being in line with what was trendy or popular, and I had a prime excuse to violate the social norms I hated most. It also made me incredibly aware of how specific the aptitudes I possessed were. I am no savant, but I've heard from a lot of people that I'm good at what I do, probably on account of me pushing myself to fully commit to whatever task I engage in to the point of anxiety-inducing perfectionism. I suppose that's symptomatic of the high expectations people had for me in my youth.

Something that probably didn't help was the fact that my ADHD makes it incredibly challenging for me to focus on things I'm not burningly passionate about. I can handle whatever task is thrown at me, but it's extremely emotionally distressing unless I want to do it. It's not a sensation of boredom or irresponsibility, but a deep pain that registers on a level beyond the physical.

The common core education system didn't care, though. It, and all of the adults in my life, demanded success above all else. And so I pushed myself to success above all else. The latter half of my education felt like a constant struggle to survive, a battle against my own nature to ensure that I could secure a comfortable future (and so I would not lose the things that made me truly and wholly happy - my video games and my comfort objects, i.e. stuffed animals and inflatables.) The cost of this battle was only my happiness, and to some extent, my personhood.

The time that I began this 'fight for my life' in my education was also the time that my older cousin began to have a major presence in my life. He'd grown up rougher than me, adapting to become more 'street smart' to avoid hazing from bullies. I think he saw me, a neurodivergent, scrawny, and likely pretty obviously queer kid, and wanted to make sure I was safe from the riff-raff he was used to. So he tried to toughen me up. He taught me how to walk right, what clothes to wear, how to keep my voice and head down to avoid trouble with the older kids, etc. (He even advised me to burn my collection of stuffed animals - advice I will never regret ignoring!)

I think it was this, the growing disparity between my perception of maturity and my own comforts, and the overall apathy of the world around me towards my academically-based emotional distress, that made me into a more reserved person as I became a teenager. I already had trouble making friends, considering that so much about my interests and personality were - and still are - intrinsically based in the nebulous, indescribable web of my life experiences. But this was the turning point that rendered me closed off from almost everybody, save for those few special people I could and can still be candid and emotionally open with. I became afraid to make new friends, scared that the more they'd find out about me the more they'd realize how strange I was, and say or do something horrible to me or the things I love.

I wanted to share this experience and the way it made me feel with others, and I think that's why all of these sentiments (intentionally or not) worked their way into my writing.

(I swear this is about Rocket, just be patient.)

My main story, WarTorn, is set in a space opera universe where humans and anthropomorphic animals co-exist, and sometimes groups of the former decide to try to destroy the latter in big wars that are metaphors for religious persecution of LGBTQ+ people, and there are ancient secrets left behind by past intergalactic civilizations, and so on and so forth, but for the sake of this current topic of conversation there is only one aspect that matters: the main character, the namesake of my online presence, Luke Sanders.

Luke is spotted out as a child by the government of the human-anthro' Coalition to take part in a Super-Soldier program to destroy the puritanical anti-anthro' army that has risen in the dark corners of this fiction's Galaxy. They take him and a bunch of other children, both human and anthro's, and mold them into the soldiers the Galaxy needs them to be. Luke becomes a hero, but after all of the brutal training, extensive education and brainwashing, and the agonizing and near-fatal chemical and cybernetic augmentations, he has lost his personhood. He sees himself as a machine, existing only to serve and be a beacon of strength to the people he protects, burying his emotions so he can't be judged for them. But while he attempts throughout the story to steel himself from his emotion, it subconsciously slips in anyways.

From the beginning of the military career he lost his childhood training for, his life is painted by tragedy. He loses his childhood best friend early on, and his lover much later, both people he had formed bonds with that defied physical description. Every loss becomes not just an emotional toll but a personal failure, and he beats himself up for not being able to meet the expectations placed upon his shoulders. Eventually he becomes so afraid of losing the ones he loves that he stops loving altogether, and becomes even more stoic and isolated than before. It's only after circumstance forces him to create new bonds and become close with new friends that he realizes that he is indeed a person, that his feelings matter, and that the time he spends with the ones he loves while he has them make all the heartbreak worth it. Later, when Luke and the Coalition finally win the conflict against the puritanical threat that has gripped the Galaxy for years, and Luke is able to get his happily ever after, he can't help but feel aimless in a universe where he no longer has purpose. His journey becomes finding a purpose of his own, fully becoming a person, finally free of the high expectations he likely imposed upon himself. One big dramatized metaphor for my own personal feelings throughout life.

In Guardians of the Galaxy Volume 3, the snarky and cynical Rocket the Raccoon's past is explored heavily. He is revealed to have once been a raccoon from Earth, taken at a young age by the evil High Evolutionary and molded into a thinking and speaking creature through extensive and cruel surgery and augmentations. Despite the hardship, he is driven by his connection to his friends (three other test subjects, Lylla the Otter, Teefs the Walrus, and Floor the Rabbit, all three of whom have also been extensively modified) and together they look forward to the promise of a happy life in the High Evolutionary's perfect society once his work is done. However, eventually it is revealed that the High Evolutionary no longer has a need for Rocket and his friends - they were only created for their intelligence and ingenuity, for their knowledge to be a stepping stone towards a better iteration of the High Evolutionary's perfect beings - and that he and his friends are to be killed. Rocket attempts to break Lylla, Teefs, and Floor out of their captivity, but all of his friends who he was up until this point motivated by the dream of a perfect life with, die in the escape attempt. Rocket is left the only survivor, alone and depressed now that that the only things that made him happy and hopeful in the universe have been ripped from him. He becomes cynical and jaded, afraid to let others too close to him for fear of losing them too. He feels like a monster, warped and created without purpose. He only overcomes this when forced into an alliance with the other Guardians, who are also carriers of their own trauma, and together they create an unbreakable bond. And it's only on the verge of death, in his darkest hour, that Rocket is visited in a dream by his friends, and Lylla tells him that his existence is more meaningful than he knows. He pulls through and rejoins his friends in the fight, not only defeating the High Evolutionary but saving the other animals that were being tested on, learning that he is indeed a raccoon in the process. Up until this point, he has seen 'raccoon' as a demeaning term, something to label him as something other, something less than a person. But here he realizes it's actually his identity, that he's not alone and never was. And by the end, he heals, ready to find that purpose and set his own expectations for himself.

I wrote the entirety of WarTorn way before Guardians 3 came out, so seeing the parallels between Rocket's story and Luke's, especially when Luke is so heavily inspired by my own life, was an extremely emotional experience. I've been going over scenarios in my head where Luke and Rocket interact. They'd clash at first because of their different personalities (and because Rocket is Rocket) but slowly realize how similar their lives and troubles are, and then help each other find their missing pieces and become better people. I adore the idea of these two forming an understanding of each other's histories just from seeing each other's reactions to little things and recognizing their own trauma in each other's behavior, to the point that they know they can confide in one another and be met with unabashed understanding and acceptance, free of judgment because "Hey... I've been there." And in some abstract way, I have too.

The first thing I had thought leaving that theater was "I want to hug that raccoon and let him know that he is beautiful and loved." So I ordered a plush. I needed something physical to latch onto, some way to express this overwhelming emotion physically. And now he has a special place in my arms as I lay in bed or on my desk as I work or in my canvas bag when I go out of the house.

Rocket is very important to me. He's the first thing I had poured over in months that wasn't "oh my God I'm a terrible writer" or "I'm going to die someday." And that puts him at least somewhat above all of the other comfort characters and hyperfixations I've had over the years. Because he's the first thing I have loved with all my heart in a long, long time. And now, whenever that oppressive melancholy begins to creep up my mind, I think of him and the parts of my life that led me to being so emotional about him, and I am reminded that love and feeling still exist in my heart, and always will.

[phoenixradiant]

Writer Questionnaire Tag

My thanks to @tildeathiwillwrite and @agirlandherquill for the tags!

When did you start writing?

I was a late talker, according to my parents. Still pretty laconic in person. On the other hand, about the same time I started to talk I started to read, so I've been reading for a long time, and, consequently, writing for a long time. I can remember when I was six wanting to write as a career, and at about 8 I discovered Google Docs and that's when I started to seriously write. Not much came of it for awhile, though, my first WIP to make serious headway started when I was... 13? 14? I got through a skeleton draft and then started to flesh it out. After several years I retired that WIP and started a few others, which I made decent headway on, and then a little over a year and a half ago, I started on my current WIP, Kelovir, which I've stuck with ever since.

Are the genres/themes you enjoy reading different from the ones you write?

No. 'Nuff said.

Is there an author (or just a fellow writer!) you want to emulate, or one to whom you’re often compared?

Not particularly? I read and write nonfiction as well, and in the nonfiction philosophical realm I do my best to emulate (simultaneously, and hence with much difficulty) G.K. Chesterton and C.S. Lewis, as I greatly admire them both and find their writing styles exceedingly pleasant to engage with, but in the fiction sphere, no. I read and enjoy many authors, but if I wrote exactly like they do, despite my appreciation of them I would find myself unsatisfied. I'm a perfectionist of a decidedly intrapersonal variety, and to write in any way untrue to myself would not only be imperfection but betrayal.

Can you tell me a little about your writing space(s)? (Room, coffee shop, desk, etc.)

When I was younger I wrote while sitting in bed. It was comfortable, and it's very hard to write when I'm uncomfortable. I still do that sometimes, but now I write at a little cluttered desk that is, in actuality, one of those plastic tables with the foldable metal legs. Nothing extravagant, and nothing clean, but it's mine, and that more than anything makes it comfortable.

What’s your most effective way to muster up some muse?

I'm not very disciplined at all. When I write, I write, and when the muse strikes, it strikes, but those two things don't often coincide, and unfortunately the best way I've found to snatch the blessings of the muse is to steal it from somewhere else, by attending weddings, funerals, church services, things that themselves have beauty and gravity to them, and letting those things fuel my creativity. Luckily, while I may not have a photographic memory, my linguistic and verbal memory is pretty storming good, so if I think of something while I'm not in a place to write, I can usually hold it for awhile.

Did the place(s) you grew up in influence the people and places you write about?

Definitely. I grew up in a small suburb as suburb culture died. I was taught to value a community that wasn't really there and to be kind to people who were merely polite, and that only half the time. I remember the last time I played with the neighbor's kids, and I remember why I stopped. All that to say, due to all this plus a few non-place specific factors, I had my angsty "teenage" phase years earlier than most. Cynicism became a core character trait of mine. My family instilled in me an even stronger sense of honor and devotion and idealism, but the question's not about that I suppose.

I grew up in the suburbs as they died. I write a lot about once-noble societies in decay, and societies that only ever pretended to be noble. I write a lot about people who doubt the things they've been told, and sometimes they're right, and sometimes they're wrong. I write about wild places stripped of life by the cruelty of man, but also of animalism and the whims of nature destroying what good humanity has wrought. I don't think those things are entirely unrelated.

Are there any recurring themes in your writing, and if so, do they surprise you at all?

Yes and no respectively. I don't write about what I don't care about. This can be attested to by my writing teachers, who had to receive several papers that were more "about" hating the topic than about the topic itself. I write about honor, I write about devotion, I write about betrayal, and despair, and justice. Those are the things I care about. Those are the things the world needs to hear about. I don't think of myself as a stupid person, but I am very simple: I do what needs to be done, and one of the things that needs to be done is aligning my sense of happiness and satisfaction to the things that need to be done. I do what I think is right, and I love what I think is right. So I write about it. Because I care about it. Not to say I'm never wrong but if I find out I'm wrong I repent and try again with just as much fervor.

Your Characters

Would you please tell me about your current favorite character? (Current WIP, past WIP, never used, etc.)

Alright, those of you who have seen me before should be able to guess, based both on which of my characters best aligns with the above and the sheer amount of material I've put out about them, who I'm thinking about.

It's Cellic.

What I love about Cellic is that he reflects how far I've come as a person. In his backstory segments you see him as someone quite similar to the way I was when I was young. He believes strongly in his ideals, and is to be commended for it, but his view of the world is simplistic and his view of himself is prideful. Then the very final scene of his backstory flashbacks marks a sudden change, reinforced by the events at the end of act I, that push him into a mindset of despair and sorrow and hopelessness. He sees a fundamentally unjust world and doesn't know what to do with it. He sees a fundamentally unjust self and has a horrible feeling that he knows exactly what to do with it. He's lost his ability to see the good in anything and anyone, and the only thing keeping him remotely sane is his relentless hatred of evil and resultant stringent sense of honor devoid of the love that once motivated it. I never got as bad as he did, but I definitely would've given enough time. The rest of Kelovir is about the three protagonists- but mostly Cellic because he's my favorite- healing and growing in spite of the injustice, in spite of the pain, in spite of the despair. That's why I decided to call it Kelovir; Hope's Warrant. They push on through the destruction, through the metaphorical desert of war and betrayal and emptiness, in the hope that someday, rain will come. And it does.

Which of your characters do you think you’d be friends with in real life?

All of the cast on the protagonist's side except Narra and Kar. I don't think I'd get along well with pre-story Kar, though post-story we might be able to be friends. Narra I could deal with, but I don't think she'd get along well with me. I think Cellic, Farric, and Radiaten I would get along with best, maybe with Lycoris as a fourth.

Which of your characters would you dislike the most if you met them?

Like I said earlier, pre-story Kar. I cannot abide useless people, and even worse, useless people who don't want to be helped. If all they do is trample on what I and everyone else give them, they can eat sand for all I care.

Tell me about the process of coming up with of one, all, or any of your characters.

Frankly they just kinda happen. Due to the aforementioned cynicism phase, I didn't have any real friends as a kid and so developed a lot of skill creating people from nothing. There's very little process involved, just the fallout of my emotional issues. Some of them develop faster and more unprompted than others. Funnily enough this is the first WIP I've actually tried to plot out beforehand, so a few of these characters had more design than others. Because I came up with the plot before dealing with the characters, Narra originally started as a cardboard cutout of Lyn from FE7, Cellic started as a cardboard cutout of Cecil Harvey from FF4, and Kar started out as a mix between Kelsier from Mistborn, Claude from FE3H, the spy guy from the Belgariad (Silk?), and I remember there was one other guy but I don't remember who it was. If it looks like one of these had more personality right out the gate, you'd be right.

Do you notice any recurring themes/traits among your characters?

Yep. The vast majority of them have defining traits that I've seen in myself. Keidor and Radiaten, despite being a youngest sibling turned only child, are channels for two different strands of my older sibling mentoring instincts, whereas Cellic, Lettic, and the Deathguard channel my strong sense of personal and ideological loyalty. Again, Narra and Kar are the exceptions. I've felt some of the things they feel, but they are fundamentally different people from me. There are dozens of real people I know, introverted, extroverted, smart, a bit on the dull side, argumentative, passive, and everything in between, who have more in common with me than they do, which is part of why I have a bit of trouble writing them.

How do you picture them? (As real people you imagined, as models/actors who exist in real life, as imaginary artwork, as artwork you made or commissioned, anime style, etc.)

I have real trouble holding still images in my head, so whenever I picture them, I picture them in motion. I do all sorts of mediums depending on my mood and what media I've been exposed to recently, but I can't picture them standing still without a visual aid like a picrew. Consequently, I have trouble drawing them myself, though I'd love to be able to.

Your Writing

What’s your reason for writing?

Twofold:

I like creating beautiful things, and it just so happens that the art I find most beautiful and the art I enjoy creating the most and the art I'm good at are one and the same.

I've never been good at giving inspiring speeches or winning people over, but I think I've learned some things that would really help a lot of people who are aimless and hopeless, and I want to help them. Stories are a way to do that that I've been told I'm pretty good at.

Is there a specific comment or type of comment you find particularly motivating coming from your readers?

I haven't had too many readers for my prose. I sometimes write poetry and put it in group chats, but even then the comments amount to basically "I really liked that one" which I really do appreciate, but doesn't really give me a range of experience from which to answer the question. I guess the one that sticks out in recent memory was that it struck at a situation that was "familiar and ongoing for me as well".

How do you want to be thought of by those who read your work? (For example: as a literary genius, or as a writer who “gets” the human condition; as a talented worldbuilder, as a role model, etc.)

Even before the cynicism, I was a storming shy kid. I don't want to be thought of at all. I want my work to be thought of. I want to live my life and help people at the same time. If the stories I use to help people interfere with my living my life, I'll still do it, but it's far from an ideal outcome.

What do you feel is your greatest strength as a writer?

I appreciate the English language. I'm no great plotter, my message is important but hardly unique, but I love my language. It's not formulaic in the scientific sense, but it's structured just enough to build on it without being so stringent as to preclude artistry. I know a lot of words and most of them I love. Not all of them, but most of them. There's an ebb and flow, there's a variety of synonyms that I can use to rhyme or fit syllable counts, it's wonderful.

What have you been frequently told your greatest writing strength is by others?

As previously mentioned, I don't seek out feedback too often. In addition to that, the way I receive praise or respect is to be left alone. If it doesn't need to be changed, that is commendation and privacy and trust all in one. I don't know why people think I'm good. But it seems they do, and for that I'm grateful.

How do you feel about your own writing? (Answer in whatever way you interpret this question.)

Content but unsatisfied. If I never get better than this it won't kill me, but there's always more to learn, more beauty to channel, more truth to reveal, and I want to.

If you were the last person on earth and knew your writing would never be read by another human, would you still write?

Yes. I write for others, yes, but I also write because the writing is in and of itself valuable.

When you write, are you influenced by what others might enjoy reading, or do you write purely what you enjoy? If it’s a mix of the two, which holds the most influence

I'm influenced by what my older sister and my parents enjoy reading, because it heavily shaped what I enjoy reading, and therefore what I enjoy writing. But no. If I write to entertain other but neither find enjoyment myself nor communicate anything worthwhile nor create anything beautiful, it's a vain endeavor.

This was pretty fun! NP tagging @the-ellia-west, @paeliae-occasionally, and @illarian-rambling!

[digitalagepulao]

Monkey Technology at Huaguoshan

So, I've been musing on just how much the monkeys would be capable of achieving when it comes to technology. We know that Wukong taught them a whole lot, but what could they do before their naturally born sage brought all his learning? This is mostly me rambling about stuff that comes off my head and from my own experiences and learning.

Tool use and crafting

We are well-aware of tool usage among the great apes/homonids (aka humans, chimpanzees, gorillas, orangutans and bonobos, as well as extinct hominins like neanderthals and homo habilis), and for convenience's sake I'll give the fantasy monkeys the same skills. Wukong is credited as teaching them how to sharpen wood and bamboo for knives and spears, so crafting tools might have been out of their wheelhouse. So we have to work with basic, naturally occuring tools, like sharp stones and sticks as they are found. To further this point, that should include mortal and pestle tools, as all you need is a concave rock and another stone or even wood to grind things with.

Fire

This one is a bit dicey. Wukong isn't given explicit credit for teaching firecraft, but the novel does make mention of them burning incense and offerings. We can always handwave these deets as stuff monkeys learned by watching humans as animals often seem to do in the novel, but they aren't quite told to make use of it until Wukong returns and makes a proper kingdom out of Water-Curtain cave. So on this one, I'll just say it's something that they've known how to do for a while, but had very little reason to put that particular skill to work until Wukong came along.

Claywork

Since we established they know how to craft fire, next comes what to do with that fire! And first things that come to mind is cooking and claywork. Again, they only seem to cook food after Wukong's leadership, so on to clay. Clay is quite easy to mold and then burn, but it would take seeeeveral attempts to get the heat management right and learn what makes pottery crack in the kiln. As for glazes, they can be a happy coincidence! Depending on the process and time during firing, when the oven is opened, one can find the inside walls with a luster of ash that melted into glaze, and it's pretty neat! Natural glazes can be made by processing wood ash, which again takes some time to learn on their own but not impossible.

Textiles

The monkeys are described as being able to weave grass mattresses, and then later Wukong teaches them to make flax, which is a way more involved process in itself. Now we're on more dicey ground, as textiles take quite a bit of refined precision grips that most tree-dwelling primates aren't capable of anatomically. I'll probably go off about monkey anatomy at some other time, so we'll handwave that one to fantasy rules too.

Winemaking

We got plenty of mentions of coconut wine and other drinks at Huaguoshan's feasts and celebrations, but how did the monkeys get to wine? Animals in nature have been noted to indulge in recreational drugs, including fermented fruits, simply for the joy of it. A notable example is cedar waxwings indulging in fermented berries and needing to be picked out of walkways by kind humans so nobody trips on them. And most notable of all, humanity has had a long history with fermented foods and drinks. Coconut wine takes a bit of processing to be well, wine. This could have been learned over time but again, the monkeys never had much need to perfect this knowledge or put it to much use until Wukong's reign. Making wine is kind of hard when you don't have proper shelter to regulate temperatures, and his discovery of Water-Curtain cave is notable for sparing the monkeys the whims of weather and seasons. So we have shelter, but what about vessels? Water-Curtain cave is said to have all the necessities of life within, including stone dishware, so it's safe to say they had access to stone vases and pots, plus we've discussed claywork, so monkey-made glazed pottery is also a possibility. And we also covered fire, so the process of heating and cooling mashes for fermenting is also checked off the list.

Incense making

The monkeys are described to practice religion to some extent, offering prayers and burning sacrificial livestock to the gods, so one would imagine they'd stretch that worship to burning incense. Incense can be as easy as scraping off aromatics over simmering coals, which is absolutely within their scope to do, but things like incense sticks might take some learning. Getting the dust fine enough to be kneaded and then rolled or extruded is quite a labor without more complex tools than a mortar and pestle, but that's work they might be able to invest in during Wukong's reign at Water-Curtain cave.

Medicine

Now this one is a wee bit tricky. If we're keeping simply to usage of medicinal herbs, then we have multiple cases of great apes using foraged ingredients to heal themselves and even teaching the right way to consume them to their young. If we stretch this to say, poultices and infusions, that feels like a reasonable leap to make given all the other things they seem capable of thanks to basic tool use. For more say, complex things like major injuries and sickness might be touch and go. Usage of tools like splints, sutures and cauterizing are more on the lane of homonini (aka humans and our closest extinct relatives) and I think this is something they'd need to learn from humans how to go about it. If Wukong also brings with him knowledge of traditional healing ie. acupuncture, Tui na, and more complex medicine mixtures, then the monkeys' lifespan is gonna get much longer. And since he goes out of his way to protect his kin from King Yama's rule and shares immortal wine and peaches freely with them, that's definitely something he would do.

Art

Talk about a large category, eh? Art can be any number of things, but I wanna focus on their technical capabilities and their sense of aesthetic appeal. Art has been a homonin trait for a long long time, with recent studies suggesting all the way back to Homo naledi, who lived during the middle Pleistocene. Anything from dragged fingers across mud and clay, slashes on rock, and of course the well-known cave paintings, can be easily assigned to them as they had basic tools available. The monkeys are also described as capable of dancing and playing music during Wukong's reign, so it's unknown if these are skills they already have or were taught over time by him, or if it's something that they just had the time to devote to at that time. I'm going to take that as a little of column A and column B. As for aesthetic appeal, we know great apes as well as other animals do have a sense of what is "beautiful", as well as have their individual preferences. What exactly monkeys will find appealing is definitely up for debate, but while they might take cues from humans through observation, they're capable of their own experimentation at their own time and leisure. Accessories, face and body painting, carvings, and drawings would be fairly common sights among the monkeys, and likely very prized possessions and gifts.

[silverhyenaart]

So, here's a sneak peek at a piece from chapter 7 of Into the Light, Book 2 of a Nightmare Before Christmas Trilogy I'm working on. If you're curious, here's what I've got so far.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/53700421/chapters/135938836

I have absolutely been LOVING bouncing Jack Skellington off of my boy, Geoffrey! Jack has just become such a dad to him. Was this what I originally thought would happen? Hell no! The characters have kinda taken over.

Also, for context, this is taking place as the two of them are exploring a haunted keep.

* * *

"No, no, no no...." Geoffrey grumbled, frantically searching the stone for any trigger or switch.

Just SOMETHING that would unlock the staircase once again. However, the demon hunter's search came up empty.

Frustrated, the two of them carried on with their search. Unlike the lower levels, the upper wooden floors were draped in old, moth-eaten rugs of orange and black. At one time, it may have been quite beautiful, with the ornate candelabras and paintings hanging on the wall. Now, it served as a harsh reminder of the ravages of time and the elements. Further investigation revealed that any windows had been darkened by writhing shadows; similar to those that drifted behind the shadow fiends.

"Be careful... don't touch those," Geoffrey warned, cautiously leading the way down the hall, stopping at intervals to check for traps and snares.

Gods only knew what would happen; curiosity killed the cat, afterall. (And those things had nine lives!) While the downstairs had much of the staff accomodations and standard domestic utilities, the second level seemed to be more geared towards living quarters; lounges, bedrooms, and a rather large library that has been thoroughly trashed.

"This is a tragedy of Shakespearean prestige..." Jack balked, bending down to scoop up some of the books and stack them out of the way.

Geoffrey held his shotgun at the ready as he investigated, but much like the rest of the keep, it appeared to be abandoned.

"Maybe this guy is just taking that book report he was forced to write on Othello in middle school to an unhealthy level?" he suggested, on a whim.

"Hmmmm, well, I'll admit that I have... reigned terror upon mortals for less," Jack mused, tapping his jawbone thoughtfully, "there were those kids I surprised while they were breaking into a public library. Then there was that one guy from Kentucky as well..."

Curiosity peaked, Geoffrey threw a glance over his shoulder. (Seriously, those stories sounded like the kind worthy of popcorn and soda!)

"Okay, don't leave me hanging, Jack. Now I GOTTA know."

Jack placed a few more of the lesser damaged books back on the shelf. However, before he could answer, something within the wall gave a solid 'click', echoing throughout the library. The skeleton barely had time to register what was happening as everything whirled around in a blur, leaving him in a secret tunnel. It would have been a spectacular discovery... had it not been for Geoffrey's frantic calls from the other side of the bookshelf!

"I'm alright, Geoffrey!" Jack said, shoving against the shelf.

It didn't budge, not even for the Pumpkin King. He checked for any trigger or mechanism, finding none as the human did the same from his side.

"Stupid-ass rotating bookcase! How typical," Geoffrey grumbled, his voice somewhat muffled by the barrier between them, "how about something original, huh?" he added, with a few more colorful words, "What do you see?"

"Well, there's only this long, dark-" Jack began, only cutting himself off at yet another loud 'SNAP', the groan of timber flooring, followed by the human's swearing.

"What the fuck?!" Geoffrey called out, "The godsdamned floor is-Aaaaahhhh!!!! Shiiiiiiit!!!"

Jack could only listen as the human's voice faded away while the wooden floors seemingly snapped themselves back together. Remaining still, the skeleton strained to hear anything more from Geoffrey, his phantom heart just about pounding against his ribcage.

"That mortal has proven himself multiple times," he reassured himself, with a deep, calming breath, "surely, all one must do is follow the trail of vulgarity and all will be just fine."

The undead king's face scrunched up in confusion, feeling the buzzing coming from within his suit jacket's inner pocket. His eye sockets widened, remembering; the communication crystal! Quickly, he withdrew the smooth, green crystal, tentatively tapping a long claw on the "text app", as Geoffrey had called it.

The message from "Your Loyal Bodyguard" appeared on the screen, 'I wanna speak with the manager! Anyways, I'm fine. Just wet. Landed flat on my ass in five inches of standing water,' Jack winced as he read, gritting his teeth, 'In some sort of secret passage on the ground floor. Gonna investigate. TTYL, boss.'

Humming in thought, Jack began to type back, slowly and awkwardly at first, 'As long as you're safe, Geoffrey.'

He paused, tacking on a quick, 'Language, if you please,' before putting the device back in his jacket pocket and venturing deeper into the passageway.

* * *

One thing that I wonder... WHAT did that guy in Kentucky do to earn Jack's ire? But as someone who loves books and literature, I'd imagine that Jack would take great offense to someone trashing a library.

I also head cannon that Jack is too much of a gentleman to swear or use any sort of vulgarity.

Anyways, hope you enjoyed this little tidbit!

[avelera]

Your fic reblog reminded me - after reading your fic last night I was musing about Dream calling the human cultural practice of forcing a couple to wed if they came to be with child barbaric. I mean, he's not wrong but I did think it somewhat ironic considering the Endless and Greek gods (and presumably other entities of Higher Power) can be bound to the whims of cruel humans due to unjust laws. It was just a thought that I had and forgot to add to my comment on your fic. ^-^

Oh definitely! I was absolutely intentionally invoking the canonical experiences of Dream and Calliope in the 20th c with Dream's outrage in that moment.

(Cut for some Giving Sanctuary Behind the Scenes rambling because I CAN)

On a deeper level, I can imagine that in the world of gods and goddesses who can, theoretically, absolutely control their own bodies and are never at the whims of a lack of resources (like money, food, etc.) the idea of being forced to bind yourself to a person against your will to survive or for your child to survive, and/or for that child to not be an active choice, would be especially barbaric to them, because I often write Dream as not seeming to quite understand, beyond the abstract, that humans have these needs like food and other resources to survive. Sure he knows Hob might have grown up through famines so him sharing largess in 1589 was an act of generosity as well as triumph, but since Dream has never personally experienced those privations, he mostly sees Hob as being boorish. Of course, if you confronted Dream about his ignorance, he'd use his abstract knowledge of these limitations as proof that he understands them, but I truly doubt he does unless he personally experiences them, much like many people who live in the ultimate privilege bubbles (like limitless resources, immortality, beauty, and magical powers, Dream).

Now, I did wrestle with the line a little because obviously, Greek myth in particular is rife with women being forced into lives they don't want, to give birth to children they didn't consent to, and experience relationships they did not agree to. For that, I'd defer to Dream being Endless and not being a god, indeed being disdainful of gods as lower than him. Mere gods might engage in such behavior, but he is Endless so he finds even gods barbaric in ways, but they're still an order of magnitude (on average) more civilized than your average human (like Hob).

Of course, Dream definitely wouldn't like anyone to ask whether or not his dreams and nightmares get paid or otherwise compensated for their total lack of autonomy to even choose if they are dreams or nightmares, but sure Dream, tell us about the unquestionable evils of human slavery and non-consensual marriages while you were born to a position of absolute authority and rule your realm as an unquestioned god-king over entities who are forced to live according to your whims without compensation. I mean, good on you for knowing these things are horrifically evil, but like... idk, maybe look around your own house, dude?

Which is all an elaborate way of saying: Dream isn't wrong but man, don't go digging too deep without expecting to find some deep hypocrisy in his pronouncements.

[kattahj]

A personal musing on La Pluie, soulmates, and predestination

My reaction to La Pluie really made me examine how I feel about soulmates.

Now, this is more of me untangling my own feelings than it is any type of analysis of the show, so be aware of that before you hit read more (if you do).

I've always had a distaste of soulmates, but this show had me thinking more about why, and how, I get that reaction.

I did like the show, for the most part. While I put it on the backburner sometimes, I had no problem watching the whole thing (and I'm not someone who has to finish watching everything I start). In a way, how the show examined and subverted the tropes worked for me, at least up to a point, because every time I hear the word "soulmate" it's like Psycho shower scene music in my head, and that's not so dissimilar to what Saengtai feels.

But whether or not the soulmate thing is "real" in the La Pluie universe, and whether that makes it easier or harder for couples to find happiness, this is still a BL, and so the main characters HAVE to end up together! Which, poor Patts! It's not his fault I hear shower scene music every time I see his face, just because he unfortunately happens to believe in soulmates.

Would I have preferred Lomfon as a partner for Tai? No, not really. I don't think there was ever much basis for it. Tai didn't seem particularly interested, and Lomfon only interested in the way you're interested in that hot person you've talked to a couple of times.

I think I would have liked everyone to just go, "Okay, this has been interesting, but let's go our separate ways and forget this rain-fueled soulmate situation ever happened." And that wasn't ever going to be the end of a BL.

So, why the shower scene music?

What I realized was, it's the exact same feeling I get from "chosen one", or "prophecy" or "destiny". I hate them all. I hate the notion that there's some cosmic force that steers our lives in a specific direction that we cannot deviate from in a meaningful way, and we don't even get to know who that force is or what their reasoning is. I mean, if it were Cupid shooting his arrows at people, and I had a quibble with his decision, I could at least go, "Cupid clearly has shit aim" and be done with it. :-) It's hard to do that in the face of ineffability.

Most of my favourite characters have been people who do something completely different from what was expected of them. They were supposed to be meaningless, and became meaningful. They were supposed to be villains, and became heroes. My unchosen ones.

I guess it also ties into religion, and ideas of predestination. Now, I'm agnostic these days, but even the brand of Christianity I was raised in didn't believe in predestination, for which I'm grateful. There might be better and worse choices, but never just one correct path. Life as "choose your own adventure", rather than a straightforward story. (Or, to use the discussion of Cain and Abel from East of Eden, "thou mayest" rather than "thou shalt" or "do thou".)

And of course La Pluie is Thai, with entirely different religious customs and expectations, and I can't really speak of that. Nor can I make any deep analysis of how it uses soulmate tropes compared to how it's usually done, since I stay the fuck away from every love story that so much as breathes of soulmate, if I can help it, and only watched this one specifically because of the subversions.

The only other BL show I've watched that went there was Never Let Me Go, in its Our Skyy 2 epilogue. I wasn't happy about that, and wished they hadn't, but it was a bit easier to handle, in part because it came so late (after I was already invested in the ship), and in part because it seemed  more based on personality, and less on the random whims of the universe. We were told that Palm and Nueng, since they are who they are, will always be attracted to each other, but since they are who they are they will never be happy long-term until they learn to communicate better. Which, that's okay, I guess.

I still much prefer characters who get together just because they want to. And my absolute favourite kind are the ones whose time together is so valuable that they could break up tomorrow and it'd still be worth it.

Thinking of Moonlight Chicken as an example. If Jim and Wen break up, Jim has still learned to process his feelings after Beam's death, and not close himself off so much. Wen has still learned to live on his own and not stay in a bad situation because he can't stand being alone. If Li Ming and Heart break up, both of them have still won their freedom and started exploring the world, away from, yet reconciled with, their families.

A path doesn't have to end up a specific place to be worth taking.

And of course, it's rather ironic, feeling like this, that I sit here watching dozens of QLs, with their guaranteed HEAs (whether I want them or not).  The cosmic powers dictating the outcome do exist, and they're called the audience.

But I guess that's where decades of Bury Your Gays has taken me. If the alternative is death, I can take a little predestination. Just coat it in the chocolate of supposed free choice. :-)

[threepointseven]

I’ve got you hon! Mr. Fandango, Venti, Noelle and Venti with a shy and/or awkward photographer S/O that asks them to be their muse?

-🧸 Anon <3

Could you be my muse?

🌺summary!🌺- your a photographer, an extremely shy one at that and you cant help but want to take a bunch of pictures of your lover but how tf do you do that without dying from embarrassment

Type- HC’s 🌷

Flowers included!🌼= scaramouche x gn! Reader, Noelle x gn! Reader, Venti x gn! Reader

Note🍀= IM SO SORRY FOR MAKING SO MUCH TROUBLE AND TAKING SO LONG AAAAA AND THIS IS UR FIRST REQ AFTER SO LONG TOO SMH BIT I HOPE U LIKEY MWAH MWAH BYE 👊👊👊😋

Genshin masterlist

💐Your bouquet has been delivered <3💐

Scaramouche

- asking scaramouche to be your muse? To photograph him? Literally a death wish. He’s killed like 39 people you might as well be his 40th

- Your way too awkward to ask anyways, he always teases you for how socially inept you are and takes pride in the fact you can speak comfortably with him but this was a whole new topic

- Your a photographer, and you dont have that much satisfaction from taking pictures of just bushes and flowers. People are your favorite thing to picture.

- And dont get me started on how much you wanted to have a whole photoshoot with your boyfriend scaramouche. From the way his balanced legs walk to the way his slender hands bend and move his figure was something carved from the heavens basically.

- He had a small hunch youd been staring at him for the past week. Always gripping your camera harshly whenever you saw him.

- You wanted to drag him to your room and force him to pose his poses so bad but like you could barely ask him personal questions like where he lives how were you supposed to ask him to be your muse??😧😧

- It has gotten to the point where you couldnt take it and decided to awkwardly secretly take photos of him. It did not work out <3

- IT LOOKED SO CREEPY TOO😟😟😟 YOU WERE LITERALLY TRYING TO TAKE PICTURES OF HIM WHILE HIDDEN LIKE???

- He caught you and thought you were a spy and literally almost murdered you!! 😊😊😊 i could totally make the idea of him accidentally hurting you into an angst prompt but LETS NOT GO THERE

- You were trying to explain to him what you were doing before he snatched the camera out of your hands and started scrolling through the pictures with a smug on his face

“SCARA!! G-GIVE THAT BACK—!”

“Oh my~ someones being quite obsessive. You shouldve told me you wanted to take pictures of me instead of crawling around like a creep.”

- YOU DID END UP GETTING HIM TO BE UR MUSE. THE ENTIRE TIME HE HAD THIS STUPID SMIRK ON HIS FACE LIKE ☹️

- I swear your frothing at the mouth at those angelic poses he made.

- He’s a little shy but he really liked it and wants to be pictured by you again 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫 he loves those little praises you mumble about his appearance that he once hated as it resembled ei, his creator just too much.

- Because of all those praises and your mesmerized eyes when you get the chance to look at his bare body he learned to adore it, even if it was made by the woman that abandoned him.

Venti

- WHY ARENT U ASKING HIM??😦😦😦😦 He’d say “SURE!” In any situation🤨🤨🤨⁉️⁉️

- He was always so fascinated with your job as a photographer, always managing to make such seemingly bland things seem beautiful.

- You know he actually did offer to be your muse once, but in a whim or panic and nervousness you brushed it off and said that he’d probably move too much or something

- But good god you want to take billions of pictures of him. Have you seen his body? So sleek and youthful, you’ve fantasized about putting him in a white robe, posing him in ballet poses.

- Alas you just couldnt bring yourself to ask that hyper ex archon. You had a feeling he would say yes but the words just would not come out of your mouth.

- So what did you decide to come up with? Pacing around in your room with the camera in your hand practicing lines you came up with about how you want to take pictures of venti in a white robe and ballet poses.

- SURPRISE SURPRISE!! HE HEARD YOU🙄 that cheeky mf was listening the whole time smirking and laughing like a whole ass witch while you tried to say “can i picture you” without crying and fucking up

- So he does the most reasonable thing and barges into your room and starts to strip while shouting “OH OF COURSE YOU CAN MAKE ME YOUR MUSE MY LOVE—!”

- You slap some sense into him. Your blushing and stammering as he puts his clothes back on and shakes your shoulders shouting in your ear

“AWWW YOU WERE TOO SHY TO ASK ME HUH WINDBLUME?? OF COURSE YOU CAN PHOTOGRAPH ME WHY DONT WE GO TO YOUR STUDIO EHE~”

- you did infact get pictures of him and you were completely right, he looked ethereal. You shyly begged him to let you take pictures of him like this more often. You even bowed and everything.

- He accidentally deleted all the pictures while checking them out 😊

Noelle

- Noelle is probably the most inlove with your hobby ever. You were just as awkward and shy as her but she loved your work so much and it was one of the things that brought you together in the first place. Youd lend her your camera and let her scroll through the pictures and when she found her favorite she’d print it and put it up in a picture frame in a wall of some of your best captures

- Youve always wanted an excuse to have a photo shoot with her and finally! There was a huge photography contest which included contestants from all nations and you were a contestant. The competition was to take pictures of any sentient being and you wanted to take pictures of your favorite sentient being. Noelle!

- But you were just as awkward as her. Now how do you ask your precious girlfriend “hiya can i take a bunch of pictures of you in this specific outfit for a contest?” Without sounding creepy 🤔

- You’d ask her to take you to her combat missions and try and secretly take pictures of her while fighting off ruin guards and such but each time you tried you almost saw the man upstairs so you never did that again

- How she found out was you had left your studio with a frown on your face and she went in, seeing the camera on your table she toddled over and looked through the gallery, seeing multiple blurry pictures of her fighting and her just doing anything.

- Opposite to what you thought would happen if she did find out she didnt find it creepy and instead extremely flattering. You walked in on her squirming and wiggling at the pictures before blushing and stammering trying to explain yourself before just saying it outloud…

“THERES A COMPETITION AND LIKE— I WANTED TO TAKE PICTURES OF YOU AND SUBMIT IT BUT I WAS TOO SHY TO SAY SOMETHING—!”

- yall are so. Lovey. Dovey. 😧

“M-me?! But dear i doubt pictures of me are enough to submit for a competition—!”

- you two end up in a small little back and forth “your more than good enough for it!” “I doubt it!”

- You do end up getting pictures of her, in a cute little dress. Inspired by her original outfit with less “maid” features and more knight features. You took pictures of her in combat and she looks gorgeous. Each detail of the sword and her face was just perfect.

- You ended up getting first place and she got to see her fierce face held up in an art gallery for a little while!

- You also hung up the picture despite her protests and kissed away at her face to stop her from degrading herself

[shoichee]

how would atsushi, akashi and aomine react to haizaki threatening/hitting on their s/o?? (cue that one scene where he was literally taking on himuro, kagami, kise, and alex all at once 😡... basically that, but with their s/o)

ANON…. THOSE 3???? LONG STORY SHORT…. HAIZAKI EXPERIENCES DEATH (OR AT LEAST NEAR-DEATH) 3 SEPARATE TIMES…… BUT HERE’S THE “LONG STORY” THROUGH THESE HCs 

TW: attempt of physical assault, unwanted advancements… asshole Haizaki? cut under this to keep y’all safe JUST IN CASE

[Headcanons]

Aomine Daiki

you went out to look for Aomine after noticing how he hasn’t come back to his seat for too long

this was shortly after Kaijō defeated Fukuda Sōgō, and it was currently intermission before the next match rolled in

your face was met with crisp air as your eyes adjusted to the dark, scanning for any sign of your boyfriend

upon seeing no one, you decided to walk around the perimeter, just in case Aomine decided to nap for a quick moment on a whim and forgot to tell you

maybe you shouldn’t have walked out alone and in the dark of night, but you figured that in such a public event in a public area, you didn’t think anyone had the balls to start anything fishy around the stadium

oh how you were so wrong

you unfortunately bumped into Haizaki right when he was slowly strolling with his basketball shoes over his shoulder, and you immediately stopped in place, praying that he would walk past by you or perhaps not even see you

you knew that he wasn’t good news based from what Aomine told you and from watching that unpleasant game… he was bad, bad news

why did you think he wasn’t gonna see you? his senses are as sharp as a falcon, scrutinizing you before he realizes your identity

“Oh? Now what’s a pretty little thing like you doing out here… all alone?”

“I, um, I was looking for someone, but I realized it’s been getting a little too late… I think they returned back to the stadium, so that’s where I’m heading…”

your voice slowly diminishes to a soft whisper by the end, but judging from his widened eyes from glee, you knew he wasn’t going to walk past by you after this

“That so?” he drawls, licking his thumb. “The stadium ya say?”

something about his gaze turned sharp and dangerous, “the stadium” triggering unadulterated rage and frustration from the game and from his encounter with Aomine

“I… I really gotta leave,” you say in a hurry, quickly backing up. “Th-They’re impatient, so—”

“Huh?” he mocks, leaning closer to you. “I’m kinda of an impatient guy myself, yeah?” but upon even closer inspection, he realizes that he’s seen you somewhere very recently

“Hm?” he muses lowly. “Weren’t ya sitting with Daiki that game?” when you don't answer out of fear, his eyes merely shine with excitement… “Ohhhh… is that how it is?”

. . .

Aomine returns back to his seat after settling a score with Haizaki outside the stadium, but immediately becomes confused when he sees your seat empty

Sakurai immediately apologizes and quickly informs him that you went out to look for him, and Aomine immediately dashes back out… after all, who knows if you got lost in the dark or if you kept being persistent in looking for him?

imagine his visible distress when he sees Haizaki putting an arm around your shoulder while still holding his shoes and you looking absolutely fearful because you knew what he was capable of

this was a very rare moment where Aomine was not so calm and collected

but he tries to, especially when he knows that Haizaki probably relishes in the fact of “getting revenge” for that punch earlier (and probably realized the connection between you and Aomine to do so)

“Hey, asshat,” he calls out, grabbing Haizaki’s attention away from you, but Aomine notices him pulling you slightly closer to his body. “The fuck you think you’re doing with (y/n)?”

“Hehh? So (y/n)’s your name?” Haizaki merely pays attention to you, completely ignoring Aomine

“Back off,” he says lowly, almost to a growl. “I won’t be holding myself back to just a punch this time if you do anything else.”

at his hardened glare, Haizaki does a gleeful mock-surprise expression before putting his arm off of you and says: “Whoaaa there, Daiki. Never pegged you as that typa guy.”

he licks his thumb before walking away casually without a care in the world before calling out, “It ain’t fun here anymore, I’m bouncin’ out.”

by the time he leaves Aomine’s field of vision, he finally releases a pent-up sigh before calling out your name:

“... Come’ere… he didn’t do anythin’ to you right? Sheesh, I leave you alone for one second—alright, alright I guess it was more than a second… fine, it was several minutes… look, I’m sorry… okay, okay quit lecturing me… more importantly, promise me you don’t go out alone like that. It’s dangerous out there, y’know.”

when you finally ask about what he meant by his threat to Haizaki, he smugly replies, “Aw, that? I gave him a hard sock earlier. Went down pretty easily.”

Murasakibara Atsushi

it’s quite rare that Murasakibara would agree to going to Tokyo temporarily over break, let alone leave his house, but here you two are, resting on the park benches in Tokyo

shortly after, you went to the nearest arcade hall, begging and tugging him along with you to try the strength test for the jackpot prize (totally using his physique to nab home prizes and merch LOL)

he only agreed because you looked way too excited for him to turn the plan down

he still enjoyed himself, if he was being honest; it’s just you, him, his snacks, and some games you both are playing together

Murasakibara notices that the arcade also has a mini food court to the side, and he immediately pouts at you to let him go tasting galore on a food binge

and you laugh, telling him to “hurry up” to tease him and letting him know that you were staying here to try to earn more points to exchange for rewards at the end

you entered a coin into the slot and hummed before seeing a START screen, but as soon as it went black into a loading screen you saw someone’s reflection on it

Haizaki was right behind you

“Whaddya know? Would ya look at that?” he says, hands in his pockets while sneering. “If it isn’t (y/n).”

you merely pretended that you didn’t hear him, considering that the arcade was pretty crowded and noisy, and went on to playing the game in front of you

you hoped that by the time you were done with the round, he’d be gone, but his reflection was very much still there on the arcade machine screen, depicting his laid-back posture against the back of another arcade machine, watching you with complete amusement

after spending all the available coins on hand and still sensing him behind you, you promptly turned to your left to head for the coin machine and acted completely casual, but before you got too far ahead, Haizaki easily blocks your path with an outstretched arm, the hand against the arcade machine

“Whoaaa,” he drawls. “That’s pretty fucked up for you to ignore me like that.”

“... You’re blocking the way, so can you please kindly let me pass?” you flatly say, not bothering to look at his face

“What’s with the cold shoulder?” He tilts his head with a crazed look in his eyes that spelled unpredictability. “I just came and stopped by to say hello to an old friend from Teiko. Nothin’ wrong with that, hm?”

“Look,” you sigh. “You’re in the way, and I wish to spend my time here left alone. No, I’m not interested in small talk. No, I’m not in the mood for a bite with you. No, I don’t want to give you my number. Did I address everything?” you finally turned your face to look at Haizaki, but his face contorts to one of a dangerous beast

“Good, good…” he slowly says. “You haven’t changed one bit, haven’t ya? I was wonderin’ where that feisty side of yours went.”

perhaps you shouldn’t have spoken up after all; it only riled him up more

before you can formulate any further thoughts, he grabs your chin and directed it towards him, and you immediately froze up

you tried to dart your eyes around you if anyone noticed, but no one seems to pay attention

“What’s the matter?” he asks. “Cat got ya tongue?” when he looks to where your gaze was at, he chuckles before drawing closer to your face. “No one’s gonna help… not when they think we’re a little thing…”

but he instantly feels a heavy hand on his shoulder, and Haizaki turns around, ready to cuss the perpetrator out, but his eyes widen when he sees a furious Murasakibara

a giant with a very, very hostile aura… even nearby crowds dispersed out of fear for their safety

“Hands off of (y/n)-chin, pest.”

“Oho?” Haizaki releases your face and completely turns around to face him. “Well if it isn’t Atsushi… been a while hasn’t it?” he brings up a hand in a shrugging motion. “While I’d love to chat, I’m busy. Scram.”

“Touch (y/n)-chin again, and I’ll break all of your fingers.”

“Huh?” Haizaki licks his right thumb. “What’s up with ya? It’s non’ya business.”

you took this as an opportunity to run to Murasakibara’s side and seek shelter behind his back, which Haizaki raises a defiant brow

“Hmmm?” he smiles a slow smirk. “Was I really such bad company, (y/n)?”

his smile was completely wiped when he sees Murasakibara’s outstretched hand towards his head, and he deftly dodges his grasp before he walks off with a scoff

“I’m gonna crush him—”

“W-Wait! Just leave him be…” you held onto his torso in a full-attempt to stop him from going too far, and after a few moments, he relaxes with body and finally turns to face you

he doesn’t say anything but darts his eyes all over your figure to make sure there weren’t any injuries on you

he gently holds your hand before he tugs you to follow him to the food court

“Murasakibara…?”

“... You won’t be separated from me if we hold hands, (y/n)-chin.”

“I’m fine, you know.”

he doesn’t say anything more, and when you both settled into your table with your orders, he’s constantly staring at you and giving nonverbal cues that he wants to do PDA with you

becomes very protective and affectionate of you for the rest of the trip

grows very quiet and deep in thought until you reassure him that you were okay because of him stepping in to save you

Akashi Seijuro

it’d be extremely rare for you to ever bump into Haizaki, especially when the only chance you can see him is during the annual Winter Cup

Winter Cup arrives once again with the GoMs being 2nd years this time, and Akashi is still the same Oreshi ever since last Winter Cup

Haizaki definitely had seen you walking with Akashi very closely before the opening ceremony started, and it gave him ideas on how to “get back” against Akashi without directly confronting him

he was gonna mess with you

even after all those years, he still has that grudge against Akashi; the fact that he is one of the few people who has that power over him irritates him to no end

even when Akashi told Haizaki to quit long ago to help him save face, his pride was still heavily bruised

when he was sure Akashi wasn’t with you, he approached you while you were waiting outside the stadium

. . .

Akashi exits out of the locker rooms and carries his duffel bag before he heads to the entrance to greet you, excited in reuniting with you to talk about today’s games and your opinion on Rakuzan’s performance… that is, until what he saw made him beyond furious

“O-Ow…!”

“If ya want someone to blame for,” Haizaki sneers. “Ya can thank Akashi for messin’ with me, yeah? Don’t take it too hard babe, but I’m just returnin’ the favor… by proxy.”

Akashi strides over to the two of you with the intensity of death that would even surprise Bokushi himself

“Haizaki.”

at the sound of his eerily calm voice, Haizaki turns over to Akashi, and his glee is immediately wiped off his face and replaced with one of anger… and hidden fear

he suddenly drops you from his chokehold, and as you hit the ground, coughing to intake air, he turns to Akashi with a vengeful look

after a suffocating staredown between the two, Haizaki tuts and turns to leave in unspoken defeat, knowing full well the consequences from defying against Akashi; it’s something he never did in Teiko and certainly not something he would risk doing now

Akashi immediately drops his cold facade and rushes over to your side, rubbing your back and examining the slight bruises on your neck

his HIGHEST priority at that very moment was your safety, and he decided to take you to a doctor and then to your home, opting to cancelling/rescheduling any plans for today despite your objections

all the while, he coos softly at you and touches you with such care and gentleness that you managed to calm your heartbeat from that sudden attempt of assault

as soon as he feels like you’re safe, mentally and physically (and probably in a safe environment with either a GoM or at your own home), he reveals his true emotions on his face regarding the incident for the first time when he’s alone

being super considerate about your current mental state, he didn’t want to potentially scare you even more with his anger and much more negative emotions

for the first time, he allows his darker thoughts to simmer and stir… it’s one of those rare times where he wishes that Bokushi still existed within him

he eventually finds time to pay a visit to Fukuda Sōgō… to make nice… threats conversation

if you somehow figured out that he was going to do that, only when you convinced him is when he’ll decide to back down

but that’s only IF you figured out about how Akashi really felt about this…

[mlmxreader]

We Become The Night | Frank Castle x m!reader

@satan-incarnate-666 asked: may i pls request a frank castle x male reader fic inspired by We Become The Night by Motionless In White pls pls!!

summary: you and Frank have been through a lot together, it’d only make sense that there’s something you both really need to address. 

tws: swearing, mentions of violence 

word count: 1019

lyrics are in italics 

We become the night

The rich get richer while the sick get sicker

The profits from the people feed the poor another needle

The flames get bigger while the moths all shiver

They're subsidising evil with no budget for a sequel

You and Frank got along well, you believed in a lot of the same things and you were angry about the same fucking bullshit that you had to endure day in day out, the same fucking bullshit every decent person had to go through while the politician cunts and the rich cunts pushed people to their limits, to starvation and to fucking dying; you made a good team, too, with your skill with knives and hand to hand combat, and his military training, you made a damn good team, and if he was honest… well, if he was honest, Frank would have said that he would have liked for you to be his boyfriend one day. 

The Prozac's gift wrapped with a smile

The cash grab never goes out of style

Your flashbacks givin' you a panic attack

When your eyes go pitch black

When it came to the unsavoury things, the nightmares, the flashbacks, the PTSD in general, you were always there for Frank at the drop of a hat, unflinching and unwavering, more like an anchor than anything else; you were always there for him, and in return, he had always tried to be there for you, too. When you told Frank about how some guy had harassed you for daring to exist as a queer man, he handled it; granted, not cleanly, and certainly not with words, but he handled it. He was there, just as you were. 

We become the night

Where hope survives

We embrace the shadow following behind

So come alive, and take back your soul

While we become the night

In the cover of night, you and Frank brought hope to people when hope felt like a privilege long gone, shadows that would come alive and would breathe the hope back into people with each trigger pulled and each blade slashed through a throat; you did what Daredevil or that Spider-Prick were too scared to do. You were the night, you were the hope. 

They pull the trigger like a cold heart killer

But then they play the victim to manipulate the system

They synthesise reality to sell what you don't need

They drain us of our portion just to paint another portrait

“They’re doing it again, Frankie,” you told him with a hum. “Cold hearted killer Frank Castle.” 

“Don’t listen to that shit,” he growled, “they fucking play the victim and manipulate the system to their own whims. They take everything people got for their own. Don’t listen to that shit - it’s like listening to Piers Morgan.” 

The Prozac's gift wrapped with a smile

The cash grab never goes out of style

We're cutting the ties with the knives in our back

When your eyes go pitch black

“That cunt is still on my list,” you mused, tossing the newspaper aside. All owned by the same bigoted fuck anyway. You brought your feet up onto the table, tilting your head to the side as you looked at Frank with a smile. “It’s all just a fucking cash grab, anyway. They use your name and people buy their shit. What a bitch of a situation is that, huh?”

Frank dared to laugh as he nodded. “I keep telling you, (y/n), I could put a knife in your back, and if I do, you best use it to cut all ties with me.” 

We become the night

Where hope survives

We embrace the shadow following behind

So come alive, and take back your soul

While we become the night

“I’m not doing that,” you huffed, shaking your head. “After all we’ve done? Really? Frank, it’s because of us - mostly you, but still us - that people have hope again. Have you seen the people who go out on the street at night? They’re not scared of some fucking shadow following behind them, and it’s because of us.” 

Creatures crawling out from Hell with

Vengeance in our hearts

As the hourglass becomes your reaper

We've come to take what's ours

“We do make a good team,” he agreed gruffly, leaning back on the bed and bringing one leg up, resting a book against his upright thigh as he opened it and huffed. Fuck it, he might as well say it now. “You ever wonder if things would be different between us?”

“What’d you mean?” You asked, raising a brow. “You mean if we didn’t go out and get vengeance every night or-” 

“I meant if we… got into a different kinda relationship,” he replied, not taking his eyes off of his book for fear of how you would look at him. He clenched his jaw, sighing heavily. “Y’know, switch the sand in the hourglass.” 

We become the night

Where hope survives

We embrace the shadow following behind

So come alive, and take back your soul

While we become the night

So run and hide

Screaming out like thunder, lightning cracks the sky

Close your eyes, don't walk towards the light

Yeah, we become the night

We become the night

We become the night

You swallowed thickly, licking your lips; sure, you loved Frank dearly, very dearly, but being his partner in literal crime was a lot different to being his life partner; you clenched your jaw, humming softly as you chewed at the inside of your lip and thought about it. You and Frank were the ones that gave people hope, hope that justice was not unachievable, hope that gangsters and the scum of the fucking earth would run into the shadows at night and would hide somewhere for days on end; gunshots going off like thunder and lightning and the slice of a knife through a throat as blood turned to ice in the winter were a symbol to the people, now. A symbol of justice. You and Frank were a damn formidable team, but… but maybe you did want to be his boyfriend; maybe you did want to be his life partner. Despite the dangers involved with such a thing, maybe you did want that. Badly. 

You nodded slowly. “You don’t think it’d compromise everything we’re working for?”

“No,” Frank admitted quietly. “Do you?”

“Not really,” you admitted quietly, daring to move over to the bed and laying yourself across him as you huffed. His free hand went to your back, and you hummed when he started to use his thumb to draw little patterns into your skin. “Frank… I love you.” 

That felt more like relief to say than anything, but maybe you had just been lurking in the shadows for too long and maybe you had been in the darkness of night for too long. 

Frank only grumbled, nodding slowly and turning the page of his book; you caught a glimpse of the title, and you dared to laugh softly. 

“Jekyll and Hide?” You asked, and when he nodded, you laughed again. “Y’know, I know someone else who is a massive softie on one side, but on another he is the meanest, baddest, most violent son of a bitch alive.” 

His lips turned into a smile as he shook his head and rolled his eyes. “Shut up.” 

“Oh, you’d like to make me,” you teased. “Wouldn’t you, Frankie?”

“I told you to shut up,” he chuckled. “Don’t you ever listen?”

“Not really,” you admitted with a shrug. “I spend too much damn time being quiet. Too much exposure to the night and to the shadows. I gotta let loose.” 

“You’re an idiot,�� he mumbled. “But you’re my idiot.” 

“Your idiot boyfriend.” 

if you liked this fic, REBLOG IT - you SHOULD reblog it; if you don't wanna reblog, then you'll get blocked; reblogging is the BARE MINIMUM. don't just "like", REBLOG

[robininthelabyrinth]

Prompt: JZX is more politically aware, but mostly lonely. When he learns that JGY is his younger brother he's determined to be a good dage. His only examples however, are LXC, who hes not sure is human, WWX who- just- NO, and NMJ, who despite being his sworn brother seems to HATE JGY? So hes on his own. It can't be that hard right? Getting his mom to stop beating JGY is a good start, maybe helping catch up in training? (JGY is about to get so much awkward affection, it mightsave everything.)

ao3

When Jin Zixuan heard for the first time that his father was acknowledging one of his (many) bastards, bringing him home to be recognized as the Jin-er-gongzi, his first reaction was not, as his mother expected, overwhelming rage and disappointment, the way it was for her.

In fact, it was mostly delight – delight, and fear.

He’d known from a young age that he was never going to get any siblings from his mother, and while he’d known in a vague sort of way that his father as a notorious philanderer with bastards aplenty, it hadn’t ever been relevant to his life on account of the fact that none of them were ever acknowledged. He’d assumed that it would always be that way, and for the first twenty years of his life, it was.

Until now.

He was going to have a brother – no, worse. He was going to bea brother, a big brother; that was a position that came with responsibilities. He had to be a good role model, a teacher of all things good and righteous and proper, but also needed to care for them and take care of them – it was, to be perfectly honest, a brand new experience. Through some trick of fate, Jin Zixuan was among the youngest of his cousins and cohorts of his peers; there was something of an age gap between him and the next set of shidi in his sect, and anyway he’d never been expected to care for his shidi in a parental sort of manner – the Jin sect was too concerned with class to allow such closeness without a blood tie to excuse it.

So he was starting, essentially, from scratch.

It might’ve been smoother and more straightforward if he’d met his brother immediately, fresh from the battlefield where all such divisions were blurred and vague; they could have been shield-brothers, that way, and Jin Zixuan might not know much about brothers, but he had fought in a war and knew that much. But his father had whisked Jin Guangyao (and why was it ‘Guangyao’ instead of ‘Ziyao’?) away immediately, insisting that he needed his help with setting up the Phoenix Mountain hunt, so they hadn’t had a chance to meet at that stage. Jin Zixuan realized, of course, that organizing the Phoenix Mountain hunt was a big deal and, probably, a way for his father to show that he trusted his newest son, so he stepped back and kept to himself…well, mostly.

There was that incident with Jiang Yanli.

Either way, though, he didn’t have a chance to get to know Jin Guangyao until they were both back at Jinlin Tower, where the strict rules of etiquette and formality reigned supreme, and when they did Jin Guangyao was perfectly polite and gracious and incredibly fake. It was then that Jin Zixuan realized that he really, truly had no idea how to connect with another person if they weren’t making just about all the effort, and furthermore started to worry that he was being a bad big brother.

Naturally, this called for research.

“Yes, dear,” A-Li said, hiccupping with laughter. She’d agreed to walk in the gardens with him again, and since they were engaged now they could even be left alone – in fact, they were left alone a bit more often than they probably ought to be, which was likely his mother’s hint that children would be better obtained sooner rather than later and little things like marriage dates oughtn’t get in the way of that. “That makes perfect sense. Lots of research. Studious, serious research. What else could you possibly do?”

“You’re laughing at me,” Jin Zixuan said suspiciously. “Definitely at and not with. Have I done something wrong?”

“Not at all! I think it’s quite charming that you think this is the most straightforward way to bond with someone, instead of, say, just going and talking to the person directly – really charming. Delightful. Really! Don’t mind me one bit.” She wiped her eyes. “Now, tell me, who are you planning on talking with first for your ‘research’? Chifeng-zun?”

“No, I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Jin Zixuan said. “I mean, I also thought about him first, since his younger brother is a half-brother as well, but they’ve known each other for ages and ages, haven’t they? Chifeng-zun all but raised his younger brother – he’s more of a parent than a brother! And, well, you know, A-Yao and him…”

“They don’t really get along,” Jiang Yanli agreed. “You’re right, he’s probably not the best person to ask. Who else, then? Zewu-jun?”

“I don’t think I could live up to his example even if he sat down and advised me on how to do it,” Jin Zixuan said sincerely. “I mean, he’s just – you know? He’s perfect.”

“Too perfect,” Jiang Yanli agreed, and that was why he loved her quite so desperately. “Almost like a painting – nice to admire from afar, but a little lifeless up close…anyway, you wouldn’t want Jin-er-gongzi to end up like Hanguang-jun, would you?”

Jin Zixuan most certainly did not want an overly rule-abiding, stiff-faced disciplinarian as a younger brother. No thanks!

“So he’s out,” Jiang Yanli mused. “Who else is left?”

Jin Zixuan coughed. “Meaning no offense,” he said. “But, uh…I don’t think it’d be appropriate…”

“Oh, no, definitely don’t use A-Xian as a role model!” Jiang Yanli appeared mildly alarmed at the thought. “He and A-Cheng love each other, but things were always a little complicated – no, definitely don’t do that.”

Jin Zixuan exhaled in relief: crisis averted.

“Is there anyone else you might ask? I don’t think I know any others of your peers that are older siblings.”

“Not in the Great Sects, no. But anyway, I was thinking…well, I don’t know if it’s a good idea or not –” He wasn’t exactly a strategic genius. “But I was thinking of approaching it from the other direction.”

“Oh?”

“A good older brother is judged primarily by the younger brother, right? If you’re a good older brother on paper but your younger brother hates you, there’s no point. So I was going to ask the younger brothers and see what it was about their older brothers that they liked.”

“An interesting strategy,” Jiang Yanli said.

Jin Zixuan frowned. ‘Interesting’ might be the word most often used when he proposed plans, but it usually didn’t actually mean that the other side agreed with the plan. Certainly Chifeng-zun had said several times that several of his proposed battle tactics were ‘interesting’ and he’d never even once used a single one of them. “What’s wrong with the idea?”

“Oh, nothing, nothing…it’s only…”

“Only what?”

“Think about who you’d be asking,” Jiang Yanli said. “What would Nie-gongzi be likely to say?”

“…probably that a good older brother is one that indulges all his whims, never makes him do anything, and buys him stuff.” Jin Zixuan grimaced. “A-Yao is far too talented for such treatment; he’d think I was being condescending and treating him like a child.”

“Mm, likely yes, I’m afraid. And A-Cheng would probably clam up immediately, refuse to answer, and then, if you did manage to get it out of him, say that a good older brother would be one that was there all the time doing his job.”

“But A-Yao already does his job! If anything, he’s overlyconscientious about it!”

“Exactly.”

“And the only other one to ask is Lan Wangji,” Jin Zixuan realized. “And he won’t say anything at all, because he’s a lump of rock that doesn’t speak!”

Jiang Yanli snorted. It sounded involuntary, distinctly resembled the sound of a pig, and she looked momentarily shocked that the sound had come from her, so he pretended not to notice.

“I’m doomed,” he moaned. “I don’t know how I’m going to do this…A-Li, you must have some other suggestion!”

“Well, I might have one,” she said, and he looked eagerly at her. “It involves you actually having a conversation with A-Yao, though.”

“Oh, well, that’s sure to fail,” Jin Zixuan said, and now she was laughing again. “I mean it!”

“We’ll think of something, I’m sure,” she said, giggling. “Don’t worry. With both of us on the task, I’m sure we’ll get things in proper shape!”

[padme-parker]

Mizpah // the darkling x reader // ch 4

summary: The Darkling and Alina talk. You get a tour of the Little Palace.

warnings: cussing, getting drunk, maybe some violence maybe not. not proof read either </3

AFTER showing you to your room, the Darkling hurried back to Alina. Inside, the sun summoner had been pacing relentlessly. What did he mean we weren’t together? The girl understood that the two had shared nothing more than a kiss. He didn’t owe her anything, so why did she feel like this? Hearing the door swing open made her stop in place.

“Forgive me, Alina.” He started. “But I made a mistake. I shouldn’t have kissed you that night.” Aleksander didn’t know what he was saying. He knew that he had to have the sun summoner by his side, and he didn’t know how to execute his plan if he didn’t have her. Truthfully, there had been some part of him that enjoyed indulging in her. He had convinced himself and Alina that it was them against the world, which he had believed. Until you showed up.

On the contrary, Alina was seething. She didn’t know whether to be angry with herself or the Darkling. “But you said-” She let the words die on the tip of her tongue, she couldn’t recall what he had said exactly. All she knew was that he made a promise that they would save the world, together. Had she interpreted his words and actions wrong, the girl didn’t know. She left Mal, she just let Mal walk out of her life for a man she had known for less than a year. A man who had promised her everything yet nothing. “Saints, I…”

“I really am sorry.” Alina knew something was off, the Darkling never apologized for his actions, deliberate or not. He had no problem taking up lovers in the past, so what had made him change his mind? He seemed so ready to give himself to her.

The sun summoner gave him a weak smile, “No, I understand.” She could feel the tender strings of her heart snapping. How could I let myself fall for someone like him so easily? She began to berate herself. She quickly excused herself, not wanting the Darkling to see the tears threatening to spill out of her eyes. As soon as she shut the door, she paused. Willing herself to calm in order to go to her room. On the other side of the door, the Darkling approached it yearnfully. He had risked everything for a whim.

With a sigh, the Darkling left the war room and headed to his sleeping quarters. He took a short bath before putting on his sleep attire. He found himself falling asleep to the thought that you would soon be in his arms.

-

THE DARKLING had been roused from his sleep, your screams echoing in the barren hall. Hurriedly, he threw open the doors of his room and gathered his oprichniki before entering your room. He ordered his guards to survey your room as he made his way to your trembling figure. He desperately wanted to reach out to you. To take you into his embrace and kiss your forehead until you stopped crying. But he couldn’t, not yet. It was still too soon. After no threat was found, he directed his guards to leave the two of you alone. He finds himself crouching down to you, his hand hovering over yours, asking for permission. He didn’t want to take advantage of you in such a vulnerable state like this.

With the nod of your head, he takes your hands into his, unconsciously rubbing his thumb along the soft skin of your palm. He does his best to subdue the emotion in his face as he sees the raw skin of your neck. His mouth seemed to dry, his throat feeling like the sands of West Ravka. With caution, he traces along the lines of your birthmark, noticing the shudder you had so deeply tried to suppress.

“I can call for Genya, if you’d like that.” You knew what he was insinuating. As humiliated as you were by it growing up, you wouldn’t get rid of it or try to hide it. Not anymore, not ever again.

“No.” You said sternly. The sunlight had completely changed the way your room looked. In turn you observed how the rays of light painted your room in a warm, welcoming tone. You had managed to finally calm yourself, his presence oddly enough brought you comfort. You should’ve been scared of General Kirigan, The Darkling, Starless Saint, or whatever it was he went by. He was a ruthless man who was willing to do anything he could to end the war. But was that not a good thing? You asked yourself. He would risk everything to end the war. Ravka needs someone like him. He certainly did far more for your country than the King ever did.

A realization came over you as you stared at him, a smile coming to your lips. “I think it’s time for that tour you promised me.” The Darkling lent his hand out to you, and you gladly took it. You dusted yourself off, pretending like nothing had happened. “Give me a second to get dressed.” Without waiting for his reply, you took the same undershirt and trousers from yesterday, and changed in the bathroom. Before leaving the room, you made sure to throw your raggedy soldier’s jacket over your shoulders.

The Darkling started with the obvious, his sleeping quarters and the war room. He had told you how the sleeping quarters connected to his war room wasn’t actually his bedroom. He found it too much of a hassle to move from the war room to all the way down the hall in order to sleep every night. The next room he showed you was his own, but he never granted you entrance.

“I don’t go in there often, it reminds me of..” His eyes briefly met yours, he cleared his throat and looked away. “..someone.” There was a flash of something, some emotion, that you couldn’t pinpoint. But if one thing was clear, whoever this person was really hurt him. You tried not to press on further as the curiosity got the best of you.

“I didn’t peg you as someone who would settle for a relationship.” You said as he started to lead you away from his room.

“I’m not.” He said solemnly. You could tell he wanted to say more. That there was something that wanted to escape his lips, but he didn’t allow those words to leave them. He took his time explaining the halls and rooms of the Little Palace.

“This is where the Corporalki practice, I don’t recommend going inside.” He stated. Their practice room had no windows, unlike the many other rooms within the Little Palace. You could only imagine the horrid smell in there. Perhaps they convinced a squaller to air it out once in a while.

The next room he took you to was where they all gathered to eat. He told you how Grisha were separated into their own tables. The Darkling had sat in the middle, while the Corporalki and Etherealki were seated to the right and left of him. However, it wasn’t often he made an appearance here. He usually ate in his war room.

After showing you the inside, he then took you outdoors towards the garden. He had managed to avoid large crowds inside, but due to nearly everyone training outdoors, there had been some people who stopped and stared as you walked past. The lake had begun to freeze, some Grisha ice skating on the shallow side where the ice froze first. The others had been practicing their magic. It had mainly been the Etherealki who practiced outdoors. Eventually everyone had to come outdoors though to train with Botkin.

“Perhaps I could train with him too?” You asked. Afterall, you were in the First Army. It would be a waste to sit in the palace and do nothing while you could be training and brushing up on your skills.

“If that’s what you want, sure. All Grisha are permitted from using their powers while training with Botkin. I can assure that you’ll be given a fair fight.”

“Oh, I won’t be the one needing a fair fight.” You mused, peering at your knuckles, remembering all the fights you had gotten into at Keramzin after Alina and Mal came. You’d come a long way from that damned orphanage.

“Well, I guess that concludes our tour of the Little Palace for now.” The two of you walked aimlessly, trying to make conversation. Out of the corner of your eye you spotted a small hut, encapsulated by the trees.

“What’s over there?” You asked. The Darkling looked in the direction you had pointed to before swiftly leading you away.

“That's where Grisha go to train one on one with a teacher.” He explained. “I have a meeting to get to, but I can walk you to Alina’s room if you’d like.” The Darkling had hoped you accepted his offer, and tried to hide his disappointment when you had told him you’d like to walk there on your own. As you left, the Darkling kept his gaze on you the whole time. And if only you had turned once, you would see the longing he had so desperately tried to keep back.

The walk back to Alina’s room had been uneventful since Grisha were off training, including Alina. As you return to her room, you traversed about. You were sure she wouldn’t mind you looking around. You and Alina had grown accustomed to sharing most things while growing up. Everything from food, toys, even to Mal. As you neared her desk, you noticed a red book that she failed to hide. The cover had a beautiful gold design and lettering on it, Istorii Sankt’ya, it displayed.

“The Lives of Saints.” You whispered as you flipped through the pages. You were confused as to why Alina had this, she was never one to believe in the Saints growing up. Surely there was no way she had converted to a believer in a matter of months. Then again, faith was a strong thing that could cause Kingdoms to rise and fall. You’d heard of the whispers, some calling her Sankta Alina. As you continued to flip through the pages, you abruptly stopped, one of the images catching your eyes.

Depicted was an image of Sankt Ilya in chains. Behind the Saint was a white serpent that splashed in the waters. At his feet was the stag you’d been tasked with tracking down. And in the background behind the Saint’s left shoulder was a bird. Your fingers traced over the antlers of the Stag, trying to recall why you’d been tasked with tracking it in the first place. You’d heard about all the myths. The Stag, the Sea Whip, and the Firebird. If the Stag had been more than a myth, more than a children’s story, then did that mean the Sea Whip and the Firebird were real too? If so, what could the Darkling possibly want with them.

The sound of approaching footsteps startled you, making you drop the book in your hands onto the desk. You quickly seated yourself on the chair in front of the mirror, trying to seem inconspicuous. Alina came in through the doors alone.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t my sun summoner. How are you my friend?” You played off, which Alina squinted her eyes at.

“What do you want, y/n?” The question made you roll your eyes, letting out a huff as you got up from the chair.

“What, I can’t visit my friend while I’m staying as a guest here?” You noticed the furrow of her brows, reminding you of the conversation that you, the Darkling, and Alina had last night. “What happened to Mal? Why’d he leave?” You whispered, knowing she was still hurt from the events that took place.

“I.. He..” She began, the whimpering in her voice evident. “We got into an argument, he told me I had changed since I left. That the kefta and jewels made me different. He told me that he saw how the Darkling looked at me. One thing led to another, and then he just left.” She explained, a single tear falling from her eye.

“Did you?” You asked, “Did you like the way he looked at you?” You clarified. Your eyes never leaving hers as she stared at you.

“I thought I did. There was something that was luring me to him. I thought I wanted to be with the Darkling, and then something changed within him. Maybe I took his words the wrong way. But either way you're the only person I have left now. Mal is… gone. The Darkling probably only wants me here to get rid of the fold.” She sighed. You tugged her into her grasp, feeling her body let out small sobs.

“Mal will come back to us, he always does.” You assured while stroking her hair. “Now can we get something to eat, I’m starving.” She let out a laugh as she wiped away her tears. She walked towards a bell that had been sitting upon a tray. She rang it once, signaling a servant. Right after, a young servant had knocked on the door. Alina had promptly opened it and asked for a meal for two to be brought to her room. The servant obliged, bowing before leaving once more.

Soon after the servant had returned with a cart full of food. She served you several small plates of Zakuski, a pitcher of Kvas, along with some pickled herring on top of crackers. You grimaced at the selection placed in front of you.

“Well they’re certainly feeding you ...something.” You giggled. You gravitated towards the Zakuski as your other hand went to pour a glass of Kvas.

“The General orders we have a balanced diet, or something like that.” She replied. “Since when do you drink?”

“Ever since I got stationed at Caryeva.” You shuddered thinking about your time there. “It was my only escape. I remember that night, it was a quiet night, but it didn’t stop the Shu from attacking and capturing Grisha.” The words seemed to just slip from your mouth, it was the first time Alina had heard about what your time was like down in Caryeva. “I tried to fight back, to help the Second Army. Hell, I even suggested that they take me with them. But they spared me because I wasn’t Grisha. Of course I didn’t come out unscathed.” You said, referring to the scars she’d seen yesterday. “And ever since then, I’ve been drinking because why the fuck not.” You raise your glass in a toast before downing it in one go. You reached for the pitcher again as Alina began to talk about her experience here.

“It wasn’t easy at first. It still isn’t. Some of them still don’t believe I’m a sun summoner, that I’m doing some kind of illusion. But surely the Darkling would’ve killed me if I wasn’t what I claimed he was.”

“Can I see it?” You interrupted, while you only got a glimpse of her at the fete, you had yet to see her powers one to one. In an instant, the room is filled with a bright light. You set down the Kvas in order to shield your eyes. A smile came onto your lips, “I can’t believe it, my best friend is the sun summoner.”

“Whenever you return to the First Army, you can’t mention that you know me. Someone will use that against us and try to get us both killed.” She warned, “While we're on that topic, how long will you be staying?”

“Well, he did say I could stay for as long as I’d like; as long as you permitted it.” You said, taking another gulp of your Kvas. You could feel it begin to take its effect, a slight warmth blooming throughout your body while your cheeks were tinted with a light blush. Time seemed to pass quickly as the two of you continued to catch each other up on what the other had missed. Soon enough the moonlight had taken over, leaving you with nothing but candles and lanterns to light up the room. And Alina of course.

“Alright, I think it’s time I head back.” You announced, getting up from your chair seemed to be a difficult task made obvious by the wobble in your knees.

“Maybe you should stay here for tonight.” She tried to convince you.

“I think I’m fine, Alina. Besides who would miss out on being able to sleep across the hall from that hunk of a man.” You snickered as Alina stuck her tongue at you. “What, I know a hot man when I see one.” You admitted.

“Yeah well, good luck trying to get into his pants.” She countered, a smirk on her face. She walked you to her door before giving you a quick hug and wishing you goodnight. As soon as she closed the door, you were alone again. Even in a hall filled with people, you had never felt more alone, more out of place. At least with the First Army you were surrounded by fellow soldiers, while here you were surrounded by Grisha who didn’t know you even existed.

The journey back to your room consisted of you constantly hugging the wall for stability. You thought you hadn’t drunk that much but the effect of the Kvas had just started hitting you more harshly. You’d probably woken up a Grisha or two with your annoying giggling while you mumbled to yourself. Before you know it, someone is walking up to you, their arm supporting your waist as they rest your arm atop their shoulders.

“Oh, hello Mr. General, sir.” You tried to salute him, but failed miserably. You could see the corners of his mouth slightly turn up as he tried to fight it.

“I assume you had a good time?” He questioned as he made his way back to your room.

“Yes, it would’ve been better if you were there.” You suggested, wagging your eyebrows. Sooner than you’d like, you arrived at your door. The Darkling gently laid you onto the bed as he went to take off your shoes, leaving them at the foot of your bed. He lit the lantern that had been placed on the side table. Before he could leave, you grabbed his hand.

“Thank you for walking me back. Goodnight..” You didn’t know what came over you, but the words left your lips before you could even think to stop, “..my darkling.”

If you had stayed awake for a few more seconds, you would’ve seen the genuine smile that came to his face. His fingers stroking your hair, tucking some behind your ear.

“Goodnight, my darling.”

-

A/N: sorry this took so long lol. I was quite busy over the weekend. I usually post every other day. But my question is if y'all like shorter, more frequent updates, or longer updates. Obviously the longer updates wouldn’t be posted every other day. Most likely once a week though. However I enjoy writing and posting every other day because it keeps me motivated. 

Mizpah tag: @all-art-is-quite-useless @devilxangel @musicconversedance @parabatai-winchester @runawayolives @tartiflvtte @rbg1933 @thatguppienamedbae @batgal96 @thebarisinhell99 @5hundreddaysofsummer @kaqua @queenseneschal @benbarnes-supremacy @princessofpersia96 @takethee @dontjinx-it @freakytillthemoon @amortentiaaaa @marvel-ousnesss @coolninjavoid @areomalfoy @pansysgirlfriend @universalirwin @leavejuliaalone @xx-winwin-wednesday-xx @honeyofthegods @lunamyangel @d-list-goddess @comphersjost@telepathdestiel @the-celestial-kitsune @thestoryofmylife9 @s-corpionem @pancakeisreading @sanna2020 @secretsandtinyshadows @savannah-elliott @maliasblue @tea-effect @disneyandharrypotter @futuristicpinklemur @tanyaherondale @the-puff-is-strong-with-this-one @hxgreeves @yourboiialucard @thereeallink @ladyblablabla @wolfieellsworld @p3nny4urth0ught5 @louweasleymalfoy @the-natureofme @itsloveroflife @oddlittleminx @within-thehollowcrown @itsfangirlmendes @heyyimlaynna @jgtfvhsg @gloriousmoneyrascalbiscuit @auggie2000 @itsnotquimey @jtownraindancer @sonnensplitter​ @sarcastic-and-cool​ @poulterfilms​ @spookybooisa​ @stickyknightflowerbailiff​ @hollandsweetie​

S.a.B. forever tag: @deceivedeer

[atlabeth]

hold onto me (im a little unsteady) - sokka x reader

i was listening to the song when i came up w this so feel free to listen to that if you want

summary: a late night with sokka reminds you that even on the worst days, you always have someone in your corner.

a/n: lmao this is 100% self indulgent i have no excuses. my parents are getting divorced and almost every time they're together they argue and so this is just a comfort fic after it happened again tonight bc GD i wish i had a sokka. this one goes out to all my divorce babies or people with parents that never stop arguing. you are very loved<3

wc: 1.7k, this got away from me lol

warning(s): mentions of parents arguing n shit, like the tiniest mentions of implying sex and problems with consent (in general, not with them), but this is all fluff

hey. i know you’re probably asleep right now but could you come over?

It was far too late at night when you sent the text. A question asked on a whim, an offer that would most likely go ignored due to the boy on the other end being asleep.

But goddammit, you really didn’t care. Even if he didn’t respond, just hitting ‘send’ made you feel slightly better. You had already taken refuge in one of the sweatshirts he had left at your house (read: one that you had stolen and refused to give back) and as your eyes fell on the glow of the digital clock on your bedside table, you were once again reminded of how stupid this was.

But you heard the telltale buzz of a notification and all but lunged for your phone, an uncontrollable smile tugging on your lips. You didn’t know why you ever doubted him.

sokka💙: you know i never sleep babe

sokka💙: a curse of my genius

sokka💙: im omw

you’re the best thank you love<3

A pair of fuzzy socks and a refilled water bottle later, you heard the sound of something hitting your window. Though you tensed up at first, a roll of your eyes was all it took before you remembered just who you had invited over. Another smile took over as you pushed yourself off of your bed, pushing the curtains aside in time to see another pebble hit the pane.

A physical effort took place to stifle the laugh as you pushed your window up, and you leaned against the sill on your elbows to get a better look at your ridiculous boyfriend.

“Throwing rocks at my window? I think I’m stuck in a bad romcom.”

He grinned and let the remaining pebbles fall to the ground. “It’s what’s to be expected from your Prince Charming, right? Besides, I’m assuming that your parents wouldn’t just let me walk through the front door at this hour.”

You felt the heat rise to your cheeks. Just the sight of Sokka was always enough to make you feel better, and tonight was no exception. The vice on your heart was already starting to loosen. “Right as usual. Think you’ll catch me if I jump?”

He laughed and made a show of looking up and down the distance and then at his arms. “I’d like to say so, but I think we’d have better luck if I climb up.”

“You sure you can do that, big guy?” you asked with a teasing grin. He rolled his eyes with the same sentiment.

“Of course I can. I just thank nature that there’s a tree so close to your window. It’s saved me from a lot of embarrassing falls.”

You chuckled and backed away from the window, the slight chill from the night air beginning to get to you. “I’ll leave you to it while I get things ready.”

Truth be told, your room was a total mess at the moment. You knew Sokka wouldn’t care, especially not now, but it put you slightly more at ease to have something in your life that you could control. You were in the middle of shoving some previously strewn-about clothes into your closet when you heard the click of your window closing. When you turned around, you were met with your boyfriend’s smiling face.

“You’re so pretty,” you murmured as you walked over to him. He wrapped his arms around your waist as you kissed him lightly on the lips, unable to stop the blossoming smile nor the warmth that the action gave you. “Thank you for being here.”

“Of course.” The softness of his words were in stark contrast to the joking bravado from only minutes earlier, and as you stepped away from his embrace and pushed yourself onto your bed, he joined you on the other side. “And not that I’m not happy to be here, but I just wanna know. What’s going on?”

You sighed, letting one leg hang off the bed as you tucked the other in. It was a testament to Sokka’s power how quickly he had gotten you to forget about the new mess of the night. “The usual showing of fuckall and fuckup. I’m more impressed by how they never run out of things to scream at each other about.”

Your bad joke didn’t get a laugh out of him, which you were secretly glad for. Instead, he snaked an arm around your back and tugged you closer, a contented sigh falling from your lips as you nestled your head into the space between his shoulder and his head. “I’m sorry,” he murmured. “You know it’s not your fault, right?”

The phrase had gone in one ear and out the other more times than you could count from your parents, but each time Sokka said it, the words held a different weight. You knew it wasn’t your fault in the first place, but guilt didn’t care all that much for logic. You knew he meant it though, and once more the vice loosened.

“I know. But it still helps to hear it.” You glanced up at him, reaching a hand up to twist a loose strand of his hair around your finger. “You should wear your hair down more often,” you mused. “It makes you look like a prince.”

He chuckled, amusement glinting through his ocean eyes. “I did say I was your Prince Charming, didn’t I?”

You smiled, slowly uncurling his hair from your finger. “Yeah.”

“That means I’ll always be there for you. Especially to save my royal from their evil stepparents.”

Another laugh bubbled in your chest at that, and you leaned closer into him. “Thank you. The more I visit your place, the more I want your family to be mine. Hakoda is like, the nicest man I’ve ever met, and your mom? She actually makes me want to cry with how sweet she is. I think I know where you get it from.”

He grinned and bumped your leg with his own. “You know you’re welcome over there any time. But maybe you shouldn’t — I think my mom might actually adopt you with how much she loves you. That… that would be really weird.”

His joy was infectious as you planted another kiss on his cheek, something that earned you a, as you liked to call it, dazzling Signature Sokka Smile. “I’ll make sure she holds off on the adoption papers for now.”

“I’d like that.”

And though the happiness you felt at the moment was almost overwhelming, that was just what caused that tiny sliver of doubt to come in. When people invited their partners over at three in the morning, it usually wasn’t to sit on the bed and talk about their problems. It was… it was for more, and you didn’t want that right now. And because you were an expert at it, you decided to put your foot in your mouth and start talking.

“I— I’m sorry that I called you over here so late, for no reason. I know you probably expected something else than me ranting, but…” you sighed, drawing your knees closer to your chest as you brought your other hand to Sokka’s resting on your shoulder. “I’m sorry if I gave you the wrong idea.”

He sighed at that, but you knew it wasn’t one of disappointment. “You know I’m here for you. I don’t care if you just want to sit in silence for the next five hours while we stare at the wall, or if you want to watch sappy rom coms until your eyes bleed. I’m more than okay with staying like this. I didn’t come over here because I expected anything from you — I came over here because you needed me, and so I’m here.” Sokka smiled, an image you didn’t think would ever stop making you melt, and intertwined your hand with his. “This is perfect. You’re perfect.”

You were so stunned at the brazen declaration that your voice got stuck in your throat for a moment, holding back tears. (Happy tears. They were never anything other than happy tears with Sokka.) It hit you then that you didn’t really know what it was like having someone get close to you without an ulterior motive.

“Thank you,” you murmured after a moment of comfortable silence. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” You knew he was smiling, even without having to look up at him. You could hear it in his voice, feel it in the kiss he pressed to your hairline.

A comfortable silence hung in the air for a long time until you broke it. “You know… my dad kinda ran off to a motel for the night after this whole thing, and my mom leaves early in the morning. If you were serious about those rom coms…” You allowed the unsaid question of staying the night to fester so Sokka knew he could say no if he wanted to, but he didn’t even hesitate.

“Of course I was serious. I mean, I’ve gotta get the ideas for our future wedding from somewhere.”

You laughed, a sentiment that had occurred more times in the ten minutes he had been here than the past week, and picked the remote for your little box TV off of your bedside table. You clicked through various movies until you found one Sokka liked, and then you cuddled deeper into his side to prepare for the ride you had ahead of you.

Thirty minutes into 27 Dresses, he had fallen asleep, arm still around you and one of his legs slightly intertwined with one of your own. But it’s not like you minded — the familiar weight of Sokka in your bed had caused all your worries to melt away, if only for the night.

You didn’t expect him to last past the first movie, but you were sure you would at least get through until Katherine Heigl got the man. But there was an overwhelming feeling of safety permeating the air with Sokka’s arms around you, and you ended up knocked out before she could even get through all twenty seven dresses.

It wasn’t lost on you how fortunate you were — he didn’t expect anything like that from you, he just wanted you to be safe. He was there for you. You would never understand how you had gotten so lucky with your boyfriend, but you would never stop being grateful for him.

-

this is the most self indulgent thing ive ever written and i am NOT sorry

perm tags: @dv0412 @siriuslyslyslytherin @maruchan77

atla tags: @marianne1806 @brown-eyed-thang @akiris

[goggles-mcgee]

In your Wish Me Away, what did Adrien expect regarding the wish? Bc you mentioned that he had to correct the "wrong" reality. Also does little Mari bake whenever there's a celebration like a birthday? If you don't mind, can I see some more shenanigans in Ivy's Sapling and Wish me Away? If it's alright for you.

Adrien expected his mother to come back, for their family to be complete once again and for basically things to be perfect with him going to school, him having his "perfect" complete family, and being in a relationship with Ladybug.

Then the Wish was made and his perfect reality was wrong and he has the determination to fix it but he has no idea where to start or how to start especially with his mother being as protective and suspicious as she was.

Mari does bake! It hurts at the beginning because it does remind her of her old parents but her new family all show her new recipes, their favorite recipes, and baking becomes a new favorite beautiful thing for her again.

Ivy's Sapling Shenanigans/Headcanons

• Ivy gave Mari the serum she gave Harley when she was a baby because she wanted her daughter to be as safe as possible, for if, IF, anyone found out about her and tried to hurt her using toxins, poisons, the like.

• Fascinatingly, despite Mari not being her birth daughter, she seems to have some sway and connection to and over the Green.

• When Marigold was 2 she kept saying strawberry over and over, when Ivy turned to see she saw, she actually saw her daughter GROW a strawberry plant full of ripe berries ready for picking. She was shocked needless to say.

• Mari was very smart, at two she knew so much already, so along with reviewing counting to ten and her abcs, Ivy had to work with Mari on her powers and seeing how much control over the Green she has.

• When Mari comes back to Gotham to move back in with her mom and Harley it takes a while for Marigold to open up to her mother about everything that happened in Paris. When she does, Harley and Ivy are ready to level the City of "Love"

• Ivy doesn't know how to feel about her daughter being some kind of Guardian to the kwami but she understands that her daughter seems to be the only one fit for the job and the only one willing to treat the kwami as "people" and not just creatures at her and other's disposal.

• When Ivy finds out Mari made a friend in Gotham she was ecstatic! Her little sapling was getting out of her shell and blossoming! And then she found out the friend was Damian Wayne and she didn't know how to feel.

• Marinette/Marigold does look a bit different than from Canon in this AU, her hair is naturally curly like Pamela's, it is still black with an "unnaturally" blue hue to it. Her eyes are more grey-blue than bluebell, but when she's transformed as Ladybug her eyes turn vibrant blue and her hair turns red like her mother's.

• Marinette only told her few friends she was leaving Paris so when it came out that she not only transferred but moved? Oh the akuma class blew up. They accused her of abandoning them while some were saying good riddance, it was a whole shebang.

• Bruce found out Damian's new friend was Marigold Isley-Chen and he honestly didn't know how to act, especially when Ivy told him what happened to her daughter in Paris. He had to talk her down from actually going to Paris and maybe making some more fertilizer for her dear plants.

• Mari loves gardening as much as she does fashion and is makes a lot of designs based off plants!

• Gabriel Agreste and Audrey Bourgeois both are pissed when the talented designer Marinette leaves Paris without a word. Audrey because she stayed in Paris with the hopes the girl would work with her since she hadn't wanted to move to NY, and Gabriel because he wanted to make her into an akuma and he saw potential in her skill as a designer so he is very mad at one muse, Lila Rossi for running the girl out of Paris.

• Marinette continues designing in Gotham while doing online school but she does change her label from MDC Designs to Xuiying Designs, she does notify all her clients but does ask they don't tell anyone that she is one and the same designer.

• Jagged does end up moving back home to Gotham when he learns that Mari moved, and when he learns what happened he is all for team revenge! He does take Luka and Juleka with him though as Anarka told all of them that he was their father, it was a shock to all and they all wanted to get to know each other. He didn't just pack up and leave Paris on a whim and just tag his children along, they all sat down and spoke about the situation for a long time before they all figured it would be best for Juleka and Luka to get away from Hawkmoth as a whole and Jagged was taking a break from touring and everything so it was perfect.