#can't remember most of my exes names but I can tell you about my various best friends' interests and hobbies from age 5

[lunod]

It's interesting how my platonic relationships tend to mean way more to me than any other kind of relationship. I have such a deep love for some people that I am not remotely romantically interested in and that love runs way deeper than much of my romantic relationships. Reverse aromantic. Divorcee mindset. Etc.

[joaofelix70]

A CRESCENT LOVE, AN EPHEMERAL PASSION | joão félix sequeira.

summary: you and joão spent all the summer together. you even met his friends and brother. could this be the beginning of a crescent love or just an ephemeral passion? his friendship with his ex would ruin everything between the two of you?

author's notes: after the win against luxemburgo, where portugal national team set the record of goals, his ex just posted "mysterious" pics with floki, his dog. joão was also there, almost hidden, actually. we all know she always does it, never assuming anything maturely, but instigating the frustration of the fans who care about him and to make every gossip website and tv show talk about it, just like a teenager who wants attention would act. basically, this inspired me. i really don't hate anyone, by the way. even thought influencers who don't spread any impactful content and nepobabies with no talent and only standard beauty annoys me, i can't lie.

warnings: bad language (of course it's joão saying the words), chaotically humorous almost all the time, but also involving sadness and angst. implicit sex reference, i guess? maybe?

what do you feel when you hear my name? shame? embarrassment?

does your brain even bring you any sign or memory involving me?

do you ever think about me?

are your moments with her comparable to ours?

can we talk? can we communicate?

is it my fault? do you miss me?

your head was drunk for the whirlwinds of questions that piled up and get bigger, like waves. they seemed to be drowning you. the glowing light and peace of your woody brown gaze gives you triggers. his smile remains embedded, in your heart, an eternal home. the numbness and wrapping of his lips, every inch of his tanned skin and firm muscles being appreciated and admired by you. his hair was shiny, soft and full by the salty waters of the european beaches: always caressed for you. his laughs at you giving him the most silly and lazy hairstyles, with you pretending to be a professional who was filming your customer to tiktok.

“do that pose! yes, your hand against your face! now, give me that playboy eye. just like that! you’re doing amazing, sweetie!”

when you get carried away in the game ‘who am i?’ and tried so hard doing the mimes, jumping excitedly and demonstrating your animation in a loud tone, before covering your own mouth and feigning naturalness, just to repeat the same instant acts.

when you made joão watch your random dances as soon as you won at uno and he’d tell how hilarious you were. when you cooked your regional foods and desserts for félix, his brother who’s hugo, alex — the photographer — diogo from the movemind channel and all of his friends. when he used to hold your face, rest his touch on your waist and thighs. tracing his fingerprints across your scalp, reveling in the ethereal smell of your hair, laying his lips against your entire face and stature, exalting you completely: from your ears, neck, collarbone, belly, legs and even your feet. being a gentleman, joão opened the car door for you, he intertwined the hands of you both in every single opportunity and helped you eat: having the cutlery for you to open your mouth and giving you support with the napkin. when you did his goal celebration. when the two of you invented a handshake, along with various inside jokes. for example, when joão posted many videos of him swimming and playing in the ocean.

“hey, flounder! ‘the little mermaid’? i loved it!”

“why am i not your ariel, tho?”

“why you didn’t say you’d prefer to be eric of the real life?”

“give me some respect, i’m the protagonist of this shit!”

“slay, king!”

you remember singing the songs that played in his car in the most chaotic way, using his hand as a microphone and taking the opportunity to kiss all over it and his fancy bracelets. you offered him affection biting his skin and enjoyed acting like his personal masseuse. you called him ‘my prince of portugal’.

“please, don’t become a stranger.” your last words, face to face. the intensity of the summer weeks of vacation, which were already ending, consuming you.

“you know i’d never do that. look, you’re such a unique person, and even though we’re gonna go back to our busy routines, i still wanna keep you in my life. i still wanna be that close to you.” joão declared and they both found comfort in each other’s arms. his perfume granted the beg leave and penetrated your lungs, giving you life. you felt like you shouldn’t let it go, but there was nothing else to accomplish. you were single, so was he. you ask yourself if everything would be different. maybe if you had tried your lips once again: asking him to give a chance to them, to have more. to not leave what you went through, together, in the box of forgotten memories. would that really suffice, though?

"it's obvious that you’d choose the blonde influencer with light eyes, slender body and member of a rich family. the one who was with a formula 1 racer days before she went to meet you. before you just disappear from my life, without saying anything. the one that doesn't show an ounce of authenticity and, of course, affective responsibility. who am i in comparison to her?! right, joão?" your voice flashed the disparity of fragility and indignation, trembling hands clutching the phone.

“y/n, listen to me. you’d never understand it, okay? you’re not inside this relationship, me and her are. you’re seeing it from the outside, just like everyone else. yeah, she was hanging out and making out with other people. so was i with you. but then, some things changed.” john seemed to be busy. echoes of other people's voices ran through the call.

“nothing has happened between us since the vacation, joão. what doesn’t make sense because i thought you were liking me. i only think about you!” you vented out and received silence. his answers tried to become existent and complete. he stammered, the audible sound of his familiar backwards cap being pulled off and his honey-colored hair being rubbed against his own fingerprints.

“do you think i don’t like you? holy shit, y/n. i even thought we could have so much more. a future together and everything. i think about you and i swear in the name of my family, and i already said that they mean the fucking world to me. the thing is: there’s something that still keep me going back to her. i don’t know if it’s because i’m with her since i was younger, but…”

“joão, this is emotional dependence. i’m sorry to tell you this, however, it’s necessary. i care about you. you’re so internally and externally beautiful, precious, successful and talented. you deserve better!” you interrupted him, stepping back and forth.

“y/n, i love her. when i looked at you…”

“she’s all that you see, right?”

“hm… yeah…” félix found himself in a bind. paralyzed, he remained without an answer for a while. the coldness of the material of his gold necklace touches his tongue: a way to combat the nervousness that generates the gnawed nails.

“my toxic behavior wants to help and fix you so badly, but i know i can’t get more involved than that. i’m not the one for you.” the words reproduced by yourself reinforced the fragmentation of your heart.

“j, baby… are you coming or not? i’m waiting for you, floki is waiting for his dad!” you heard that female voice call to him and realized the way that just this factor made his breathing destabilize.

“i think this is officially the end of whatever we had, joão. goodbye!” your voice was unstable and he realized it: sharp as deep, transparent and suffocating waters.

“i wish you the best, y/n. i apologize for not being what you expected, what you needed, and…”

“caralho, joão! que merda! (holy fuck, joão! what the hell?). come on, give me your phone!” the girl began to rant. her heels against the floor were exclamatory. she was running out of patience.

the call is over. again, you were superimposed on the ocean of blazing tears. you tried to convince yourself that everything went the way it was supposed to be.

but was it for real?

[sparklecryptid]

We've had Noctis going back in time, chocobros, Ardyn, royal bastards in their various incarnations, Cor-

But I don't think I've ever seen Regis be the one to get sent back in time. Like, can you imagine it? Regis, who just killed Noctis (his son his child his), waking up as a teenager over 40 years in the past. And deciding to Fuck the Prophecy and Bahamut too, he's not doing any of that again (please don't make him do that again he can't).

Regis goes on to completely demolish the timeline, with Clarus and Wesk trailing behind and making concerned noises. (understandable, Regis kind of changed overnight)

For bonus points, his original timeline was one with a royal bastard, maybe even more than one. Except this time, Regis actually keeps track of his exes so he finds out about them pretty soon.

(If you want maximum angst, it was the one where Luche kills him)

Regis dies. It is a swift death. A mercy given to him by the hands of his daughter.

(His daughter that he never knew. His daughter that must have suffered for it to have ended this way. His daughter. A traitor. But still his daughter.)

Regis dies, and when he wakes he finds himself younger. He finds himself nineteen years old and untested by the hardships of the coming years.

Regis dies with blood in his mouth.

He wakes up with the memory of cold arms lowering him to the ground and frost curling across a pale cheek. Is his daughter alive yet? Regis doesn't believe so but he can't know for sure.

He knows Noctis isn't alive. Regis knows that at least his son will be safe. But Luche? Regis doesn't know.

Something in him aches.

-

There is something off about Clarus' Prince. The only King that will ever have his loyalty, the only person Clarus will die for that isn't his wife. There has been something off about Clarus' Prince for years now. Ever since Regis woke up on his nineteenth birthday something has been off about him.

Regis dives into whatever work is assigned to him. He plays politics like he's an old hand at it and seems to know what schemes his father is up to before they happen. Regis is different, it's shown in the frantic but careful way he directs resources into areas he thinks will need them most and ignore the nobles that grumble and whine only to be shocked that Regis was right about diverting their forces from around Insomnia to near Galahd.

It is as if Regis has grown the ability to see the future and Regis laughs at Clarus when he suggests it. For a moment it looks like he's about to make a joke but his face freezes as if he's remembering something.

"Clarus," Regis says slowly, "What was the name of the woman my father sent me on my eighteenth birthday?"

"Why do you ask?" Regis plotting something, this much Clarus can tell. But it's been six years since then and Clarus still can't tell exactly what Regis wants with this information.

"I need to know," Regis says, "I think she has something of mine."

-

Her name is Tita Lazarus.

Lazarus. It isn't a common enough name for Regis to ignore the possibility that this woman is the mother of his child.

Regis remembers her dazed gaze a she looked at him through their night together. He remembers how she was cold even when he tried to warm her with his magic. Most of all, Regis remembers when frost started to coat her fingertips after they had finished.

He hadn't thought of the woman much in his life before, he thought her another manipulation by his father to get him to behave. But if she hadn't told Mors about her child then where did her loyalty lie?

For Luche's sake, Regis hopes it's with him.

-

The ones who meet them at the docks of Galahd's biggest - and only - port are a mix of those from Clan Khara and Clan Bellum. They watch as Regis jumps off the ship and makes his way toward them.

Their body language is relaxed, but there is a tension in the air that tells Regis that although he is welcomed he better not try anything.

"Greetings, Son of Crystal," The leader of the Khara delegation speaks, "May we inquire as to the nature of your visit?"

"I'm looking for a Lazarus," Regis says and the air goes still. Ah. They are hiding something. Regis knew it. "Her name was Tita. I believe she has a child."

The tension doesn't ease with Regis' words but it changes.

"And if she does?"

Regis smiles. It's all teeth.

"I would like to meet my daughter."

-

Here is the thing: Regis refuses to let his mistakes bleed into this life. He refuses to let his daughter suffer and he refuses to let his son sacrifice himself like a karakul on an altar.

That being said, he doesn't expect the reaction he gets when his daughter meets them on the way to her own house.

"You're not supposed to be here." Tiny fists clutch at Regis' pants and glowing blue eyes peer up at him. Her face is scrunched up in terror as if the world had suddenly changed. Beside him the Khara and Furia accompanying him and Clarus are quiet. "You're not supposed to be here! The path has changed the trees face backward. You're not-" She stumbles over her words and tears well up in her eyes and freeze.

"Why now?" Luche's voice trembles, "Why this path? Why this journey? Why this me? Why not the others? Don't you know how they - how we - suffered? Why am I enough but they aren't? Why-" Frost curls over her cheekbones and Regis reaches out-

The Furia swings into action before Regis can scoop his daughter into his arms and soothe her. Lottie - the Furia - drags Luche away from Regis and Regis bites back a snarl even if he can't help the way his magic sharpens the air.

There is so much he doesn't know about his daughter. It infuriates him others know more than he does.

He has time to learn.

It doesn't make up for what happened in the past.

"Stop your wandering," Lottie gently scolds Luche, "The trees are the same, the path is solid. There is no use wandering on what-ifs and could-bes. Come back to the greener grass and the song the winds sing."

Luche stares at Lottie, her eyes slowly focusing on the figure in front of her. She blinks once. Twice.

Luche spins to look at Regis.

"Why are you here?" She demands and this time Regis can notice the buzzing of his ancestral magic under her skin.

"I'm here for you," Regis says, "And your mother."

"You don't want her," Luche warns, "She's gone too far."

"Do you want her?"

Luche pauses.

Regis smiles.

"Think about it," he says, "On the way to your home - tell me about yourself."

[real-godzekiel]

i DONT know if you still do spookys hcs but if you have any for specimen 12 or its host........

YES OF COURSE but just keep in mind i am a little rusty when it comes to spooky lore right now. too many new games are filling up the storage space in my brain but i think i can contribute some stuff. i'll start off with the host before moving on to the Specimen itselfI must admit that when I first heard the pretty-much-canon idea of the old man being the vlogger in endless I shat myself. But then I remembered geriatric1927 and how my grandma used to play Fruit Ninja and realized my shitting of myself is probably just ageism. Old man used to film abandoned buildings and it's fucking awesome until it isn't. I think from what you can read of the vloggers' notes, he seems to have a certain attachment to having an audience. Bro really starts a note off with "Hey everybody" and "Ok guys". I don't know why he stops after Specimen 12. I guess the mansion-in-mansion has something that bears off people's coping mechanisms.

Just to somewhat build upon the previous point, I want to spectulate on the old man's past a bit. The mansion controls the host to "attack with various means depending on the host's characteristics." I absolute do NOT think Protag ended up as anything near a new host instead of their own specimen, I think that theory is a bit poo poo. However, I do find it fun to compare these two ex-"typical humans" a bit. Specimen 14 is angry and stiff, at least in what most people picture them and what the Bad Ending somewhat suggests to me. Of course, most protagonists are just Like That, but from all that shit about Specimen 7 and "It Was Never A Mask" achivement name for the bad ending. Specimen 14's violence, to me at least, stems from rage and fear and the need to survive and tell these monsters who's boss based on a more stoic past personality. Old man's not like that. Maybe staying way too long in painted walls and floors fucked him up a little, but I still think that, with his vlogger persona and the way he talks, that he values his relationships with other people a hell lot. An extrovert, perhaps. I can't be sure. In any respect, this further explains how the mansion fucked him up.

Overanalyzing time, but I also find it interesting how in his Specimen 12 notes when he hears movements and voices downstairs he immediately goes: "Finally, other survivors. Ah yes. This is definitely some other survivors and it will be a Good Thing." He also acts like he's finally something to do whenever he first appears. It would be even funnier if he knows when and where you're hiding at times but just doesn't do anything about it because he deliriously thinks it's against the "rules" of the game he wants to play with you. I mean. There's this:

Old man has probably been reading "fake" books and eating "fake" food for at least half a decade. The food has probably permanently distorted his taste buds. Not sure about his speech, however. He probably tries to play pretend and conversewith the wall. or this thing. but still. the lack of another human intelligence articulating complete sentences to his face has likely signficantly deterioriated his ability to hold long conversations.

Stays in his area most of the time, but not because he likes it. He subconsciously thinks it to be a safer area than other parts of the mansion.

He is not friends with any of the Specimens. This includes Specimen 12 itself, as his possessed mind blocks out information regarding the mansion being the entity that is using him. He has no idea what has happened to him.

Old Man has never had a wife nor did he have kids. His parents died of natural causes a while after he went into the mansion. This is perfect for Specimen 12 because that means its host does not have to think too much. Yup!

Ok onto the Specimen itself

Not a spirit. Not an individual. Not a hivemind. Certainly an entity and not a natural force. Like Whiskers in Growing Your Grandpa, I believe Specimen 12 is something that grows depending on what happened in and around it. A tragedy canonically has taken place in it, and I think the vengeful souls that were lost during the massacre made it their duties to continue a cycle of violence and madness.

It has regretted the decision to move here. There are too little people and they always only come by themselves. There are not enough hosts to manipulate. To use so it can explain how they are planning to leave. Things are getting too slow and yes I am suggesting that the old man has the highest life expectancy a Specimen 12 host ever had. I think Specimen 12 used to be somewhere else, and bloodbaths were more often back then. A huge group of people would often come to investigate past atrocities or to challenge their friends, and crowds would come to be driven to paranoia and murder. After the entire area became restricted to anybody, there was no one. Specimen 12 moved to Spooky's after that, but kills are slow and scarce. It is currently stockpiling murdered souls for a trip around the world.

Flexible, but not very smart itself. Cannot quite find a balance to unnerve visitors while also compelling them to stay. It does chores. It does what it does to maintain its host and trap new victims. (UNNATURALLY GENERATED FOOD! eat it my bald middle-aged child) Not that smart about what to clean and what to keep. Sickle man's notes have been left for years and it did not ever think of cleaning them up. I think it is probably powerful enough to clean it up, but it doesn't. When you're trying to pretend to be a normal mansion so people would stay and get killed, you probably would think of cleaning that up. I think Specimen 12 a just a bit stupid, although that is partly due to it probably not having an actual mind of its own. kind of House of Leaves type shit, but nerfed (coconot make a horror-related post without mentioning house of leaves challenge)

Old Man's dislike of most other Specimens is put onto by Specimen 12, somewhat. Specimen 12 has a filter system of some kind, only letting in creatures that can either be killed by the host or become a new host. It does it by making other Specimens forget what they were visiting Specimen 12 for, if there are any possible reasons, however minute. It has to do this to protect its host, mainly. Also, some Specimens leave dirty prints and marks on the floor. There is not much it can do about what Old Man does outside the mansion, although Old Man is stuck connected with Specimen 12 until he dies. (Spooky can come, though. She does her monthly inspections and hangs up decorations sometimes. These decorations disappear about a week after they are put up, for some reason. )

Most Specimens don't want to find out what happens if they try to kill Specimen 12's host. They don't even know if it really gets angry, or just generates out consequences to further its own purposes. Nevertheless, interferring with Specimen 12 is an one-way ticket to a month of zero kills for themselves, as it will grow to lead visitors away from the offending Specimen.

The 12th key on the piano plays an unpleasant screeching sound.

So this took a few hours and I am not even close to being certain that most of this can fit the actual lore of spooky's. honestly, take it as it is. i wished i had more funny ideas, but "if Specimen 12 has no bathroom where does Old Man excrete" is not really appropriate. Not something I would want to write about. I have no more clue what to write.

Here's some silly comments in Specimen 12's Fandom Wiki page:

that's it. feel free to leave a comment if you notice anything not matching up in this list of headcanons. i am going to sleep now. yes

[heartonxions]

I invite you to infodump about Dusty in whatever capacity you'd like.

MAN......... WHAT A DELIGHTFUL OPPORTUNITY...... I DO NOT KNOW WHERE TO START... LMAO .. UH .

well.... to get world-building (it is not that.. it is so bare bones and i don't remember what me and my groupmates agreed on...) stuff out of the way... there are multiple worlds and time-traveling exists.. and dusty (and the rest of the gang) works at this time-traveling agency/company where they work to go after time criminals,,,rewrite history,, etc... that's the part i remember...

dusty is from a world where beastmen from the whole spectrum live but she was born in a particularly divided community,, she was deemed too weird, too wild for some and too human for the rest... and was ostracized for most of her life ,,, that is until she meets someone (whom has no name yett so i just call them the ex.. ell o ell) who does treat her like a normal being!! that is.. if she knew what being treated normally and healthily was.... unknowingly to her,,, they later became the leader of a cult who was using her to later be used for a ritual.. but at the beginning they acted like they were in love with him... gaining their trust,, but a few bumps in the road led to them abandoning dusty out of nowhere,,, he stays at their "house" for a bit,, not really realizing that she was abandoned,, they periodically visit their house but one day he sees their truck pull up and the ex proceeds to berate dusty loud enough to draw a crowd,, calling her stupid that she ever believed,,, scolding her for it... it's scathing,, but because she never knew better,, she still stays (not before starting a scuffle with them that lands her in jail--where they start having visions,,, and imaginary friends (cough. gajevy) whom she talks to alot!! and still does!!) and the ex was waiting for her when the sentence was over even!! so she was happy at least that they were there!! And believed that they truly did like her!!

the next climax of her origin story!! She goes back to their house and is coaxed into the basement where uh oh the cult is there..... and the whole thing is blurry in my head but it's like.... the cult needs dusty's blood (sort of because she's as in the middle as beastmen can get) to send the ex back to divinity (they believe they're here to check on the followers/? and so dusty gets chained and muzzled (scar on her right cheek from it) and is covered in all sorts of different types of blood from various animals!! and from her own + her ex's... thus the birth of this image

she escapes and probably kills a few cult members.. but goes on the run for majority of her life now... hence getting her nickname of "roaddog"

she collapses on the side of a road and is lovingly adopted by a kind older masc lesbian... . lol.. whom pushes dusty to call her gam gam or grandma milligan (FORESHADOWING)

and they develop a very sweet relationship where dusty uses her natural strength to help around the barn bc gam gam is getting older and she can't really make a living anymore.... she has slept at her gf's bar (butch4butch btw) when times get rough and stuf.. f.

gam gam unfotunatly is so stubborn that when she shows signs of blindness... she refuses to get help.. (FORESHADOWING..)

dusty whom in my head has been called any and all names,, but not dusty UNTIL she meets gam gam who lovingly calls her dusty when she's bathing her,,, because of all the road dust.. you get it... wtv..

gam gam genuinely sees dusty like a grandchild and also sees that dusty is trying to not be the person she really is (her silliness ... that people find annoying and all the talking to imaginary gajevy friends thing) and she helps her see it as part of her!!! she encourages her to tell her about these things!! they are silly and playful together do you understand me.

and as the seasons pass. gam gam's vision and health gets worse and worse but she still teaches her how to read and write-ish,, table manners,, and embroiders her cowboy hat for her (she forces the cowboy hat into her hand on her deathbed..).. and even crochets gajevy dolls for her!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

she does die.... in one faithful winter.... and in the spring, dusty digs a grave facing the setting sun for her and weaves flower crowns for her every spring she can.. and visits as much as she can..... this is where dusty struggles more .. to try and find and make a living for herself..

she starts off living in the rafters and corners of gam gam's gf's bar,,, and starts a performing and entertaining life there,,, which includes the usual line dance,,, some singing,,, more non-conventional dancing,,, bull-riding shows... vague almost stripper shows... idk.. but she loves the party life.... and whatever gets more poeple to the bar,,, the barowner doesn't really mind.

she leaves this life one day.. getting bored... and is unfortunately caught shortly for the humanoid version of illegal dog-fighting rings... and meets some group of other cowboys that she gets attached to very quickly

unfortunately for her though of course.. they all break up... and she feels lost in life again... wistfully eating off rodents and rusty water.... until she gets recruited into this time traveling company (part time time crime,, shortened to pttc) where she meets her wonderful wonderful friends she is not afraid to lovee!!! all 6'6" of her beefy body is full of love for her loved ones <3

[silverflame2724]

Happy Prompt (if you feel like it): WWX being the genius/ex first disciple of great scet that he is realizes they can't sustain the Burial Mounds. So he comes up with a Plan to make them all dissappear. Knowing how important lineage is so them, he asks them to give up the Wen name and take up Wei. (The wens are mostly common folk who just want to live so they agree). He the proceeds to hide them among other clans. People who have met and remember all the good young master Wie always did. He hides them among the Jiang and Nie. (I always head cannon that part of WWX'S flirty reputation comes from him helping women who are in bad situations/ NHS somehow finds out/knows and begins to help him. I figure theyhad to get several Lan women out. Mama Lans ghost helps?). JC knows but ignores it, they aren't WENS anymore, so his pride can leave it be. I'm not sure if A'yuan would still end up with Lan Zhan? But then WWX, WN, and WQ all fake thier deaths and go travel as rogue cultivators. But now WWX has all these living and dead people praying to/for him as the patron Saint of lost causes? And he accidentally becomes an immortal without realizing it? To the absolute fond disgust of WQ, of course. Anyway, I figure old Jin perv still pulls his bullshit at a discussion conference and between NHS, JYL, and LWJ? They somehow clear everyone's nsme. And then newly immortal WWX rocks up in there (to the horror of the Lan Elders who now have to face thier own bullshit/ hypocrisy) and lives happily ever after.

I think I read a prompt or a fic somewhere with the concept of the Wens hiding in plain sight.

________________________

The thought came to him out of nowhere. 

It had been a peaceful day with the Wens as he farmed, invented and tinkered with various incomplete contraptions when Wei Wuxian was struck with a thought: they could not continue like this.

Wei Wuxian wasn’t an idiot. He knew that they couldn’t sustain themselves in the Burial Mounds. Their crops hardly prospered, one by one the more elderly individuals of the Wens got sick and died, the resentful energy messed with everyone’s temperament, the cultivators never stopped trying to break his wards.....the list went on and on.

He had to come up with a plan. He thought they could live here for a time, but that was just wishful thinking. 

With this in mind, he takes the next few days to come up with a concrete plan.

...............................

The first task, and perhaps the most important one, is to ask the Wens to give up the Wen name. It would be easier from then on.

As he presented this suggestion, he was surprised by how readily they agreed. He knew how important lineage was to them, so the rapidness of them giving up their name was shocking. 

“Would you......take up my name?” Wei Wuxian asked quietly. 

The Wens were silent before cheering. Wei Wuxian didn’t know how to react to this. The Wens told him that they were more than happy to accept his name since they were his family. 

Wei Wuxian held back the tears and laughed happily instead as he went on to tell him the next plan of action: hiding them in plan sight.

Various people from various clans owed him favors and remembered the good in him, as they were more than happy to take on the refugees he hid away now that they were no longer Wens.

They had to do this quietly and slowly though. It would be suspicious if a large group of people suddenly left Yiling all at once. So Wei Wuxian took each of them to different places. Some of them went back to their original homes, some went to the Nie, some to the Yao, some to the Ouyang clan. 

He even sends some to the small village of women who he helped run away from their horrible home situations.

It was a little tricky with Nie, but Nie Huaisang pulls through and Nie Mingjue suspects nothing.

He sends some to the Jiang and Jiang Cheng grudgingly accepts them, knowing that they are no longer Wen. 

And for A’ Yuan.......He sends A’ Yuan to Lan Zhan, who is familiar with A’ Yuan. Wei Wuxian sends a letter to Lan Zhan asking him to meet and instead of appearing, A’ Yuan is there in his stead. The letter to Lan Zhan details what to do with A’ Yuan and to hide his identity.

Wei Wuxian trusts that Lan Zhan would take his suggestion and tell his brother and uncle that A’ Yuan was a child that Lan Zhan was asked to take care of by a dying mother.

Wei Wuxian watches from afar as Lan Zhan takes A’ Yuan away and takes the last step in ensuring that the cultivation world forgets him: He fakes his, Wen Qing’s and Wen Ning’s deaths. There’s enough corpses in the Burial Mounds and ones with their physique to replace the Wens and him. He gossips to the town that he’s going to destroy his weapon, the Seal, and subsequently fakes an explosion of resentment, quickly disappearing with the Wen siblings to a random direction. 

He always thought how nice it would be to be like his parents and be rogue cultivators. He guesses that he’ll find out now.

..................................

Years pass and Wei Wuxian makes decent salary by taking care of monsters in the area. Wen Qing is a doctor, of course, and Wen Ning becomes her assistant.  

They move to a little village near Dongying and settle down there. The people there a little more open to demonic cultivation and dark arts and don’t bat an eye at Wei Wuxian using such means. 

Wei Wuxian invents more contraptions, selling them under a false name in towns far away from Dongying.

One day, on a chance night hunt near Yunmeng, Wei Wuxian hears whispers and gossip about Nie Huaisang, Lan Wangji and Jiang Yanli clearing his name and capturing the actual people responsible. 

He’s happy to hear this. Overjoyed. But that doesn’t mean he’ll gladly return to the cultivation world. He’s had enough of that life. 

He walks around town for a bit longer, catching bits of gossip here and there. As explores the town, wine jug in hand, he nearly chokes around a mouthful of wine as he sees a small shrine encasing a statue of his likeness. What.....the hell??

He quickly asks around and finds out that people are praying to him for protection. Wei Wuxian squirms a little at this, glad he’s wearing a weimao to cover his face. 

All of this...praying makes him uncomfortable. Not long ago, people were spitting on his name and now he’s suddenly become some sort of Patron for protection? The change is remarkable and cements Wei Wuxian’s decision to firmly stay out of the cultivation world. 

People’s opinions change like a tide and Wei Wuxian doesn’t want to stick around long enough for them to switch back. He sighs, disposing of his empty jug, and leaves the town.

.......

Surprisingly, that’s not the end of the changes. 

He got careless on a night hunt and ends up with the claw of a yaoguai piercing him all the way through his stomach. When the yaoguai pulled out its claw, though......Wei Wuxian healed quickly. Too quickly.

He recovers from the shock at this and finishes off the yao.

What just happened?

.

.

A quick trip to Wen Qing answered everything.

“Congratulations.” Wen Qing says dryly. “You’re an immortal.”

“........What.”

Wen Qing sighs, “From what you told me, you healed unnaturally quickly, right?”

Wei Wuxian nods. 

“There have only been records of immortals recovering that quickly. Even Wen Ruohan healed slower than you did.”

“But I don’t have a core???”

“You do. Sort of.” Wen Qing replies. “I’m actually surprised you haven’t you felt it.”

“.....” I mean, I did think it was odd that I didn’t freeze to death in the winter or die of hunger when money became tight over these years, but I thought those were side effects of demonic cultivation! Wei Wuxian quickly goes through the motions of feeling for his core, willing the surge of hope he felt down. 

And he......didn’t feel a core. He felt more of a large mass of energy congregated in his dantian.

Wei Wuxian is glad that he is sitting down right now because he feels very faint.  “But.....this......how?” 

“Hmm. Well, from what I’ve been hearing, you’ve become some sort of Patron Saint?” Wei Wuxian nods. “It’s rare, but cultivators can gain power from prayers. Take Wen Ruohan for example.”

“He became powerful through the same means?”

“Yes. Well, his people believed him to be all powerful, not so much as what people are praying to you. As the Sunshot alliance chipped down on his people, so too did they chip down on Wen Ruohan’s power.”

“So if people stop praying to me, I’ll stop being immortal.”

“Yes and no. Right now, there’s just a mass of energy concentrated there. It’s basically unrefined energy. All you have to do is refine that power into a core and cultivate normally. Otherwise, yes. You will lose this power as soon as people stop praying to you.”

“I see.......”

Wen Qing raises an eyebrow and brandishes her needles. “What are you doing just sitting here? Go and cultivate!”

“Aiya, Qing-jie! I’m in shock here, give me a moment to absorb this all!”

“I have patients to see! Get your ass to your room and cultivate!”

“Are you my mom or something?”

Wen Qing’s expression turns thunderous.

Wei Wuxian didn’t want to provoke her any further despite wanting to banter more and left to his room.

..................................

“You should visit your siblings.” Wen Qing says one day. “And Hanguang-Jun. I want to hear about how A’ Yuan is doing.”

“Where did this come from?”

“Wei Wuxian.” Wen Qing says patiently. “It’s been over a decade. Your name and our name has long since been cleared. People no longer hate you. And.....they miss you. Your siblings have commemorated the day you “died” and go into mourning for that day. Hanguang-Jun is a little subtler but he wears a mourning sash now.”

“They’ll be better off without me.”

“Says who?”

“The rest of the world.” Wei Wuxian says weakly.

“And why should you care for their opinion? You never seemed to mind it.”

“Ummm.....Lan Zhan hates me? Jiang Cheng might resent me? And Shij---Jiang-guniang---the Young Madam Jin has a life already.”

“First, if Hanguang-Jun hates you, why would he frequently glare at people who badmouthed you?”

“Because he’s a good person. How do you know this anyway?”

“I have friends. Try again. Hanguang-Jun is a famously reticent person. Would he do this for every person?”

“.........I don’t know.”

“The answer is no.”

Wei Wuxian pouts.

Wen Qing then begins to tell him how Jiang Cheng frequently takes demonic cultivators back with him in hopes that one of them would be Wei Wuxian and even added Wei Wuxian back to the Jiang sect register. Jiang Yanli smiles while ruthlessly talking people into apologizing every time she hears something bad said about Wei Wuxian.

She even lectures him on his feelings towards Lan Wangji, that he would entrust A’ Yuan to him.

Wen Qing closes off her speech with threats of her needles if Wei Wuxian doesn’t get his ass over there.

“There’s a Discussion Conference at Lotus Pier. Wei Wuxian, wait till they’re done and go meet them.”

Wei Wuxian, sufficiently threatened, hightails it back to what was his home.

.......

Wei Wuxian also decidedly forgets that he was supposed to wait for the Conference to end. Well, he had assumed that they would be done considering the empty state of the area in front of the conference room and stupidly bursts through the door to a room full of people.

Wei Wuxian blinks, “Uhh......”

“Wei Wuxian?!”

“Wei Ying?!”

“A’ Xian?!”

Wei Wuxian tittered from side to side, “Hello, all! I bet you thought I was dead! Well, you guessed wrong! Hahaha......”

..............................

Lan Wangji did not know what this time’s discussion conference would be like. He expected Jin Guangshan to try and subtly slander Wei Ying. He expected Jiang Yanli, Jiang Wanyin and himself to stand up for Wei Ying, as he was unable to do before Wei Ying died.

But he certainly didn’t expect Wei Ying, who he thought was dead, burst into the room.

Everyone was silent as soon as they heard Wei Ying speak, but soon burst into a cacophony of noise.

Continuing the Discussion Conference was futile after that and it was quickly closed. Lan Wangji watched Wei Ying be surrounded by many people, some crying, some happily angry, some exasperated and he couldn’t help his reaction after seeing him once again.

He rushes forward and hugs him.

“Wha--Lan Zhan?”

“You’re alive.” Lan Wangji breathes, voice full of wonder. “You’re alive.”

Wei Ying’s arms come up around him and Lan Wangji feels the strong heart beat through their robes. His elders yell at him for his shamelessness and he comes back to himself, embarrassed at his lack of control.

“Aww, Lan Zhan! I’m so glad you missed me!”

“Mn. Missed Wei Ying a lot.”

A slight blush rose to Wei Ying’s cheeks and he laughed, a little shy. Lan Wangji couldn’t help his response to hearing his laugh again after so, so long. He kissed him.

The crowd gasped around them and Lan Wangji pulled back quickly, wanting the ground to swallow him up. But then......Wei Ying kissed him back.

“Aiya, Lan Zhan. How bold of you! To steal a kiss from me in public!” He giggles, not seeming mad at all and even pressing forward, tangling his fingers in his forehead ribbon.

Lan Wangji’s breath stutters at the gesture.

“You’d better take responsibility!”

Is Wei Ying asking what I think he’s asking? “Responsibility?”

“Yes! You took a kiss from me in public! It looks like I can’t marry anymore.”

“Will marry Wei Ying.” Lan Wangji replies, voice hoarse, ignoring the cries of outrage from his elders, the angry shouts from Jiang Wanyin, and the smirks from Jiang Yanli and his brother. “Will take responsibility.”

“I hope that isn’t the only reason.”

This is his chance to come clean. Lan Wangji already told himself that he wouldn’t hold himself back if he met Wei Ying again. “Like Wei Ying. Love Wei Ying.”

Wei Ying laughs brightly. “I like Lan Zhan too. Now, you’ll finally admit we’re close?”

Lan Wangji ignores everyone, eyes only on Wei Ying as they should have always been, “Mn. Let’s get married.”

___________________________

I feel like Lan Wangji may be a bit OOC......hmm. Well, whatever. I finally got this done and with that, I think I’ve cleared all the prompts I haven’t answered, so asks will open up again!

Hope you all enjoyed this!

[plural-culture-is]

When the question first arose about alterhumanity, when I was just studying this topic, I was lucky enough to stumble upon many blogs of various systems of different origins. At that time, my opinion was exactly: "No, I'm not a system." Now - I'm starting to think about it as much as I can every day.

Like. At some point, I made a second account for a "fictional personality" who automatically already had a first name, last name, history, where she lives, what interests she has, personal damn life, and so on. I don't even remember how well I wrote for her, but, for example, if I can recall my personal conversations with someone, then reading messages from her to others, I literally don't remember anything. She usually talked to my friends, solving problems when I disappear from the network, during particularly severe breakdowns, and helped in conflicts. And we only once caught a statement from an ex-friend that she was a fake, and then others ran into her, saying arguments against her statement lol. So... we are pretty different.

The second was my desire to create something in the form of a thoughtform that I could see, feel, hear, because I lacked something in my life. I forced myself to think that he was here, he was nearby, and I still do this if I want to "feel" him, and I don't control his appearance outside of my mind.

The third one appeared spontaneously, just appeared and gave away huge positive and such alien vibes for some word and since then it became their name? It's terribly confusing here.

The one who made everyone think I had a DID is more complicated I think. In the first year of my college, I was under the constant abuse of my former friend. At a particularly strange moment, when in the class I was overthinking again, I HEARD someone else's voice telling me something to comfort me. That time I got scared, and then silence lol

The moment we broke off relations with this "friend" I lost absolutely all memory of what happened. According to my partner, as well as by the saved remnants of messages and posts in my account - It was just an incredible outburst of wrath at everyone who was there then. And the partner still says that she did not recognize me that time at all.

And now random blurring with some characters' personalities has begun to appear I guess, though they might have present, and I just don’t remember. Like, If something can make me pick up some phrases or pieces of behavior from my favorite characters (like Echolalia), it happens quite often for a short time and I can control it. This blur changes absolutely everything in my Self - even the damn way of walking.

If i am a system, than i can't communicate others, and maybe can’t switch? because... we still live in a stressful environment, so...

And it's been two years since i started questioning, and there was more questions that answers lmao. Though i still relate much to plural experiences and especially to DID/OSDD systems. What a nightmare xp

so I’m assuming you’re asking us if we think you’re a system? Because yeah it sounds like it! So if you have periods where you don’t remember doing things and it was like others did it, then you might have switched at that point and you might have DID. And the blurring wouldn’t be switching, it would just be co-fronting. Yes, what you described as echolalia is experienced by singlets too, but that blur isn’t. It’s also possible the blurring is switching, just not the kind of switching that is most often talked about. Monoconscious systems experience “becoming” whoever is fronting instead of feeling like you’re leaving the front and letting someone else fully take control. And it sounds like that might be happening because you say the blur changes everything about your Self, but I’m assuming it still feels like you’re still there, you’re just someone else. And plurality is a spectrum, so you don’t have to have just one or the other way of switching, you could have both, or have something in between, or anything else. But from the sounds of it, you are plural, and you don’t have to figure out which way you’re plural, though you can if you want to of course. Also it’s valid to have no communication between headmates, but if that’s something you want, you could look through our #communication tag or ask other systems how they learnt to communicate.

[farfromsugafanfic]

Sutures - Chapter Five: Murmurs

Genre: Soulmates AU, Idiots to Lovers, slight Enemies to Lovers

Pairing: Yoongi/Named Reader

Warnings (chapter specific): mentions of family illness, a disgusting amount of fluff

Synopsis: “A person often meets his destiny on the road he took to avoid it.” –Jean de la Fontaine

There was only one thing you and Min Yoongi had in common that night. You were both brokenhearted. You only intended to be together for one night, but when you both end up in the hospital the next day you discover that you are soulmates. It could kill you to be apart. As you and Yoongi attempt to sever the bond between you, will another be formed?

Previous | Series Masterlist | Next

"Sumi!" Jungkook called. "Can you do us a favor?" 

Jungkook and Jimin stood outside your door. You could tell they were up to something based on the smirk on their faces. 

You had been quietly knitting, trying to forget the events of earlier that day with Minki and what happened in the backseat with Yoongi. You still felt Yoongi's lips on your stomach, soft, yet, demanding. He hadn't managed to leave any marks this time, which you were grateful for, but part of you wished you could have a reminder of the secret between you. 

"What?" you asked.

"Yoongi was going to wake up at four to help us with the production on the new song. And it's almost four thirty now. Can you wake him up for us?"

You glanced at the two boys who while they seemed mischievous, seemed genuinely like they didn't want the task of having to wake up Yoongi. 

"Why can't you do it?" you asked, putting aside the hat you were currently working on. 

"He'll be nicer to you," Jungkook said. "He's grumpy when he wakes up." 

You laughed slightly. "All right, fine."

You followed the two boys towards Yoongi's bedroom. You hadn't stepped foot in his bedroom yet, having only been in his studio. You opened the door slowly and tiptoed towards the bed where the boy's form was curled up asleep. Despite being taller than you, when he slept he made himself look so small, his knees curled up towards his chest and his arms around a pillow. 

"Yoongi," you said, lightly shaking his shoulder. "The boys said you wanted to get up at four. It's four thirty." 

You hear an annoyed groan and before you could protest, Yoongi dropped the pillow and pulled you onto the bed, his arms wrapped tightly around your waist. He rested his chin on your shoulder and you felt the soft scratch of his barely there facial hair. 

"Sleep with me," he whispered, his hot breath tickling your ear. 

You reached up to the pillow above you and threw it back towards him, hearing it hit with a solid thud. 

"Fuck you." You attempted to squirm from his grasp, your legs kicking the covers and his legs. Yet, he never loosened his grip. 

"Already have," he whispered, his voice husky. You felt his smirk against your shoulder blades and for a moment you thought he would begin kissing you again. But, as you reached for another pillow, his arms released from around you. 

You got up from the bed and walked out of his room, his scent clinging to your clothes. You stopped to glance at Jungkook and Jimin who stood by the door, wide eyed at what they witnessed. You could only imagine what it looked like to them: Yoongi pulling you onto the bed and kissing you as you playfully tried to push him away. 

"I see why no one likes waking him up."

The two boys awkwardly nodded and walked into Yoongi's bedroom, shutting the door behind them. 

You couldn't help but laugh slightly at the boy's assumptions before walking back towards your bedroom at the end of the hall. 

---

You hadn't spoken to your parents since before the night you and Yoongi met. You didn't call much due to the long distance charges to the US, but you figured you needed to update them about everything. 

"Hello?" your mom answered the phone. "Sumi?"

"Hi mom," you said. "How's everything?"

"Good, busy as always. But, don't worry about us, how is my daughter?"

"Well, there's a lot that's happened since I talked to you last." 

You explained the situation, careful not to tell your mom too much. You knew if you explained that you'd had a one night stand your mom would be disappointed and scold you. Despite being an ocean away in California, your mother still managed to make you feel like you were a fifteen-year-old again who got caught sneaking out. 

"Oh, I'm so happy you finally got rid of Minki," your mother said. "I never liked him. And I can't wait to meet this soulmate of yours, what did you say his name was again?"

---

"Min Yoongi," Yoongi heard as he walked towards your room on the way to the bathroom. He stopped, noticing the small crack in your door. He wondered if you had managed to see him in the hallway, but as he approached he noticed that you were pacing around your room. 

"No, mom, don't Google..." You sighed and pinched the bridge of your nose. "I get it, mom," you said laughing. "He's cute." 

You didn't talk for a moment, but you cutely chewed on your bottom lip which made Yoongi want to replace your teeth with his own. He pushed back the thought as you spoke again. 

"Well, we all agreed it would be best for me to move in with his band so that his career wouldn't be affected and I could continue working online or once things get better do in-person sessions."

You went silent again. Yoongi couldn't hear what your mother was saying because she was speaking so quickly. 

"I know, mom," you said. "I'll be careful. The only trouble we've had has been with Minki. His fans don't know."

Yoongi's stomach turned. Guilt.

"At first, I wanted to go along with what the doctor's said and do the relationship, but I'm glad we didn't now. It may be harder for a while, but we barely knew each other and asking one another to put in effort to a relationship neither one of us wanted didn't make sense." 

Despite your words being Yoongi's rationale, they felt so harsh coming from your mouth. He was glad the arrangement had become easier for you, but there was part of him that felt disappointed. 

---

"How's grandma?" you asked, once your mom had finally calmed down about Yoongi. She had taken it better than you expected her to, however, you were slightly worried she was expecting grandchildren any day. 

"Good," your mom answered. "The doctors say her treatment is going well. As they say, no news is good news." 

You sigh, wishing you could be in the US with your family, but you stayed behind to go to school and by the time you finished, you already had a life you didn't want to leave in Korea. You visited as often as you and your parents could afford, but that was normally only at the holidays. 

You had no siblings and many of your parent's siblings were also in the US or in Busan. Seoul was a lonely city, but you made it work.

"All right, well take care of her and yourself, okay, mom? And tell dad I miss him."

You ended the call after you both said your goodbyes. You sighed in relief at having finally explained the situation to your family, but you couldn't help the worry that formed in your stomach. You were normally able to suppress the constant worry about your grandmother, but every time you talked to your mom it always seemed to worsen.

---

Yoongi stepped away from your door once you hung up, so he wouldn't be discovered. He felt a small pang of guilt from eavesdropping, but your door was open and you had been talking about him. He pushed it away, knowing it really didn't matter. 

He walked back to his studio and sat down at his desk, Jungkook and Jimin listening to their vocals. He wondered what was up with your grandma, while it didn't seem out of place to ask how she was doing, the way your brow had furled and the way you chewed your lip nervously made him think that there was something else going on. 

"Yoongi?" Jimin asked, taking off his headphones. "Everything okay?"

Yoongi shook himself out of it. 

"Yeah," he said. "Sorry, not awake yet." 

---

"Sumi," Namjoon said, knocking politely on your bedroom door. "Do you want to come and help me work out some lyrics?"

You looked at the leader in somewhat disbelief, your eyes wide and your lips pursed. 

"Me?" you asked. "Wouldn't one of the boys be better?"

"Maybe," he said. "But, it's not often we get a perspective of someone outside of the industry, and you've been in your room since you got back. I know it was tough to face your ex and thought you might like some company." 

You smiled, Namjoon was so perceptive, you wondered if he could read your mind. You realized how much easier it would be if you were his soulmate instead of Yoongi's. Namjoon understood you and always seemed to know how to make you feel better. 

"You can bring your project with you," he said, leaving towards his studio and leaving the door open for you. 

You followed the leader to his studio, which had fewer obstacles to enter than Yoongi's. Although, once you entered it was largely similar. A simple design with a few decorations and various awards hung on the wall.

He pulled up a chair beside him and motioned for you to sit down beside him. You sat down and looked over all the equipment on his desk. A normal desktop with multiple monitors, other things you didn't recognize, like a machine with various knobs and switches, and a microphone. 

You remembered seeing most of the same equipment in Yoongi's studio, except he had a keyboard he kept in the center of everything. The black and white keys almost taking over the room. 

Namjoon opened up a notebook with various notes in it. You even noticed a few notes in English, making you smile and remember that the two of you shared the language in common. 

"How'd you get into music?" you asked in English. 

"I always liked music," he said, also responding in English. "I read a lot and eventually it translated into writing. I don't know, it all just kind of happened naturally."

You smiled, noting the way his face lit up as he talked about his passion, his dimples appearing on his cheeks. 

"I understand," you said. "I always liked to teach people when they learned that I speak English. I should've charged when I was in high school for all the tutoring I did, but I enjoyed it enough that I didn't care." 

"What about knitting?" he asked. 

"I was always crafty," you said, laughing. "Whenever I visited my grandmother in the US, she always had a knitting project and she talked about how it calmed her, made her realize she had more control over her fate than she believed. She used to tell me stories about the Fates in Greek mythology and how knitting made her feel like one." You looked down at your project--a black hat. "So, whenever I feel out of control, I knit. Sometimes, I don't even know what I'm making until it's finished." 

You quickly bound off the yarn and slapped the finished hat on Namjoon's head, giggling. You expected him to take it off immediately and hand it back, but instead, he used the nearest computer monitor to adjust it so it sat over his hair attractively. 

"It looks nice," you said. 

---

The two of you worked in comfortable silence, the hat you made still sitting on Namjoon's dyed hair. You'd started a new hat with the same black yarn. You wondered if he had a girlfriend to give it to. You and Minki always used to wear matching hats or scarfs or gloves. He took whatever you made him wholeheartedly. They were probably still sitting in the top drawer of his dresser. You wished you could unravel the yarn and turn them back into a tangled ball of string. 

Namjoon would occasionally run a line past you or hum a melody without realizing. You even found yourself humming the same melody back to him and when you did, he always shot you a small smile. 

"Let's see what fans think of my new hat," he said, taking a selfie with his phone. 

"Wait! Don't post that! Won't they think you have a girlfriend or something?"

He gave you an odd look before looking down at the picture. 

"Does Yoongi have you that paranoid? If anyone questions it, I'll just say a fan made it," he said. "Not exactly a lie." 

Your shoulders slumped realizing the easy solution. It was true that since the shoe incident, you were scared to be visible in the boys' lives. Their careers meant more to them than it did to you. You could be an English tutor nearly anywhere and no one could take knitting from you, but their music could be taken from them. You didn't want to be the reason they lost their passions.

"Come on," he said. "I have to go run this past Yoongi. You're welcome to come along." 

You followed Namjoon to Yoongi's studio, taking your yarn and knitting needles with you. Namjoon rang the doorbell to Yoongi's studio and you had to stop yourself from laughing at the ritual of it all.

Yoongi came and opened the door. He greeted Namjoon and while he seemed slightly surprised to see you, held the door open to you. 

"She's great to bounce lyrics off," Namjoon said. "Surprised you haven't picked up on that yet." 

You sat down on the couch in the back of the studio while the two boys discussed the lyrics and the song. You took the opportunity to go on Twitter, seeing the picture of Namjoon in the hat. All of the fans complimented him, telling him he looked cute and demanding he go to bed because it was late. You smiled, hoping that if the fans ever found out about you, they would have similar reactions.

You went back to knitting, but couldn't help and look up when you heard the sound of the piano. Yoongi was playing the melody Namjoon had been humming earlier and you were impressed by his ability to translate the hums into notes so quickly. 

His fingers slide over the keys naturally--the keys an extension of his fingers--much like the needles you held. Yoongi was serious, but unlike his normal seriousness which was grumpy or sexy (depending on the day), this time he was focused. His lips slightly pouted and his body relaxed. 

Music for him was the knitting to you. It was the creation that helped you escape yourself to feel the smoothness of the keys or the needles beneath your fingers and trust that something beautiful would come from it.

---

You had fallen asleep by the time Yoongi and Namjoon had finished; still occasionally moving your fingers, trying to knit in your sleep. Yoongi smiled, remembering the times he woke up in the studio seeing the notes he'd unknowingly composed while he was asleep.

"Do you want me to wake her up?" Namjoon asked. 

"No," Yoongi said, shaking his head. "Let's not disturb her." 

Namjoon nodded, grabbing his notebook and leaving the room. He closed the door softly so he wouldn't wake you. 

Yoongi looked down at your sleeping form. It seemed he'd seen you sleeping nearly as much as he'd seen you awake since the first time you met. The night you spent together, you'd fallen asleep first, cuddling into his side. Normally, he wasn't the cuddling type, at least not with a girl he'd just met, but seeing the lipstick smeared across your pouty lips and your tangled hair spread out across the pillow, he hadn't been able to resist. 

He grabbed your knitting needles and yarn, setting them on the edge of his desk, within your sight so you could easily find them in the morning. It wasn't the first time he'd moved your knitting needles, for something you loved so much, you often left them laying around. Yoongi opened the bottom drawer of his desk where he kept a blanket for when his studio was cold or when he fell asleep while working. 

He covered your form before shutting off the light and leaving the room quietly.

[mamingle]

You know, Dethrix, despite how terrible of a father he was.... Actually, did more so useful things. I mean, to stop monsters and humans from fighting each other (even enslaving them, maybe executing. He could had done it) and keeping a strict kingdom for a pretty long time takes alot. I just. Well, think about Sepulchure and Alteon and their war... And uh. Yeah

Also Alteon and Brethan (whatever his name is) are dumb. "Ah yes, the king/i am turning into chaos monster and our kingdom is invaded by these chaos monsters. Guess its a good day to play the wedding!". And then Drakath is to blame. He probably got headtrauma himself from facepalming like i did

-puffshroom/mushroom anon

HELLO AGAIN SHROOM :D man, you are on a roll with these asks lately akshshf

(And with game lore too 👀 you might wanna buckle up for this one because you just activated my brain worms and this is gonna be a long post. Hope you don't mind my 2AM ramblings XD)

YES, I can totally agree that, compared to Alteon and Sepulchure, Dethrix is objectively the more effective ruler/dictator, considering he did rule his kingdom unchallenged for almost 30 years (or, at least, based on the timeline that Alina provided back in 2018 on Twitter, I'm going to link that post at the end of this tangent).

However, he DID rule his kingdom with an iron fist and was more known for using fear to control his subjects over being an actually decent King. If I remember correctly from Drakath's journals, the only reason humans and monsters stopped fighting is because he enslaved the human population, killed off majority of the different factions that opposed him (ex. Good Knights, Dragonlords, Frogzard Riders, ect.) and gave power to monster underlords, so regular humans were practically powerless under his reign. The only reason he got dethroned is because he underestimated Alteon (which, okay, I can't really blame him XD)

Plus I'm PRETTY sure he was already in kahoots with the Queen of Monsters if Anka's dialogue about Drakath's backstory is anything to go by, so that's probably where he got his monster army from

So yeah, great dictator, horrible father, not surprising there XD

Alteon and Brentan though. . .

OKAY, I can kinda excuse Alteon's decision to continue Brittany's wedding because he was deeply under the influence of Chaos and wasn't in the best state of mind

(Although now it makes me wonder WHY none of his daughters or Brentan thought it was a good idea to, I don't know, ask him to DELAY the wedding until the Chaos War is over???)

But that isn't to say that Alteon has not made some. . . questionable decisions in the past.

"Ah yes, let me exile the evil King's son, who wasn't even 10 YEARS OLD at that time, simply for the crime of being born in the previous regime. That won't backfire at all :)"

"Ah yes, General Lionfang, my most loyal soldier who's TOTALLY not been committing various human rights violations behind my back, I entrust you to get information about the Darkblood's most sacred relic that can potentially cure my condition even though your distaste for all things evil are known far and wide. I'm sure you won't stab me in the back :D"

AND BRENTAN. OH MY GOD, BRENTAN.

That guy was NEVER meant to be a King, good lord. He's the Guardian of the Neverglades, so his expertise most likely revolves around more on combat than leadership, and he was probably only picked to be Brittany's glorified bodyguard while Brittany was meant to take over the royal duties in the relationship. Man was just unlucky enough that his Queen-wife died seconds after the marriage LMAO

I like Brentan as a character, but he should probably just leave the royal duties to Victoria if he knows what's good for the kingdom askfkashfgh

SO YEAH, RANT OVER :D if you couldn't already tell, I LOVE lore discussions, so this was really interesting! Thanks for the brain worms Shroom <3

2018 Timeline:

https://twitter.com/Alina_AE/status/1015328522569576448?s=20&t=VV4cvj4LXmzsjfHWgeE6qA

[wreckofawriter]

Not Yet

Pairing: Harry Potter x reader

Word Count: 3,270

Warnings: None

Request: Could u do something Harry Potter x reader were the marauders are alive and the reader is Harry’s gf and is as good as Dumbledore in dueling. And she was staying at Harry’s house for spring break and (Harry is still the boi who lived) Voldemort attacks them and says something like “if she wins she safe but for now I am going to take the most important thing in ur life” to Harry and he starts crying but then she out duels him and comforts Harry and Jily notices how much they love each other?

A/n: Ok so I know that the time line wouldnt exscatly be perfect for this fic but whatever I dont care. Also I'm sorry it tooks so long I had restart it because I didn't like my first draft. Anyway hope you guys enjoy!

"Harry, they're going to hate me." You groaned falling back from your sitting position on his bed to laying and burying your head in your hands.

Harry rolled his eyes smiling. "Y/n there is no possible way they are going to hate you, so stop stressing." 

You turned your head to glare at the boy who was struggling to close his suitcase, "Oh yeah because when you met my dad you weren't stressing at all." You said voice dripping with sarcasm.

"That's different," Harry defended still attempting to get the buckles on his trunk closed. 

"How is it possibly different, if anything I have it worse because you have like three dads." You pointed out.

"I don't have three dads." Harry grunted, cursing those textbooks that were making the task at hand nearly impossible.

You muttered a spell under your breath and watched as the items in his trunk shifted before the straps snapped closed neatly "You most certainly do have three dads." You iggled when he looked back up at you in amazement. 

"I forgot you could so stuff like that." He murmured making his way towards the bed. 

"Well you should try remembering." You smirked before Harry climbed on top of you meeting your lips with his. The kiss was soft sweet and short. 

"Bloody hell!" 

Harry quickly rolled off of you. 

You both blushed heavenly looking at Ron who now stood in the doorway with Hermione. 

"Sorry." You muttered looking down at you hands. 

"Thank god you were only kissing I thought you were doing other stuff for a second." A book promptly shot across  the room and hit Ron in the side of the face. He glared looking up at the beat red girl across from him "Can you stop with the no-wand spells? It's very confusing for us." 

"Speak for yourself Ronald." Hermione chipped, "They are quite brilliant in my opinion." 

"Thanks Hermione." You smiled the color trickling from your cheeks. You had always had a particular talent for performing spells without a wand. You barely touched it nowadays, you would simply do the spell without it. 

It was a "rare but exceptional gift that very few acquired" McGonagall had informed you in your first year when you had performed  a Relashio spell without a wand on your second day of charms. 

You had noticed at a very young age that you could simply read about a spell, murmur the name under your breath, envisioning the result and said result would happen. It was quite helpful for dueling and protection 

"We are leaving in a few minutes so we just came up to get you guys." Hermione explained looking at Harry's packed trunk, Hedwig placed beside it. 

"Y/n where is your stuff?" 

"Oh shit." You muttered.

"You aren't packed?" Harry asked worry covering his features. 

"I was stressing so much I forgot." You hissed under your breath closing your eyes and thinking. Finally after a few seconds you remembered the spell and murmured it quietly. 

You heard a shriek followed by "Merlin's Beard y/n can't you just pack like the rest of us, you almost killed me with your bloody broom!"

"Sorry Parvati!" You shouted back before your wand came whizzing into your hand followed by your trunk and your owl cage, your barn owl locked securely inside, and of course your broomstick which had been an unnecessarily expensive and fought against birthday present from Harry. "Packed." You smiled up at the other three.

When the four of you had finally boarded and settled on the Hogwarts Express nerves took you over once again. You found yourself tracing the scar on your hand feeling out every letter of the sentence, "I will not tell lies" engraved on your hand. You remembered Harry's fury when you had walked out of Umbridge's classroom tears pricking at your eyes as blood dripped from your hand. Fred, George and Ron had to physically hold the boy back from beating the pick monsters face in with his fists. 

Harry quickly noticed your nervous state and slide his arm around you pulling you closer. "They are going to love you y/n/n." 

You sighed and looked over at his breath-taking green eyes, "You don't know that." 

"Come on you already met Remus and he loved you." Harry said trying to comfort you. 

"Great only two more dads and a mom to impress." You said staring out the window.

"Hey look," Harry pushed your head back to meet his eyes gently, "Remus already likes you and my Dad will be easy, just tell him your a chaser and he will talk for hours. For my mom just talk about spells and all that stuff you are so bloody good at. And for Sirius just mention a few of the pranks you pulled on Malfoy and your in the clear. You are too amazing for them not to like." 

"But what if they dont think I'm good enough for you, I mean you are 'the one who lived' and everything and I'm just...me." 

Harry scoffed, "Just you? You mean the girl who has the best marks in every single class she takes. The girl who could take down there own professors when it came to dueling and knows how to perform more spells and charms without a wand than the Charms teacher does with one?" 

You blushed looking down, "I don't have the best marks in Herbology, Transfiguration or Potions." You pointed out. 

Harry sighed, "They are going to love you y/n. I just know it." 

When the train stopped at platform 9 and ¾ so did your heart. You were jumpy and anxious, you felt as if you were running on adrenaline and caffeine. 

Hermione and Ron said goodbye wishing you luck as Harry looked around for his parents on the crowded platform.  

"There they are." Harry said grabbing your hand and heading toward a man who looks stunningly like Harry and a woman with bright red hair. 

You gulped hoping you didn't look as nervous as you were. 

When you reached the couple Harry hugged both of them as you stood awkwardly to the side trying not to draw attention to yourself. 

"Mom, Dad this is the girl I told you about, y/n." Harry introduced.

You blushed a bit waving and to your surprise the women stepped toward you and brought you into a hug. 

"It's so lovely to finally meet you, we've heard so much about you from Harry." She said pulling away to look you in the eyes. 

"It's nice to meet you as well Mrs. Potter." You smiled. 

James  stuck out his hand and you shook it firmly greeting him as well. 

"Well we better head home before Sirius burns down the house." Lily sighed. 

"Its fine." James said brushing the issue away, "Moony is there too." 

You looked at Harry "Who's Moony?" You mouthed silently.

"Professor Lupin." He whispered back. 

You bit your lip hoping that he still considered you a good student. 

When you reached Harry's house your nerves were buzzing again, you could hear the thumping of your heart loud and clear as Harry opened the front door. 

You heard a loud "Harry!" Bellowed form inside the house and Harry was soon thrown into a hug by a man with long dark hair. 

"It's great to see you again." The man who you were guessing was Sirius smiled. 

"You too Sirius." You suspicions were confirmed. "Oh this is y/n." Harry said moving to the side so you were face to face with the man. 

"Hello, it's nice to finally meet you, Harry has told me so much about you." You greeted sticking out your hand. 

"I could say the same for you." Sirius winked taking your hand. You glanced over at Harry whose face was tinged red and glaring at the man.

You giggled as Harry pulled you away, "You can put your stuff in my room." He chatted as he dragged you up the stairs to the first door on the right. 

When you entered you couldn't help but smile. The room was so… Harry. 

The walls were painted a vibrant crimson, he had quidditch banners and famous wizard posters plastered on the walls. There was a wooden desk in one cornor, a dresser and a double bed against the other wall. A door which you guessed lead to a closet on the other. There were two hooks in the center of the wall above the dresser. Different posters and papers were sprinkled around the hooks  where Harry had now walked over and placed his broom. 

You walked closer to the wall to find that all of the papers and posters were tickets and brackets from various quidditch matches.

"My dad always takes me to them." Harry chimed in walking closer to you. 

"That's brilliant," you nodded continuing to look at the items sprinkled on the wall. 

"How many have you been to?" Harry questioned snaking his arm around your waist as you stood admiring. 

"Oh, I haven't been to any." You shrugged turning to face the now appalled boy.

"What!?"

You shrugged again 

"Really?!" 

You nodded rolling your eyes playfully; "My dad just never took me."

"You have to come with us next time." Harry declared. 

"I'd love too." You smirked leaning in to kiss the boy. Your lips had barley brushed his when you were interrupted by the bang of a door. 

"Harry dinners ready…" Sirius' voice trailed off when he saw the position of your red faces. He smirked, Harry once again glaring at him.

"We're coming." Harry growled cheeks matching his walls. 

"You are now?" Sirius jeered before descending down the stairs. 

The second he was out of sight you burst into a fit of giggles. 

"What's so funny?" Harry asked.

"I don't know," you laughed out. 

With that you made your way to the stairs. 

When you sat down at the dinner table you looked up to see your ex-professors eyes sparkling at you. 

You smiled at the man and then turned your head to see Harry serving you some food. You thanked him then thanked the chef who sat proudly next to the professor his head of long midnight hair held high. 

You quickly launched into a conversation with Mrs. Potter about your plans to be an Auror after Hogwarts while Harry laughed with his godfather. 

Your conversation was cut short by Mr. Potter. 

"So I saw you had a broom, you play I'm guessing." He inquired.

"Yes I do sir." You spoke politely before placing a tomato into your mouth and feeling its soft skin burst with flavor against your teeth. 

"No need for the 'sir'" the man explained before adding, "What position?"

"I'm a chaser si-" you cut your sentence

 short blushing.

 James eyes widened under his glasses, "Really?" 

"Yes, I have been playing since second year." You nodded.

"Wow, that's pretty young for a chaser." 

"She's incredible, probably better than you Dad," Harry cut in, "She once scored 180 points in one game. That's only 30 points below the record." Harry gushed making you flame red, "And she's only in her fifth year." Harry added proudly smiling. 

You felt on fire when all of the adults at the table looked at you in amazement and surprise. "It's really no big deal, I don't win the games your son does." You mumbled looking down at your food. 

Harry rolled his eyes at your modesty even though it only made him grin impossibly l that's quite impressive." Sirius noted, "I didn't take you for a jock." 

You bit your lip before hearing another voice cut through.

"She's not just a jock Sirius." Remus rolled his eyes. "When I had her in my class she had the highest marks of all the students, she's quite talented, especially when it comes to spells and charms, she would make a brilliant Auror." 

You felt your face once again fill with fire as you looked across at the man who had spoken, "Thank you Professor Lupin." 

"Just Remus." He said before taking a sip of his wine. 

You nodded and looked at Harry who was smiling brightly at you his eyes sparkling like rare gems. 

Lily opened her mouth to continue the conversation when suddenly Harry's smile turned to a grimace of agony. He bent over with a gasp, clutching his forehead. 

Everyone instantly began to move, you moved toward Harry wrapping your arms around him, James and Lily reached for their wands as Sirius and Remus leapt from their chairs flicking their own to lock the doors and windows around them. 

You and everyone else in that room knew what that anguish Harry was feeling meant. 

Harry hissed air through his teeth in pain, "Y/n, you need to get out of here, he's coming, Voldemort's coming." He spit out. 

You turned to Lily for an answer but it was too late.

The women flew across the room in a gust of wind 

"Lily!" James yelled from across the room before he was thrown backwards into the china case with a crash. You turned to see five figures in black standing in the living room. Sirius leapt into action deflecting two spells before being hit with another. 

Remus yelled in anger hitting one of the figures with a spell before being hit with two of his own. 

During this you gathered your scattered thoughts and muttered a small protection spell  under your breath. 

Your heard Harry shriek with misery as another figure appeared in the room. You recognized the man -if you could even call him that- instantly. He started toward you and Harry who had somehow ended up on the floor your arm still sealed over his shoulders. 

"Move girl." The thing headed toward you stated. 

You rose to your feet to meet him as he neared. "No." 

A cackle rose from the throat of the monster. "Look around you," he said gesturing to the four wizards all now caught by a figure in black, wands held by tattooed wrists at their necks. 

"Move and you may live." The thing promised. 

"No." You repeated grasping your hands to fists as you stood in front of the boy shaking in torment.

"Imperi-" 

You didn't let the dark lord finish his spell before you whispered one of your own. 

The most forgiving of the unforgivable curses bounced off your shield and hit the window with a crash. You then whispered a small healing spell to Harry and heard him gasp for breath finally being released from pain's cold grasp. 

The white faced man now glared at you shooting another curse you deflected with ease. His frustration was now visible as he shot a series of painful spell at you. You muttered deflections and counter curses smoothly. 

You almost smiled at the man's great surprise and rage at the new obstacle that stood in the way of Harry's death. Your joy was swept away quickly.

"Y/n move!" You heard Harry yelled before you were hit with a blinding sting in your chest. You fell back in pain gasping for breath. You turned your head to see Remus laying on the ground in a heap, his guard standing over you in triumph. 

Suddenly you began to float up in the air. You tried and failed to regain your bearings as you were suddenly flying toward he who must not be named.  You felt cold as his fingernails closed aground your neck. 

You could smell rotting flesh and the metallic scent of blood. You could sense the hunger of the thing holding you, you could sense its hunger for death, for blood, for pain, he fed from it. 

Voldemort cackled watching as Harry screamed, writhing in the grasp of the death eater holding him.

You began to feel adrenaline rush through you with new found terror. You couldn't die. No no no. Not yet.  Please dear God not yet. You began to feel tears prick at your eyes. Please. Please not yet. Not yet.

"I can't kill you Harry." The monster paused "Not yet. But I can kill her. I can kill her easily as a bug, she's nothing." He howled in laughter. "The most important thing to you in this miserable world is nothing, its pathetic." 

Harry sobbed attempting to throw himself forward as Voldemort's wand raised to your throat.

"Please not her, please, take me instead, not her dont kill her, let her live please." Harry begged, sobs making his words almost incomprehensible.

You watched in horror as Harry broke in front of you. You could hear his parents screaming in the background and Sirius crying for Remus to wake up. 

Your body shook with anger and fear at the scene taking place in front of you. You squeezed your eyes shut and focused that energy. You focused just as your dad had thought you. You focused all that pain, fury, fear onto one thing, one spell, one person.

"Crusio." You murmured softly. 

Suddenly you were released and sent sprawling towards the ground. You heard a blood curdling shriek of agony behind you and stood to see the dark lord writhing on the floor. As he did your head felt with a splitting pain and you screeched grasping at your temples in an attempt to stop the pain. 

It ended as abruptly as it started and you stood over the man so many feared and you saw him look back up at you to see the one thing you were sure this man had never felt before in his eyes. Fear. 

He was gone in a whisper of black smoke, his followers disappearing just as quickly.

You turned sliding to the floor next to the boy you loved, tears of relief springing from your eyes. 

"She's gone, she's gone, she's gone." You heard him sobbing slumped on the ground defeated. 

"Harry, Harry it's me." You said voice breaking. He looked up his glasses were long gone his emerald eyes shining with tears. 

"Y/n?" He mumbled.

"Hey, yeah it's me." You cried. 

"But y-you, you, you were g-gone." 

"Not yet. Not yet." You sobbed tears of joy as you were tackled in a hug by the boy. 

You sobbed on to his shoulder as he pulled you into him grasping you desperately, wetting your y/h/c hair with tears. 

He pulled away from the hug grabbing your damp cheeks and smashing his lips onto yours. 

The kiss was desperate and needy, Harry moved his lips roughly against yours, you could taste the salt on him left from his tears, the same salty droplets still leaking from your eyes. 

When you broke away he pulled you into his chest again. "I love you. I love you, I love you, I love you y/n, I love you so much." The words fell from his mouth in a slur.

"I love you too Harry. I love you too" You cried into his chest.

Lily and James watched as the two of you reunited and looked at each other with the same eyes. They knew what the two of you had, they had seen very few like it, very few indeed. It was love. Not fake teenage dream "love". Not abusive of forced "love". Not one sided or used "love" but true and actual love. The same love they felt for each other. They watched as the young couple picked each other up and put each other back together and they knew that those two teenagers were in it for the long run. 

Masterlist

[unicornprincessinthetardis]

My (often relatively reasonable) dad: ...so Enoch Powell was right, what he said has happened.

Me: and you don't think maybe he could've said it without inciting racial hatred and literally saying that in time the rivers might run with the blood of 'native' British people because of immigration, do you?

My dad: no, you're being ridiculous, it had to be said, and there really are areas of cities that are majority black or Muslim now so he was right in his predictions, and it didn't change how things were anyway

Me: *goes away to calm down and read up on the 'Rivers of Blood' speech*

[I already knew some of this but here's a précis for those unfamiliar: in April 1968, in Wolverhampton, UK, a Conservative MP, Enoch Powell, made a speech, about the proposed 'Race Relations Bill' (which subsequently made it illegal to refuse housing/ employment/public services to people on the grounds of race/colour/ ethnic & national origins).

The speech was strongly anti-immigrant, calling for 'voluntary re-emigration' and for moves to be made to stem the tide of immigration, else Britain would be 'overrun' and sooner or later white British people would find themselves fully second-class citizens, and that in some ways they already were. He also talked about a "tragic and intractable phenomenon which we watch with horror on the other side of the Atlantic", which I take to mean immigration in the USA to the similar end of white people no longer being in charge - which in 1968 was so far from the truth, and just horrible baseless fear-mongering, playing on people’s xenophobia and racist prejudice - and compared pro-immigration/anti-discrimination newspapers to the ones that had denied and hid the rise of fascism and threat of war in the 1930s. Plus, he talked about a constituent of his, a woman who lived on a street that had become occupied by mostly black people, who lost her white lodgers and complained to the council for a tax rate reduction because she wouldn't take black tenants, and instead basically got told not to be racist, and presented it as a bad thing that she'd been treated like that.

The speech's common name comes from a phrase he quoted from the Aenid (because he was also a Cambridge-educated classics scholar), 'I seem to see "the River Tiber foaming with much blood"', although he just called it 'the Birmingham speech' and seemed to be surprised by the uproar he caused.]

Me (to self): So it didn't change things did it? How do you explain the attacks against nonwhite people where the attackers literally shouted his name and repeated his rhetoric? Oh, they would definitely have happened if he hadn't made that speech, wouldn't they? And the British people of foreign descent who were so afraid they might be removed from their lives just for not being white they always had cases packed to go? And the fact that experts says he set back progress in 'race relations' by about ten years and legitimised being racist/anti-immigrant in the same way UKIP and some pro-Brexit types have done within the last few years here (fun fact: immediately after the Brexit vote, people were being racially and physically abusive to visibly Muslim and/or South Asian people, telling them to leave because of Brexit, which was of course extreme nonsense because their presence would be nothing to do with the EU, and more likely the British Empire and the Commonwealth, but they were doing it because it seemed suddenly okay to be openly racist, because Nigel Farage and his ilk, and a legally non-binding vote surrounded in lies, said so) and others have done elsewhere, in the US and Europe and Brazil and so many other places.

Powell was interviewed about the speech in 1977 and stood by his views, said that because the immigration figures were higher than those he had been 'laughed at' about in his speech, he was right and now governments didn't want to deal with the "problem", were passing it off to future generations and it would go on until there was a civil war!

He also said he wasn't a 'racialist' (racist) because he believed a "'racialist' is a person who believes in the inherent inferiority of one race of mankind to another, and who acts and speaks in that belief" so he was in fact "a racialist in reverse" as he regarded "many of the peoples in India as being superior in many respects—intellectually, for example, and in other respects—to Europeans." (I mean, I know I can't hold him to our standards but a) that's still racism and b) he did think that mankind was divided into very distinct, probably biologically so, races, which, yes, normal for the time, but the whole 'each with different qualities and ways in which they were better than others' is iffy)

Me: *goes back to Dad to make my point and definitely not get upset* So here are some things that literally happened as a consequence of the 'Rivers of Blood' speech...

So even if he was correct to say what he did (I mean, he wasn't but you have to tiptoe around Dad and I had points to make), he shouldn't have said it the way he did

My dad: so you think the truth should be suppressed? You're only looking at this from one perspective (he thinks he knows better because he was alive at the time and my brother and I weren't despite the fact that we're both into politics and history and, y'know, not into scapegoating, behaving oddly, and laying blame because people are different to us - he and mum also have issues with trans people and we're trying so hard to change their views/behaviours but I'm not sure it's working & that's a whole different story) and there are these areas that really are Muslim-only (because informal lending and wanting to keep the community together is such a crime, right?) and they don't integrate and want to impose Sharia law (only he couldn't remember what it was called right then) and you don't know what it's like (he is an engineer surveyor and travels all over to inspect boilers and cooling systems and all sorts of stuff, and this includes into majority-Black or -Asian (Muslim and otherwise) areas in Birmingham - which is not a no-go area for non-Muslims, I'm a deeply agnostic white woman, it's my nearest big city and I wish I went there more often but it's tricky as I don't drive, public transport is bad/inconvenient, and I have no friends to go with except depression and anxiety [which are worse 'friends' than the ones that I found out only liked me in high school because I always had sweets and snacks at lunch so when I got braces and my mouth hurt too much to eat much of anything which meant I certainly didn't have snacks, they dropped me pretty quickly] so apparently he's the expert on all such matters)

What I wish I'd said: *staying very calm* well, and that's your opinion, I'm going, I've got sewing to finish *leaves*

What actually happened:

Me: have you considered that they are able to buy up areas like that because white people leave because of their prejudice against the 'influx'?

Dad: they buy up great areas because they buy in groups (I think this refers to a sort of community lending thing to be compliant with various parts of Islam? [Please correct me if I'm wrong] which is effectively what building societies/credit unions were, at least to begin with, and he doesn't take issue with those) and want to stay together. Why do they do that? Sikhs don't do that, they buy big houses and aren't bothered about being close together.

Me: different religious ethoses? I don't know... But you do know that they people who want the UK to be a caliphate ruled by Sharia law are just a minority, and that most Muslims would not want that at all, just like you?

Dad: but they still do want it, and it could happen, if there was a charismatic leader,

Me: *incredulous* you know it's about as likely for that to actually happen as for strictly Orthodox Jewish people to be able to make this country into another Israel, right? Besides, there are the police, and the armed forces, and intelligence agencies, not to mention the Government and civil service (thought I'd got a win there, he hates the unchanging upper-class-public-school-Oxbridge nature of the people who effectively really run the government, constant no matter the leaning of the elected party, but no) who have a vested interest in preserving themselves in their current state so would be able to stop anything like that

Dad: yes, but the cutting of funding to police and public services means they might not be able to stop it (I realise now that he's oddly economically left-wing but also really quite socially conservative in some ways)

Me: *getting angry* but it's still an absolute minority, most Muslims would be horrified if it really did happen, and have you ever considered that maybe they wouldn't be so ill-disposed to us and to integration if we didn't demand it of them the moment that they arrive, demand that they assimilate or go away (he often uses the phrase "yes, but they're in somebody else's country, they should make an effort") and maybe young people wouldn't be so easily radicalised and people generally mistrust the people who don't try to understand them, you know, want them to change everything about themselves (for instance, Dad is violently opposed to the burqa etc and not really a fan of the hijab - still doesn't get that it's a choice and people can do what they want because apparently 'anyone could be wearing one of those things' - burqas/niqabs, I presume - and that it must all be forced because who would possibly choose to dress like that - I have half a mind to show him those sites about Christian modest dressing (one was a shop and a lot of their range was pretty cute!) that I once found, just to see if that'll prove to him it is a choice thing) *tries to leave*

Dad: *angry* You stay there and listen to me! You're just looking at it from one perspective and that's not the truth, you're so biased and closed-minded, you only look at things your way!

Me: *furious* Really? Really? Am I? *Scoffs/incredulous exhalation* I'm closed-minded, am I?... *Storms out, shouts as I go* I'm not the one who said Enoch Powell was right!!

This is all heavily paraphrased, because I've been writing this for literal hours now and I was angry and don't remember well at the best of times, it may have been worse than how I'm writing it

Also, going to be tricky to patch up but right now I stand by what I said, because I know my perspective is limited, but at least I actually admit that and try to find out what people different to me think, rather than basing all my opinions and things on my own experiences which can't be universal, as he seems to

Other bs my dad said during the two conversations: "don't get so upset about it, it's only history" (which is bold, considering it was the 50th anniversary this year and he was literally 11 years old when it happened so probably saw/heard news coverage)... "Yes of course far right groups use 'Enoch was right' as a slogan, it doesn't mean anything"... Reiterating the 'nothing changed' thing multiple times... Dismissing the fact that Powell said there'd be a civil war because apparently just because the British/Europeans were aggressive conquerors anyone else who came in numbers anywhere would eventually have that aim and how ridiculous that view actually is... Dismissing the fact that Powell basically incited racial hatred and violence with the inclusion of an irrelevant Classical phrase which spread fear on all sides...

I could go on but I'm so tired and don't want to make myself more upset

I love my parents but I really don't like them very much lately but I don't know if I just put up with it or leave sooner or later and if I do leave I don't know where I'd go because no friends

Basically I'm so sorry for my parents' prejudices which I'm still trying to unlearn myself - I apologise wholeheartedly to all Muslim and Jewish people and honestly pretty much everyone they're prejudiced against

[albusdumbles]

My Head Canon for Sherlock and Molly is a mixture of what Sir Doyle's stories tell us and the Moftiss version :

After Sherrinford, Sherlock returns to crime solving in 221B as a more mature, humbled man, better attuned to his and others emotions. He now understands and acknowledges the power of emotions and does not actively discount them as he used to before, but accepts them and most importantly respects them.

John and Rosie remain a huge presence in Sherlock's life. John retains his position as Sherlock's best friend and partner in crime solving. John continues to live in 221B for some time but as Rosie grows up and her safety becomes an issue, he shifts to another more homely location, and balances time between Rosie, his clinic and case solving.

The situation is now brought to the one that was canonically established in the Sherlock Holmes books, where in the later stories Dr. Watson would generally come to visit Baker Street and find Sherlock amidst an interesting case or would get a call from Sherlock for help in a certain case. The original stories mostly start off from this point. However since we have Rosie to consider as well I am guessing John's involvement is lesser. In the original books too there were times when Holmes solved entire cases and only then told Watson how they happened or would mostly do the legwork himself. Adhering to that in this version Rosie and the clinic are the factors for John's lesser involvement, though it is only relatively lesser as John really can't stay away that much.

Sherlock's relationship with Molly is however not this simple. It is complex on various levels. After Sherrinford, Sherlock does explain everything to Molly, and it is a moment between them that neither can I describe nor can they both themselves as to give complete justification. What words are exchanged, what is said is between them is not known, but there is an assurance that Molly being Molly does forgive him. She has always seen right through him and even now can see his pain, his remorse, his vulnerability which shines through stating the deep emotional trauma that he has suffered. He doesn't tell her whether he meant that I love you or not. Neither does she mention it again. But John, Mrs Hudson and even Lestrade if ever asked about it will certainly tell you that something had started to change around that point of time. No Sherlock and Molly are however not in a relationship. But when Molly's other friends and colleagues try to set her up with dates, Molly's doesn't really seem interested. They chastise her for not trying and soon give up one by one, though there are some close friends who know the actual reason and don't say anything, merely shake their heads and go away. Once a relative of Molly's asks her that doesn't she want to have children of her own? To which she replies that she already does have a child.

Molly's description of that relative's face on her answer keeps John and Sherlock laughing all night when she tells them. She has come at that time for dinner as she sometimes does with them. Both John and Sherlock look at her fondly as she makes some more bad jokes and plays with Rosie. Eventually though John goes home as its Rosie's bedtime and Sherlock and Molly are left alone. He suggests a walk and she agrees. They walk around in the quiet of the London night, not saying much, but as hands brush and soft smiles are exchanged a lot more is said then words could express.

Life goes on at 221B, John eventually finds another woman, and proceeds to settle down again. His involvement becomes lesser now though and updates from 221B aren't that regular. However one day he gets a shocking message that Mrs. Hudson is very ill. He rushes to Baker Street along with Rosie and his wife. Sherlock looks a bit haggard, and for the first time John's new wife sees some emotion on Sherlock's face. John's always told her that he is a deeply emotional man and while she has not doubted his affection for Rosie, she hasn't seen him anything other than stoic and practical in the time she has known him.

Molly comes in moments later, hand in hand with another man, and Mrs. Watson can swear that this time she can feel a palpable change in the air. A tension that was not there before even with the sadness about Mrs. Hudson's situation has suddenly seeped in.

She may not be perceptive like Sherlock but she knows in the way that Molly and Sherlock avoid looking at each other and how Molly has not paid much attention to her boyfriend while she has been in the house that there is something here.

Later she asks about this to John who says that he himself doesn't understand it much and that they are not what you could call a couple, nor are they exes and he also doesn't know what exactly does Sherlock feel for her.

"He doesn't love like us and I can't always understand him or what he is exactly feeling. But know this, that Molly can, she is vital to him and while Sherlock can deduce the whole world to the T, the only person who can deduce him back is Molly. However Sherlock and Molly are an unsolvable case which I gave up ages ago". The topic is halted as the Watsons go to sleep too tired and drained to try to make sense of what they saw today.

Mrs. Hudson's death follows a few days later from this event and after the funeral the new Mrs. Watson again observes Sherlock and Molly. Again she sees the rare occasion of Sherlock showing emotion and as her heart wrenches a bit for the man who looks like he has lost a long battle, her gaze shifts to Molly who has incidentally come alone and not left Sherlock's side. Her hand on his arm the whole time, him slightly leaning into her as he addresses the guests that have come.

Mrs. Watson files that image away for later analysis. But the evidence and sources for these two people to clearly define whatever is going on between them is so confusing and so rare that soon, she like her husband comes to discover as to why its an 'unsolvable case' and gives up as well, eventually just accepting Sherlock and Molly as they are.

Rosie on the other hand suffers no such problem as her parents and when asked quite happily tells them about her Godfather and Godmother and how they are in fact a couple. She is the Watson who sees and observes; perceptive like her Mother she sees what others miss and hence is the only one not surprised when, a few years later as she is going off to college she hears that Uncle Sherlock who had shifted just last year to Sussex Downs, to pursue his passion for beekeeping has now been joined by Aunt Molly, who has given her resignation from Bart's and sold her flat.

Sherlock and Molly never married. They did not appear to be a couple to anyone and no one apart from Sherlock's closest and nearest circle of people knew about the relationship that they shared.

As Sherlock Holmes became a legend immortalized through Dr. Watson's blogs, now talked about in past tense, no one ever associated the name of Molly Hooper with him. She wasn't ever mentioned in the blogs and not seen with him often enough by the press who came to the conclusion that she was just a colleague. Hence the stories, movies and series that were inspired from it later never acknowledged her.

It only had once come to the attention of Molly, Rosie's grandchild who had scoffed while watching a movie about the great Holmes and his supposed private life thinking that if only they had observed the subtle hints in her great grandfather's old blog and not merely skimmed through, they could have known better about the actual private life of Sherlock Holmes. For though she hadn't ever met Sherlock Holmes, she knew his stories well. Her grandmother had read the blogs to her in her childhood and had filled in a lot of blanks about Holmes life that Dr.John Watson had deliberately left in his writing as a tribute to a certain pathologist. However she had most of all remembered a photo of him which had been in her grandmother's old touchscreen cell phone. Seriously who even used touchscreen anymore?! The photo had been of the said detective smiling down with all the love in his eyes at a woman with brown hair tied in a ponytail, flecks of grey here and there, a wrinkled face but sparkly brown eyes that crinkled as she smiled back at him with her arms around him. Molly had wished that someone looked at her as Sherlock Holmes had once looked at her namesake.

Sherlock and Molly's tale was one which was forgotten through time, kept away from the world; in the beginning by Mycroft Holmes' zealous efforts to keep that part of Sherlock's life well hidden and then eventually through the natural course of fading memory. For Mycroft, the fear of old enemies discovering about Molly and using her in some unscrupulous manner was unacceptable. He had seen how vulnerable a pressure point Molly was to Sherlock and he never wanted to see his brother go through the anguish and pain he had witnessed in the room with the coffin again.

Hence while throughout history Sherlock Holmes' name was taken with a lot of people, primarily with Doctor Watson, his best friend, confidante and blogger; Irene Adler and James Moriarty his rivals and enemies, both great in their own regard; Mrs. Hudson his landlady and not his housekeeper; Lestrade his first colleague and friend and even with Rosie who never stopped boasting about the fact that he was her Godfather, his name was never ever taken with the one person that mattered the most.

Molly Hooper.

[franeridart]

Was there a colored page of kirishima with black hair? I can't remember, but if there wasn't confirmation; what if his hair is a wildly different color and since manga is black n white no one can tell lmao

Might be, but even if it weren’t striktly black it still has to be some dark and dull color, or else he didn’t have any reason to call himself plain, right? No actual need to dye it either, really!

Anon said:Denki once jokingly said he just needs to stick a fork in a powersocket to pull an all nighter but now everyone wants to know if that can happen

I’m sure with everyone you mean the squad which as we all know is made of irresponsible idiots and enablers to every and all stupid/reckless ideas - I’m 100% convinced they all told Kaminari to “prove it, then” and Kaminari was definitely ready with fork in hand 0.2 seconds later and if it weren’t that they decided to be idiots in the common room and Iida happened across them just as he was about to stick the fork in the plug they would have already short-circuited the whole dorms building lmao

Anon said:i was going through ur bnha fusions au and i wanted to ask, who do u think would form the most dtable fusion with mineta?

Kaminari!! Ofc, he’s his best friend - he’s pretty much perfectly stable with Sero and Tsuyu too, tho~

Anon said:Have you seen bungo stray dogs? The boss of the good guys is exactly the description you have for aizawa you'd lov him

I watched the first season! My faves used to be Chuuya and Tanizaki, but all in all the pacing of the anime felt too off to me, I couldn’t properly get into it orz I thought about trying with the manga but as far as I get it translations aren’t regular? I don’t know it sounds like too much work lmao

Anon said:i spent the entire day going through your blog and i have fallen in love with ur art and ur art style and bakushimanari is now my ot3 thank u so much for drawing those three have a great day

aaaaaaAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!!!!! Thank you SO MUCH!!!!!! ;A;

Anon said:Hey! I'm in love with the kiribaku kids (they're so cute omg). Do you have any ideas about other bnha characters'/couples' kids?

!!! Thank you!!!!! And not really actually, usually I think about this kind of things only if they’re asked directly, making fandom ocs isn’t really something I do usually lol BUT I did spend a lot of time thinking about quirk genetics (caaaaaaauuuuuuuussssseeeeeee I’m a nerd) and the most powerful combinations possible if the bnha kids had to have a baby AND my personal conclusion is that Bakugou and Mina should seriously think about having a kid. Just saying. Fuck Todoroki, that’s a kid destined to be number one.

Anon said:So your shark Kiri is my favorite mermaid au of BNHA ever. I just adore it and wanted to let you know :)

Ahhh!!!!! thank you oh my gods ;A;!!!!!

Anon said:Dav my boy!!!!!! Oh how I missed his lovely face!!!!!!!!! Thank you for this blessing ;-;

Hahaha I don’t know why you like him this much but that’s my pleasure, really! I’m always doodling my kids anyway, might as well line and post them now and again haha

Anon said:I'm assuming kiri and bakugo are married in the parents au and if so, who proposed and how?? Also maybe what was the wedding like?? I know this is beyond the au itself but ahsjakal I'm so curious now. Also the kids look so at home with them I'm living for it

Boi anon, I didn’t really think that far about this haha generally my usual headcanon about who proposed to whom is that, like, they’ve been dating since high school, right? And at some point they just started saying stuff like “when we’ll live together” or “once we’ll be married” or stuff like that, so it was always something that was going to happen sooner or later, for them? Since they never thought they’d ever break up. I don’t really feel like changing that for this specific AU tbh haha but as far as specifics go... yeah, let’s go with this

So let’s say that one day, they’re over 25yo but under 30, and they’ve been living together since the dorms days, and one day Bakugou goes with the usual “once we’ll be married---” sentence starter that’s become part of their daily vocabulary at this point, only this time instead of letting him finish Kirishima interrupts him with “why not do that already?”. After all they have the money for it. Stable income. An apartment. And they’re pretty much acting as if they’re married already anyway. And Bakugou’s like “...shit, yeah, why the fuck not.”

(cue very huge elated smiles on both of their faces)

The initial idea was to just sign their names and be done with it, but in the end they plan for it. Their parents are the first to get involved, but then Kaminari and Mina learn about it and it becomes, like, a huge thing. They make reservations both for the restaurant and the hall. Personalized invitations. Themed flower decorations. The menu and the wedding list and tux’s and music, all perfectly thought out. They get all their friends working abroad to take at least that one day off to attend, hell, all in all they’re the first couple of of their year (former 1A and 1B both) to actually get married this is huge this is important everyone’s so excited that even Bakugou starts being unbearably giddy about the idea, even though he’d initially hoped for something way smaller. So they plan for it. And it’s huge and amazing and a dream. And they’re there and they’re gonna walk down the aisle together and Bakugou’s sweating and Kirishima’s crying already and they’re smiling so damn hard and then villains attack. Ofc they do. After all it’s one hall full of god knows how many heroes all not in their gear and probably with their guard down and, sure, everyone had tried to not make the wedding a public thing but this kind of news have a way of always reaching the wrong ears and. Yeah.

Well, in the end they win but the wedding is sorta ruined. Kirishima and Bakugou specifically don’t care all that much, their suits are ruined - Bakugou’s burnt all over the place and Kirishima’s barely holding together at all and there might be blood somewhere, too - and the hall is half destroyed and they had to evacuate most civilians and, well, it’s a mess, but when they really think about it did they even expect anything different? So in the end it’s over fourty people between ex schoolmates and former teachers and various parental figures and Baku and Kiri’s parents crammed in a governamet office, still covered in dust and ash and with their clothes a mess, and Bakugou and Kirishima sign their names on the official papers and it’s, it’s okay Mina and Kaminari are crying over their wasted efforts but it’s fine this is exactly as it’s supposed to be

They still leave for the honeymoon next day tho, that’s the one part they were truly looking forward to nothing’s gonna take that away from them