#doesn’t matter because you love the scrap more anyway

[foursaints]

the rosekiller fix-it au

the dementor’s kiss can function as a really interesting form of absolution, i think. being soulless isn’t so terrible a punishment, in a world where souls can be split and shared between people.

that’s why i’m so interested in an evan lives!AU. because evan would make a horcrux out of the empty shell left of barty

of the dementor’s kiss, lupin says: “You can exist without your soul, you know, as long as your brain and heart are still working. But you'll have no sense of self anymore, no memory, no...anything.”

it’s interesting that the brain & heart are unaffected, because it raises so many questions of what the soul actually IS. barty’s existence was pretty soulless already. a boy brought up under imperius, always in service to something else. his brain was often all that mattered.

they didn’t send him back to azkaban. i think he was left in the spell damage ward of st. mungo’s, mutely accepting gum wrappers from alice & frank longbottom, not remembering what he ever did to them, just receiving their kindness.

we don’t know what the effects of the kiss look like outside the walls of azkaban, where the inhabitants are catatonic already. barty’s fate is a big question mark: what does it mean to eat & sleep & think & hear & feel, with no soul? for one thing, i think it makes him a squib. i think he can’t joke, anymore. or dream.

but then: evan rosier is a healer. a strange, dark kind. HE knows what catatonic brain damage looks like, he knows it’s not this, barty otherwise left intact. he has always wanted to make an experiment out of him anyway.

evan rosier is a dark wizard. a death eater. he would already be capable of making something as “evil” as a horcrux, but i’m curious at the idea of a horcrux made for love’s sake.

and evan rosier is a twin. he and pandora were about as close to sharing one soul as two people could be. what i’m saying is that if he split his in half, he would be used to the feeling.

i want their helpless post-war domesticity. i want evan, who lost everything, reading the prophet article on barty’s kiss, who lost more. i want evan suppressing every memory, every feeling, every ghost of his lover, to try and be a scientist again. to tend after barty’s shell. i want evan going to riddle house, grimmauld place, looking for clues. realizing a horcrux has been made of a person already.

i want barty’s second chance at a life. i want the husk of barty, wiped clean, who has only ever known the inside of st. mungo’s and evan’s care. what a meager scrap of a soul he had. what an unsatisfying meal it must have been, for that dementor. isn’t this better? he knows very little, but his terrible cleverness is still there with his brain. he knows that evan is the only other person he’s ever met who has the same tattoo on his left forearm

i want evan killing something so good & innocent that it splits his soul in half. i want him still falling in love with the shell of barty, again, this different barty, and grappling with giving him his soul, wondering if it will change him. he doesn’t even want to lose THIS barty, while he’s tortured by memories of the last one. i want them sharing two broken halves of a soul: neither of them can get into the afterlife now, but it’s okay. they can live out their lives, together.

and there is always the sharon olds poem: “So what if he had no soul / I knew him soulless all my childhood”

[riaki]

moneyload | satoru gojo x reader (implied fem)

this is for @satoruoo + everyone who’s tired of my angst | 1k wc

satoru likes spoiling you.

no— like would be the world's greatest understatement. satoru feels about spoiling you the way he feels about you— he doesn’t just like you, he‘s utterly enamored with you. if you asked, he'd move mountains for you. or give up a portion of his candy; both are equitable in his bright eyes. he loves you so much that he'd skip a basketball session with suguru or leave in the middle of the fight to throw the leftover scraps of a cursed spirit to whoever was unlucky enough to be there at the time; you're more important. you've always been.

yeah, that’s gotta be it. a perfect way to paint his feelings for you on a pure canvas brightened by your smile, light as a feather and lively as the sun. and you're completely deserving, he thinks— you, who's always been so patient and kind with him.

as such, he thinks it’s a crime to waste such a beautiful figure on things less than lavish dress and delicate jewelry; but to be honest, he thinks you could don a potato sack and still make it look exquisite. nevertheless, each time you protest when he drapes another dainty necklace glittering with gems cut from a million-dollar wallet and 58 facets (all the reasons he loves you— that's what he calls them.), he shushes you promptly with a swift, sweet kiss; you get a noseful of his expensive cologne every time he sidles up to you and gets comfortable. which, for the record, is quite often.

out of everything he gets you; bouquets of beautiful speckled flowers that look as if a painter dumped their entire palette of pastels and pretties onto the petals, sweet chocolates dark with the tiniest amount of cherry liquor in the center ("i don't need them— i already get drunk off of you, sweetheart!"), fragrant perfume or the latest comfortable clothing that catches his eye (this one's less common. he likes it better when you're only in his clothes.), jewelry is the one he always finds his way back to the most often.

why? well, if you ask him— there's nothing better than being sprawled on your couch with his head in your lap, nuzzling into your warm hand as he catches a whiff of the perfume he gifted you last week paired with the reddest rose he could find on your wrist. your hands card through his hair, and he uses the opportunity to catch your arm before you can move any further, giving you a smug grin as he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a box.

(it's a little embarrassing the amount of times you've thought he was going to propose from that alone.)

you'll open it, and it'll be a pretty silver necklace that matches the one around his neck, or a gold ring with ornate details that he slips onto your fingers after taking your hand in his and pressing a kiss to your knuckles with a smile and a laugh. sometimes it's a bracelet adorned with rich jewels the color of your eyes; maybe something rose quartz to represent the flush on his cheeks you always seem to elicit or a marigold yellow to show the pure joy he gets from being around you. if you ask him about it, he'll just say, "i wasn't kidding when i said i get drunk off of you, baby." with a boyish giggle that's far too charming to not have been used in his younger years to get his way and a sweet little wink of an afterthought that has your heart racing.

on the occasions when the gift is far less... appropriate, you'll always sigh and chastise him with a shake of your head because you both know the fabric will be torn to shreds in a matter of a few minutes. he does it anyway, though. he's always been a little bit of a brat in that sense.

whatever it ends up as, satoru absolutely adores seeing your reactions; the cute flush on your cheeks when you accept it with a little thanks and a kiss to his cheek, leaning forward on the tips of your toes because he's too tall for his own good. maybe even to hook a finger around the bridge of his sunglasses for lips to lips, if he's lucky. of course, he knows he doesn't have to buy your affection— you've made that abundantly clear in moments he doesn't like to think about as anything more than vulnerability when he's worn out, but there's just something about you that makes him want to pile it on. he's always had more money than he knows what to do with, anyway.

and maybe, just maybe— one day he'll dare to hope for a future past school hallways, flattering dresses and skirts or sneaky kisses when he's a little sweaty and his jacket is in your arms and you're on the bleachers, hijacking shoko's pack of cigarettes while the squeak of shoes on the gym floor and the sound of a basketball rattling in the hoop fills your ears. past nights when you're curled up in his arms and he can comfortably rest his head in the crook of your neck, tucked away where it always should be (and always will be).

he'll hope for days when he gets to wake up to you by his side, a silver band with so much more meaning than the fifth one he's given you that week on your ring finger and a matching one on his own, because satoru loves you so much that he'd empty out the vaults of a bank just to make you smile at him. not in the hollow way his father always had at home, or in the obligatory resolute smiles of the servants on his estate, but in a genuine way; a way no one else (except his mom) had ever come close to because if he sold everything he ever had for you, his world would still be right in front of him, holding his hands and kissing his face in spontaneous bursts of love, like shooting stars dancing across his cheeks as a way of thanks.

...so, maybe satoru likes spoiling you so much because you always seem to return tenfold.

if u looked at my search history you'd see 'how many cuts does a diamond have' and 'what are the chocolates with alcohol in them called' my (riaki) stuff. don't repost and/or plagiarize !

[the-modern-typewriter]

Hi ♥️ can I please request a small snippet which starts with the hero offering themselves to the villain instead of another victim (which was the intention of villain all along). I really love the powerful villain - struggling hero dynamic. Doesn’t need to be in a romantic way…

Sorry if this is oddly specific. Thank you so much for all your stories and snippets so far. They’re sooo good!!! ✨

The hero dodged into the villain's path.

The villain stopped. They looked down, at the hero's palms planted firmly on their chest, then to the hero's eyes.

The hero gulped. They dropped their hands, but didn't step aside.

"Take me instead."

"You." Power crackled off the villain; enough to make the hair on the hero's arms stand on end.

"I'm more valuable," the hero said, holding the villain's gaze. Their heart drummed wildly. "People would pay an awful lot of money for a go at me - you don't need them. I'm a much better ransom."

"And if I don't take you?" the villain asked.

"I'm also more fun."

The villain's lip curled. "And if I don't take you?"

Well, then they would have to fight. The hero was not remotely looking forward to that prospect. It wasn't that they couldn't hold their own - they knew perfectly well that they were generally considered one of the few people who could, when it came to the dazzling monstrosity before them. But, well.

The hero gulped again, squaring their shoulders. Their hands shot, gently, gently, to the villain's chest when the villain began to sidestep them.

The villain's head tilted.

The hero didn't drop their hands that time.

The villain's heartbeat was perfectly steady.

"I'm offering," the hero said.

The curl of the villain's lip sharped a fraction more; a scrap of paper burning up on a fire, containing all the world's most dangerous secrets. "Is that what you're doing right now?"

"Please," the hero said, quieter, just for the two of them.

"Maybe I don't want to ransom you," the villain said, in the same intimate murmur. Their eyes glittered in the city lights. "Maybe I'd rather keep you all to myself."

The hero's stomach swooped. "Just leave them alone."

"You're a predictable little thing, you know that?"

Realisation hit the hero, like the loud click of a lock turning. It didn't make any difference though. Wasn't that the point? To see the trap closing. To stand there anyway. It was already too late.

The hero had known that the villain could be persuaded to take them instead. The villain had known they would offer.

"So are you," the hero said, mouth dry. "In your way."

"My predictability doesn't make me lose." The villain's hand rose up, to cradle the hero's jaw. Their thumb grazed over the hero's skittering pulse. "It doesn't make me so reckless."

The hero shivered.

"There are power-blocking cuffs in my pocket," the villain said. "Take them out."

"You promise you'll leave everyone else alone?"

"You trust me to keep my promises?"

Yes. Not because of any particular honour, but because one did not get the devil's reputation for threats and bargains without proper follow through. "Promise me. Please."

"I promise that I'll leave them alone in this matter if I can have you instead."

It didn't save everyone and everything, the hero knew that. But it would spare the poor fool cowering behind them, braced for the end of all things. They reached into the villain's pocket like one might reach into a nest of vipers.

"Put them on," the villain said.

The hero did. Everything went muffled and sluggish as the auto-lock engaged. The villain's grip on their jaw kept them from crumbling, pitching forward, at the wave of overwhelming weakness that flooded them.

They could vaguely hear gasps, cries of alarm, hissed whispers behind them. Someone might have screamed 'no.' Someone might have been held back. The hero wasn't sure; they could feel their vision tunnelling a little at the edges.

They still held the villain's gaze.

"Good," the villain murmured. They pressed a kiss to the hero's forehead. Then they let go, abruptly.

The hero staggered. They hit their knees with a groan.

Powerless. It struck them that they'd made a terrible mistake. They hadn't expected it to feel like that.

The villain surveyed the crowd, for a beat. They said something - the hero's ears were ringing, they weren't sure what it was. The villain's fingers tangled idly into the hero's hair, then they started walking.

Being dragged hurt. The humiliation of it would have surely hurt, too, if the hero could concentrate on it.

The villain's car beeped it as it unlocked. They let go of the hero's hair. The hero slumped to the ground, reeling.

"Get in the car," the villain said. "Or I'll put you in the boot."

It seemed to take Herculean effort to climb into the passenger seat. It was almost a relief to slump there, sweat beading their forehead, body aching.

The villain got in too, on the driver's side. They took a moment to look the hero over. The power of them had always seemed enormous, but it felt like something else entirely then without the hero's own to match it. A devastating, crushing weight. An unstoppable force.

The villain reached over and clipped the hero's seatbelt in place. They cupped the hero's cheek again, drawing their attention, their scattershot focus.

"Leaving them alone was the least of the promises you should have insisted on," the villain said. "You panicked. You should know better."

The hero groaned again. Their head lilted into the soothing cup of the villain's fingers.

The villain let go, once more, left them bereft, and started the car.

They drove.

[yougavemeyourheartyouknow]

Love me or hate me, both are in my favor (Miguel O’Hara x Fem! Reader [HS Academic Rivals AU])

I know y’all I know… I promise from now on, from this chapter this final I will put my priorities on finishing this fic, and the next chapter will be longer. anyways, not proofread. Enjoy once again.

Some villains foreshadowing, cursing maybe (can’t remember tbh), not much tbh.

Word count: 2.1k

Series Masterlist Series playlist

Chapter 10: What a wicked thing to do, to let me dream of you

—

“How interesting… seems my wall crawling friend here found himself a little girlfriend…”

You both couldn’t see him, but he saw you. Saw the way Spider-Man’s hand so easily found its way to the small of your back, saw how he smiled down at you when his blue and red mask was partly off, the way your eyes gleamed as you looked up at him. Young love.

He couldn’t wait to destroy it, to rip it right out of Spider-Man’s sharp talons.

“Enjoy her while you can Spidey… You won’t have her for long…”

—

Miguel has officially burned whatever unstable bridge he had with you. You won’t talk to him, you won’t go up to him to compare scores anymore, won’t even glance his way anymore. It’s not like he doesn’t deserve it, he knows he did, but it doesn’t mean he isn’t stuck internally mourning the loss of any good blood between you and his civilian form, officially snapping the last olive branch you had given him.

You wouldn’t talk to him, you wouldn’t stop by his desk anymore, started to take the longer routes to class whenever you would both have to go to the same class just so you weren’t in the same viscosity as him, hell, he’s pretty sure you haven’t even looked at him since. He can’t blame you though no matter how much he wanted to, he brought this upon himself. If he was able to keep his mouth shut, then maybe he would be able to better his chances of turning your silly rivalry into something closer to companionship. Now… his only hope was to be patient, and pray that you would eventually grow enough of a soft spot for him to be able to enter your life once more.

Step one, would be to make you acknowledge him. Even if it’s a small glare or a rolling of the eyes, he’ll take whatever you’ll give him. So he starts of small, a small scrap of paper with the words “I’m sorry, pls stop ignoring me so I won’t feel bad when I crush you on the next quiz”, it was meant as a joke, hoping to garner some sort of reaction out of you, where that be a chuckle or snort or an eyeroll. But you didn’t even open the note up, the second you saw his initials written in his neat handwriting on top of the folded paper, you crumpled it up and tossed it in the trash can before returning to your seat before the teacher began class.

You were stubborn, but so is Miguel, that was one of the many things you both had in common. So he tired again… in the next class he had with you, samething, a small folded slip of paper placed on the top of your desk, only for you to repeat your actions by throwing it away again. But as time passes he gets more persistent, started to leave your favorite candies and flowers on your desk, you knew it was him too, because they’d always be accompanied with his name on something, and despite how much it pains you to throw away perfectly good candy and flowers your need to keep a grudge was larger.

—

“Are you kidding me? How long is it gonna take for him to get the hint…” You whined quietly to Mj, as you picked up the small stuff doggy he had left on your desk this time, he knew you wouldn’t have the heart to toss this. Damn him.

“It’s a bit cute doesn’t you think? He’s like all those guys you read and watch about in those romance novels and movies.” Mj tried to reason with you, a small giggle leaving her lips as she picked it up and examined it. “It’s so cute too…”

“Well lucky you, it’s yours now.” You deadpanned with an eye roll as you sat in your seat, “And that’s different, at least all the guys in the movies and books didn’t drag the girl through the mud and insult them the way he did me.” You added, crossing your arms and turning your nose up in a slightly childish way, not even glancing at said male that you were talking about despite him sitting a few seats over from you, fidgeting with his phone as he pretended not to listen. You didn’t care if he did or not.

Mj just sent you a friendly glare, one that silently says, “don’t you think you're blowing this out of proportion?” You then tilted your head to the side, sending her one back that simply said “no.” she couldn’t help roll her eyes a bit at your dramatic as she gladly takes the stuff husky and placed it her bag, despite now being in basically no contact with your rival, it felt like you were complaining about him increased ten fold. Erasing any progress she and Peter were hoping to get the two of you together.

“So,” She finally drops it, glancing at the clock above the door of the classroom to see how much time she had before having to find her seat. “Are you doing anything after class tonight? Gwen from my French class is having a party at her dorm tonight, wanted to see if you’d come with me.” She asked, hoping to finally get you out and distracted. Frowning slightly white how quickly you shook your head.

“Can’t. I’m gonna be busy tonight.” You quickly answered, pulling out your supplies from your bag, making her groan at the rejection.

“You’ve been ‘busy’ all week, I know you well enough to know you’re probably just watching some random movie in bed.” She retorted, crossing her arms as she lightly glared at you.

“I have an actual thing tonight.” You replied, a smile creeping on your lips as you spoke. Mj raising her brow in suspension.

“A thing?”

“Yeah a thing.” You giggled a bit, feeling your cheeks warm up slightly.

“Okay can you tell me what said ‘thing’ is?” She asked, placing her hands flat on your desk as she leaned in a bit to get a bit closer, you pretended to think about it for a second, letting out a small hmm before finally answering.

“Okay, okay fine. Only since you're my best friend, I’ll tell you.” You said before folding your hands under your chin. “I’ve got… a date, for a lack of better terms.” You admit with a smile, Mj’s eyes widened so big you thought they’d popped out of her eyelids.

“No-no way!” She shout-whispered, going to sit in the empty chair next to her despite it not being her assigned seat. “Wait who!? Is it someone we know? Is it someone at this school?” She asked to which you quickly shook your head too, another smile spreads on your lips as you noticed her face form into one of confusion.

“Nooo, or actually I have no idea where he goes to school.” She scrunched together her brows at the odd answer.

“What do you mean you don’t know what school he goes to? Have you ever met this guy in person before?” You couldn’t help but let out a snort as she goes into ‘mom friend’ mode, her naturally overly protective nature shining through a bit. “Because if this is some, like random guy you met off social media I forbid you going-“

“Oh my goodness, no, no it’s nothing like that.” You shook your head and laughed, trying to explain yourself before she went into a full tirade about stranger danger. “I’ve met him in person, multiple times actually.”

“…Okay, so what’s his name?” You could still hear the slightest bit of suspicion in her tone as she narrowed her eyes at you. Only to watch them narrow more as you shrugged your shoulders, making her let out an over exaggerated sigh. “Is there anything you can tell me about him then? Literally anything.” It’s clear that her patience with you was starting to wear thin from you keeping her in the dark about the supposed guy you were going to see.

With practically perfect timing with the bell, you made a quick movement with both your hands. Middle and ring finger folding flat against your palms as the pointer, index and thumb were stretched out. Her jaw dropped to the floor as the biology teacher told everyone to get to their assigned seats, leaving you free from any more questions from the shocked redhead.

—

“Why can’t we take the subway or something? Do you really need your main mode of transportation to be swinging?” You asked as you placed on a jacket, trying your best to not get cold feet on your plans with the spider despite him already being in your window. “I’ve developed a new fear of heights because of you.” You whined, which wasn’t a complete lie. Especially after the whole Doc Ock situation.

“When have I ever given you a reason to doubt my ability to hold you safely while swinging?” He asked with a head tilt, squatting in your window stool, despite the mask being on your still noticed the way it shifted as he smirked.

“Well… no but-“

“See. You’re safe-“

“That doesn't mean I can’t still be scared though.” You pouted, crossing your arms in front of your chest as you took a step closer to his spot in your window. “This might be second nature to you but it’s not for me, okay Mr.Man.” You retorted, before a small squeal left your lips when he pulled you closer to him once you were in arm’s reach, a smile creeping onto your lips despite your attempt to act annoyed with his actions. The red line where his right eyebrow would be raised up as he hugs your waist.

“Mr.Man?”

“Yeah… you know, Spider-Man. Mr.Man. I-I don’t know, it sounded better in my head.” You huffed, face heating up slightly from embarrassment as he let a snort out before even realizing he did, shaking his head playful as you attempted to explain away the attempt at being sassy. “I don’t know your name yet, okay. Cut me some slack.”

“Okay okay, sorry.” He chuckled, motioning for you to get on the window ledge with him, his grip tightened around your waist to make sure you didn’t fall, your arms wrapping around his neck as he helped slip you out of your window. Shutting it behind you both with a web after he swung you both onto the neighboring rooftop. A small squeal leaving your lips as you cross the distance.

“Where are we going anyways?” You asked, moving some loose strands of hair out from your face as you looked up at the vigilante.

“One of my favorite spots, has a great view of the city.” He told you, patting the side of your hip as a silent command to wrap your legs around his waist for extra security while he swung you both, quickly doing as you’re told, shifting until you were comfortable on his side, arms around his broad shoulders and one ankle hooked under the other to keep your legs around his hips. Once he felt the shuffling stop, he shot one of this neon red web to the top of your dorm building, his free hand that was gripping your waist gave your side a little squeeze, as if to silently warn you he was about to start swinging. “But first I gotta go pick up our dinner.”

—

“Mmm… yeah you're right, these sandwiches are waaay better then the bodega from around the corner of my school.” You admitted in between bits of your sandwich, taking a sip of your drink to help wash the food down. “Too bad it’s all the way across town, that’s too far for me to just get a sandwich. A forty minute subway ride is not worth it.”

“Well, if you're ever in the mood for one, I’ll get you one. It takes me less than half that time to make the trip.” He told you as he readjusted his mask to sit on his nose better, and cleaned some crumbs off the side of his plump lips.

“I’ll have to take you up on that deal sometime.” You joked, wrapping your free arm around your torso in an attempt to gain some more warmth. Even with one of your thicker winter jackets on, it was no match against the cold winds of late fall in the city from up at the top of the Empire State. You had no idea how Spider-Man wasn’t developing hypothermia considering he appeared to only be wearing the blue and red spandex suit. He must have noticed your body begin to tremble slightly, wrapping his arm around your shoulder and pulling you closer to steal some of his warmth.

—

Taglist: @famouscattale @oharasfilipinawife @mxltifxnd0m @loser-alert @homewreckingwreck @dumb-gemini @cowboylikeevie @thedevax @codenameredkrystalmatrix @strawberryjuice9 @maomaimao @franceseca-the-1st @mcmiracles @mangoslushcrush

[lawlightautismtruther]

SUPER LONG LAWLIGHT DYNAMIC ANALYSIS RANT (THIS MOSTLY ONLY APPLIES TO THE ANIME)

It’s really not that serious, but there’s more to my thesis of L being a sub/bottom than just blorbo yaoi fuel. I‘ll call back to my post about L’s true emotional vulnerability that most viewers seem to miss, because on a surface level (especially when coming from the manga and when trusting the words of Obha at face value) you may see L as detached and cold. You’re supposed to think that L is unfeeling at FIRST but post-confinement/pre-yotsuba, the truth starts to seep out. L could have had Light convicted after seeing that no more criminals were dying since locking him up, but he didn’t. Even Aizawa admitted that it was enough evidence. You know it’s real when Aizawa agrees with Matsuda, lmfao.

Anyway, after this point, L and Light actually really start to bond. (I pretty much see lawlight as subtextual canon) L, not really needing to do this because of his access to surveillance, handcuffs himself to Light Yagami. He doesn’t want to be apart from him. I actually find it to be a comedically obvious act of desperation.

My point is, Light is winning the game, and L is letting him do it out of what I believe is love. L has found the one person in his life (besides maybe Naomi) that he really feels any sort of connection to, and therefore he would hate to watch that person die. L is inarguably a vulnerable character imo. If you rewatch the the series, outside of his internal monologues, he’s actually extremely soft-spoken and coy.

“Oh, uh, well it was nice meeting you”

“Light, please make Misa stop talking now.”

You get the point. He’s nervous. He’s super frail and holds himself very compactly, he walks with his eyes on the ground usually. He shakes when Aizawa lays a hand on him. He is terrified of shinigami. I think his coldness is an act to protect himself. I really do, because he knows how much things actually do affect him. In order to continue with cases, he has to pretend like none of it really matters to him. And he almost believes it at this point, too— hence his monster speech.

But then there’s Light Yagami. A worthy individual to truly understand L. He comes along, actually treats L like a human being (be it an act, I believe it still feels good to L, who has been treated like a robot his entire life), of course L is bound to at the very least see him as a friend.

I don’t believe L’s external behavior towards Light is an act. He didn’t have to be kind, he didn’t have to pretend it was a friendship. He had zero professional reason to do so. In fact, it very much made the case a harder one to solve. If we take L’s character at face value, he would have scrapped all of the fluffy shit (like asking Light to go get cake with him, telling Light he was his only friend knowing damn well Light wouldn’t budge regardless, etc.) Adding a friendship into the mix only complicates the process of trying to read Light.

As much as L the detective hates to lose, L the person is desperate. If he really hated to lose, why did he let himself? He’s submitting to Light’s will and THAT is what kills him. On the day he dies, he knows it will happen, but still, he treats Light with kindness. Sure, he asks him if he’s ever told the truth once in his life, but after that, he pretty much gives up prying. That’s it. He’s put his gun down. Since he’s going to die anyway, he might as well just enjoy being around Light. I know for a fact that he is smart enough to have come up with some sort of plan to convict Light post-Higuchi. There’s a book about that. But canonically, he didn’t do it. Notice also how L goes to Watari before he dies for comfort. L is really such a sad character.

The crux of his character is his submissiveness, hence why I’m such a proponent of that ship dynamic. Its not just a wet-dream, it’s something I sensed in their dynamic to begin with. It’s why I became an L simp, not the other way around.

Anyway, the anime is a genius adaptation and expansion on the original story imo. (At least up until L’s death— unfortunately it didn’t do the other Wammy’s boys any justice)

TLDR;

manga L- cold and domineering, hates to lose and mostly loses at first because Light outsmarts him

anime L- the very opposite and I LOVE IT

Look at me putting my 5 on the AP English literature exam to use! Also, I know I’m a huge L fan, but I am a Light kinnie and I love him as a protagonist in every possible anti-hero type way and would love to analyze him so let me know if yall want that.

Okay, class, any questions?

[campfam4lyfe]

Got any campfam aus or ideas in the works?

hey anon! I wouldn’t say I have any ideas in the works, because I have what I like to call commitment issues when it comes to writing fic.

This means that while I have an abundance of ideas, outlines, and wips in my Google docs for the fandoms I’ve been in. I’ve never actually finished a fic and posted it.

In fact, the only single time I have, (diff fandom!) I am not counting properly, because it was a collab with a close mutual, and a lot of the legwork was them. I had the initial plot bunny and was going to leave it as a one off tumblr post, but my mutual rlly liked the idea and we bounced drabbles and such back and forth. We wrote a bunch of snippets and put them together in a doc, until we had cohesive chapters, as we filled the empty spaces with more and more work, ending up to a total of 18 chapters. It took us a year and a half to post it, and that was mostly my fault, as where my mutual had finished most of their allotted sections, different hyperfixations kept pulling me to other unfinished works. This is why I won’t promise anything—I don’t want to disappoint anyone.

But, that being said. I do have ideas, hcs, and aus! One that is currently consuming me, was actually inspired by this one other post I saw recently. (When I find the post ima link it dw!) OP of the post was saying that there should be a Carmen Sandiego au for CC and I jumped on that SO fucking fast anon. I LOVE Carmen Sandiego, and have since it first aired when I was in HS.

So. Here’s some of the Carmen Sandiego au thoughts copy/pasted from my Google docs. (Yes I do always write out my outlines as if I’m taking to someone but that’s bc i sometimes end up sharing the doc link with some friends)

JWCC Carmen Sandiego AU:

Y’all know Kenlynn is my JAM and so is RedCrackle. So obvi I thought of mixing the two right? But here’s the thing. While I love Carmen/Gray, I am also in love with Carmen/Ivy and Carmen/Julia.

So with that in mind. Kenlynn is going to take a backseat for a second (meaning tho they'll become a thing and obvi they will bc they are a constant to me, theyre not the center of this), and my fave girls YASAMMY will be at the forefront of this au.

I’m thinking. Carmen Sammy. But I’m not entirely sure about whether or not that’s what I want? It could be argued that Sammy’s love for her family is a core driving force in her character, and Carmen doesn’t KNOW her family. But also—a huge plot point is that she’s looking for her mom. So. Tentative Carmen Sammy.

MANTAH CORP AS VILE MANTAH CORP AS V.I.L.E MANTAH CORP AS V.I.L.E

So I figure not everything is going to be one-to-one. This means I am placing Kenji in the role of Gray/Crackle. His story is going to be different tho, bc whereas Gray was a recruit, with MANTAH CORP AS V.I.L.E that means Daniel is already on the board. So kenji trying to make his dad proud? More likely than you think.

(I just wanted my Sammy&Kenji besties. Bestie betrayal can be just as good as romantic betrayal)

I’m sure you know where I’m going with this if we’re not going the redcrackle route. Thats right. YASMINA JULIA.

I considered at first, YASMINA CARMEN and SAMMY IVY, but in the end the need for Sammy Carmen was too great.

So I also considered Dave and Roxxie as Chase and Julia but, I decided to scrap that idea for now. You know me, at some point I might revamp most of the au anyways lol, now is not a time for fine tuning it’s just a tentative starting point.

Torn between DARIUS as Player or Brooklynn as Player. I considered Ben of course, but I think we need to put him on an island at some point—he needs a Bumpy, no matter the universe.

WAIT. REVISITING BEN AS PLAYER. BECAUSE DARIUS AND BRAND AS ZACK AND IVY. This means no Carmen/Ivy vibes but since we ditched the Gray/Carmen as well in this au I think it’s fine.

Ben still has to end up with Bumpy somehow tho? Original Ben plan, when Darius was a Player candidate, was Ben is also a V.I.L.E recruit.

V.I.L.E having a faction that deals with genetics and cloning (in addition to like. Kash and his robots) and ending up with a dinosaur—Bumpy! And that being Ben’s flip to the other side/Team Sammy. He defects and steals Bumpy on his way out.

Okay I’m a little too attached to that, so yeah. V.I.L.E recruit Ben, so Brooklynn as player??

Oh! She doesn’t have!!! IRL friends!! Brooklynn being an Internet famous vlogger as in canon. So we get that running gag of Sammy and Brooklynn always being in contact and Brooklynn being a big part of the heists through investigative work and such, yet she’s constantly on the other side of the globe? Sammy needs to be in Sydney but Brooklynn is in New Orleans. That kinda stuff.

Works with Brooklynn having traveled all over the world, she can also do those factoids player does—she’s got the deets.

Oh!???? THATS HOW WE GET MY FAVE DUO OF DINOSTAR BESTIES!!! They both love their facts. They’re nerds.

Mae as shadowsan? Tentatively?

Okay. Player Brooklynn. Except instead of being home most of the time, she’s usually on the go. She’s talked to kenji a few times during Sammy and Kenji’s V.I.L.E recruit era.

Kenji as the Gray of this au. he’s a V.I.L.E legacy. he became friends with sammy his recruitment year, and he'd talked to brooklynn a few times, due to sammy introducing them because kenji was curious about whether or not sammy has friends in the outside world, and sammy noticing brooklynn feeling a little left out/jealous that sammy had friends she was hanging with in person rather than over a phone call.

kenlynn kenlynn kenlynn

does he recognize her voice from her vlogs? does he even watch them? i dont think hed be a brooklander, guys got a lot on his plate and thats impressing his dad

ben is a V.I.L.E. recruit. maybe a bit of mime bomb, in that he was. not as close? with the other recruits. i do think having ben come in as a recruit the year sammy defects would be cool tho. so he doesn't know her as "black sheep" or whatever code name V.I.L.E refers to her as. he'll first meet her as Sammy.

yaz as JULIA!!!!! a junior agent? a former athlete. trying to make it make sense, but i think it fits.

omg. yaz. is alex rider basically holy shit

was thinking of dave as chase, and decided that i was going to keep it.

roxxie as the Chief.

mae as shadowsan.

yes. it IS because i want a roxxie/mae/dave love triangle and that need's final form was ot3

DARIUS AND BRAND AS ZACK AND IVY. i dont want their mom to be dead. but i dont know WHAT happened to her and why theyre involved in this life of crime? i love the og carmen&ivy&zack meeting. and i love that they were involved with racing. trying to find a way to incorporate it and make it make sense

important question.....is darius and his dad's great shared love still dinosaurs?

OR IS IT CARS? RACING?????? BRAND BEING INVOLVED IN THE RACES BC IT WAS IMPORTANT TO DARIUS AND THEIR DAD AND DARIUS CANT DRIVE YET

AND. SAMMY. AS CARMEN!!!!!!

okay so carmen's dad was a former V.I.L.E. agent who left it all behind for the woman he fell in love with right? well. obvi this au isnt a one to one. like there clearly have been changes in characters and dynamics. but i think involving elements from this could work. lemme map it out to make sense

okay so in cc sammy spies for mantah corp despite her parents not wanting her to. meanwhie carmen's dad defects from V.I.L.E., i think shadowsan was there and so was the chief and he dies.

okay so--sammy's dad was a V.I.L.E. agent, fell in love, defected. V.I.L.E. catches up with him, and does A.C.M.E. and in the fallout, the house collapses. A fire? an explosion? they think sammy died. (im not killing off sammy's dad bc damnit she needs a happy ending)

yaz losing faith in the system and having her hot girl summer being romanced by the pretty thief she's supposed to be catching

ben ditches VILE/Mantah Corp with Bumpy and meets Darius at some point--oh!!!

mae/shadowsan joins Team Sammy at the end of s1 i think? okay, so, when she joins, she brings ben, a fresh defector with her.

obvi ben left after he stole bumpy from them

at some point during their occasional talks, kenlynn became friendly with each other. then The Train scene happens. and kenji is promptly deemed a disappointment and dealt with the way gray is.

brooklynn ends up coming across a memory-wiped kenji during one of her vlogs. he doesnt know he knows her, just that something about her voice seems familiar.

brooklynn brings it up and the other are Concerned but also have a lot on their plate rn/dont truly trust him again or are unclear on whether or not they should. darius/brand bc their experiences havent been good so far, and sammy doesnt want to risk them. but he was still one of her first friends. shes torn

brooklynn making contact with him. smth smth she ends up needing a camera man for one of her vlogs and kenji volunteers. they grow closer during her sporadic visits. he asks her out.

DANIEL KON HAS ENTERED THE CHAT. SAMMY NEEDS BROOKLYNN TO DO HER THING. SHE MISSES THE DATE.

Meanwhile, that entire interactive ep??? of carmen sandiego with the julia/carmen??? THAT. THAT HAPPENS. YASAMMY DANCE AND WE GET THAT SCENE YOU KNOW THE ONE

[kittyminion]

An Eye for A Finger (Series, Part Four)

Aemond Targaryen x Velaryon!OC

explicit, 18+, sexual content, consummation

summary, Vysella Velaryon lost her fingers because of him, Aemond Targaryen lost his eye because of her, but why can’t they stay away from each other? It becomes impossible when they are to be married…

word count: 1.6K

a/n: last part!!! a joel miller fanfic coming soon :))

masterlist here

————————————————————————————————————

“Vysella?” She looked up at the sound of her name and saw two Aemonds watching her. He grabbed her hand, pulling her up and she leaned against the table as her husband moved behind her. He pulled off the red cloak, throwing it to the ground carelessly, then Aemond grabbed the strings of her dress, loosening them enough until he could pull it off her shoulders.

Finally, after many layers, Aemond untied the corset and it slid down to her hips. Aemond watched the girl heave until she could finally breathe comfortably. He looked at the soft skin of her back, eyes catching on the dress that pooled around her feet. Vysella was wearing nothing but a simple white, sleeveless shift, and the corset.

She couldn't bear to say it but she did anyway, “thank you, Aemond.” He walked around the table and leaned his hands against it. Vysella looked up at him, eyes trailing over his face then she pulled the corset over her head and stepped out of the dress. Vysella bent down to unlace her shoes then she slowly but surely walked over to Aemonds bed and sat on the edge of it.

“I can either make this quick, or the best night of your life, you choose.” “Very cocky for a man with one eye.” Aemond narrowed his eyes at her and scoffed, “I’m trying to make your life easier.” “Fine!” “Choose, Vysella.” He muttered, sitting next to her, elbows resting on his knees.

“What would you choose, Aemond?” “Stop changing the subject!” “Seven hells, make it the best night you possibly can so I can forget how much of a dick you are!” She shouted, climbing into the bed and lying on her side, her back to him.

She inhaled his scent, which the bed reeked of.

Vysella heard rustling, then Aemond climbed over her and lied down, his chest naked, silky hair cascading over his shoulders. She kept her eyes on her three fingered hand though, wondering if this was really what her life had come to. Sleeping with Aemond?

Suddenly, Aemond grabbed her hand, squeezing the three fingers. “I’ve always thought of you over these eight years. Whether it was that I wanted to hurt you again, it doesn’t matter. You were on my mind either way.”

“So were you, but I wanted to kill you most of all.” Aemond grinned simply, pressing a finger under chin and finally she looked at him. Vysella practically gasped at the blue glow of his eye-less socket. The candle light in the room shone against it, casting a soft blue streak on her face.

“I hate those fucking bastards. Lucerys Velaryon, a bastard but still entitled to land and a title and me nothing, even though I’m the Prince of Westeros. But I forgot—I’m a second son. Second sons are entitled to nothing but the scraps of their older brothers. But my brother has never had you, so I will take pride in being your husband, even if you hate my guts, even if your bastard of a ‘nephew’ took my eye, even if I want to hate you, but I have no real reason to.”

Before Vysella could respond, Aemond kissed her. More passionately than their first kiss. It was gentle and light and left her drunk, but she pulled him closer, surprisingly, her arm wrapping around his neck while he hovered over her.

Aemond grabbed her hands and pinned them beside her head, his kisses trailing down her neck and on top of her collarbone where he sucked until love bites covered her chest. Vysella let out a chaste moan, enough to leave her husband's skin buzzing. “I hate you so much I want you.”

He chuckled, finally, hooking his fingers around the edge of her shift to pull it up to her hips. Aemond crawled down to the edge of the bed and stood, then he grabbed Vysellas legs and pulled her down. Then, Aemond kneeled and kissed the inside of her thigh.

“Fuck, Aemond, just do it already!” She hummed, eyes closed. Aemond teased her with a few light licks to her core and Vysella grumbled, “Aemond, quit—shit, Aemond!” She let out a heavy gasp of pleasure as soon as his tongue circled her bundle of nerves, her hands fisting into his hair to press his head into her core.

Aemond squeezed Vysellas thighs, and shoved two fingers inside of her, pumping them in and out until she was gasping and writhing all over the place, a sheen of sweat covering her skin. With his other hand, he reached up to grab her breast, brushing his finger over her nipple which elicited another moan.

“I’m about to come!” She purred, thighs locking around his head, but Aemond delivered a sharp slap to her thigh, causing Vysella to squeal, her back arching as she peaked, hands bunching the sheets. “Aemond.” She whispered as her body racked with pleasure, turning onto her side to force Aemond away from her quivering body.

He squeezed her ass, standing up to watch her go through her orgasm. When she finally did stop moaning, he climbed next to her, a knife clutched in his grip, but he didn’t raise it to her throat. Instead, he sliced her shift in two, and slid it off of her shoulders then threw it across the room.

“Did that feel good, Vysella?” Aemond said, eyelashes fluttered as she finally turned to him, out of breath. Vysella answered him by guiding his hand to her breast and Aemond squeezed it, his mouth locking over the other. He shuttered when Vysella grabbed his bulge, her eyes closed, but her hands moving to unbutton his pants.

When she finally was able to remove the pants, she raised and pushed Aemond onto his back, and pulled his underwear down. He closed his eyes as she grabbed his dick, fingers running up and down the length, while her other hand squeezed his balls.

Aemond cursed in High Valyrian then moaned, something Vysella thought she’d never hear, but she reveled in it as she licked the head of his dick then continued to palm Aemond until he was moaning his head off. Vysella engulfed him fully in her mouth and Aemond muttered her name, a hand thrown over his face.

After a few more bobs of her head, Aemond’s breath halted and he curled slightly, while strings of his pleasure sputtered into her mouth. Vysella continued to rub him languidly until a few minutes later, another orgasm ensued and her mouth was filled tenfold.

A surprised gasp came from Vysella as Aemond suddenly grabbed her and plopped her right onto his dick, sliding in easily while he grabbed her waist, trying to coerce her into moving. But Vysella doubled over from the feel of him. He was long, already hitting the most pleasurable spot inside of her without even moving.

Vysella pressed a hand on his chest, raising slightly, her hips rocking back and forth a smidge but she shuttered, “I can’t, Aemond.” “Why not?” “Because I will come right now, so fuck me yourself.” She spat and Aemond smirked, lifting her up.

He rolled over and grabbed her thighs, lining himself up with her. Aemond thrusted once and fully entered her and she moaned, eyes rolling shut and Aemond grabbed her throat and thrusted into her again. After a few thrusts she was already moaning her head off, so Aemond picked up the pace, pounding into her with a steady pace.

Aemond leaned down and kissed her lips, “open those eyes for me, Vysella.” She did, wrapping her arm around his neck to keep their bodies flush together. “Faster, Aemond, please.” He nodded, increasing the pace until all she could do was to beg for him to fuck her hard and fast until she came again and again.

So he did as she asked, groping her breasts and kissing her quiet while she practically screamed and moaned for him to continue. Vysella wrapped her legs around him, forcing him deeper, deep enough to hit that spot and she melted, her limbs becoming limp as she climaxed, her body shaking until all she could do was press lazy kisses to his face.

Aemond rolled off of his wife, as her eyes fluttered closed. “Was that the best night of your life?” He asked and she nodded, “I’m cold though.” Aemond pulled her close, grabbing the covers and pulling it over their naked bodies, then they tangled into her hair, pulling all the bobby pins out until her hair was loose and free.

“I want you to stop calling Luke and Jace bastards.” She whispered, her legs tangling with his and Aemond was quiet, his arm wrapping around her waist. “It is true though.” “But it hurts them. I know you could care less what happens to them, but blood or not, they are my nephews. I care for them as such. So will you stop, at least when they are around?”

“Fine, I will stop calling them bastards, when they are around, but you have to do something for me.” “What?” She turned around, breasts pressed against his chest while her head was nestled right under his chin. “Spar with me tomorrow. You keep saying you will kill me, but with what skills? Who has taught you to defend yourself?”

“I’ve taught myself.” “You shall for no longer then.” “And what would I learn from you?” “To not lose your temper when fighting. It is easy to piss you off.” “Asshole.” “See? I told you.” He pinched her hip, “then, you have to ride Vhagar.”

“Hm, is this your way of wanting to spend time with me?” “No.” “Just no?” “Yes.” “Yes, as in you want to spend time with me?” “You are very annoying, Vysella.”

[zukkaoru]

waltzes into your inbox hiiii ^^

platonic kiss with kenji + anyone

spiderman kiss with kunichuu (is this predictable of me. sorry)

bloody kiss with tachigin!!

kunichuu spiderman kiss.. falls over and blacks out (other two are under the cut lol)

Chuuya is sitting on the ceiling when Kunikida returns to his dorm. Their knees are hugged tightly to their chest, and they’re staring straight ahead, gaze unfocused. Their coat looks more like a blanket with how it’s wrapped around them at the moment.

Kunikida frowns to himself. This isn’t the first time Chuuya has shown up unannounced—if Kunikida truly didn’t want them in here without a warning, he wouldn’t have given them a key. But it is the first time he can recall them stopping by just to mope.

“Chuuya?” He calls out. “Are you alright?”

They blink slowly, then mumble something Kunikida can’t make out.

Kunikida purses his lips. He toes off his shoes, then crosses over to where they’re seated. The dorm ceilings aren’t very high, and Kunikida is rather tall himself, so he’s about at eye-level with Chuuya. When he reaches towards them, they flinch.

His hand freezes in midair.

Chuuya lets out a strained sigh. “Sorry. I’m used to Dazai being the only one who sees me when I’m like this.”

“Ah.” Kunikida nods understandingly. He moves again, and Chuuya leans into the touch. It’s slightly awkward, cradling their cheek while they’re upside down, but Kunikida makes it work. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Chuuya shakes their head. “Not right now.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

Chuuya shrugs.

“Let me know if you think of something, okay?”

Chuuya nods. Then, they lean forward, nearly imperceptibly. But Kunikida catches it, and he understands what they want. He closes the distance between them, slotting his lips against Chuuya’s. It’s a soft, chaste, kiss, but when Kunikida pulls back, Chuuya is smiling, so he figures it did its job.

“Will you sit up here with me for a bit?” Chuuya whispers.

Kunikida has work he needs to finish. He needs to make dinner, so it’ll be ready when Kenji returns from helping the Tanizaki siblings. He should also probably shower tonight.

“Of course,” he agrees anyway.

Chuuya’s grin is more than worth scrapping his schedule for the evening.

kenji & naomi + platonic kiss

Kenji places his finished flower crown on Naomi’s head, clicking his tongue as he does so. Once it’s in place, he steps back and grins. “It looks very nice on you, Naomi-san. You were right—the red flowers do match the tie on your uniform!”

Naomi giggles. She immediately grabs for her phone, turning on the front-facing camera so she can look at herself. Kenji has been making flower crowns for everyone in the office lately, because it gives him something to do with his hands, and Naomi is thrilled to finally have one of her own.

She’s already decided that once the flowers begin to wilt, she’s going to press them so she can keep the crown forever.

Once she’s finished admiring the crown, she sets her phone down and turns back to Kenji. She leans forward, kissing the top of his head. “Thank you, Kenji-kun. I love it.”

tachigin + bloody kiss

Tachihara’s face is painted red like the uniform marking his betrayal. The band-aid over his nose is half-peeled off, dangling awkwardly. The white bandages over his eyes are stained with blood.

But he’s still standing. He’s alive. Gin could nearly weep in relief.

They rush over to him, dodging the corpses littering the ground. They sheath their knife without bothering to clean the blade before throwing their arms around Tachihara and dragging him into a tight hug.

“Gin—”

“Don’t,” they interrupt.

Tachihara falls silent.

There are a thousand things Gin could say, but none of them seem quite right and Gin has never been particularly fond of speaking anyway. So they pull back just enough to crash their lips against Tachihara’s. The kiss tastes coppery, and Gin doesn’t know who the blood belongs to, but it doesn’t matter because Tachihara is alive.

They run a hand through his hair, imagining red now streaked through the dyed orange. Their tongue flicks against a cut on Tachihara’s lip, and he whimpers before opening his mouth wider to deepen the kiss.

[airlocksandaviaries]

Some soft Ethan Hunt headcanons for the soul <3

- He cooks for the team. He has like 4 recipes and most of them are casseroles (due to him being from the Midwest). While he doesn’t usually have his hands on the best ingredients and his kitchen methods are questionable (he’ll substitute anything he feels like and has almost started fires on multiple occasions), it’s still always a hit. Benji always adores it and while Luther is dubious he still admits it’s worlds better than the usual on-the-lam takeout.

- He can’t spell for the life of him. It’s just one of those things his brain can’t find the space to concentrate on. It’s not usually noticeable since his tech has auto correct and he uses texting shortcuts on his burner phones, but Will Brant once watched him trying to spell “beautiful” for 10 whole minutes and never lets him hear the end of it.

- He curls up when he sleeps. He’s the kind of person who needs 3 layers of blankets, even in the summer, and he always tucks his covers all the way up to his chin. He lays on his side, almost curled into a ball, tightly wrapped and secure. He never tells anyone, but it’s because it keeps him from flailing due to nightmares. And he enjoys being cozy.

- He likes to make faces in mirrors when he walks past them. Sometimes he runs his hands through his hair. Everyone has caught him doing this at one point or another. It’s a side effect of his talent for acting like different people.

- He. Doodles. Everywhere. If you hand him a paper and a pen, it’s going to be covered with intricate designs and disturbingly realistic eyes and silly cat faces within the next few minutes. Doesn’t matter if it’s scrap paper or the most important document detailing the syndicate’s plans for nuclear war, he’ll find a way to cover it with sketches. He once had a habit of drawing on his skin, but he kicked it as fast as he possibly could. Don’t want any identifying marks in his line of work.

- He’s a hugger. Especially a surprise hugger. He’ll randomly jump his friends when they’re working or resting or standing anywhere and just wrap them in a hug for no particular reason. From behind, from the side, from the front. Curling around them like a koala. He’s tiny enough to where it’s not a problem for them, and everyone enjoys it anyway. Ethan loves keeping his friends close and safe, and that means physically sometimes too.

My askbox is open for requests if anyone wants more btw ☺️💖

[breakfastteatime]

Today's request is for @serena-darrin, who chose 'Are you okay?' (¬‿¬)

Sometimes, Cal wonders if the Force is punishing him, because of all the cabins he had to walk into on the entire Venator they’re scrapping, he’s stepped into a long-dead Jedi’s bedroom. It’s dark, the power long since cut, and yet that doesn’t stop Cal from seeing the single bunk identical to his own, a desk covered in study materials and the training tools, and a robe hanging over a locker. All of them are markers of a life torn away.

And now Cal’s got to gather it all up and throw it away.

The echoes in here hum and sing, voices bleeding into the present. He’s not getting through this without smashing into the past. It’s too loud, too demanding. First things first though. Cal sticks his head into the hallway. Good, no one’s coming. He blocks the door with the trash can anyway. Better safe than sorry.

He goes through the room carefully, tossing the training aids he wouldn’t be able to use anymore away, feeling the determination and pride clinging to them. His body wants to move with the memories, feel the satisfaction of perfecting a new skill. He still remembers how easily it all came to him compared to the others in his clan…

It hadn’t helped at all in the end. All that studying. All that training. For what? Master Tapal’s dead and the Jedi are gone.

Cal makes good progress, tossing the past into the trash. He knows this was a Padawan’s room, although she’d been far older than him and preparing for knighthood. Her life slips through his mind in a wash of emotion and chatter. She was so sure she’d pass the Trials, so excited for the end of the war and a return to peace. Cal throws away her mementos: a holoimage of her and her master with their troop, a carving depicting a bird Cal’s never seen before, a selection of pressed flowers, more clothing several sizes too large for him along with space for arms he doesn’t have… It’s all useless now. Anyone seen wearing it would probably be shot dead on sight.

The dead Padawan’s datapad lights up when Cal touches it, a half-finished message popping up. ‘Be back on Coruscant soon, according to Master Day. Can’t wait to see you! Maybe we’ll head to the lower levels and –’ Cal tosses the datapad into the trash. It doesn’t matter. None of it matters. She’s dead. Her friend is dead. Their masters are dead. All the Jedi, except for Cal it seems, are dead.

Cal’s deep in the storage locker when he feels something unexpected buried under a pile of wrinkled robes. His hand slides under cloth, fingers closing around something cold. Metallic. Wrapped in leather.

“Master, I think it’s time.”

Master Day looks up at her, brown eyes crinkling with a smile. Not so long ago, it would have been the other way around, but she’s had a growth spurt and all the aches and pains have paid off. She is taller than her beloved master, and it is time for another change.

“My lightsaber hilts are simply too small. It is affecting my performance. With your permission, I would like to spend some time redesigning them.”

“Of course, Padawan. After all, I can hardly enjoy beating you in sparring if your lightsabers are so small they fall from your hand, and you burn yourself on the blades.”

She is nowhere near Master Day’s level, and such a thing will not be happening anytime soon. But someday, maybe… “Master, when I beat you at sparring, you will have to petition the Council to knight me on the spot.”

Master Day’s laughter is rich and full. “Young one, if you are still a Padawan by then, you will be the oldest to have ever lived.”

Cal breaks free of the memory. He can feel himself smiling, heart swelling with love and joy that do not belong to him. They fade steadily, leaving him in the dark with a pair of hilts that no longer house kyber crystals and the Jedi who built it long gone.

He tosses them in the trash and pretends it doesn’t tear something out of him to do so.

By the end of his shift, the cabin is empty, ready to be stripped tomorrow. Cal pushes his trash cart outside. Cold rain pelts him as he tips its contents into the ever-hungry Maw. He trudges back, ready to catch the train. Prauf’s there, and he waves him over. Cal joins him.

“Hey Cal.”

“Hi, Prauf.”

Prauf stares at him. “Are you okay?”

Cal shakes himself. Nothing can be done. The past is the past, and he must accept that. “Yeah, I’m fine.” He makes himself smile. “Long day.”

“Hah, ain’t it always!” Prauf pats him on the back. “C’mon, let me buy you a non-alcoholic beverage of your choice at the Rust Bucket.”

“Feeling flush?” Cal asks as the train pulls onto the platform.

“I wish! Nah, you look like you could use it.”

Cal blinks back a sudden rush of tears. “Yeah, okay. Thanks, Prauf.”

“Attaboy. No booze though. I’m not dragging your drunken ass back home.”

“No booze,” Cal says, even though a few hours of oblivion sound pretty sweet. “You got it.”

[boytouya]

「SAINT」 ; takami keigo | hawks x male reader

wc: 1.5k

warning: suggestive themes & language, religious themes, one (1) crude joke about nuns, abrupt ending (scrapped fic)

additional tags: priest reader (kinda), incubus hawks, probably some religious trauma, agnostic writer who doesn’t know how to write things relating to demons + religion

a/n: this is loooong overdue and also months old, i’m so rusty so i’m so sorry if this isn’t good. anyway there’s about 3-4 versions of this fic so if you see it somewhere else dw abt it (unless stated otherwise)

Your fingertips trace the thin, pale paper of your annotated Bible, cold pages crinkling under the weight of your palms. Covering for your father, a well-liked priest, was not an easy job— especially when you strayed further and further from the Holy eye with every passing moment. The pews of the church remain dimly lit, moonlit and almost sparkling under the glass stained windows. The rich, brown and polished wood glows, light dancing between warm yellow lights aligned by the aisles, and despite the unwavering wholeness you should feel, you stare back at the empty seats with nothing but loneliness.

It was only a matter of time before you begged someone, anyone, for even a sliver of company.

You exhale slowly, reaching up to readjust your hair, even if it doesn’t actually move. Your wrist in your peripherals momentarily consumes your vision, but you make no effort to quicken your movements. The last time you’d felt this way he encountered something darker than light, something tempting. Something that, still, reminded you of your own loneliness, and the exhaustion that comes with it. The memory remains fresh, as though you were hit with a hammer amalgamated from the darkest parts of your mind, unbeknownst to the consequences.

In a Church, you suppose, love is always in the air, a thickening aroma that’s much too sweet for your liking. It sticks to the murals within the room, it clings to your goosebump ridden skin, it’s plastered to every page you turn to. It’s excruciating. It’s exhausting.

And yet, with the smell of his skin lingering on your body, your mind empties, and your thoughts simultaneously erode whilst coalescing into a serene hum stuck in the far back of your mind. The bittersweet tranquility floats above you for just a moment, descending as soon as moonlight peeks through the windows and into your darkening, tired eyes. It stares back into your irises, taunting you despite your expensive effort to avoid it.

It and it's dark children who hide behind the muse of a wickedly comforting smile. But, you decide, it’s because that’s what you seek.

It, who sleeps beneath darkening shadows, moonlight dancing across its shiny eyelids and painting its face with a silver hue. The way it bounced off its skin, you’ve ong since decided night was made for it. An Incubus. With warm skin and a glowing, crimeon tattoo below his belly button, a thin tail with a pointer end, strong dark wings, and a scantily clad choice of clothing. With angelically golden locks of hair, that fall in his face from time to time, and just as golden eyes.

A strong jaw, furrowed eyebrows, calloused and veiny hands that look rather large— or so they’d seem when they glide across your skin, sharp claw-like nails that drag against the wood pulpit.

It— or, he, who’s hands curl into fists as he grasps at the decorative cloth on the pews’ arms like a lifeline (or in most cases, your hair), as if holding them tight would somehow keep you there with him, limbs tangled and lips locked. Sinful in a place supposedly free of sin.

He, who stirs under the sun’s gaze, uncomfortable warmth blooming from his body. But you… You want nothing more than to hold it in his hands, cherish the comfortable silence and bathe in his inviting body heat, hidden away from the chilling air that signifies winter’s welcome.

He— Keigo, you’d come to learn, who wakes at the feeling of your trivial eye, with long eyelashes that bat against his cheek with grace. A smile places itself upon his lips, but before he can speak, a yawn ripples out his mouth. You watch as his sharp teeth nestle into his gums, completely relaxed under your critical gaze.

The rosary beads wrapped around your fingers slip, smacking against the ground where you two stand, and gasps leave both your lips. You, somewhat mortified as you quickly kneel, tucking your feet beneath your body as your shaking hands reach for the blessed beads. Keigo quirks an eyebrow, much more awake as he steps out to place his heavy boot just beside your fingertips.

There’s a sickening sound of friction against the polished wood beneath his shoe.

“You look better this way,” He exclaims, an uncanny smile splitting his lips as he crosses his arms. It’s almost impossible to notice the bulge of his biceps, your eyes trailing the way his fingertip taps against his flawless skin. Ignoring how obscene this must look— kneeling beneath an incubus in the middle of a church, with no one but the moon as your witness— a scoff leaves your mouth, and you decide the tainted prayer beads will do fine resting on the floor. “No, really! You should stay like this.”

As you begin to stand, his warm palm presses into the swell of your shoulder, keeping you hunched over, your face basically pressed into his hip. It slithers upward, resting at your cheek. His large hands obstruct your vision, nimble fingers pressing into the meat of your cheek as if it’ll leave a mark. Under different circumstances you’d have keened into the— almost — intimate touch. Under different circumstances you’d have kissed his palm.

“Keigo—”

“It’s almost natural at this point. You and the nuns must go crazy in here,” His eyes shift, much darker than before, and something tells you he doesn’t find that joke funny. From what you can see, his body stiffens awkwardly. His jaw clenches, then his Adam's apple bobs, and suddenly the air feels much thicker. “Don’t you.”

His question falls flat on deaf ears, as you’re too lost in thought to even think about what he may be insinuating. His thick eyebrows twitch at your hesitation, the hand resting on your cheek suddenly tightening around your jaw. Your lips pucker, forming a small ring as he forces your eyes to meet his.

And, finally, like you’ve fallen out of a twelve story building, the weight of his words hit you like concrete. Against his strong hand you mutter, “Don’t even say things like that.”

“Hm.” He hums, releasing your jaw with faux disregard, releasing the prayer beads beneath his feet. He watches your frantic gaze flicker back and forth, your lips pursed as you chew on the insides of your cheek. You’re as cute as he is touchy.

He could just eat you alive.

Why’re you here, demon.” Your tone falls flat, missing whatever malice you were supposedly injecting into your tone—and even if it had come out as a hiss, it wouldn’t have phased the being.

“Ooh, ouch,” The blond knocks a large fist to his chest, knocking himself down and stumbling dramatically as he feigns offense. Your stare is heavy on his form, despite the constant insults you just can’t seem to look away. “You wound me, Father!”

“Keigo.” His tail jumps, straightening at the sound of his name passing by your lips. He grins, cheeks blessed with dimples and freshly shaven facial hair. His demeanor remains relaxed, tufts of hair swaying ever-so-slightly as he steps around you in circles, taking in the sights as if he hasn’t seen them a billion times before.

“Always so angry!” Takami chirps, long nails brushing against your cheek as he pinches at whatever remnants of baby-fat you had on your face. Suddenly, the goofy, love-struck expression on his face faulters, and his golden eyes harden. “Whether you want to believe it or not, I felt you calling for me.”

There’s a glowing, magenta ring around his irises that you aren’t sure were there before, burning bright in comparison to the dwindling candles adorning the walls and hallways. You’d hate to admit it out loud, but there’s something inviting about it. As unfamiliar as neon lights accompanied by city streets and the smell of recreational drugs, but simultaneously as familiar as the warm buzz of the sun through glass-stained windows.

“Liar,” You bite your tongue, the bitter taste of nickels and dimes drowning your senses. Blasphemy. “I’d have to be a whole different type of desperate to even—“

“Aren’t you?”

Ignoring the prickles of heat that dig into your skin, you let out a frustrated sigh. You almost want to yell at him, loneliness and desperation are different levels of isolation, and you don’t want to think about where that puts you. His silly, ill-attempt at rendering you speechless wasn’t in vain: he’d won. For now. Proud of himself, Keigo hums in assurance and places his hands on your shoulders. He runs much warmer than the average human, and if he’d been any warmer, his palms would burn right through your clothing and scorch your skin.

”I know,” He pulls you forward, placing a hand behind your head as he cradles your face into his neck. You can hear him take a deep breath, probably trying to engrave your scent into his brain. To bottle it, keep it there, and have it whenever he needed. His warmth makes your eyelids heavy with sleep, and you find yourself sinking into his embrace. Reluctantly, your hands rest at his waist, the pads of your fingertips digging into his toned back, equally wary of his tailbone. “You’re not. Maybe I’m the desperate one.”

TAGLIST: @zawadni @indigowren21 @cannedfoodisbestfood @junkwhoore @dilfchoso @sanderssidesangsttrash @i-d0g @kaito-asmr @jream-23 @mhasimp666 @princejasno @onehellofasimp @corporeal-terrestrial @angelaturservice @shadows-of-nightmares @double-homiecide @rintarosaku @saturnsbend @trailsnix @luckduckanon @oddball215 @toodeepintofandoms @devilgirlcrybaby @playb0ysuna @uwiuwi @yuzukeni *if you’ve changed your username pls let me know!

MASTERLIST

[sailorblossoms]

Baz has complexities that seem contradictory: he has self-worth issues and contemplates compliance (which is, like Simon’s heteronormative compliance, a fate that is tied to death) but in practice, it doesn’t mean he’s just going to take whatever and anyone’s shit. He has limits. The walls he builds around himself are there because he cares about protecting his heart. He’s not really an “I’ll settle for scraps” kind of person, no matter whose scraps that might be. He’s not satisfied.

I think the common theme for him to accept less-than-ideal treatment is “people who love me and want to try their best.” When he’s taking his family’s bullshit, he does so with empathy and an understanding of these people as damaged individuals who are limited by their issues but do love him. People who, even when they saddle him with things they shouldn’t and make him feel like there are parts of him that are disappointing, still provide security for him. It seems like a contradiction, but where he felt like "the other," he also felt safe (he felt like "the other" everywhere; he didn’t really feel safe everywhere). He knows they won’t abandon him. (And as he grows into an adult, he starts pushing back and expecting better.)

He’s a complex individual defined by more than his love for Simon (I hate when he’s reduced to some sort of Simon-loving machine, willing to take anything no matter what) (or as more into Simon than Simon is into him when Simon can’t put half a thought together without bringing Baz up – they’re equally down bad). He has never been one to just let Simon do things that hurt him – he fights or pushes back in one way or another (but never harder than Simon can push back).

When Simon asks to be boyfriends, Baz isn’t jumping on his lap. Simon has to convince him, and he does so by letting him know he wants him (that he wants Baz even if Baz doesn’t want him back). That he likes being with Baz like this (he likes it better than fighting)."People who love me and want to try their best" here is replaced by "people who want me and..." because although Simon is already in love with him (and has been for a while) Simon himself hasn't figured it out yet, and it's too early for Baz to expect it, anyway (he can barely even believe Simon likes him).

At the worst of their relationship, Baz doesn’t fight or push back for the first time, and that’s only because he feels like it would be the equivalent of kicking someone when they’re down and completely incapacitated. Baz knows Simon is unwell. Baz is by his side because Simon told him he wants him �� Baz fears he might not want him anymore, but he never knows for sure. This is a Baz who has only ever been assured that he’s wanted ever since he started dating Simon, and he’s seeing his boyfriend, who has been through trauma after trauma, struggle with his mental health. He’s not really “taking Simon’s scraps” – it's way more complicated than that. He’s desperate to help the person he loves, and he’s constantly wondering how can he get Simon to "let him in" without hurting him. Baz definitely has a problem with taking care of himself here – he will care for others before he takes care of himself – but this is not comparable to a "dude's playing around" scenario, or even the way that Simon was a bad boyfriend before (neglectful, uninvolved and disinterested because he didn't actually want that relationship). Baz knows that Simon is hurting in ways he can't help or control, that he’s not hurting Baz intentionally. And they’re together. There’s a relationship here (or they're trying to have it) and Baz is trying to be a partner (even if his approach is flawed).

When Simon truly hurts him, Baz slams the door in his face, both literally and figuratively. Simon has told him there’s no relationship, and has made Baz believe that he’s not wanted after all (“I hate the sight of you” is the worst possible thing Simon could’ve told him without fucking finishing the thought out loud to clarify the problem isn’t Baz but what Simon hated being reminded of). With an “I don’t want to be with you” Simon is kicked out of Baz’s "fortress." Baz's tolerance reaches its limit. All the barbed-wired defenses come up again. After this, Baz has to be convinced to take Simon back. He’s not just going to take anything because he loves Simon. He loves Simon more than anything and he will stand by him through thick and thin, but if it comes down to it, Baz will protect himself. Baz won't "set himself on fire to keep another warm" if it looks like that person is stabbing him in the heart while apparently meaning to (It's different when he tries to literally set himself on fire, which is more about his own suicidal tendencies reaching its peak rather than "sacrificing himself for love"). He doesn’t give a fuck about Simon’s reasons if it’s about guilt or anything like that.

The reason Baz takes him back is because Simon loves him. Nothing else would've done it. It's Simon telling him “I want to make this work because I love you.” He enters that group of people who love him and are trying then, even if Baz has trouble believing Simon loves him at first. And Simon loves him like no one else has loved him before: fiercely, unconditionally. He loves every part of Baz, even the parts Baz hates about himself. Simon loves Baz in a way that makes Simon want to work on himself, to be able to take care of Baz and make him happy. Simon loves Baz in a way that makes Simon not ever want to do anything that would hurt Baz (Simon can't stand to see him unhappy and wants to be the one who makes it better.) No, Baz doesn't take "Simon's scraps." After that period of total breakdown, the opposite happens. Through love, Baz makes Simon want to be better. He makes Simon want to give him everything and more.

[milky-fixx]

seven deadly sins; valentine’s day dates ft. meliodas, ban, and king

tw: meliodas’ is suggestive at end. 18+

meliodas

the dragon’s sin of not showing he cares enough

He’s really not the romantic type, in the sense of flowers, chocolates, or declarations of love. Meliodas’ brand of romance is a shared beer by the fireplace, inside jokes, and knowing glances. But if you make enough of a fuss about it, dropping hints here and there, he’ll make you breakfast in bed.

Which would be cute… if the Captain wasn’t infamous for his terrible cooking skills. The pancakes he makes look absolutely delectable, but one bite has you wanting to hurl. But hey, he tried! That’s how most of his romantic endeavors go—down south.

Even if you say how much you want flowers and such, Meliodas acts oblivious. Or maybe he really is oblivious. His thinking is, if you really want flowers so much, you silly thing, why don’t you get them yourself? He doesn’t see the need for trite displays of romance; isn’t it enough that he loves you in his own way? If you persist though, he will show up with a bushel of flowers for you. Literally, the entire bush, roots and all.

While he’s sorely lacking in the romance department, you do notice that your tasks have mysteriously disappeared throughout the day. Chores? All done. Cooking for the Boar Hat? He’s got Ban on it. Feeding Hawks? His bowl is full of scraps the entire day. Meliodas may not be great at showing you he cares, but that’s kind of how he likes it. He shows his love by doing things for you in the background, without you even realizing it.

It takes a comment from King or Ban (“For a guy who’s so popular with the ladies, you think he’d be less clueless,” or a “Pfft, and you said I was unromantic?”) before Meliodas has the idea to ask you if you would prefer he gets you gifts, or grants you sappy declarations of affection. It’s not really his style; he prefers to keep the lovey-dovey talk under close quarters, But perhaps you notice Meliodas hovering closer by your side, his arm draping over your shoulders. These seem like casual shows of affection, but Meliodas only gets touchy with people he feels strongly for.

Once the day is over though, and you’re teasing Meliodas about his utter lack of grandiosity, he’s genuinely confused.

“Oh, do those things really matter to you? I didn’t know.”

As you splutter in indignation, Meliodas adopts a thoughtful expression.

“Huh. Sorry about that.” He sends you a crooked grin. “The... day isn’t over though. Want me to make it up to you?”

Your Valentine’s day ends with with a bang--or rather, banging. Ban, whose room is next door, complains about how you two need to learn to turn down the volume if he’s going to get any shut-eye.

ban

the wily fox sin who loves one thing more than treasure

Ban gets a kick out of teasing you about the holiday, especially if you’re excited about it.

“Valentine’s Day, huh? You got a boyfriend or somethin’ to spend it with?”

He plays coy. He acts like he has nothing planned, because he likes seeing you get worked up about it. Of course, he knows there are expectations around the holiday, and he knows that you have expectations for him, but he wants to hear you say it.

He yawns, rolling over onto his side and trapping you underneath him. As usual, Ban sleeps entirely nude, and the press of the hard lines of his body against yours has you flustered momentarily. He notes your embarrassment with a smirk, trailing a finger across your cheek idly. “What’s the big deal, anyways? Isn’t it just like any other day?”

You argue back, that it’s not just any other day, and Ban snorts, rolling his eyes.

“What I mean, babe, is... don’t I love you enough every day? Why do I gotta prove it?”

He acts like it’s an annoyance, but he already planned on making you your favorites for breakfast. Ban can make a solid 5-star meal out of any ingredients, but it isn’t until Gowther mentions his particularly good mood, and speculates upon it, that you find out it’s his birthday as well.

“Ban! Seriously? Were you even going to tell me?”

He shrugs. “Like I said, it’s not like it’s a special day.”

But knowing that it’s his birthday makes you determined to do something special for him. It takes you all day to find the connections, but you manage to find him vintage ale imported from three towns over.

Ban is surprised to see a gift. He really does mean it when he says that he doesn’t expect anything special; his birthday was hardly a big deal for most of his life. If it weren’t for the fact that it coincided with a holiday, he would most likely forget it was a thing.

“Tch, I said you didn’t have to get me anything.” The edge to his words are softened by the tender look he gives you, brushing a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “Twerp.”

Sappy declarations of love come easier to Ban, because for him, they aren’t embarrassing. They’re just his honest, unfiltered feelings.

“I’m lucky enough to have you in my life as it is.”

king

the fairy king who’s a hopeless romantic

King doesn’t even realize that it’s a human holiday until he’s strolling around town with Elizabeth and he comments on all the red and pink decor, the flowers in every window.

When she informs him, he nearly falls off Chastiefol’s floating pillow form.

“What?! I had no idea it was a holiday!”

He’s freaking out. Why didn’t you tell him? Did you really have such low expectations of him? How could he not have known?

“W-Why didn’t you tell me it was a special day?” he wails once he finds you. You giggle. “I had no idea! I don’t want you to think I didn’t–I didn’t care.”

Fairy-human relations are already complicated; much less when holidays exist in one tradition and not the other. Thankfully, King is a romantic at heart, and even if he wasn’t, fairies have their own holiday that involves cherishing their loved ones. He draws from that tradition in finding you the perfect gifts.

He darts all over the country to collect an assortment of flowers, each with their own meaning, all of them speaking to deep adoration and affection. King also collects fresh berries and makes you an array of pastries and sweets. The usually lazy Grizzly Sin of Sloth exerts himself more than he has in awhile, all to prove the depths of his feelings for you.

By the time he presents his gifts to you, the sun is going down, and King struggles to catch his breath. But then he presents to you the scene: a picnic for two laid out in the clearing of a forest, where the sun’s rays catch just right on the foliage surrounding you.

King is absolutely relieved when you take kindly to the pastries and flowers. He’s a bit shy to give you his last gift though, a collection of poems and lyrics about you that he’s been compiling. He’s too nervous to recite them out loud, so he hides one of the notes inside your bouquet of flowers, his face turning redder than the sunset once you read it, and express your adoration.

The rest of the day is spent cuddling on Chastiefol, King tucking one of the flowers behind your ears, and you doing vice-versa.

[flipping-the-coin]

[Inquisitorial Report: Subject - Megatron of Kaon]

[Authorization Level: Alpha (Elite Guard Selective)]

[Listed Authorizations: Head Elite Guardsmech Smokescreen]

[Assigned Inquisitor: Hush]

[15 Vorns after Cybertron’s Restoration - One Vorn into assignment]

═════════════════

Hush here with another report. As usual, it's been a pretty tame stellar cycle. Megatron really doesn’t do much, Smokescreen. I’m not joking. I thought he was terrifying at first, and don’t mischaracterize me when I say he still is absolutely terrifying, but if you know how to deal with him, it isn’t all that bad. He’s been doing a lot of writing recently, but that’s about it. He wrote a rather well done piece on Orion Pax’s dancing. I didn’t think I was one for romantics, but even I can admit it was a wonderful little thing. It was so sweet and well thought out. I think Orion will like it when he reads it. I plan to go find some nice solarite blooms for Megatron to give to Orion alongside the poem he’s composed. It will be a lovely accent piece to really add to the feeling of the gift.

There really isn’t a lot about Megatron to discuss, but since I would like to meet glyph count and have something to do other than knit another three stuffed turbo foxes, I’m going to tell you more about what’s been going on. Hope you don’t mind Head Guardsmech, but I’m really quite bored and this is a nice way to get my thoughts recorded for when I inevitably have my memory wiped and I need a refresher on handling my targets.

So you know I made up a company, right? Of course you do, I put it in my last report. Anyway, I put on my disguise, changed my paint, and swapped out my visor for a gold one before going to meet Orion as my new persona, Melody. I double-checked that everything looked good and covered up the wings of my badge. Then, once it was a good way through the morning, I walked up and rang the doorbell with my bag of gardening tools. You have no idea how long I spent frantically learning about gardening. I read everything I could get my servos on and I even went to train under a florist for a few deca-cycles. I had Carnage go out and look for plants for me as well. Did you know that the ruins of Crystal City are filled with plants thought extinct? I mean the city has been on fire since the Quints blew up Vector Omega, but the fires aren’t as bad now, so I could feasibly go fetch some plants.

Right, back on topic. I made sure my disguise was perfect and then rang the bell. I made sure Megatron would be out at the time just so that in case things went south I would be able to book it without being murdered. Orion’s field is nasty, but it won’t outright kill a mech, at least not based on what I’ve seen. If the Primal Steward and Megatron can walk it off, I am sure I can handle it too. That said, Orion answered the door pretty quickly and seemed genuinely surprised to see anyone there at all. I smiled as nicely as I was able, and our interaction went something like this:

“Hello! I’m Melody from Melody Photographics and Landscaping! Would you happen to be Orion Pax?” 

Orion was really shocked when I introduced myself. He hesitated a lot at the door but replied soon enough.

“Yes, I am Head Archivist Pax. What can I do for you?”

 I think he was expecting me to demand money or something with how he was giving me a look. Maybe he thought Megatron hadn’t paid dear Melody for the pictures. He wouldn’t have been wrong if he had thought that. Megatron hasn’t paid me for scrap, but at this point, I do what I do because I’m bored, so I guess it doesn’t matter.

“I was hired to tend to your garden and the exterior of your hab. Would it be possible for me to step in so we can discuss what you would like to get from this arrangement? I can begin work as soon as I know the budget I will have available and what you would like to see your garden become.”

Again, he looked like someone had come and slapped him upside the helm with a brick. Honestly, I can see why Megatron is fond of Orion’s optics. They are very expressive when he’s running through lots of emotions. He invited me in pretty quickly, and we ended up sitting down to discuss plans over tea. Orion makes killer tea by the way. I don’t think I’ve had tea since I got put in this post of mine, so his tea was extra nice. Did you know he likes his tea with loose crystals? I didn’t but now I do. 

We chatted for a bit and he asked all about how I got my job and who hired me. I told him Megatron hired me to take care of the place since my photographs turned out well and he liked my work. I also let him know that I do have a feline named Carnage who stays with me to assist me with my visual impairment. That one I came up with on the spot when I accidentally slipped up about my visor. See, the one I was wearing wasn’t actually a medically enhanced one, it was just protective. I think he might have been worried I was hiding something, either that or he was just curious. Whatever the case, I panicked a bit and took off my visor to show him why I have it.

I might have scared him, but I don’t think so. It’s really hard to tell with Orion. Sometimes he’s as clear as crystal, and other times he’s impossible to read. He just looked at my mutated optics, asked if they were painful, and then made an understanding noise. It was… relieving to have somebody look at my face and not be disguised. Megatron is going to have a field day when he finds out that his nickname of 'spider’ for me is far more accurate than he originally assumed. I know what I look like. I know that it’s because of my optics that I was made into an Inquisitor.

Sorry, it’s just nice to not be immediately gagged at. Following my reveal, Orion asked about Carnage, to which I just stated that Carnage comes and goes but doesn’t cause trouble. Then, once he seemed confident in my genuine interest in gardening, he grabbed some datapads, floor plans, schematics, designs, and so much more that I didn’t even know he had. By the time he had everything laid out, his entire kitchen table was covered in documents detailing his property and how he would like his garden to look. It was honestly super fun working with him to design the layout of the garden. We spent all cycle debating what would look best where.

I’ll tell you what, though: Orion Pax is rich. Megatron never spends much shanix, so I haven’t actually seen the sheer amount of cash these two monsters have in their accounts. But when I asked how much I could spend and made it clear I was happy to purchase whatever was missing, Orion outright shut that idea down. He shook his helm and went over the expenses for the garden, which I will have you know are absolutely astronomical considering what Orion wants. This is what he told me:

“Melody, you look like you haven’t fueled properly in vorns. I am not going to have you take shanix out of your hard earned salary to pay for my garden. I have a substantial inheritance to my name, and even with all these expenses, I will still hardly scratch the surface of those funds.”

He showed me his account, Smokescreen. He’s got more shanix than some senators have at this point! He’s disgustingly wealthy, and I did, in fact, choke a bit when I read his account balance. Orion is related to Alpha Trion, right? Well, that fragger must have been swimming in funds because Orion looks like some sort of foreign prince with how much shanix he has just sitting around. He told me a good chunk of his inheritance was made null and void with the shift in economics and the new currency system, but that much of it still held strong because many of his assets are in relics, property, and documents.

It was wild. I ended up handing Megatron a copy of the amount of shanix in his and Orion’s accounts a few cycles later, and he did an actual spittake at the number. I can’t blame him. Even deca-cycles after the matter, I still find myself recalling just how much cash my targets have to their names. I haven’t seen that much money anywhere, much less in one place at the same time. 

Back on the subject of the garden. Orion made his plans, and I’ve been spending the past couple of deca-cyles hunting down things he wants. Orion has been helping too, and so far we meet once a deca-cycle to go over plans again. I’ve already begun clearing out the garden of all the random plant growth already there. The dirt is all sifted and energon shards have been distributed to fertilize it all. I got some bots to bring over the trees Orion ordered and I managed to convince Megatron to help me hold them up while I got the holes prepared. Currently, there is one huge techtite tree that shot up like a vining holoshade and two smaller trees from Crystal City that I grabbed. I don’t actually know what they are, and neither does Orion. We are both looking into it, but they are pretty so they are allowed to just kinda hang there.

I spent a cycle with Orion laying down walkways too. That was fun. We talked about all sorts of plants and had lunch on the deck after spending the morning laying down eco friendly path pieces. We got into an argument over a bench we were putting together for the garden, but that argument resolved itself when Megatron came out and showed us that we were both reading the manual wrong. We put one screw in the wrong place, and the whole thing looked like a fragged up mess.

I got laughed at and Orion got kisses. I may or may not have been rather bitter about that. But we got the bench finished and got seeds for some copper growths spread around. I expect them to grow in alongside the newest plants we have shipping in rather quickly. Oh, we also got a nice tea table put under the techtite tree. We’ve had lunch there once a deca-cycle ever since. First Aid even came by once and got to fuel with us! He’s really nice. I really enjoy First Aid’s company. He knows a great deal and is very caring. He took one look at my optics and prescribed me some medication I don’t know.

I’ve been taking it for a while now and I must say, while it hasn’t fixed my life’s problems or the sensitivity of my optics, I can now withstand a little more dust before my optics get all agitated. 

As a side note, Carnage has been sleeping on top of my cockpit for a while now, and just the other cycle I decided to open it up because he kept pawing at it. He jumped right in and refused to hop out. He hasn’t emerged in cycles, but he doesn’t seem to be very concerned. I can feel him in there and it’s actually pretty comforting. Is that normal? I mean, I know that some of the big fliers will let others ride in their cockpits, but are they supposed to have to fuel more afterwards?

That’s all I’ve got for now. I will keep you updated, as usual. 

═════════════════

[Report Received: Visibility Status - Seen]

[Note from Head Elite Guardsman Smokescreen: Hush for Primus’s sake, you are getting far too comfortable in your role. I can’t exactly stop you now, but please, be careful before giving away your weaknesses. As for your question? I am afraid I don’t have the answer. Very little is known about yours and others frame types. A lot of information was lost during the war. So unless you are in pain, I wouldn’t worry about it.]

[elysianhades]

tiny drabble

I've had this just sitting around forever and at this point I don't think I'm going to finish it because I don't know where I was wanting it to go but I wrote too much to just scrap it so here ya go!

If for some reason I get an idea on how I want it to end I'll fix it up :D

Saeran x Reader

What I imagine the start of a weekend would be like.

Weekends were never really a relaxing thing in your house growing up. It was the two days that your parents had the day off from work so it was prime time to catch up on all the chores that had accumulated over the week. Saturday was the inside of the house, vacuuming and scrubbing the floor, dusting all shelves, laundry, cleaning windows, and once a month you’d be forced to help move around the furniture. Sunday was always the day you and your siblings dreaded the most because that was yardwork day- or if the world really wanted to spite you- cleaning the garage as well. 

Weekends consisted of waking up at 6:30 and getting a quick snack before working until 3 or 4 in the afternoon. It didn’t matter that the place wasn’t messy and everything you all did was done the week before either, it had to be done again like it hasn’t been cleaned in years and people were coming over.  Needless to say, weekends weren’t something you really looked forward to, it was always stressful and after those days of cleaning, it was back to school until the next one. When you got older and got your first couple jobs, you were almost glad that you worked on the weekends because at least then you’re getting paid while being on your feet all day moving back and forth. But like most everything else in your life, Saeran was able to make something you hated into something you looked forward to.

Now on the weekends, it doesn’t matter when you wake up or who wakes up first, you both would stay in bed until the other would wake up and be ready to get up. More often than not it’s Saeran who wakes up first- although the days when you manage to wake up before him are your favorite because you get to see him wake up with his morning hair and sleepy eyes- with you waking up soon after. You both slowly wake up, basking in the other's presence and listening to the birds outside chirp and sing as they start their day.

There is never a rush to get up and start working. Never stress or guilt or dread for staying in bed for just a few more minutes. When you both managed to roll out of bed (which changes on each weekend. There are never enough cuddles) you still take your time walking to the kitchen, planning the day’s agenda and what you both wanted to eat.

“Ah, I forgot I left the bread out last night to make french toast. Does that still sound good to you, lovey?” You say, yawning in your hand as you look at the french bread slices laid out on the table. 

“That still sounds delicious, my love. Do you want any help making breakfast?” Saeran smiles, touching the small of your back as he passes you. 

“Uhhh not with the food, I got that. Do you want to start boiling water for tea? I’m craving that one oolong drink I made a while ago that you still need to try.” You follow Saeran’s touch, flicking on the overhead light as you both enter the kitchen. He nods before grabbing the blue kettle from its spot in the cabinet. 

The sun is still coming up when you glance out the window. No one else is going to wake up for a while -which is perfect- it gives you both time to enjoy each others company without Saeyoung giving you both kissy faces or Yoosung and Zen cringing at how ‘lovey-dovey’ you both are being, not that them being around changes how you both act around each other and you both know the teasing is good natured anyways.

“Do you wanna turn on some music? Or just want to listen to the birds outside?” you ask, looking over your shoulder and gesturing to the speaker with your elbow and walking over to the fridge. There are multiple tiny speakers spread around the house. Some of them are in normal places you know, where you would expect speakers to be, beside the doorway to the kitchen, on the wall beside the window, and one on the dresser in your shared room. The others though… are in questionable places at best. There is a speaker in the shoe/coat closet, in the doorway leading down stairs, under the table in the living room, and even one where you keep the towels?? To be perfectly honest though, the one under the table might be there for prank purposes (Yoosung being the primary target) and because your brother-in-law saw no reason for there not to be a speaker in the places he put them.

“We should listen to music, I’m sure there are songs on your playlist I haven’t heard yet.” Saeran laughs as he turns the stovetop on and puts the water filled kettle on top.

Patting your pockets as you continue to look in the fridge, you pull your phone out of the pants you borrowed- stole- and unlock it with your finger. You glance at the top playlist before connecting it to only the kitchen speaker before pocketing your phone again and pulling out the milk and eggs from the fridge. A familiar tune starts to play as you set the things in your hands on the counter and turn around on your heel to grab two big bowls.

“Why hello there, handsome.” you smile as Saeran stands in front of the cabinet you needed to reach. He smiles as he grabs your hands and guides you over to him. 

“Hello angel.” He hums and holds you tightly. You sigh and lean against him just taking in the morning and the feeling of being in his arms. It’s your stomach that brings you out of the moment.

“Not that I don’t enjoy this lovely, but I do need to get the bowl that's behind you.” You smile, rubbing your finger on Saeran’s cheek as you talk.

“Really? The one behind me? Are you sure?” He smiles cheekily, pretending to think for a second.

You knew he stood there on purpose just so he would have the excuse to hold you. Rolling your eyes playfully you nod.

“Yeah, unless you want me to try making the batter on the counter or on a plate, which I would not recommend, that would be a huuuuge mess.” Your nose wrinkles in distaste just thinking about the mess that would make.

“Well, we wouldn’t want that.” He sighs but still doesn’t move.

“Mhm, a tragedy. Are you gonna scooch?” You lean closer to his lips.

“That depends. I’m pretty comfortable here, my love. I might need a little motivation.” He smirks, dramatically pouting.

Humming slowly you lean in to kiss him, knowing that’s what he was hinting at and what he truly wanted. He eagerly leans in, chucking as he does so. Whenever you two kiss the rest of the world disappears, it’s just you two in the moment. Only the love you two feel for each other. When you pull away- mainly because you need air; you would kiss Saeran’s cute smug little face any day forever if you could- Saeran moves both of you away from the cupboard (you still needed to get into) his cheeks red and eyes happy.

“You know,” you start to say, giving him quick kisses between every few words, “if you wanted a kiss you could have asked. I’m never going to say no.”

“I always want to kiss you, angel. There’s nothing else in the world I would rather do. I love you.” He murmurs against your lips.

“And I love you, with everything I am.” 

* * * * *

You crack the eggs into the wide glass bowl, pour a little bit of milk, vanilla, and a lot of cinnamon into the mixture, before starting to whisk it together. Saeran stands behind you, holding your waist and watching with his hand on your shoulder. This is a recipe you haven’t shown him yet, it’s your dad’s recipe and while you can’t make it taste exactly how your dad does you haven gotten close enough with how often you used to make it.

“Do you have a preference between more eggy or more milky?” You ask, tipping your head back.

“How does adding one change when it’s all finished?” He murmurs, kissing your shoulder once more.

“Hmm, actually? I don’t know? I just remember my dad liking it more milky and my mom more eggy. Maybe when it’s more eggy it’s more firm?” you ponder out loud and sprinkle some more cinnamon into the bowl. You feel his chuckle in your ear before he leans back to think.

“Is there a way you prefer it? We could try that one this time and then the other kind next time.” He suggests, watching the tiny cloud of cinnamon disperse.

Now you stop to think before putting two more glugs of milk into the tan mixture. You whisk slower now to see if any of the egg yolks hadn’t been broken up yet. When you don’t see any lumps then you turn to the cookie sheet of bread that’s across one the stovetop and then the skillet.

“Could you check the skillet?” You ask, dropping a few extra drops of vanilla in.

You look over your shoulder when Saeran’s hands leave your waist. He walks over to the pan and holds his hand over it to check its temperature. You take this opportunity to admire him. Even though you both have been awake for a little while, his hair still looks like he just rolled out of bed, it’s sticking up in different directions. His pajama shirt has the top two buttons undone, letting his collarbones show [ most likely because he knows you’re weak to the sight]. You love how confident he looks when he is in his element, it’s a great look on him. He cocks his head to the side and hums in thought.

“I’d say it’s ready, my love.”

The crisp air immediately bites your nose as you step off the back porch, it almost makes you want to sneeze. The brisk breeze blowing causes more red-orange leaves to fall off the trees. The branches are almost all barren, only handfuls of leaves are left, gently swaying in the wind until they too, fall off. The smell of the outside stirs the memories of taking hikes when you were a child, collecting leaves and laminating them to make bookmarks or wall art. It reminds you of the autumn fairs your father used to take you to, the carnival games and the huge farm tractor filled with hay that would take you to the different parts of the farm. The smell reminds you of the annual family photos you guys would take, with the falling leaves surrounding you. Autumn was truly your favorite time of year.

The apple, peach and plum trees are empty, those being the first to be empty, the fruit being used to make cobblers, jam, pies, or flavored butter. The berry bushes are barren and the flower beds are empty (fully weeded and everything) to let the soil rest. 

You turn when you hear the back door close shut behind you, signaling your husband finally found where his gloves are and is now ready to help. The small meow also is telling that your kitten has followed him out. You both are bundled up with handmade gloves, scarfs and hats. You have on a blue puffer coat and brown boots and Saeran has on a pink puffer coat with black boots. The fluffy maine coon kitten is wearing a plaid bandana on his neck, his kitten fluff causing him to look like a spiky dust bunny.

“What are we starting on?” Saeran laughs, looking around the yard and at Bramble who is now chasing a falling leaf. His bandana is all you both can see.

“Well, we don’t have much left to do… how about we take care of the leaves that have fallen so then we can plan where we want to put up decorations.” You sigh, talking in the smell of fall around you.

Nodding in affirmation, Saeran starts to walk over to the shed where you two keep all your tools. It’s a pretty big shed, you never really knew how much space some of the tools took. The shed itself is mauve with hand painted designs on it, courtesy of you, Saeran and Seayoung. Saeran had wanted to make it completely unique and original, so all three of you spent a few afternoons in the past painting it. In the end, the building was covered in things that shouted ‘Choi Household’, your designs, Saeran’s flowers and bees, and Saeyoung’s constellations- pretty hectic all things considered but still yours. Whenever you look at it, you feel the happy moments you guys had painting it which never failed to make you smile. 

The doors are simple black double dutch doors, the kind that can open at the top while still staying shut. An unfortunate circumstance involving Bramble is what encouraged you both to install one and overall, it is very handy. If you are ever cleaning in there it’s very nice to have the top open to let the breeze in while not having to worry about stray chickens wandering in. The doors always stay locked if either of you aren’t working outside just as a precaution.

Inside is full of every garden tool you’d think you need but doubled. Bags of soil and fertilizers sit in the corner. Pitchforks, hatchets, rakes, and shovels line the walls each on its own hook. A wheelbarrow with handheld spades and shovels, gloves and knee pads hanging off the sides is tucked next to the door for easy access. The older flower pots are stacked in the opposite corner of the bags of soil, close to the deck flower beds and the hanging baskets. There is a tall shelf pushed against the far wall and on it are garbage bags (the heavy-duty ones), chicken scratch, rubber boots, and other tiny miscellaneous items. The overall smell of the shed is very earthy, like you are in the middle of a dense forest, surrounded by nature. The other tools are in the garage, so Saeyoung could have easy access to them whenever the mood to tinker and build hits him.

You grab both rakes with one hand and attempt to grab a couple garbage bags with the other. The rakes however, decide they don’t want to cooperate, slipping out of your fingers while you try to find the endings of the bags in the box. They fall over and land on the ground with a solid thunk and a rattle of the metal one as the prongs collide with each other. Now with an extra hand, you have no problem grabbing the offending garbage bags.

“Why me.” You deadpan, rolling your eyes when you hear Saeran snort behind you.

With a small giggle, Saeran moves to pick up both rakes. He smiles sweetly at you before turning to leave the shed with the rakes in hand quickly- probably so you wouldn’t try to pick them up one handed again- You follow after him, unlatching the top part of the door and pulling the bottom shut behind you.

“Wanna each do half?” You ask, standing next to your lover as you both look over the yard again, this time to make a game plan.

“Hmmm, how about we do a half together, take a short break and then tackle the last half?” He suggests, watching Bramble chase a bird across the yard.

(There are 4 more pages of different endings this could go down but I didn't like the flow so it cuts off here pretty abruptly sorry about that)

[madrone33]

RotT ranting ‘cause I need to express my unhappiness.

JIM YOU COMPLETE FUCKING IDIOT!

There is a whole ass 20 min long ep in Trollhunters called ‘Unbecoming’ exploring the question/insecurity of “What if Jim wasn’t the Trollhunter?” The answer clearly shown in the episode is “The whole world will go to shit, and in the end Jim is the Trollhunter, Amulet or not.”

Ya hear that Jim? AMULET or NOT.

So why is it that the 1st thing young Jimmy does when the Amulet breaks is go, “Oh no but can i be a hero without the Amulet?😱” Bitch EXCUSE ME??

Where did all that character development go huh? Up Gunmar’s fat asshole? ‘Cause no way are the writers doing this arc again that they already did very well in a series explicitly dedicated to Jim alone, without the time limit of a movie and the need to include sixty million other main characters from the other shows and all their separate arcs.

But apparently, the writers collectively decided to have selective amnesia that day and completely forgot about the episode dedicated to Jim’s insecurities and doubts. Nice going writers.

And then. And THEN. They have the audacity to take Toby - ma boi TP - and make it so the only thing he can do to help is sacrifice himself for the cause, and then die. Yes, you heard that right. They kill off Toby for shock value.

What. The. Fuck.

Toby is so much more than just the support guy who dies to give the movie a dark edgy “deep” ending. He’s Jim’s best friend, the steady accepting rock that Jim is lost without. It’s not a happy ending if Toby’s not in it. Jim would be broken. But I guess that was probably the point, huh. “Oh no, one of the main chs died, this movie really does have consequences!”

Except it actually doesn’t, because they almost immediately scrap that. See, after Toby’s tragic death - which btw I legit didn’t see coming and was completely confused by. And this wasn’t shock or denial from grief, this was just plain scepticism and confusion. Huh? Ok so did Toby just… die? It’s not a fake-out for drama?

I just sat there for a few minutes waiting for the film to clarify. And then when I realised yes, they did actually kill Toby, I waited a bit more for the film to pull something out of its ass to retcon this. Which it did. And boy was it some retcon.

Time travel. Yep. You heard right, but I’m going to write it again anyway: They used time travel.

Now time travel on its own isn’t a show breaker. Hell, it’s used quite effectively in many stories and movies. Harry Potter PoA case in point. So time travel as a concept isn’t bad. It’s when the time travel breaks the timeline, already existing lore, character development, character integrity, stakes, suspension of disbelief, and makes you feel like nothing you watched mattered, that it becomes bad. Which RotT does. And it’s a dumpster fire.

Jim travels back in time, not to the moment before Toby’s sacrifice, which would have invalidated that sacrifice but might have been bearable. Not to the beginning of the movie, which would have been a bit weird but bearable. No. Go big or go home right? He goes all the way back to Trollhunters Season 1 Episode 1 ‘Becoming’. The beginning of the fucking series.

In case you don’t realise what a colossal screw up this is, let me lay out the situation for you.

So, y’know all those characters you know and love? Y’know how you love them because you’ve seen them grow from idealistic normal kids to responsible and dependable badasses? Y’know how you put your time into watching 88 episodes and 1 movie? Y’know how you witnessed 34 hours of these characters learning and growing and interacting together? Y’know all the highs and lows, the tears and the smiles, the laughs and the cringes, the heartbreak and wholesome? The journey these characters, and this world, has taken? The moments and episodes and people and places you know and have grown to care about?

Well. Take all that, wrap it up really nicely with a bow on top, sign ‘My Childhood’ on it, and then just kinda… throw it in the trash. And then crush it under a trash compactor. And then light the resulting piece of shit on fire.

According to the writers and world and lore and canon, those 88 episodes? They don’t exist. None of that has happened, except in Jim’s head. It’s kinda like the ‘it was all a dream’ stories, but almost worse because that dream is going to happen again.

We know what’s going to happen. Doing it again will feel cheap and boring and flat. Those characters we like ‘cause of character development? Not there anymore. We’re stuck with the simple boring normal versions of them again. And we’ll have to watch them go through the same things as if for the first time just to get to the characters we like. Only it won’t be for the first time. And we’ll know that.

Why would we want this? Writers? Hello? Someone answer me, because I don’t know the reason myself! Why in the everloving shit would we ever want to retcon 32 hours of viewing experience, just to do it all. Over. Again. There is no reason. Because we don’t want to.

Hell, even Jim probably doesn’t want to! The writers made it so he still remembers everything, so do you know how much trauma this guy probably has by now? Let’s see:

Bular trying to kill him, Draal trying to kill him, Goblins trying to kill him, Nomura trying to kill him, Gladys trying to kill him, the Stalkling trying to kill him, lightning trying to kill him, Strickler trying to kill him, lying to his Mom, Golems trying to kill him, Gato trying to kill him, Angor Rot trying to kill him, Pixies being pixies, his Mom almost being killed, Aaarrrgghh being killed.

The Darklands trying to kill him, Nyarlagroths trying to kill him, Gumm Gumms trying to kill him, Dictatious trying to kill him, Gunmar trying to kill him, the Gruesome trying to kill him, Usurna trying to kill him, the Deep trying to kill him, Vendal being killed, Otto trying to kill him, Trollmarket’s citizens being killed, Claire almost killing herself. Claire getting possessed and trying to kill him, Draal being killed, Merlin trying to kill him, Jim killing his humanity, the sun trying to kill him, Morgana trying to kill him.

The Green Knight trying to kill him, Arthur trying to kill him, Guards trying to kill him, Aaarrrgghh trying to kill him, the Arcane Order trying to kill him, Jim trying to kill his friends, Merlin being killed, Jim being killed. Nari trying to kill him, Numora being killed, Strickler being killed, Archie and Charlemagne being killed, the world being killed, Toby being killed.

Yeahhh. He’s got trauma. He’s got trauma for days. Hey, you know what’s great for someone who has trauma? Putting them back into the traumatic situation and doing it again! I’m sure their mental health won’t completely crumble under the stress. This is going to go great! Not.

And that’s not even the worst part. Haha ohhh no!

The worst part - by FAR - is that this stupid garbage excuse for a movie not only forgets about ‘Unbecoming’ once, but twice.

During the bulk of the movie, Jim struggles with feeling like he can’t be a hero without the Amulet. During the end of the movie though, after Jim’s successfully time travelled to the writers’ heart’s content, Jim forgets the other major lesson of Unbecoming, the part about what happens if Jim isn’t the Trollhunter. Don’t remember? Here’s a friendly reminder from before:

“The whole world will go to shit, and in the end Jim is the Trollhunter, Amulet or not.”

Did you catch that first part? Ahem.

“THE WHOLE WORLD WILL GO TO SHIT.”

If Jim is not the Trollhunter, if he does not pick up the Amulet and stop the Bridge from forming, and kill Bular and Gunmar and Angor Rot, the whole world goes to complete, absolute, no holds barred, shit. And what does Jim do at the end of the movie, having seen in terrifying detail exactly what that kind of future is? Why, he makes Toby the Trollhunter of course!

I- I can’t. I just can’t with this movie. How-? Why-? Just why. Why do this? Jim, you remember what happened last time you refused the call, right? You- you do remember, right??

Killahead opens. Bular is still alive. Gunmar and the whole Gumm Gumm army is free. Arcadia’s population of humans is eaten alive. Trollmarket is overrun. There are Changelings and Goblins and all kinds of Darklands creatures everywhere. No-one can kill Gunmar because the Amulet is broken, which means no Eclipse Armor.

Merlin’s staff is most likely taken by the bad guys, since the Amulet can’t lead any GGs to it first. Merlin is crushed to death without waking. Morgana is freed. The Eternal Night is upon us. Humanity is eaten. The Arcane Order turns everything back to the Stone Age with no one to stop them. The Arkiridians land on Earth and are probably killed. There goes Arkiridian-5’s royal family. General Morando becomes Gaylen and battles the Arcane Order for ultimate supremacy over the Universe.

This is the Bad Timeline. Everything sucks.

Jim. Jim buddy. Buddy ol’ pal. Jimbo. Why in the everloving fuck would you do this? It’s official, I think the writers have amnesia. They forgot that whole episode, apparently it wasn’t there.

And wait a minute- who ever said Jim could give the Amulet to Toby in the first place? It’s not, like, really his choice? Sure he rejected it in ‘Unbecoming,’ but that was mainly Merlin’s choice to make Draal the Trollhunter instead of Jim to teach Jim a lesson. Key word: Merlin’s choice. Because it’s Merlin’s Amulet, and he chooses who the next Trollhunter is.

Why would Merlin choose Toby just because he sacrificed himself in the future? Toby is, no offence Toby, not a logical choice to be Trollhunter. At this point in the story he’s not very fit, doesn’t seem to want the kind of adventure Jim does in the first episode, and he doesn’t have any fighting skills.

It’s only Jim’s expertise in cooking that lets him live in that first battle with Bular. Toby doesn’t have cooking skills. He will die on the first night, and then the Amulet will choose Jim again, but this time he’ll have even more added trauma.

And let's put aside the plot relevance of how much of a horrifying choice anyone who’s not Jim having the Amulet is for a sec. Plot aside, Jim as a character would never in his LIFE give Toby the Amulet. Because it’s not just a glowing amulet with cool armour and a sword for someone who’s worthy.

It’s a burden.

It’s a burden and a responsibility. It’s a lifelong commitment to putting others first. To making hard choices and having to live with the consequences of them in the aftermath. To giving every part of yourself, to sacrificing everything you are, so that someone else can be saved. Two worlds on the Trollhunter’s shoulders. Human and Troll.

That weight is something Jim has not wanted so many times. He’s admitted or complained or sighed or yelled that sometimes he wants to get to be a normal kid, live longer than high school, not worry about someone trying to kill him or someone else all the time.

The Trollhunter doesn’t get that luxury. Rule number one: Always be afraid. The Trollhunter can never stop being afraid. Their whole life from this point until DEATH is dedicated to this destiny of fear and hunting and protection.

Jim, who cares for and loves his best friend as a brother, would never ever push that kind of life and responsibility onto Toby and call it something good. The sole reason Jim went back in time at all was to save Toby. There is NO universe in which Jim willingly and happily then takes Toby’s life and shoves him into the path of Bular, and Strickler, and Angor Rot, and Gunmar.

And the icing on the fucked up cake is that the only way Jim managed to kill Gunmar was by turning into a troll. By giving up his life as a human teenager with a human family. By becoming a species with a lot of instincts and traits most others would label as monster. By giving up his life in the sun. By giving up part of his humanity.

Jim would NEVER force Toby into having to make that kind of choice. And I am ashamed of the writers who thought that he would.

.