#i wish i could write characters better so my OCs were worth it beyond just being cute blorbos dfghj

[saphabee]

love getting curious and using like. a post stats checker? Ive made 633 original posts (apparently) and the average notes is like. 3? almost 4 notes per OG post? pain agony, but im not surprised since i just reblog Whatever. I ought to make more actual content of my own even if nobody wants it defrgth

[sweetmage]

In regards to a recent reblog (it's a good post but I didn't want to ramble about OCs and AUs in their tags lol) I am also really bothered by the lack of emotional weight on that choice outside of the player.

This is yet another reason I love and prefer exploring my AUs where Hawke or my HoF are my Inquisitors as opposed to brand new characters. I can't do much to change the game, but at least in writing I can adjust things!

In some versions of Edan's Inquisitor AU the choice comes down to:

- Alistair, his closest friend who he loves and cares for immensely, basically family to him since a time when they both lost everything. He is like an extension of himself, all that he wishes he could be and he struggles to imagine a world where they are not fighting beside each other, where its Edan that pulls through and the friend he admires and believes the world needs right now.

-And Garrett, not only a hero that Edan idolizes, someone he believes to be so much better and stronger than himself, but also the loving partner of his best friend Anders, the reason he still lives and knows freedom, one of the last things Anders has and the thing he is most terrified to lose.

In some versions of my Inquisitor!Hawke AU it comes down to:

-Carver who he has only recently reconnected and made ammends with after a rocky relationship and loss that drove them further apart, who was just starting to live his life and find his place, who has so many goals and dreams and has only just tasted purpose and belonging for the first time. Carver who means everything to his siblings.

-Marian, his twin sister (it's a twin AU), who had carried all of their heaviest burdens while in Kirkwall, sacrificed every bit of herself to protect those she loved as they slipped through her fingers. Yet for all the ways she loved Garrett and fought for him, even when it was hard, he only added to her crippling stress and drove a wedge between them because he couldn't escape his own issues with self worth and impulses to withdraw "for her sake". They'd only just met again some years after he'd fled Kirkwall without her and she is already asking to pay the ultimate price for his life.

-And occasionally Edan, who Garrett holds a strong, passionate admiration. Though they'd only just met, he had been a constant in Garrett's life for some time, having found inspiration in the Hero of Fereldan's tale of loss and perseverance. But for all the comfort his stories brought Garrett, the most important gifts he'd inadvertently given him were the lives of Anders and Justice who were only here due to him and who would be devastated beyond measure to lose their dear friend.

It isn't always these, but it often is because these choices are very personal to them and they matter and they hurt. For this, and many reasons, my favorite Inquisitors are always these guys who have already lived and lost but the string of hard choices never ends 🥲

[captainkurosolaire]

I challenge you to pick five Tumblrs in your social circle and tell them something you admire about their blog!

Only 5? I could probably do 500. However, that's determined by what's considered my social circle. I'm often in my head being incredibly social continuously is really a challenge of mine. I'm always actively marching to something, my flame of passion when I have it, I can do some crazy stuff but it diminishes relatively quickly, so I try to cling. But I'll up your thing and list 25 of my fave people. Ask me this same thing in a Month, I'll keep doing 25, until I do all the people. How about that? (If anyone wants to be taken off mention let me know.)

@eligos-venator

- Has one of the most intelligent and sophisticated minds, I've had the pleasure to know. Literally admire all his aesthetics, work, head-cannons, ideas. It's only a benefit that the dude shares some OC characteristics to my own (Winning features). I really enjoyed the short-thread we did. It was incomplete, mainly because of my faults. I want to actually be better to give him a proper delivery and RP worth his time, but he's incredibly worth the investment of eyes.

@mischiefandmystics

- If there was a Mount Rushmoore of writers who kept me in this endeavor, encouraged me. Sun'ra is one of them. His characterization skills, writing, the delivery and how believable his character is, they're masterful acts.

@mishivymendi

- I wouldn't be nearly tamed or as creatively freed if it wasn't for this gem. She broke my shell, I really didn't at a time ever see myself being anything really beyond a smut writer, but Mishi not only saw potential in me, but brought it out. Her stories and world's she brings to life are so majestically colorful.

@asymphonyofash

- My go-to. He's another pillar individual who saw things in me past just the obvious perception, (Probably second longest XIV RPer I know.) Taught me a lot of the lore, I shot him up and he's sort of become my stapled rock. He's right aside Sun'ra met them about the same, both took me under their wing's as I quietly observed and absorbed.

@lavender-hemlock

- We're always up and front with each other, never feeling like I couldn't say anything around, extremely rare to share that these days. Her gif's are legendary, something on my own terms I want to soar in quality. The writing she does is astounding. Character has so many mysterious pages that are quite addictive to want to explore and learn them. (Encore 20 below-cut)

@under-the-blood-moonlight - Her sweetness and artwork and overall is just a friendly presence to be around. I cherish them so much. One I can jive with more darker undertones with. She's one the most hardworking and ambitiously creative people. I'd mail them infinite hugs if could. Thanks for being you! @roxinova - I owe a lot of credit to her. She's constantly OOC and everything was nudging me too be more inclusive to things and involved heavenly. It's rare for me. I'm really horrible about that my autism sets me back socially, I constantly will be drowned by the next day and be reverted back to better off alone, that's my major crux and weakness. But her thoughtfulness, these things, aren't ever foreign to me, I do pay attention probably better than any would ever give me credit. She's a beacon model to have as a friend. @corpse-dancer - Haven't ran into many words with them, but her character, screenshot game, expressiveness, they're all a marvel to constantly see, alongside her attitude and bringing life character. I do think if I were better, we would click quite splendidly. They've recently reminded and motivated me to pick-up my daily-practice, or try too. Keep being a rockstar. @fair-fae - Few who wouldn't know who she is in this community. She's been in my opinion a huge core. I'm certain she's inspired many who weren't even RPers too try it by seeing her at the Quicksands or elsewhere, a tyme ago. Making no exception, I was even one of those. I used to be in QS every-single day and was often doing my shameless stuff. Though her presence first did show me there's a lot more. I admire her in all fields. Also appreciate her adopting me to the FC and her always thinking of others and giving events, or her aesthetics and portrayal, its the epitome of swan elegance. @thorcat - One of my most treasured friends. Been RPing with them for a longtime. There's never anything complicated between us or a rift of drama, it's just let's go and have fun. We really mesh well, I've welcomed nearly ever character and got the privilege to RP with nearly all them. They always open up envelope and help me, settle on back and just laugh. Whether used to be waking up to their characters humping my afk one or use randomly having a hardcore banter between Ufah and Captain and capturing them as a voidal pet. Memories with them isn't something I'd ever want to lose. I love ya! Never stop enjoying life for anything. @lukawarrioroflight - I get in the gutter find myself lacking motivation or writing, discouraged even... But I never have felt, I could ever do any wrong with this person, they bring the light out of me. So no matter what, how many hospital-beds I yearly visit, it's because of this rare nature, that I come back, even if they're the only one's ever to read my stuff. I would do it for them alone. @scholarlybreadbun - I've only been back recently and they've so much warmth. Their presence is the sun of inviting. The couple and posing all the shipping that stuff makes me even melt. I'm not particularly talented in regards to posing couples, but I took notice of them along time ago and set on quietly improving. Really like them for them, wouldn't ever want them to change that. Ideally look forward to be in their orbit longer so I can bask in them. @seascrapes - Been mutual with them for a while. Their aesthetics and character is all S+ level. I appreciate throwing back tagged prompts with them, one of many people I really think would be enjoyable to collab with any other seafarers. The artwork and pieces of Tal Brook, are breathtaking as ever exceptionally too, not to mention. Love your stuff matey, you're a king. @mai-takeda - Is a myth. Her absolutely sheer friendliness and her attitude, are so positive influencing, I was so thrilled to be welcomed with her and boosted by them early on. I couldn't see myself, wanting to exist where they didn't have happiness like the same she always delivers by just doing so many soft-things. Not to mention her writing... She's a whole world to throw yourself gazes

under. @zhauric - It doesn't go far either without the same breath of Mai, I could say about Zhauric. He's someone worthy to look-up and also recognize they're passionate and inviting, hoisting up literally everything. Could easily find any of their characters comrades with my own, or jiving alongside. Not to mention last XIVWrite, they slaughtered it. So enjoyable to read them all. I like how organized their blog is too, motivated me recently to redux my entire thing. @cadrenebula - They have so many diverse characters and their entire roster is vibrant and is imbued with a massive flux of life. They are able to encapsulate so many character's voices and portray them so effectively too, I really admire that greatly. They've made me think bigger and try myself recently at actually undertaking a huge roster of characters too. I've taken many breaks, but I always am so graciously returned often with them close-by and that's so incredibly sacred. I've seen a lot of people get discouraged or quit, leave, departure, etc. But they always seem to have a bigger house then they had last I took a break and I enjoy peaking in. @silvernsteel - Her artist and gif-work are awe-aspiring, there's little unrecognizable by her photo-sets and edits. They helped me even tip-toe into uncharted with giving me the recipes to try incorporating gifs into my arsenal. Plus so delightfully pleasant to actually talk with and just chill. I want nothing less in life, than the beauty they give, to be returned to them for eternity in all their glorious air. If ever needed anything of me, they've got me. @spotofmummery - We talk about passion or friendliness or overall a person to even remotely try to be, I got to include them. Their web-series and writing, screen-work, everything they do is fantastic. And that's furthered back nearly any I've met showcase or immortalize how just genuine of stellar person they are. I wish them always the energy to create and sparks. @snow-covered-moon - They've never been anything less but absolutely a diamond to know. I enjoy their character, their almost always abundant of energy that's very rub inducing. Their WoL character stories, writing, screen-shots, everyday they open up a new pandora box of joy, there's no mistaken love behind their character and that's infectiously easy to also enjoy something when the author does too. Always healthy to be around, I never feel short of vitality when they're close-by. @letheofthelost - Always cheerful or least encapsulates with me, they're a carnival ride. Just pure epic story-telling and engaging equally as passionate, constantly writing characters, not looking for anything outside of RP or anything really just being their selves, they fade all others. I love their presence, them as a person. Enjoy any character they'll ever come and throw under me, or a change of pace. Always feels easily understandable between one another. @crow-iv - Together we're an unfiltered, unstoppable wake of pure passionate writers and art. But I would say they're far ahead of me, in every regard. Already able to portray multiple characters in a scene and do such in-depth thinking, alongside even sketch or draw right afterwards or a scene. They're so talented, huge reason I set-out on giving them a Crew of cast and actual stories to-tell when I'm actually caught up and if they interested and we both have the room, I really think if further myself, I can be better and supply more for them to draw and I want to see them soar. I want to give them all my improvements and effectiveness. @trishelle - They've such a reinforcing personality and aura around them that easily bolsters anything that dares thinking they're about to be depleted so energizing. Aesthetics, characters, all them are so lively that further compliment their own mun's great welcoming presence. Worth hundreds of smiles and stars, keep high. Wish I had more time to dedicate to learning you! But I do notice and appreciate you. @fracturedfantasia - One of my people, I like to retreat and just talk my full

head-cannons with or learn, share insightful and inquisitive thoughts about philosophies and multi-culture things. Or plotting and in-general, they're a well of information and brimming ideas, they are every making of what makes a quality friend. When you can generally be open-about-all that's a real one right there. Their characters and tarot readings, I always would implore if they're offering. Thanks for giving me any-time. You're truly a treasure. @violet-warder - Never have even came to words with them yet unfortunately but didn't mean as a mutual, I haven't admired all their screenies, writing, or the aesthetics they bring of their character. Glamours is real end-game, I like all what you've done and put together. I care strictly about what represent and give, I don't want to see them ever think anyone want's them gone, they are abundantly so talented and possess things only they can deliver. I think recently came back too, and I'm glad to share, hopefully, overtime I can build you better up. Or eventually even talk, but I'm certain you are a busy-body person too, so we're relatable. @layla-grey - I have a lot of underline issues that set me back as a flawed person, but I've never not been anything but someone who's open, it's why I always do include my f-list in anything or etc. I'm not here to present this facade, and really don't care to be an image crafted by another. No one as of recently or now, am I close with as an RP partner or friend with then this stunning masterpiece. I never let-up on story-telling or anything so I can eventually use my Crew or other Characters, to give them anytime a master entertaining day, they push me to not be short-changed. IC and OOC I would devote my full attention too cause they've never shed from me. Didn't ever matter how much silence or anything, they're always around. And don't expect anything out of me or pressure. Just accept me and I equally share that sentiment, I want you to have everything in this world has to offer. ----- This is just a fraction of people, I've paid attention, noticed or know. I've been around in this Community for many years. There's a lot of things I could say about it, more probably then anyone else. But what matters to me, is recognizing the people who are here, that work hard, build others up, support, constantly are a beam. I don't need to interact with everyone, to know when someone is generally out for good. Or they're out for bad I've learned inquisitiveness longtime ago, I had to survive and remain afloat. I just go out and be me, and along the way, I get to find people like these, who help bring out the best me. I am nothing without these people, creators, writers, artist. I'm a terrible friend, horrible person, I don't have the energy to interact NEARLY with as much as I'd like with you all, If I could clone myself, or if things were different, I would drop it all to be in your orbits more if could. But, do know I appreciate you. And even if you ever do depart from this whole community or anything, know that anything you share, or give, that stuff does matter, somewhere, someone was aspired, if nothing else, by me. ONLY you can give the worlds you see and I am thankful. Do love yourself.

[i-did-not-mean-to]

Diary found in K---D--- : Part 2

So, here's the next little part of this :D

Imagine by @lathalea is indented!

Enjoy <3

Taglist: @shrimpsthings, @mulasawala (so you see where I'm going with this lol)

(Yes, there will be MORE artwork coming, stay posted...)

Fandom: Hobbit

Characters: Ori x OC

Rating & Warning: Fluff and silliness

His name was Ori and he was a scribe in Erebor. It turned out he visited the forest often to sketch the animals and plants. You spent the rest of the day together. In the evening, you exchanged campfire stories, sharing a meal. At one point, he shyly asked about where you came from. Blushing, he admitted, almost whispering, he never saw a person with such beautiful hair before.

You told him that you came from another world, from a region called East Asia, where many people looked similarly to you. He was very curious about your homeland, your culture and your world. You spent hours telling him everything about it and he listened to you in awe.

“Ori.” He replied, his lips quirking a tiny bit as if he was not used to speaking his own name. “I’m a scribe. In Erebor. The Mountain.” He pointed to a tree beyond the clearing.

Thankfully, I was familiar with the Lonely Mountain and did not think that he didn’t know the difference between a living organism and a pile of minerals.

“I have never seen you, neither here nor in that Mountain.” I replied, for I went into the halls sometimes to translate for travellers, but for the most part, I let the king be his grumpy, glorious self.

“I come here often, to sketch, but I seem to have lost my way.” He admitted with a tiny frown. Ah, a real dwarf. They only knew up and down seemingly and if there was no way into a hill, they’d stubbornly trek up until they tumbled off the other side again.

As if to prove to me that he was not lying – dear reader, he had a face that was utterly devoid of malice or dissimulation – he showed me rather good sketches of the fauna and flora of the dense forest surrounding us. “That is really good, Ori, the scribe, from under the Mountain.” I commented which made him blush with a fierce and, apparently, unexpected pleasure.

In an expression of indescribable cuteness, he literally wiped his face with his sleeve as if he could clean away the rosy hue like a stubborn ink stain from under his skin.

“What are you here for?” He then asked, pushing out his chest heroically. As a reminder, he was the one who had lost his way, but apparently, he wanted to defend either the forest from me or the other way around.

“I am here to think…in silence.” I replied; he retreated a few steps. “Oh? I’ll leave you to it then, I guess. It was great to make your acquaintance…”

I gave him my name, after all, he had given me his, and he chewed on it for a few moments before his face split into a smile that was like the sunlight breaking through the cloudy afternoon sky: tentative, warm, and strikingly beautiful.

“Stay. I like your face.” I heard myself saying. Maybe, it was my teasing, mischievous streak acting up, but I had liked his embarrassment so much that I couldn’t help wanting to coax more of these blushes out of him.

“My…face?” In that weird dance he had been engaged in for the last few minutes, Ori stepped closer again, shuffling his feet in the heavy boots dwarrows insisted on wearing.

No, your ass, I thought, but bit my tongue; Ori the dwarf looked like someone who would die on the spot if I said anything even remotely inappropriate…as I was wont to do when nervous.

My sarcastic thought spurred my own interest though and I examined him a little closer: he was indeed swaddled like a babe, beads of sweat pearling down his temples on account of the steep climb and the stubborn blush powdering his nose and cheeks with pink blotches.

“Sit down, you’ll get a heat stroke.” I invited him and pointed to a patch of moss beside me while rummaging in my pack for the flask of ale I had brought.

“Thank you ever so much.” He plopped down in a cascade of earthen-coloured wool and awkward limbs. He did smell warm, I noticed, a blend of cinnamon and comfort.

Also, he had one of those faces that only became better when seen up-close, I admit freely; there were golden stars dancing in the depth of his dark eyes and he had the most adorable freckles as if some outlandish fairy had sprinkled gold dust over that heart-wrenchingly handsome face.

“Are you thirsty, Mistress?” He asked, nodding at the flask in my hand.

Handing it to him rather abruptly, I realised that I had spent the last moments intently staring at his face as if I had never seen a male dwarf before in my life.

“I have work to do.” I snapped, feeling immediately guilty for taking my own embarrassment out on him, but he merely nodded and pulled his sketching supplies into his lap.

Strangely enough, Ori did not disturb me. If anything, the silence felt fuller, richer, deeper with him by my side. As I translated a letter, as a spinster I had to support my family and my insufferable sisters as best as I could, I felt like the chirping of the birds and the vibrancy of the colours around me were even more enjoyable now that I shared them with someone else.

…

The sun crept along its never-changing arc slowly and yet, much too fast.

As I looked up, I wished I was a better painter myself, for this dwarrow was made for sunsets.

The way the last golden hurrah of a perfect day exploded in a halo of warmth around his figure, the way all the greys and the blues seemed to bleed out of the world to leave nothing but warm tones behind, and the way his smile was the perfect expression of this mellow, unhurried mood…it struck me deeper and more violently than a thunderstorm in all its booming rage would have.

“Will you join me for dinner, Ori?” I asked gently, “I shall escort you back down.”

“It would be my honour.” He nodded, tearing out a page of his notebook and handing it over.

“It was an invitation; I do not demand payment.” I said seriously, for the sketch of the doe was so good, it might have been worth actual money. “Oh…” His nose crinkled at little at that.

“I wanted you to…have something beautiful. I have seen you work very hard.”

Of course, he was a scribe as well, he would consider the scribbling work, I thought and gave him a thankful smile. “You’re beauty enough for one day.” I shrugged.

He gasped, bringing his notebook up to his face as if to shield himself from my words.

“You’re having me on, aren’t you? Dori has warned me that girls do that sometimes.” He sounded utterly dejected. “I am not having you on. Has nobody ever told you that you’re handsome?” It was my turn to be wide-eyed with shock.

“And who is Dori?” I followed-up when he didn’t really reply to my question even though I thought I had seen his braids move like strings of pearls in a draft. The minutest of shakes of the head, a quiet admission of inadequacy that sunk ugly, ragged claws into my soft heart.

“He’s my brother. I have two of them. Dori…and Nori. They’re…” – “Older than you.” I completed. “Protective.” He supplied.

He was still holding his drawing out to me, and, after a moment, I took it gingerly and put it between the pages of my own writing supplies. I would hang it in my room and look at it daily.

Nowadays, there were but very few gifts for me; all the money went to my two younger sisters who were still nubile and would, if Mahal willed it so, be able to make a good match.

Busying my hands with making a fire, I asked him to tell me about his brothers.

“Oh, Nori is…agile. He’s…funny and brave and resourceful.” Ori started, his voice warm with affection and admiration. He sounded like a proper rogue to me, and as it turned out, he was, but he also deserved every single ounce of the deep-felt care Ori held for him.

“Dori is…fussy. He’s polite, he’s very caring, and he’s exceedingly proper.” Ori went on as I waved a hand for him not to stop. I enjoyed hearing about the life of other families than my own.

“So, is he the one who raised you to be this…warmly clad and gentle?” I asked, turning to place the foodstuffs I had brought up and stored in the cool lake water on spits to roast over the fire.

“Warm? Oh yes…I was a sickly pebble and he’s been worried ever since. I hope I have behaved in a way that would not make him disappointed in me.” Again, he worried his lip.

“Let’s see, you’ve startled a bird and an unsuspecting dwarrowdam.” I listed with a wicked gleam in my eyes; his face fell, and he looked properly guilty.

“Then, you’ve kept me company, and the best company I’ve ever had, it has been, on my grandmother’s grave, I swear.” I went on and that treacherous blush was back with a vengeance.

“I didn’t mean to startle you.” He then said in a low voice. “Great beauty is always startling.”

“I am hardly Thorin Oakenshield.” He laughed. Readers, you cannot imagine that sound just by reading my words. If flowers blossoming had melody, if the sun setting on the eternal sea had a song, if autumn leaves dancing on a gale had a tune, they would have sounded like nails on scree, like cats having their tails trampled, and like kettles going unheeded compared to Ori’s laughter.

“There’s beauty in the doe as much as in the wolf.” I replied gently.

“May I…can I ask where you’re from? I don’t seek to be rude, but I’ve never seen anyone quite like you; your hair looks like those fabrics the Elves weave. It…seems so soft, so liquid, so smooth.” He blushed a darker shade yet.

This might well have been the first time that someone had asked me about my origins without making it sound like an accusation; there was honest fascination in his demeanour.

“My family and I have come from the Far East. I have travelled a lot, Ori, I have seen landscapes entirely made up of rock and sand, I have walked forests so stiflingly hot and moist it felt like being underwater, and now, I am here in the land of tall trees and taller mountains.”

I said, surprised by my own frankness.

“That sounds amazing.” He took the food I offered readily enough, and I told him about the people I’ve left behind to be stranded at the other end of the world.

“This is good, is that a recipe of your homeland?” He asked, looking down on the piece of meat I had seasoned with herbs I had grown myself in our small backyard.

“It actually is. I’m glad you like it. I had not planned to have company, otherwise I’d have brought something more palatable to the local tongue.” I apologised quickly.

“No, I like it. You should definitely trade some recipes with Dori…and Bombur…oh, and if any of your delicious herbs are medicinal, Óin.” He laughed again when he saw my dumbfounded expression.

“I make a good honeycake, if I can interest you in that? Maybe…” He fell back into silence.

…

A look at the sky told me that it was too late to go down in the inky darkness.

“We’ll have to stay here for the night.” I mumbled, slightly uncomfortable at the idea of spending the night with a dwarrow who had not lost a single word about a wife.

“Are you married, Mistress? Will that endanger your wedlock?” He asked shyly.

“No, I am not and I have no name to lose…It’s a long story.” I didn’t feel like blurting out my disgrace, lest it give him strange ideas after all, especially as he would easily have been able to overpower me if he so chose.

“Neither am I. I don’t know about my name…Doesn’t look like I’m going to be married either. There’s not enough dwarrowdams as it is, and I think the royal line has a prerogative there.” There was no resentment in his tone; he seemed to accept this as a fact.

How could someone that sweet not be married, I wondered. He was courteous, he was cute, and he would have made the fortune and happiness of someone.

“Well, in that case, I think we can risk our reputation rather than our necks.” I grinned, rolling out a blanket I kept tied to my pack for emergencies and stretched out next to the fire on the moss.

“Erm, yes…Good night…” He mumbled, fidgeting around with his different layers of clothing. Apparently, he was deciding which one he needed least on his body to use it as a bedroll or blanket.

I eyed the proceedings with interest and a good deal of amusement.

“I can offer you my cloak to lie upon…the ground will grow very cold and wet soon.” He said in a low voice, not sure if I had already fallen asleep or not.

“Alright, I can offer you a spot under the blanket then?” I extended my own graciousness.

“With you?” No, with the red bird, I thought, rolling my eyes internally.

“Yes, Ori the scribe, with me. I will not eat you, as you have witnessed, I have had dinner.” Not that he did not look good enough to devour, standing there with his cloak in his hands and his face all crunched up in embarrassment.

“Hmmm…I guess.” He muttered doubtfully, spreading out the cloak and sitting down on it carefully. Impatiently, I scooted over and spread my lousy blanket over the both of us with a flourish.

“Sleep!” I commanded as I turned around only to find him staring wide-eyed at the spot where the back of my head had been only a second ago. Now that he was presented with my face, only inches away from his, his eyes grew even rounder and bigger in wordless distress.

“Friend…Have you never lain with a woman? And I literally mean, lying next to one?” I laughed for there had been friends and cousins aplenty in my own life and the feeling of having another body so close to mine was not a new experience for me.

“Well, I fell down on the battlefield once, next to a foe…I’m pretty sure that was a Lady-Orc. She was dead. There was a…” He gestured, indicating a spear or a lance sticking out of his chest and brushing against my own with the back of his hand. Dear reader, he flinched back as if I was a tiny Durin’s bane wreathed in flames.

“A Lady-Orc, indeed…” I mused; no doubt, he could hear the smile I hid in my voice for his face crunched up in embarrassment.

“I am sorry.” He sighed, rolling his eyes, and thinking – there was not a shadow of a doubt about that much – of his brothers who would have mocked him mercilessly for his stammering.

“There’s no need to be sorry” I tried to reassure him, but I admit now that there were things that I did not tell him right away then. We had only just met, and he was blessedly unaware of my shameful past.

How could I have made him understand – without hurting his feelings – how much I enjoyed that air of purity about him that I had squandered myself on an undeserving fiend? As a daughter amongst others, I had been used to dwarrows coming to court or to seduce, their eyes ablaze with greed and their hands wandering.

He would not have comprehended how much the absence of that voracious hunger that had plagued my youth and had ended up destroying my promising future meant to me.

“Sleep.” I repeated, unable to put into words how miraculous and precious the things he seemed to be most ashamed of were to me.

“Good night, Mistress.” He breathed with a soft smile that was nowhere near the wolfish baring of fangs I was used to and so, it was easy to return it.

You who may or may not have stumbled upon this ludicrous account of the most important story in an otherwise unimportant life, you shall hear another confession I did not make at the time.

I was fiercely aware that – had I but leant forward a little – I might have pressed my lips upon his; I was young still at that time and, despite what had happened, parts of me, that should have withered and died in the aftermath of my botched engagement, were much alive.

He smelled like our dinner and warmth, and the gentle reticence of the curve of his smile was more inviting than any flashing grin I had ever seen before.

Yes, in that very moment, on this very first evening, I had already been conscious of the shrewd attraction this self-effacing dwarrow held for me…and it scared me half to death.

…

Part 3

[harry-leroy]

for the fic prompts, laertes and hamlet + “win” if you’re willing to write those two :)

Hi! I'm just having a look at my ask box, and goodness I know it has been a good while since I have even looked at things in my inbox. However, I just realized that I have not written anything (academically, or for fun) in several months, so I thought we would start with some fic prompts to settle back in with *words* again.

This was incredibly fun to write, though I am realizing how difficult it is just to get to 1000 words when writing prose - if anyone writes in prose on the regular, I bow down to you. I also kind of split up the characters (because of course I would), but I also used characters from that Hamlet play I posted snippets of earlier this year on my blog (because I'm obsessed with this little French OC boyfriend I've given Laertes), so that's the universe I'm operating in.

I'll leave it under a cut! Thank you again for all of your lovely asks (and if anyone wants to request a fic, you can totally leave something in my ask box, it just might take several months for me to get back to you ahahah).

“What is it today? I have grown bored of playing cards,” Etienne rolled over to kiss Laertes on the cheek, then on the nose, the mouth, marking a blazon with the repeated gesture.

“We all have,” Laertes returned, between breaths. “I have certainly grown too old to gamble,”

“Nonsense,” Etienne said. “You are young. Believe me,”

“Old in my heart then,” Laertes said. “They weren’t lying when they said France dulls a man’s senses. Libertines are about as common as beggars or whores. A fool I was to expect some kind of excitement away from Denmark,”

“Who else would give us our money?” Etienne asked. “No cards today, my love,”

“Swords then,” Laertes sat up, still following Etienne’s affection. “I can gamble with the rest of them, but perhaps I’ve grown soft in my physicality,”

“What? Do you intend to be a soldier when your fortune comes calling?” Etienne asked.

“If I must,” Laertes sighed. “You always challenge my thoughts, Etienne. More often than not, I find myself at a loss with you. I must win at something,”

“Do not trouble yourself with that loss,” Etienne pressed his forehead against Laertes’s. “Men like me must win at something, considering where our pithy fortunes are made. I merely tell you what I see. I must tell someone of interest,”

“What do you have to tell today?” Laertes asked.

“Even when you’ve put your cards away, you are still building your hand,” Etienne paused in his affection. “First, it’s sex, then it is gambling, then dancing, now combat. A fair hand, I will admit, though you are missing the winning trick,”

“Oh? What would that be?” Laertes asked.

“Diplomacy,” Etienne said, eyes grave, as though he were truly a way seer. It was like that with Etienne, Laertes knew. Every night was like having a counsel with a cautious God, profane as such a comparison felt. Laertes would often wonder if others had looked into Etienne’s eyes and saw the bold heaven he saw, the judgement, the doomsday book, written in fire. Some nights, he wondered if Etienne were real.

Laertes let out a laugh.

“Diplomacy is a dead man’s language,” he said. “Have you heard our new king? Just talking, talking, talking… the prince too. No one of any real consequence has ears, you know,”

“So, that is why you do not listen to me?” Etienne teased, placing another kiss on Laertes’s lips. To Laertes, it was God chastising him again, knocking down his attempt at pretty words in exchange for reason, self-reflection, guilt. Etienne kept talking between kisses. “Or to your father? Or to your sister? Because you are a man of consequence?”

“Some men must be,” Laertes’s face fell. “Whether we wish it or not,” In truth, Etienne was no better than any common whore. He took his gold and spent it where he could. He made love to other men under this roof, or perhaps out on the streets, if the price were high enough. France was nothing but a hell, gilded in pleasure to cover the sores beneath. Polonius was right to send a spy his way, though there were no real secrets to uncover. France was itself. Laertes his own self. The shame had long since melted away after Etienne’s tender kisses.

“Alright,” Etienne said, after a moment, tone brighter, keen on making the joy. In his heart, the love, whatever feeling came to him so fleetingly, last but only a moment longer. “Swords it is. Leave diplomacy for the little men. You better win. Make it worth my time to watch,”

* * *

“It is off,” Hamlet frowned. “The attack. It is all a simple matter of parry and riposte. Like the joke, you see, Horatio? Except I am at the end of it, stabbed through,”

Horatio only picked his head up upon hearing his own name, as he had been straightening the blade of his foil. His friend had been slightly off in his footing today, though it was nothing to wince at. Even in his tired state, Hamlet had still made a joke out of fencing, no matter how dire he made it sound. That blend of the humorous and the horrible was something only Hamlet could bravely serve and make it seem convincing, if not ridiculous.

“Would you like to stop?” Horatio asked.

“Stop? If only it were so easy… to stop.” Hamlet said before taking a sharp breath in and holding it, as if to demonstrate.

“I suppose, my lord,” Horatio said, his tongue quick despite how tired it felt, if only his friend would breathe again.

“Again, Horatio,” Hamlet rose to his feet.

“If you insist on it,” Horatio replied.

“What would you rather me do?” Hamlet’s temper rose, as it had been edging that way all morning. Temper appeared to be the curse of any royal line these days.

“I really don’t know,” Horatio shrugged with only one shoulder and readied his stance across their makeshift piste. “There are times when something such as a swordfight does not matter, in the end, win or lose. The world turns on and on, really, but… I speak too readily,”

“No,” Hamlet nodded. “No, you speak perfectly,”

“What is it that you fear, my lord? Truly? Deeply? Irrevocably?” Horatio asked, their friendship as schoolboys taking the greater part of his mannered reason.

“Truly?” Hamlet lowered his sword, “That what you say is true. That the odds are tossed against our favors by some terrible third hand,”

“The hand of God?” Horatio mused.

“Or that of my uncle,” Hamlet met the humor of Horatio’s tone.

“I could not imagine your uncle taking a sword against you,” Horatio said.

A moment passed. Hamlet turned away and off their piste.

“That is it though, is it not?” he asked, voice haunted. “He would not. He holds onto cards we cannot even see, much less imagine, until he plays them. Oh, and he plays them brutally, does he not?”

“I do not know what to say to that, my lord,” Horatio said after a pause, his manner returning, the Wittenberg friend lost once more.

“There is nothing to say,” Hamlet smiled, though it did not reach his eyes. “That is how you know we have hit a truth. Even at Wittenberg, when the truths we hit were just beyond the reality of our real lives, hypothetical and such, it always did taste bitter. There is loss for all of us, right at the end of the bout,”

“But fight we must,” Horatio held out a hand.

“Yes,” Hamlet took the hand in his own. “Yes. Fight we will,”

[omgkalyppso]

Soft asks: Fae: 29, 23

Sawyer: 31

(ﾉ´ヮ`)ﾉ*: ･ﾟ Thank you so much for the ask!!! <333

29. What makes your muse smile?

Lots of sadly stereotypical things. Like surprises — like when a cake turns out better than expected, little gifts that required thought or investment, or a letter bearing good news. Or things that are aesthetically pleasant — like a rainbow, or a landscape, or a frilly, layered outfit. Or when people are authentic — like Leonie's passion, Alois' puns, or Zoran's singing. And of course expressions of trust and romance from their partners.

23. How is your muse with children?

Fae loves children. I'm not sure how good they'd be with them initially because they don't have a lot of opportunities to interact with infants and kids before they start having their own in my post-canon stuff I've written, but, like Claude, they'd read and ask questions to be as well equipped as they could be. Generally, they have a quieter disposition and I think they'd be fine interacting with children in short bouts though they might have a hard time with rowdier displays of misbehavior.

31. What makes your muse blush?

I've been trying to start a fic for Sawyer and I've come up short a few times because I'm trying to establish what their polyam relationships look like; and whether I want to tack on an additional OC to act as a friend and interpreter for them, and to maybe ship with some of the characters. All this to say that I think people who are forward make Sawyer blush — and that includes both sexually and simply people who are able to articulate their emotions well on the fly. I think they get flustered when trying to sign more serious feelings, in the same way that some people who speak two languages have a hard time saying 'I love you' in their mother tongue. Sawyer would much rather write things down, taking hours or days to artfully select words and presentation. So to hear Haurchefant's direct advances and confessions, and Aymeric's heartfelt expressions of interest, would certainly result in rosy cheeks and their hands over their mouth or eyes depending on the setting.

372 words below the cut as a wip but also more rambling and a screenshot of Sybille.

I remade Sybille a bit and have been toying with using fleur/fleurs/fleurself pronouns for fleur, but I'm not sure I'm settled on the idea. I just really like oc's and frienships and wanted to try writing neopronouns.

Sawyer would be a Monk and Weaver (at least) and might be entangled with Haurchefant, Aymeric, Estinien, Y'shtola and Emet (who I still haven't met but I've been reading and observing and (eyes emoji)).

Sybille would be a Scholar and Culinarian (at least) and might be entangled with Thancred, Urianger and maybe Ysayle.

And part of what's holding me back is fear of being too self indulgent, and that the hero's journey might already be explored to hell and back. I want to have fun, but I worry about being annoying. asjdfgasj

EVEN SO. Have some words that might evolve into Something but also might need to be scrapped for me to try this a fourth time. Just after the Vault for Haurche; dialogue with Aymeric and Sawyer:

~

Sawyer was weeping when Aymeric found them. It was a soft, wheezing sound, scarcely audible over the hush of his own breath, or the cries yet swirling in his mind. Edmont was beside himself as surely as he was beside Haurchefant, as the chirurgeons struggled desperately to stay the corruption of his deep magical and physical injuries.

Aymeric knew not the man from any other elezen who had fallen to the recent calamities*, and if he had not cried for them, then it felt inappropriate to weep for Greystone. Yet the Warrior of Light was another matter entirely. That they were heartbroken so honestly over the elezen that had taken them into his home spoke further of the values that they'd outlined and proven time and again.

He sat by their side and wrapped large hand around their far shoulder. There was much to do, but broken as he was, and grief stricken as they were, there seemed little chance of catching up to his father so soon.

Sawyer curled towards and away from the embrace in a swaying motion, and Aymeric guiltily wished they had stayed, head to his chest, a safe weight in his arms.

Sawyer was signing to him, and Aymeric faltered. He was learning, but these were not signs he knew. Estinien would know. Haurchefant would know.

"I'm sorry, I..."

With a shake of their head, Sawyer simply whimpered, the noise so quiet it was nearly drowned out by the gasp they sucked in to worry at their bottom lip.

"No," Aymeric insisted. He would not allow them to go unheard. He signed as he asked, "Again please?"

Slower this time, Sawyer did not tell Aymeric their problem. They instead signed out the spelling of a single word.

"L, T, Y... Guilty?" Aymeric said, surprised. "My friend, if anyone is at fault for the state of our companion tis I. Haurchefant is a man of Ishgard born, who marched knowingly towards our battle. He did as all good knights do, protecting that which is worth protecting. While my father..." He faltered, realizing how much his father had hurt, beyond the man just down the hall. "Suffice it to say, Greystone would not blame you, and neither do I."

*Is this even true? I have no recollection.

[a-student-out-of-time]

Twisted Sister Aftermath Review Part 1

Hai hidey do everyone, it’s your friendly neighbourhood Review Anon here! Another Arc has come and past us and as such it’s time to review it! Hopefully I don’t end up with 5k worth of words here and have three megaton submissions here (and from now on I am not going back to using asks, why the heck I used asks beforehand is beyond me) Speaking of, I have a question, do you want me to go back and review previous arcs? Probably won’t do this until we have any kind of break or hiatus so to not break flow? But that’s enough time being wasted, we have the Twisted Sister Aftermath Arc here, and this review isn’t going anywhere so let’s get right into it!

Relationships and Reflections

So, when we last left off, Hajime passed out from inhaling too much smoke while saving Tsurugi from the bomb explosion and as it turned out he has been asleep for a good 8 hours! Its Monday but despite that the school is shut, which is understandable given that we had criminals running around and a serial killer attacking the school the previous day, Hope’s Peak seems to be more sensible than my previous school which didn’t shut down even when one of the main buildings got flooded (long story there). But the good news is that nearly all the criminals were captured by the QC and the police and are back where they belong. The bad news is that 3 criminals are still at large. 2 of them are petty criminals that have nothing to be concerned but there is one criminal who IS a big concern. You have 3 guesses who that person is and the first 2 don’t count. Yep, its Maverick Storm alright.

So, time for a bit of a confession here, Maverick as a character…isn’t all new to me. For some of you old timers here there was a blog called ‘Despair Kids’ which started out as Class 78 asking questions and then it evolved into an AU with lots of OCs, so many that it got too overwhelming and I lost interest in it. But there were a few I generally liked, and Kyoji’s and Maverick’s characters really stood out to me. When I started to read the enormous backlog of this blog, (I wish the best of luck to all newcomers and try to not binge it, even if you are a fast reader), and Umeko showed up during the Practical Exams arc, I got a sense of Deja vu, as I recalled hearing that character’s name before. But I didn’t think much at the time, not helped by the fact that Umeko was a pretty minor character in the Despair Kids, even when Maverick was on his self-imposed challenge to kill all of his class, Umeko evaded him by just dimension travelling to another universe, so her character didn’t have much impact. But as soon as I heard Kyoji and Maverick mentioned I thought ‘Oh…OH IT’S THE SAME PERSON WHO MADE THOSE CHARACTERS!’. And as mentioned, I really liked those OCs anyway so that as well as using Another characters really got me invested into this blog. And with all that said, let me reassure you guys that Maverick is a bastard with a capital B. The stuff he gets up to in Despair Kids, where he was a member of Despair, but secretly plotted to overthrow Junko, even the other Mods/Role-players were disgusted by it. Now Maverick is probably going to be going through some changes as the Mod’s OCs in this blog aren’t the same as the characters from the Despair Kids. To give some examples Kyoji’s backstory doesn’t mention Mikan, Kyoji isn’t into Mikan, he’s more into Miaya, Maverick got jailed etc. So, I won’t be surprised when Storm starts pulling shit, probably not as bad as Despair Kids as he isn’t under Junko’s thumb here…but hard to tell at the moment. But yeah, you have been warned, I consider Maverick a villain as bad as Junko and Mikado, and you will soon see why.

But enough about a character who hasn’t officially shown up yet, let’s focus on a reformed villain and that is the new and improved Kanade! I feel mixed upon this new Kanade as part of me wants to love her as in this state she is so sweet and innocent, which is what people probably thought of Kanade when they first saw her in SDAR2, and I did at first, my thoughts about Kanade at the time were ‘It’s almost as if Hiyoko and Mikan are siblings, let’s hope Kanade doesn’t go crazy like Mikan did’ and that statement aged like milk. When Kanade became suspiciously smart and helpful during the Class Trials I was kinda sus because normally with the Trial Point Getters there is normally some logic to why said character is good in the Trails, like Koroko being a Psychologist can analysis people’s feelings and deduce who the culprit, and Syobai’s background means he has to use his brain quite a bit, but Kanade is supposed to be a Guitarist in a Pop band, she shouldn’t be this good. But my theory was she was lying about her talent, because that’s nothing new in Danganronpa, but ho boy was that a mistake. But at the same time as much as I want to hug this new Kanade, I’m also hyper conscious that the mindwipe might not be a permeant solution as well Junko got mindwiped in the OG timeline and we all know how well THAT ended. Then again, the relapse didn’t fully occur until Yasuke decided to kill Ryoko so as long as nobody tries to strangle Kanade, we should be good. It also means that Hibiki gets the little sister that she thought she had back, and you can tell this a new stage of development for her. Hibiki has grown as a person since back in July but while that part of her character development has finished, a new part starts as she tries and rebuild a proper healthy relationship with Kanade because Hibiki wasn’t completely innocent in the reason why Kanade became a monster. Granted, a lot of it was Kanade being twisted to begin with but had Hibiki been kinder and not been a total bitch to her, I don’t think Kanade would have gone fully down the deep end as it seems her psychopathic behaviour is more of a nurture rather than nature thing. Something I believe will be explored a bit more once Junko enters the scene because well…Kanade is basically Junko on easy mode. The real deal will be a lot harder to handle. And naturally Kyoji has offered to take care of her…I don’t know why Kyoji has turned into the guardian of reformed little girls, but it’s a welcome surprise to be sure. I just hope Kanade doesn’t get wrapped up in Storm’s schemes because given that Kyoji is his arch-enemy…

We can make sure Kanade is a good girl now but there’s still the small issue that she escaped from jail and the police are looking for her so one needs to fake her death. This is a joint operation by Kyoji and Nikei as Kyoji cloned some of Kanade’s body parts and left them near where a bomb went off to give the impression that Kanade got killed during the Prison Break, and judging from Tsurugi’s reaction, it seems to have worked. Speaking of Tsurugi, he is resting and due to his injuries is desk bound for a couple of weeks and receiving care from Mikan. Mikan caring for Tsurugi helps in two ways, as firstly being the Ultimate Nurse, she would be qualified to help make sure nothing serious happens to Tsurugi and Tsurugi doesn’t know that Mikan is part of the Quantum Crew and working with Kasugano, so it means someone is near Tsurugi who can relay information to Kasugano and co. That’s two girls with ties to Kasugano that Tsurugi has interacted with and he doesn’t suspect a thing. Okay to be fair with Akane when he first met her, she was an independent force and wasn’t working for Kasugano at that point but my point still stands. Not much to talk about our police boy here aside from Mod confirming that Tsurugi x Kouhei is going to be a thing in this blog. To be fair everyone could see the sexual tension between those two and that’s why people felt funny when Kanade mocked their relationship as they wanted to ship the two but it meant siding with a demonic guitar child. But said demonic guitar child is no more so no need to worry about shipping! And as for Nikei, he is writing up an article detailing Kanade’s demise as to throw the media off Kanade’s scent and then it’s just waiting for all the media hype around Kanade to die down and once that happens, she can be transferred to one of the many care facilities that Kyoji knows. How many does he know at this point? And while we are on the subject of Newsie here, it’s time to discuss a growing friendship, and possible relationship that is developing between him and Akane.

I had my suspicions for some time by their interactions but it was Akane’s and Nikei’s interactions in this Arc which solidified my viewpoint on their relationship. And that is Akane is more or less a foil to Mikado. Think about it for a second. They weren’t founding members of Void, they both grew up in hellish orphanages, got out of said orphanages thanks to Utsuro, ended up meeting the man himself at some point and inherited his Divine Luck at various points, though Mikado only succeeded in a Bad Ending. But at the same time, they both have different motives for going after Utsuro, Akane wanted to thank him for what he’s done for her and when she did successfully meet him, dutifully served under him, even when Junko came and corrupted them both. And while Utsuro had his crippling trust issues and constantly worried if Akane would betray him at some point, the fact that he gave Akane Divine Luck after she took mortal damage protecting the other survivors from Monokuma, showed that at some level he did care for her. Mikado desired the Divine Luck for his own personal benefit, burned down several orphanages to trigger another encounter and upon meeting with Koroko, hatched a horrible plan to ‘revive’ Utsuro, then Mikado would kill him and steal the Divine Luck for himself. Only reason it backfired was firstly because Mikado (both real and AI) didn’t realise Utsuro gave the Divine Luck to Akane, who was then later used to create Sora, and secondly Syobai betrayed him by siding with the Kisurugi Foundation. Their clashing roles can be no better illustrated then with their relationship with Void’s leader, Nikei. We don’t know how Nikei reacted to Mikado initially because it’s still a lot of unknown factors until the Onmake mode comes out canonically, but while wary at first because of how extreme Mikado’s plan was, was probably willing to trust him. And then as Mikado undermined him and usurped the role of leader from Nikei, that relationship quickly soured and a rotting despairing sense of hatred and revenge grew within Nikei, eroding away his humanity (from reading LINUQ’s blog, where he goes into detail regarding the various characters from SDAR2, he states that Nikei used to be a lot more warm-hearted before Mikado came along, but his hatred for the wizard made him much crueller) And it got to the point where the lines between Nikei and Mikado got blurry, and I’ll say that Nikei ended up being no different from Mikado in the end. And thus, he died a broken hateful mess. Now as for Akane, she and Nikei got off on a bad note; she kicked Nikei in the stomach, he responded by almost blowing Akane’s brains out, fun stuff like that. But once the misunderstanding and proof that Akane was good arose, a friendship of sorts started to develop between the two. The first signs we saw of this is *sigh* Oncoming Storm Arc. Among the hot pile of shit that Arc was, one of the VERY, VERY few good parts about it, was that when some Anons unintendedly hit a trigger phrase for Akane, which was mentioning older men, she went into a panic attack and out of all the people who could have comforted Akane during this moment, it was Nikei who did so. And now in this arc, we are seeing that Nikei is a bit more open with Akane then he is with other non-Void members of the Quantum Crew. He’s not taken the news that he snapped back to his old self during the Massacre timeline well, and bemoans that it shows he hasn’t changed, but Akane reassures him he has and that the timeline can serve as a lesson to improve oneself from and mentions she had trust issues initially but thanks to Utsuro, she is very much a people person now. And of course, we get the cute wholesome scene of those two cuddling each other, can someone please make fanart of these two cuddling, we need it. Mikado brought the worst out of Nikei and eventually led to his death, whereas Akane brings out the best in Nikei and would possibly help him into living a full refreshing life. Sora is more or less the third wheel in this relationship.

Annnnddd…I have talked for way too long. That’s part 1 of the review where I talk about relationships regarding all the characters but when we come back its when the plot comes back in when Class 77-B gets debriefed on the truth and a shocking new discovering on Time Travel is revealed. Stay tuned as we won’t be away for long! - Review Anon

[barnzbucky]

reach for the moon - chapter 1 (Ivar x Reader)

Pairing: Ivar x reader; Hvitserk x reader (but barely)

Summary: 5 years have passed. Hvitserk finds out something Ivar did behind his back. The reader returns to Kattegat, and meets the man she longed to see the most.

Warnings: ableist talk (if feels unlike Ivar to not mention his condition when he gives his self loathing speeches, but it’s strange to write it); mention of arranged marriage; mentions of war; mentions of unrequited love; canon divergence; oc characters; fictional city; uncanon light hearted characters; cuteness at the end, but it made me feel guilty;  (please, let me know if I missed something)

Word count: 2k

A/N: Hi!! Thank you so much for all the feedback in the prologue, I was beyond happy. My classes have just returned, and I also work, so I only have time to write and edit during the night, and I was supposed to edit this chapter yesterday, but I stayed up the whole night binge watching The Circle, and got nothing done 😂 Well, I hope you like the first chapter, I’m pretty proud of it 😂 please, tell me what you think and I hope you enjoy this ❤️️❤️️

masterlist | series masterlist

As the last citizen walked into the throne room, Ivar almost sighed in relief. He was most serious about his position as king, but he truly felt like everyone was working hard to make his job unbearable. He used to be known as the least patient man in Kattegat, and now, no one minded bothering him with meaningless cases. Sat in a throne, from morning to evening, listening to people talk his ear off about stupid ordeals, like neighbors stealing sheeps, or loud noises animals made during night, was not what he had in mind when he took over the city.

Battle plans and strategies were the only thing he was interested in, trade and economic deals weren’t too inconvenient, but having to deal with his subject’s complaints, no matter how insignificant, made him wonder if it was worth it.

However, Ivar knew he had to work harder than any man to earn the respect and admiration he longed for, and for a while he thought war was the only way, but life and the Gods were quick to teach him pointless conflict, in the longer run, brought only pain and loneliness, and fear was quite different from respect.

So he settled for making Kattegat the most prosperous city in Norway, a trade reference, with advantageous alliances, and satisfied citizens who had nothing to complain about. But they had become too spoiled, and complained about everything to their heart’s content.

Still, as bored as he was, Ivar could finally say he proved everyone who doubted him wrong, and he imagined his parents would be proud of him.

When the man finally left, he wasted no time, but before he could get out of the throne to eat his dinner in peace, Hvitserk stormed in looking almost angry, with Ubbe after him, unbothered.

“Would you care to explain what is this marriage nonsense?” his brother asked, almost laughing, as if it was a joke he didn’t quite understand.

Ivar merely raised his eyebrows and looked away from him to Ubbe, “I take it you told him, then?”

Ubbe told Ivar it was a bad idea to make the deal without telling Hvitserk. If he refused, the king would be angry and they would go to war. But his younger brother was so sure nothing was going to go wrong, and refused to listen to him. Now, a confrontation he didn’t want to be a part of was happening right in front of him.

“I’ll let you talk, I have nothing to do with this,” Ubbe didn’t hesitate to leave before he was forced to take a side. None of the other men bothered with him.

“I am not going to marry Tove just because you want more warriors at your disposal.” Hvitserk looked frustrated. He knew this would happen eventually, but not that soon, and certainly not without being consulted first.

“The alliance also includes fur and food,” Ivar had a mocking smirk on his face. It was funny to him, and almost insulting, that his brother thought he would force him to marry for something as meaningless as men and gold. “And I thought you liked her, Hvitserk! Surely, she is a beautiful woman, and a princess. I imagine you know her very well, what is so bad about this?”

“I like many women, brother, and I don’t need a wife!” he crossed his arms and lifted his chin, defensive and defiant at the same time.

Ivar’s hands tightly griped the arms of the throne, and he took a deep breath, trying not to get mad. His brother had chosen the worst day to do this. He was tired, hungry, cold, and in pain, and all  that just made him angrier, “Good alliances are not made out only of a man’s word, Hvitserk, don’t be stupid. King Fredrick wanted his daughter to marry, and I offered him that. We all need to make sacrifices for Kattegat.”

“Why don’t you marry her, then?” the question made Ivar’s smirk return and he chuckled.

“A wife is of no use to me, yet. I have too much work to do. Any woman would be miserable to be left aside by her crippled husband in benefit of battle councils, and meetings,” he explained, still amused by his brother’s question, “All you need to do, brother, is to humor the king until the marriage is complete. After that, I’m sure you and your wife will come to an agreement.”

Hvitserk shook his head and sighed. He knew he wouldn’t be able to change Ivar’s mind, and now the arrangement was made, it was too risky to break it. He supposed Tove wouldn’t be the worst bride, and doubted she would ask him to be faithful to her if she wouldn’t be the same. He knew her well enough to say she probably wouldn’t, “I’ll think about it.”

Both knew he wouldn’t think about it. It was already decided. But Ivar could let his brother win the argument if that meant he would follow through with the wedding. So he just nodded.

After Hvitserk left, finally he had time to rest.

It took you two entire days to arrive in Kattegat.

The heavy set of fur was only vaguely familiar, heavy over your shoulders. You almost wanted to take it off. Maybe the unmistakable cold of your hometown would make reality sink in faster.

If you squinted your eyes, you could see it. The enormous coast, filled with more ships than you could count, the white, icy fog over the docks, and people coming and going at the beach. Soon you would be there, and your heart ached in your chest when you remembered how things used to be five years ago.

You laughed, remembering you didn’t want to go to Gleðiborg in the first place. If you only knew then, how wonderful and warm and comforting that town was.

Gleðiborg provided you the best years of your life. It taught you to actively live and make the best of your time in Midgard, instead of watching it all go by from afar.

You felt beautiful, confident, and happy. So unlike the person you were before, lonely and invisible.

You blinked to get your mind to calm, and focused again in the city ahead of you. Before you got into the ship, you promised yourself not to let your bad thoughts and memories control you. And you never broke a promise, even if self-made.

No matter how much you changed, your biggest wound was not yet healed. Prince Hvitserk still held your heart.

But regardless of how nervous you felt, you were as ready as you would ever be to face your past.

You thought about your last night in Kattegat, so long ago, but still so clear on your mind.

The usual heartache of seeing Hvitserk holding and kissing another woman felt worse, you never wished so bad to be in his arms as in that last time you saw him. That night, he only gave you one of his friendly smiles and politely asked you how you were. You could almost hear him saying your name.

Then, prince Ivar trusted you to his feelings and showed raw vulnerability… everything that proved he was more man than beast, you secretly promised to keep to yourself. It made you feel special and comforted that night, to be useful and needed, even knowing it only happened because you were the only one there. You were sure he didn’t even know of your existence before.

You hoped he was better. You supposed so, he was the king now. You were happy he had made it through his insecurities and finally got what he wanted.

Sooner than you thought, your ship arrived at the docks. You took a deep breath before daring to look at the city streets.

When you only had warm and sunny Gleðiborg to compare to, it was dark and cold. The sun was hidden behind the clouds and the wind hurt your skin and made your eyes burn. The smell of fish was so strong you were almost certain it was impregnating your clothes, and your head ached from the loud noise of people talking and shouting.

It wasn’t the best.

But you remembered how Kattegat looked like when you left. And this was completely different from your memory.

Back then, because of the upcoming war, everyone was rigid, tense, and more violent than usual. The city could barely hold that many people, and the food was too expensive for the poorer citizens eat more than a small meal a day, at best. Now, it seemed to be doing much better.

The market was full of people, children, the older folk, artisans, non-warriors, all vulnerable and glad, like it wasn’t before. This was far from how you imagined a place ruled by a man they called a “ruthless monster”.

When your parents visited Gleðiborg, they told you about an unforgivable king when it came to criminals and traitors, intolerant of the people’s silliness and drama, who never engaged in commoner’s celebrations like his brothers, only the ones held in the Great Hall, and was extremely impatient over everything else. But who still prioritized food and warmth over war and luxury for himself and took the time to find and make it better the problems of his kingdom.

Snapping from your thoughts, you stepped out of the ship and searched for your father in the crowd. You expected him to be there, it had been a while they announced there were people coming.

You hoped you wouldn’t have to wait for too long.

Unknown to you, you had drawn attention, standing there in perfect posture, right beside your bag. The furs around your body didn’t hide the vibrant yellow of your dress, a refreshing contrast before the gray sea.

While distracted searching for your father, someone lifted your baggage from the floor.

You turned back to see who it was and your heart almost failed you. Of course, the first person to greet you was the one you were most nervous to meet again.

Hvitserk had in his face a specific smile you had seen many times before, but never directed at you.

You almost gasped. He looked as attractive as you remembered, with the years difference, and all.

“May I help you? These seem too heavy,” his voice was comforting, and the flirty tone had you melting.

You opened a wide smile and fixed your posture, finding your new confidence self again, and didn’t bother hiding your excitement, “Hi, how are you?”

“I’m fine, how are you?” He crooked his head, as if he was confused, but the smile didn’t falter, “Who are you?”

“Who am I?” you chuckled, clearly amused. You knew you looked different, but not to the point he wouldn’t even remember who you were.

“Am I supposed to know?” he still looked confused, but had the same flirty tone and big smile.

Thinking about how no one, not even you, would have expected you to look as confident and liberated as you did now, it was shocking. You didn’t even feel like the same person, and until now, you haven’t realized it.

You couldn’t blame him for not recognizing you. You used to be friendly with each other, but being unable to look into his eyes whenever you talked, and standing in the light corners of every outing made you invisible.

“No, I supposed not,” you shook your head and laughed some more, “And yes, you may help me! Would you be so kind to walk me home?”

He held a hand out, the other holding your belongings. You stared at it. “Well, let’s go. Show me the way.”

You took his hand and started to walk to your home holding him behind you, occasionally glancing at him over your shoulder and giggling, until he had enough and decided to walk by your side. His cheeky smile made it almost impossible not to sigh.

“What is your name?”

tags: @luvjiminssi​ ; @ryukjin​ ; @hecohansen31​ ; @heavenly1927​ ; @youbloodymadgenius​ ; @ace-fiction​​ ; @poisonous00​ ; @jzr201​ ; @rose1729 ; @shestrying2write​ ; @zuxiezendler​ ; @learninglemni-blog ; @didiintheblog​ ; @the-jess-life​  (if you’d like to be tagged or to be removed from the tag list, just send me a message/ask, no problem ☺️ if I wasn’t able to tag, please check if your blog is available to show on search) 

[powertothefan]

Coffee

A Stanford Pines x Original Character Fic

Hazel DeForest belongs to @evaroze

Stanford Pines is property of  Alex Hirsch

This was something tossed together after discovering the adorable OC known as Hazel, she’s so cute and I love the design of her~ So, I did a little dabble of when both her and Stanford were in college and their first official conversation. I hope I wrote her write, as I have been a little rusty in my writing, Far too long since I posted something here that was worth the read. Anyway, please share any thoughts or feelings you have as long as it’s constructive. 

Hazel was wandering the commons of the college that morning, a little on the early side. She left the door early that morning to do some research at the library for one of her papers. Just because Backupsmore wasn’t her first college pick didn’t mean that she wasn’t going to put in the effort! She wasn’t as dressed up as she usually would be, just a simple blouse and shorts. She had pulled on a pair of flats as well before herring her hair up in a big ponytail and tossing on her bright pink glasses. With her messenger bag full of notebooks and pens, she was ready to go anywhere

Glancing to her watch, Hazel checked the time. Her first class of the day wasn’t until mid morning, so she’d have plenty of time to get some work done before classes that day. Most of her dorm mates were sleeping in from yet another party. She honestly couldn’t believe it. Just because they were at Backupsmore University didn’t mean they could party the semester away. Who did that anyway? Not her! No, definitely not. 

Hazel was terrible with social interaction. In truth, she would have probably never gained any friends unless they proactively were the ones to speak with her first. She knew a few other people, mostly from those forced social circles they did as an ice breaker during the first weeks in the dorms. Otherwise, her friend group was very, very small. She was fine with that though, most of the people she did know the names of were not people she would actively spend time with. They drank and partied and blew off their classes as if they could afford to do it. Hazel didn’t have that luxury. Every penny counted! Still, a very itty bitty part of her wished that she didn’t have such terrible social anxiety. 

It would have made trying to introduce herself to a certain someone easier. 

Huffing to herself, she let her thoughts pass on as she got to the library door. Stepping inside, it was calm and quiet. It was a massive place too. For a second choice college, it had an outstanding collection of literature. Likely because they didn’t have much of a sports team to spend money on. Either way, the ability to have such a vast collection of books at her disposal made her studies all the easier. Especially with her focus on mythology. She never would run out of resource material for her papers. 

As she walked further into the library, she realized that it was very empty. In fact, there was really no one around at all, save for the librarian. Then again, it was a Monday. No one ever got up before classes on Monday, unless they were someone like her and super focused on their studies. It was all the better really, she’d have the whole place to herself. Wandering further into the library, she hurried to the folklore and mythology section. It was her element, her one true oasis. No one and nothing could take it away from her-

“Oof!” Hazel sounded as she smacked right into something. She hadn’t been looking where she was going, instead skilling the shelves as she walked past them. Just as she was stepping back out into the open areas beyond the shelves, she collided with someone, and hard. Books were flying, paper scattered by the ceiling fans, and the two moving forces pushed off the courses and onto the thin and worn carpet. Laying there, Hazel had to take a moment to breath, that impact hurt! Carefully, she groaned while sitting up, rubbing her side where he was sure she was charged into an elbow. 

“Oh, gosh. I”m so sorry. I wasn’t looking where I was going!” A deep voice said, A shadow overcoming her as a hand was offered up. “I was carrying too many books, and couldn't see a thing. I shouldn’t have assumed I was the only one here.”

The tone was upset, clearly more so at themselves than her. There was some obvious disappointment in their own carelessness. However, it was also very familiar...too familiar. 

Not really thinking as she grabbed the hand, she was dizzy and shaken still, she was easily pulled right back up to her feet. With the bright ceiling lights no longer glaring down right into her eyes, Hazel could focus on the man who helped her up. As she locked her gaze on their face, about to give them a stern talking to for being so reckless in such a sacred place, her throat swelled and her heart stopped. 

Stanford Pines... It was like an arrow to the heart, struck by a cupid with a sniper rifle. So accurate that it fried her brain. Stanford Pines was everything Hazel had ever wanted since high school! Originally, he was supposed to get a scholarship of some kind and head off to some amazing college. Instead, he ended up going to her only affordable pick. She had wanted to try and be good and say hello. He had been her obsession throughout all of high school after all, not that he even knew she existed back then...Hazel never had the heart to speak. Now, as an adult, and independent, she had told herself she’d try.

And boy, did she try. 

They had gotten classes together, unknowingly of course because she hadn’t realized that he had any interest in the fields of mythology or folklore. They were English heavy studies after all, not the wonderful sciences that he seemed to be skilled in. Part of her knew that he was aware that she existed, he often waved at her with that handsome smile. However, every time that she saw him, with that grin and cute sweater vest, the ability to talk was replaced with the need to nervously vomit. In all cases since the semester began, she flat out ran away before she could lose her lunch to her anxiety. Not exactly the best way to say hello. 

Now, here he was, his glasses skewed off a bit from the impact and his large hand wrapped firmly around her’s. Only a foot apart, both a little shaken from the impact but still breathing...or at least Ford was. Hazel couldn’t get her body to continue their usually automatic functions. As Ford seemed to get himself resettled by fixing his glasses, Hazel felt herself just melt at his touch. They were rough, but not painful, Just worn from all his tinkering and building. They were so large too, and not just because of the extra finger which she had always found to be an adorable addition to an adorable man. 

Ford had really grown up, a lot more than she was prepared for. 

“Oh! It’s you!” He said suddenly, bringing hazel back down from the second hand high of his existence. Breathing in suddenly, she blinked, her mind rushing forward to catch up to the conversation. “M-Me?” She weakly said, her voice still a little breathless from the lack of air in her lungs. 

Stanford turned a slight shade of pink, giving a nervous smile of sorts as he tried to correct himself. “I mean, I recognize you from the folklore seminar class. ‘Folklore and Its Effects on Modern Development.’ You..ah, You sit in the row behind mine.”

His tone had gotten a little meek, almost as if the man was becoming uncertain of himself as he addressed her. Why was he getting nervous? She was the one having an internal battle between heart and brain!

Wait.

He was talking to her...Stanford Pines was physically talking to her! He knew she existed! The man she had been obsessed with for years knew they were in the same class. Holy crap! She needed to speak, to say something, anything. For the love of god open your mouth Hazel DeForest! 

“Ah- RIGHT!” She said very loudly, her face going bright pink as her mind finally caught up to current events. “Rightrightrightrightrightright. I remember! You did the opening argument statement about how folklore was only lore until people could collect it! It lost the folklore touch when people found out it was all fact.” She blurted out, saying just about anything to show that she wasn’t a brainless zombie. 

“Ah, well, it's true! Once something is discovered to truly exist, it isn’t lore. It’s Science. That in turn means it can’t be categorized as lore but as a truly existing species. The professor was not really impressed with my reports for that debate session but he didn’t flunk my report either so I guess my point was valid enough!” Stanford said, seeming to pick his tone back up while in a subject he could work on. “Anyway, sorry for running you down. I was walking to my table with more books and...clearly got over zealous.” It was then that Ford looked around, causing Hazel to pause and do the same thing. Oh, they had made a bit of a mess...The books were scattered all over, some having flown far enough to land on top of the shelves! His notebook was crumpled nder a couple and the pages from it seemed to have scattered to the winds, still being carried off by the breezes of the fan. 

“H-here, I’ll help clean up.” Hazel said, pausing a moment as she then looked down at their hands, which were still tightly held together. Ford noticed this too, and quickly let go with a nervous chuckle before roughly clearing his throat. “Yeah, thanks. I’ll start over here.” 

The pair turned away from each other, Ford kneeling down to grab and gently fix the books near his feet. Hazel did the same, grabbing a couple and fixing the pages before gently setting them on a nearby table. She then also started to snatch up the flying papers, trying to keep them from wrinkling any further as they continued to flutter at her feet. It took a minute, but with the two of them collecting they were able to get it cleaned up easily. The last book was picked up by Hazel, her eyes a little dazed until she read the title. Instantly, she was back to her usual self for a second. 

“Ah, It’s here!” She said suddenly, causing ford to look up as he grabbed the last few books from their places on top of the selves. “Hmm? Something catch your eye?” “This book, I’ve been trying to get it for ages but every single time I get here it’s pulled off the shelves! I need it for my report on the correlations of folklore creatures and their real life potential counterparts. It has a segment on how folklore creatures and mythological monsters are created based on a person seeing something for the first time and using other animals to describe it! I wanted to read it for my paper and reference some of it’s points on how artistic interpretation cannot be trusted unless done while actually in front of the creature.” She rattled, her tone serious and smooth as her intellectual side kicked in, a finger moving up to adjust her glasses for a second. “Oh, You’re referencing it as well?” Ford asked, coming closer and putting the last of the books on the table. “I originally grabbed it because I’ve been trying to get it as well. Whoever has been hoarding it just got it back over the weekend. I’m using to further my argument that just because we depict creatures in a certain way does not diminish their potential existence. The author has a wonderful part about the statues of medusa actually and how they believe that medusa is a real being, but her hair was misinterpreted.” “I came here this morning to borrow it...Looks like you beat me.” Hazel said, suddenly feeling herself getting shy again. 

Damn it, Hazel. This was your first real conversation with Ford and you were going to blow it because you couldn’t keep the talk going! What was worse, she had gotten up for nothing. Ford got the book first. Even if she wanted to, she didn’t have the heart to try and ask him to let her borrow it first. So much for getting a head start on that report. 

“Do you wanna borrow it?” Ford asked suddenly. 

“What?” Hazel squaked, not prepared for that statement. 

“Well, I don’t have classes until mid-morning. That’s our Folklore course. If you don’t mind just using it this morning, you’re more than welcome to take whatever notes you need from it while I’m referencing other books. I technically already checked it out but if you need it now you can keep it until after classes. Then meet up later to give it back?” Ford asked, his tone strangely hopeful. 

Was he- Nooooo, naw he couldn’t be...maybe? 

“Um, well...I really do need the book for a few other things besides just the research. If it's not an issue I guess we could meet at the coffee shop off campus? The one with the big tables? It’s very dead in the afternoon on Mondays, so we could meet up after all our classes for the day and I’ll try to quickly get the notes I need before giving back the book. The library gets too busy later in the day anyway for me to focus.”

“Heh, yeah, I have to move my work back and forth from the dorm to here because the afternoon library people. However, I can get coffee later! I’ll need it anyway for my second wind of research. So coffee, after the day's classes?” 

“Yeah, coffee!” Hazel said, suddenly finding herself smiling as her cheeks turned a bright pink. 

Ford seemed to also, his own lopsided grin making Hazel’s heart flutter harshly in her chest. Stanford quickly stacked his books back up again, still grinning a little before carefully turning so he could see Hazel beyond the still massive stack of literature. “Alright then, I’ll get back to my work. I’ll see you for coffee.”

With that, Ford smiled again and headed off, hurrying back to his work table but making sure to take the time to check each eye before moving past. Hazel stood there, clutching the book to her chest as the gears in her head turned, trying to comprehend what just happened.Coffee, she was going to get coffee with Stanford Pines. A cute cafe~ Where people sat together close and chatted over lattes and teas. So, she didn’t actually drink coffee, as she preferred tea, but that didn’t matter! She was getting coffee with Stanford Pines!

Slowly, she took a few steps into a shelf area so that she wouldn’t risk being seen, before falling to her knees in giddy delight, covering her mouth to make sure her excited giggles and squeals did not echo throughout the whole place. Looking back to the book that she set down, she snatched it up again before darting out of the place with a high skip in her step. She had to get as much note taking done as she could, as she knew that she probably wouldn’t be able to focus on her work if she was sitting across from Stanford...But that was a problem for future Hazel, current Hazel had work to do!

[taraninja]

Review of A Ghost of a Chance

Just in case my review is too long for fanfiction.net, I’m posting it here. 

To start, I want to apologize for the tardiness of this review. I actually began writing it after finishing Chapter 34, but thanks to College finals and the holidays it’s only getting out now. I like my reviews to in some way reciprocate the amount of effort the writer/writers spent in their fanfic, so this was definitely a multi-day project.

Firstly, I’d like to go over the characters and characterizations. Others have pointed this out as well, but you truly do get their personalities down perfectly. There were multiple occasions where I was tricked into reading this as if it were an episode screenplay, which is perhaps the highest praise any fanfic could achieve. Master Splinter is as elegant and effervescent as always, but you delve more into his character than the mere surface level; he also shows off humor, worry, empathy, concern, and of course, the love he feels for his sons and daughter is truly palpable. A great example is in his dealings with the Lotus; he is able to disagree in a way which shows honor and maturity, and even when the Lotus leave, he does not press the issue but let’s both parties (Donnie/April and the Lotus) have their disagreement and move on. It sent a perfect message to Leo that sometimes, interference is worse than simply letting an argument run its due course. I wish someone had taught that message to 2003 Leo, so maybe he could have avoided getting entangled in the gang wars.

Speaking of Leo, there are several facets of his character which have been masterfully delved into here. Something I prefer in the 2012 show is how they show that Leo is much more than just a serious and dutiful leader; he can also be awkward and silly at times, and this is perfectly encapsulated in his conversations with Karai within this story. Instead of distracting from the main plot, it melded perfectly with it and even helped to add to the plot. Karai has trouble getting used to life in the sewer, but has no problems understanding Leo and getting him to hopelessly unravel himself when talking with her. In contrast, Leo seems unsure of where he stands with her, and sometimes doesn’t know what the right approach is. Should he flirt back, or would that be too forward? Are their conversations one big game, or do they mean something to her? And are her questions meant to be taken literally, or as part of a running joke? As a master of deception, I can imagine how confusing talking with her must be. But on Karai’s part, it must be lots of fun, since it’s really more like she’s gently prodding him into taking the first step. I can still vividly imagine the chapter where they spar together, both teasing each other and then that one moment Karai thought she might have pushed too far. The tension between them was so thick that I could feel it past my computer screen, and I inadvertently held my breath as Leo drew closer and almost, ALMOST kissed her, but then revealed that he had just been teasing her back. That scene was perfect poetry, and it really showed me that you get their dynamic. You understand how and why they work, and that’s always great to see in a fanfiction.

Of course, Leo and Karai aren’t the only two lovebirds who have amazing development here, and the next two I want to gush over are Raph and Casey. I’ll admit that I didn’t really ship them before, but after reading this, you’ve made me a believer! There are of course, multiple ways a gay romance can go wrong; it can either feel too pushy, or not pushy enough, depending on the way it’s written. However, I think it was perfectly handled here. Our titular Raph and Casey start as more on the ‘bromance with benefits’ side, which works; a slow beginning helps get new shippers like me to see just how it can develop. Both of them have very similar outlooks and personalities, so there’s already that common ground between them, and then the scene where Casey gets drunk allow us to see them acting uncharacteristically caring for each other. Seeing adult Casey and Raph making out is definitely a—unique way to kickstart the romance, and a rather believable one. As someone who’s bi, I’ll readily admit that curiosity is what often causes a spark in a relationship like theirs. And again, the slow burn is the smartest move when it comes to them. Their kiss was left open-ended, as you could say ‘oh, they didn’t like it’ and not ship it, or you could think ‘hmm, I don’t think their answers were all that truthful’ and continue to ship it. I personally count myself among the latter category, but either way, their scenes have been written exceedingly well so far and I can’t wait to read more of them.

And, of course, my personal favorite ship, the one that made me get off my butt and read this fanfic; Apritello! After Chapter 34, I was squealing for literally hours. It got so bad that my roommate, who is not even a little into TMNT, forcibly grabbed my shoulders and ordered me to stop jumping around like a ping-pong ball. So suffice it to say, I have a lot to comment on when it comes to this dynamic within your fanfiction.

To begin with, I am SO glad that the music box was brought up again! When April pushed it aside in the “Bigfoot” episode, I felt so sad for Donnie and was more than a little peeved at April. It was no wonder that Donnie felt like ‘just a mutant’ with the way she was treating him; she pushed aside his heartfelt present, never lets him speak about his feelings with her, and yet continues to lead him on with hugs and kisses instead of actually being clear with her emotions. This is not to say I entirely faulted April, as having two boys crushing on you is never fun and is a situation I’ve had trouble with in the past. But nevertheless, it felt like a breath of fresh air to see the event be brought up and mentioned again between the two of them here. It gave the ship some well-needed groundedness and maturity, so that it could develop beyond just two lovesick teenagers. And oh, how beautifully developed it is! Of course, it begins rather bumpily (April, why d’ya have to take your anger out on Donnie? Him who would never fault you, ever?) with April asking out Casey for dates, keeping it a secret from Donnie, and then trying to get closer with him while not revealing anything to him. But there’s been tons of cute build-up too! The whole ‘evil scientist and best lab assistant’ bit has to be the most adorable love-speak ever, and of course, the silent glances at each other and the secret armor Donnie built is super sweet as well. And there’s no possible way I will ever forget when Future Donnie shook current Donnie to his senses and sent him chasing after April, which resulted in the most romantic scene of all time. Oh yes, it was certainly sappy; but it was a sappiness that felt VERY well-deserved and had been a long time coming. And I’m also really happy that you had Splinter inform and reassure Kirby on all the goings-on; I always feel bad for parents when their children hide things from them within stories, and it was yet another source of relief when Kirby was not only fine with April and Donnie but gave them the go-ahead. I knew he was a good father, but now I’m absolutely certain of it. And that means that April can continue her relationship with Donnie and the others without fearing for her father or focusing solely on college. Not to mention, dating Donnie can only mean good things for a future college career.

Oh yes, and then THAT ABSOLUTE BOMBSHELL in episode—I mean chapter (oh boy you know it’s good when I start calling it an episode!) 35, where April had to watch Donnie get knocked out in front of her. My heart definitely wasn’t shattering into a thousand tiny pieces at that moment (sarcastic tone intended). I’ll get into more detail later when I discuss the pacing, but man, did that scene hit like an oncoming bus.

Of course, I can’t leave out Mikey, the Future Turtles, or the Lotus from my gushing on the characterization! Mikey was at his most hilarious within this fanfic, and I’d even go so far as to say he was handled better within this story than in the usual 2012 episodes. Able to be light-hearted, a prankster, a gamer, and life of the party while still having a certain level of gravity and groundedness goes a long way to show that though Mikey may be the party dude, he has a charm and worth that is so much more than just cracking the odd joke here or there. While Leo and the others were certainly excited to have the Lotus staying with them, it was Mikey who went the extra mile to try and learn as many names as possible. And Mikey is the one who coordinated their family movie night to try and get ‘Karaiwa’ cheerful again. He’s an absolute gem who I want to protect, yet I also know that he is beyond capable of protecting himself.

I’ll admit that the Lotus took a bit of getting used to. When I heard there would be another ninja clan, my impromptu thought was ‘ah yes, the perfect way to insert OC’s’ because that’s usually how I’ve seen it handled within other fanfictions. But it definitely didn’t feel that way here. Though they were all original characters, they only served as big of a part as the plot required and were beneficial to the story’s development, instead of detracting from it. Hachisu-no-Hana served as a great parallel for Splinter, as both are heads of a clan who had been wronged by Shredder, but who took very different responses to said wrong-doing. Wakai wasn’t around long, but he emanated a youthful simplicity that made it hard not to like him, and of course Juro and Atsuko were easy to like as well. In the end I found myself liking the clan quite a bit and was hoping for their well-being just as much as I hoped for Karai’s.

Finally, we have the Future Turtles. It’s a bit harder to speak on their personalities, since they are literally different versions of the same characters within the story, but I think they were sufficiently developed enough to stand out from their current counterparts and show how the passage of time can truly make a difference. Leo has of course become a lot more serious, and along with all the other future characters, his moral compass is more black and white. Either you are on his side, or you are an enemy that deserves death; there is no in-between. This change is devastating to see when compared to how Leo currently is, and I would certainly be interested if you ever decided to do a spin-off fic detailing how the future turtles got to their current states. A lot of details have been divulged already, but like any good reader, that just leaves me wanting even more.

Future Raph and Casey seem to do a lot more laughing and have lot more fun than I would have thought, but it makes sense in the context of their relationship and is yet another great addition to their dynamic. Being in a relationship not only strengthens their bond, but themselves as people. Current Casey definitely can’t be described as sensitive, but Future Casey is not only willing but able to lend April an ear along with some solid advice. And Raph is seen helping Leo out more than arguing with him, which really warmed my heart. After Future Splinter’s death, I can imagine how hard it must have been for the turtles; but especially for Leo, who already had a heavy burden as the team leader, but with Splinter gone, that burden can only have hardened. I’m glad Raph decided to step up somewhat and help support him, instead of escalate their rivalry. It shows maturity and caring on his part, both attributes which I believe Raph already possesses, but doesn’t choose to emphasize.

In contrast, Future Mikey and Donnie seem much more solemn than their current selves. Mikey still has that fun-loving spark, but through his calmer mannerisms and way of speaking it is evident that the future events have tampered him down just as thoroughly as they tampered down his brothers. And while Donnie’s seriousness could be attributed to the important matter at the forefront of their time-traveling visit, I believe there’s more than the fate of his family which keeps him grounded. He’s always been the problem-solver of the group, and his brother’s reliance on him can only have escalated after Splinter’s demise. Plus, he lost the ‘best lab assistant in the world,’ so there has been an additional mental and emotional burden for him to carry. And though you didn’t go into the repercussions for this in too much detail, I imagine it must have been absolutely soul-crushing to see Casey go from dating April to Raph. The thoughts of “April is so great, I would have done everything in my power to make her stay,” “how could he abandon her like that?” “Maybe April feels the same way; maybe she was never into guys” and even “maybe she only dated Casey so she could finally get away from us mutants, and now that she has, she doesn’t care anymore.” I don’t know if he’d actually think like that or not, but I can envision him doing so. It must have caused at least a temporal shift between him and the two lovers and cooping himself up within the lab has obviously become a habit at this point. If he still remains within the lab while brought back to the past while his father is alive, then there’s no stopping it at this point. But hopefully he pulls himself together in a similar fashion that current Donnie did, and fixes his relationship with April. That would certainly be an ideal ending, if not an altogether realistic one.

Alright, now to more boring aspects of the story. First off; Grammar! While this has for the most part been on-point and smooth, there are some small things which could have been better to give the story a better flow. Most of these are nit-picks, because there aren’t many faults within this fanfic, but I think they bear mentioning. There were some misplaced words here and there, like “to” instead of “too” (slightly hypocritical since I KNOW I’ve probably made a similar mistake in this review alone) adjectives which were repeated three or more times in a paragraph, and one particular (and this is the most nit-picky comment of all) word phrase which stuck out and really bugged me, which was ‘portable portal.’ I believe the first time you used it, you had just described how the portal was transferrable, and my first thought was “well, if you wrote a whole section describing it as mobile, why did you describe it as portable again?” And then I saw that phrase repeated more than five times, which just led my OCD brain to go crazy. It might also have more to do with the fact that both words have a “po-“ beginning and an “able” or “al” ending, so it sounds like a repetitive description word, but nevertheless that’s more of a me problem than an overall issue.

Next, there is the plot. I read somewhere that the best plots can be outlined in a sentence and described in ten paragraphs, which I believe definitely applies to this story. While my descriptive powers are not great enough to fully divulge ten paragraphs, I shall do my best to review it properly.

It starts out simple enough; Donnie gets a message from his future self and learns that not only can he communicate with himself past the bonds of space and time, but eventually he can meet his future self without the fear of a time paradox. As Donnie and his brothers prepare to meet their future selves, they meet up with a fellow ninja clan who also has a beef with Shredder, and multiple cases of drama ensue as a result. However, there is so much more than that to pick apart in the plot. There’s action, mystery, romance, secrecy, plus a lot of confusion and mixed feelings which help to add tension and character development. And all the character dialogues don’t seem abrupt, out of place, or like mere exposition; they all blend perfectly together to give the story the feel of a big mixing pot, with multiple themes, characters, and motives blending together to give the story/soup an exquisite taste.

I could be wrong, but I think the main message behind this story is that ‘it is not our actions in the past that define us, but our actions in the present.’ In the very first chapter, we see a lot of characters mingling together who all have argued or slightly resented each other in the past. There’s Splinter and Karai, who used to believe she was Shredder’s daughter and wanted revenge on Hamato Yoshi; Casey and April, the former who used to see Raph as a villain, and then later saw Donnie as a romantic rival; the latter who blamed the turtle’s for her father’s mutation, and avoided them for weeks afterwards; and though it’s more minor, the turtles have all had big arguments with each other in the past. But the fic starts with them all united, sharing ‘Sensei Day’ together and really rallying together as one big family. Yet even though they’d love that moment to last forever, it can’t. There’ll be new hardships, arguments and struggles they’ll have to go through, and sometimes it may seem that the bad outweighs the good, like when Karai leaves the lair to go with the Lotus. But if they don’t keep striving for tomorrow, to make the best of fate while at the same time carving their own destiny, then they’ll never know just how beautiful life can be. This is the message I think Future Donnie learned when he urged current Donnie to run after April, and what all of the Future turtles realized when they learned they could time travel to this point. It may have happened in the past, and it might be too late for their happy ending; but who says they couldn’t help bring a happy ending to other versions of themselves?

And of course, this message is closely intertwined with Splinter, Karai, and Oroku Saki. Shredder chose to follow in the footsteps of his former clan; to carve for himself a path of bloodshed and vengeance, which would dictate all the future choices in his life. Splinter had the choice to follow a similar path, but instead took the path less traveled on; the path of peace. This has opened new options for him, as he gained a new family, obtained happy memories to replace the bad, and got to know many amazing people he wouldn’t have otherwise. Who knows if he would have met April, Kirby, Murasaki, Leatherhead, or Kurtzmann if not for his sons? And while Splinter tries to tell Karai that to choose peace is to choose the higher option, Karai has been raised by the Shredder for too long, and her thoughts are obviously tainted by her false father’s teachings. After all, surely someone who hides away from a fight is the bigger coward…? Surely more honor belongs to the man who seeks out his opponents and does away with them…right?

This is all part of why the Shredder-Splinter-Karai relationship is so compelling. Karai is literally the gray line, separating Splinter’s white and Shredder’s black; she has parts of both of them within her, which makes her choices and actions truly interesting. Someone who is neutral is more relatable than someone who is wholly good or wholly bad, and (at least for me), we want to see what she does because we want to know how we’d react in those same situations. Personally, I can’t fault Karai for a single one of her actions and could see myself making the same mistakes. Even if every part of my rationale told me to trust Splinter, I wouldn’t be able to wholly turn myself away from someone who’d raised me from birth. I’d want to cut off that wrongness, that falseness from my life so I could truly feel free, and that perfectly describes what Karai does. She can’t separate what happened in her past, so she wants to cut it out; even though Splinter and the others don’t care about her past, they just want to help and support her current decisions. I hope Karai comes to realize this by the end of the fic, and that her bond with the others becomes stronger as a result of this whole experience.

For the final tidbit of this review, I’d like to go over the pacing. Like everything else within this fanfic, the pacing has been very smooth and well-handled, with one event following another like dominos falling one after the other. The first chapter starts with a peaceful scene, which leads into a comedic scene in the next chapter, which in turn leads to a romantic scene gone wrong in the third chapter. The progression feels very natural, and the slow as syrup beginning is perfect to help ease the reader into the action. I described the fic as a screenplay earlier, because the events really do take place in a movie-like pace. The tripartite structure has long been lauded as the perfect story system, and that still holds true to this day. Having three big acts which are either followed or preceded by a consecutive list of smaller acts is the perfect way to hype up your big scenes and give them more weight, which your fanfic certainly did.

I promised I would go into a little more detail for Chapter 35 and go into detail I shall. At this point I think you have the three-part structure down so well, that you’re even starting to instill it into your chapters! The first act starts out peacefully, if slightly tear-jerking; the Future turtles say good-bye to Splinter for the last time, and he had some great advice to give the four of them. Once again I found the fanfic hitting close to home with me, as my grandmother has Alzheimer’s and I know any day could be the last day I say bye to her. I swear, your fanfic is going to be one of those I return to over and over again just for the little personal tidbits of emotion it gives me!

Anyways, returning to the topic; the second part of the chapter sees the different groups initiating their plans. Leo, April and Mikey taking the secret passage by the church catacombs, and Donnie, Raph and Casey entering through Baxter Stockman’s lab. Of course, things don’t start out well for either group, as Leo’s group/Team Nerf gets the ceiling caved in on them, and Donnie’s group/Team Roof has some mutated human kids attack them. I was thinking this would be the point the Future Turtles come in to help, but since they don’t I’m sure there’s another aspect to the plan that the Leo’s are looking out for. Perhaps they realize that Karai would have split off from the main Lotus group and want to save some man-power to help her when the time comes.

And then, the third/final act of the chapter comes and gives me a minor heart attack. Three mutants aptly named Lock, Shock and Barrel enter the fray thanks to Rahzar, and don’t only injure most of the main fighters; Barrel knocks out Donnie as well. The turtles, Casey and April barely manage to defeat Barrel before the focus returns to Karai, who places herself straight in Shredder’s den amidst a throng of enemies. While cliffhangers aren’t my favorite things in the world (again; intended sarcasm), I do think it was perfectly timed here. Any more action taking place would just be too much, and at least you ended it in a way that reminded us readers of the important stakes behind their battle. Even though the turtles may be beaten and battered, it is imperative they push on; not just for their sakes, not even just for Karai, but also for the Lotus, Future Turtles, Splinter, and everyone else the Shredder has hurt. While it is true they can’t turn back time and reverse all the evil he has done, they can at least stop his hand right now, and save those that matter most to them. And that is truly the most important cause the turtles could have for their fight.

[uwuprime]

Tha k you for the Farm Wisdom. What that fic about, tho?

Buckle up your fuckles lads I have a lot to say-

Alright so TFP is my jam. It has been for six years? Seven??? How old is TFP when did it start airing-

Anyway. Big Feels for TFP. Put that on the record. Now, because I have Big Feels about TFP I also have big thoughts about it.

Like, for instance, the human element could be utilized a little better. Maybe if the kids were older. Or we got to see Fowler and June interacting with the bots more. This show was so good about putting hard consequences to the goings on of the Bot/Con war. I really wanted to see that extended into human characters that were able to act and react maturely, or at least a little more like your garden variety Human Person would to an alien war being fought around them. So like the supreme fool I was in 201X I started thinking and made an OC or several.

A rare thing I really enjoyed about the '07-and-beyond flicks was that Sam was just like, attempting to live his life around the war. He finished highschool. Went to college. Later on, when they introduced Mark Wahlberg (I forget his character's name. Something Yeager?) I was so here for that. Like, there's this normal, mostly rational adult learning to cope with the war. With secret alien friends that need protecting from him somehow, and wrecked cities and trying to still live his life. Not a lot about Bay was great but Hell Yes that concept got me thinking.

A person like that. But in the Aligned timeline. Someone, a rational, mature, non-government adult, who was minding their own business and got pulled into the war nonetheless and got in way too deep. And now they're still trying to live their life while doing what they can to help win the war and hide their secret 'Bot friends.

The fic (outline at this point, technically) also includes a little bit of content I wish we had gotten in the Prime series itself. What happened to Vogul after the subway adventure? How did Ratchet end up in the junkyard? Why can Rafael understand Bumblebee?? How did the world of normal people react to the fact that Megatron just wipes Jasper, Nevada off the fucking map at one point. I want to know what happened to the citizens that were evacuated. Where did they go. Cybertron is so different from earth, there had to be multiple How To Earth lessons. Like how plants work. And farming. And food that the humans (that the Autobots collect on their merry way) will need while they're together on the Lam.

TL;DR: it's an OC-inclusive, overhauling fix-it fic for TFP that preserves the tone and majesty of the show while also improving on How Humans Are in-universe and picking up lost bits of plot. My New Years' Resolution is to start actually writing and posting it. I'll probably infodump here later on the OC(s) and what seven years' worth of not-writing did to this stupid plot bunny I had. Stay tuned.

[rt8815]

OC Ask Game

I was tagged by the amazing @illegalcerebral

I put a Keep Reading link because this is looong.

1) Name (and why you chose it if you like) McKinley Campbell Durand. I named her after McKinley Morganfield, better known as Muddy Waters. However, the “in universe?” reason that will be given - which I haven’t written yet - is that McKinley and Campbell are family names from a few generations back.

Campbell comes from the Gaelic words for ‘crooked’ and ‘mouth.’ I just like the name. Here’s a post (that I had to rewrite because Tumblr’s a dick and wouldn’t let me edit the typos in the original. The rewrite had typos too! Blargh!) that discusses her first and last names. I thought it would be funny for her full name to consist solely of last names.

2) Fandom and how they fit into the story Criminal Minds. She works at a D.C. museum practically around the corner from the J. Edgar Hoover building (as indicated in “Let It Bleed”). That’s a tiny hint that it’s the National Museum of African American History & Culture, but I don’t think I’ll mention it very often, if for no other reason than I’ve never been to the NMAAHC and don’t want to describe it inaccurately.

The official story is that Spencer and McKinley met at the museum (again, in “Let It Bleed,” which is probably the least favorite thing of mine that I’ve written). However, they’d met once before, and texted a few times after that. Because my brain is all over the place, and because I’m telling the story in non-chronological order, I haven’t written their first meeting yet. The only details I’ve revealed thus far are that it was nighttime in a park, McKinley caught Spencer off guard and made him fall to the ground, and whatever they talked about set Spencer straight and lifted his spirits. Also, a swingset was involved. Beyond that, I’ve inserted McKinley into the plotlines and events of the show, with necessary alterations, and there’s a ton of domestic Spencer and off-duty team stuffs.

3) Do they have any family? Biological family: daughter Sophie and son Jason; her Mom (no name yet); maternal grandparents, uncles, aunts, and cousins; and her estranged father (no name yet). Chosen/found family: husband Spencer; the BAU.

4) As a child, what did they want to be when they grew up? When she was a toddler, McKinley wanted to be a pediatrician (a doctor just for kids?! Cool!) or an ophthalmologist (she’s worn glasses practically her whole life). As an older child she aspired to be an entomologist or herpetologist. In her teenage years she considered a career in forensic pathology or criminal psychology. While earning her BA in English, she discovered that Public History was her true calling.

5) Their greatest dream To be a good Mom. To inspire learning in others.

6) Their worst nightmare Losing her family; having to see her father again.

7) Strengths Empathy, insight/self awareness, forgiving nature but knowing when to cut her losses

8) Weaknesses McKinley struggles with imposter syndrome.

She can be very mean. I mean, downright nasty cruel, verbally. This is rare though because, and I’m paraphrasing a future bit of dialogue here, anyone whose behavior could arguably warrant such a response is beneath her notice and not worth the effort. She’s more likely to close the door on someone. When she’s removed a person from her life, she is done. They become literally nothing to her. McKinley will rightly claim that this is about self-preservation and boundaries, but she really takes it to the next level.

9) What would they chose between: morning and night, sweet and savoury, beaches or meadows, cities or countryside, winter or summer, Christmas or Halloween (sorry, Spencer!), movies or TV shows, action or rom-com, clowns or vampires, stars or the moon (both!), cocktails or pints [Neither. McKinley doesn’t care for cocktails or beer. Scotch, brandy, rum, and dry wines are her poisons. She’s been known to add Kahlúah to vanilla ice cream, Baileys Irish Cream to coffee (she wants to try Drambuie next), or make hot toddies when she has a cold (obviously not mixing any alcohol with any medicine)]

10) How do they relax? Reading, or having Spencer read to her; knitting; listening to her records or playing her guitar; exercising with Boogie so she’s exhausted enough to sleep that night; baking and cooking

11) What makes them angry? Injustice, apathy/indifference, ableism, willful ignorance

12) What makes them afraid? The awful things she’d possibly do under duress; her family getting hurt or worse; spiders and other bugs that bite and/or sting

13) What is a moment from their childhood that has shaped who they are? It’s not a single event, but growing up with an abusive parent has certainly had a lifelong impact on McKinley. You’ve heard the expression “once bitten, twice shy?” She’s “once bitten, there’s no twice because you no longer exist.” She’s working on that. It’s also cultivated empathy, though, and is part of the reason she volunteers in the hospital’s rehab wing.

14) Do they have a sense of humour? Intellectual humor, pop culture references, puns/Dad jokes, science jokes. Sometimes morbid.

15) What do they value in their friends/loved ones? Honesty and empathy

16) Do they have any pets? An Aussie Collie/Border Aussie named Boogie-Woogie. He’s her first child.

17) Worst memory? Probably the day Meadows shot her and she thought she’d never see Spencer and Penny again.

18) Best memory? The days Sophie and Jason were born. Minus, y’know, the agonizing pain of labor and delivery.

19) Do they have any tattoos? (If no would they get one?) Nope and nope

20) If you could write them into another fandom, which one would you choose? If I knew the MCU better, I’d love to write her in as a Stark Tower employee! She’d be an anthropologist and would study alien societies the Avengers and S.H.I.E.L.D. have encountered. She’d naturally be drawn to Loki, initially in a professional capacity (they quickly discover they relate to each other on a personal level as well).

He’d first find her annoying: “Why are you pestering me, Mortal? Surely you’d rather interview my oaf of a brother?”

“No, not even remotely. He only ever wants to discuss battles he’s won. There’s so much more to Asgard and the other realms than that. I want - I need - to learn your literature, your science, your culture and history. You’re well versed in all of these subjects and you’re an excellent teacher.”

He stares at her impassively over his mug of tea, but his heart - that Judas of an organ - flutters slightly at the compliment. And how can he say no to a fellow scholar?

“I prefer your company to Thor’s too. You have this calming presence. Thor’s sweet but he’s also obnoxiously loud and brash and he always hugs me even though I keep telling him I don’t like it. And he’s constantly swinging his hammer around, which makes me think he’s overcompensating for something.”

Loki nearly chokes on his tea. Yes, this mortal is considerably more tolerable than others.

“Very well. Friday evenings at 6:00, my chambers. Arrive late and suffer my wrath.”

From that day forward, whenever Thor tries to hug her, he gets mildly electrocuted.

Did I accidentally sorta kinda write a drabble? Would anyone be interested in making this a collab? That’s what they’re called, right? (Can you tell I’ve given this some thought? Haha! I have even more details in my head.)

21) Do they like their job? (What else would they do if they could?) She loves it! Hmmm, what else…? A librarian maybe. Or animate and produce an educational cartoon series.

22) What is their sexuality? Demisexual

23) Do they believe in love at first sight? Soulmates? One true love? McKinley believes in “seeing the potential for a good relationship at first conversation.”

Yes, although she feels that term has become overused and poorly redefined.

People can find love again after it’s been lost.

24) What music do they listen to? Has that changed over time? I actually recently answered an ask about this. Yes, she grew up on what passed for country in the ‘90s. God help her, she had a boyband phase in junior high.

25) Can they cook? What food do they love? McKinley does pretty well in the kitchen. She loves a wide variety of food. She grew up in the south, so tons of carbs/comfort foods. She loves Thai, Japanese, and Indian food. She cooks up Middle Earth-inspired dishes (ha! nerd). She’s especially proud of a seed cake she bakes.

26) What are their hopes for the future? For her family to be healthy, safe and happy. To be debt free.

27) How do they react to being threatened? It’s a coin flip. McKinley might curl up like an armadillo and hope the predator gets bored and leaves, or she might kick the stool out from under them and cause their chin to slam into the bar and crack several teeth.

28) What is their love language? McKinley and Spencer both exhibit the Acts of Service love language, because just saying “I love you” isn’t enough. You ought to show it. She’ll randomly bake doughnuts for Spencer or play guitar for him in bed, and he’ll take care of laundry, dishes, and any other chores he sees need doing.

Quality Time is important for them too. Once a month, Luke and Penny babysit so Spencer and McKinley have a day alone together. It doesn’t really matter what they do. The point is it’s just them.

It caught McKinley by surprise how much she enjoys physical affection, given that she can be touch averse but holy moly she was more touch starved than she realized. She lives for snuggles and makeout sessions and playing with each others’ hair. When one of them doesn’t want to be touched, they hook their pinkies together.

29) What do they find most challenging in relationships? At work? In general? At work she struggles to gain her colleagues’ respect (think “Boy Genius” treatment except she has lady bits). In general, she struggles with trusting people.

30) What do you as a creator love best about writing this character? Giving her everything I wish I had but don’t.

Bonus: Include a link to your favourite work with this OC or write a small drabble.

October 12, 2021

Warm sunlight filtered through the curtains, gently rousing Spencer from a pleasant sleep. Just when he’d decided to get up, he felt the mattress dip behind him and his wife’s breath fanning over his ear.

“Who’s the birthday boy?” whispered McKinley.

Spencer smiled softly but feigned being asleep.

“Who’s the birthdaaay boooy?” she repeated, bouncing slightly.

“The good-looking guy to your left?”

“Happy Birthday!” she laughed, pressing kisses along his neck, suddenly shifting the mood from playful to sexy.

“Would the birthday boy like his birthday present?” she asked as she lifted the covers.

“Well, look at that - it’s already unwrapped!”

[smutmylifeup]

I Want To Play.

Eisuke (KBTBB) x Rose (OC)

Authors Note: Rose is a character I created for a series, I was a part of with @hifftn @whatdoyouexpectthistime @smile-smile-ichthys called MJS Marriage Match Making agency . She is one I feel comfortable writing at the moment although some of her characteristics have changed to fit the circumstances of the KBTBB routes, so she is the MC in this idea. I thought I had a solid idea but since coming up with it and writing about seven different ideas have branched off of it. I may possibly re-write/write alternate characters depending on how well I think I can write it. Anyway, this is the first bit of writing I’ve done in a while, so I hope you all enjoy.

Tagging: @sweet-n-smexy @rockingbrooklyn @elaera23

Rose had been watching the bidders play poker in the penthouse ever since she stumbled across their auctions that “fateful” night.

It had become a tradition for them to play after every auction. Whether it was a successful one or not - well they were always successful as if Ichinomiya would let it be anything less. 

She’d never been asked to play however - despite her position, which was basically being forced to be in their world whether she wanted to be or not. She never really gave them much of herself by being part of their shenanigans. 

Despite having access to her history - from the success of her parents, friendships/relationships, schools, grades, jobs etc. She never really allowed any of them to have anything other than that. It’d been nearly a year since they bought her and only recently had she told them the story of why she was called Rose instead of her actual name.

Although she wasn’t close to any of them, she got along best with Mamoru and Baba. Ota was the type of person she just couldn’t tolerate but she managed to avoid punching him...too much. 

Mr Oh was a lot like her, a closed book. One she wouldn’t mind reading but couldn’t muster up the effort to bring it down off the top shelf and dust it off.

And Ichinomiya was beyond her comprehension of mankind, purely because he was more robot than human.   

She was his personal maid. Not that she chose to be, it was decided. And honestly, despite his unreasonably high standards towards punctuality and making the perfect cup of coffee, he was the easiest to deal with because he barely acknowledged her unless completely necessary. 

Especially after she proved herself by keeping silent about the secret on-goings at Tres Spades. 

And that was mainly due to the threat of her parents hard earned careers being completely destroyed. For a while, that lingered in the back of her mind as she watched the depravity of the black market auctions grow and profit.  

Unfortunately for Rose, she’d come to learn they weren’t total scumbags. Even King Asshole himself. Although, she was still on the fence about him though, he reminded her of Patrick Bateman from American Psycho.

One day, he’ll announce he’d got to return some video tapes. 

In front of Ichinomiya’s guests at VIP parties, Rose played the role of his girlfriend/lady friend a lot. One of the ‘perks’ of her role as Tres Spades Penthouse maid. 

She’d been dolled up in fancy clothes, her hair and makeup professionally done and forced to attend one of said VIP parties and then the auction after. It wasn’t often the bidders attended in person, they usually watched from the TV in the comfort of the penthouse but they had to oversee certain items up for sale.

Rose didn’t focus too much on that, the less she knew the better. It wasn’t her first time attending one...or even being part of one. Something she wished she’d never have to go through again.  

It was business as usual for the Auction Sponsors, their profit growing ridiculously since the last one and when it finished, the regular game of Poker was started in the penthouse after. 

Somehow, Rose was still in their presence. Ichinomiya hadn’t requested for her to go home yet and ‘she wasn’t allowed to leave without his permission.’ So she sat back into the luxurious sofa and watched and listened intently.

She figured out Mamoru, Baba, Ota and even Mr. Oh’s tells fairly easily. But she was still trying to find Ichinomiya’s. He gave nothing away physically, his face never changed, he didn’t twitch or flinch. 

As expected of a robot. 

For a moment, Rose closed her eyes disgusted by the fact she had been staring at her boss and captor for such a long time. It wasn’t like he was bad to look at, but she would NEVER allow him the satisfaction of knowing that she found him attractive. The palpable sexual tension on her end was bad enough to deal with when his arm was draped around her waist earlier that evening at the VIP party.

She had to remind herself of who he was, how she came to be in that position and that his physical body was the outer layer of all his robotic parts so he could climb his way up to the top of the business ladder. And that his touch was just him conforming to the standards set by society of how a couple should look and act together.

There was nothing more.

Internally shaking her head leaving her final thought on the subject ‘I should get laid’, she tuned out of the background fog of her mind and back into the room as the familiar flamboyant and dramatically whiny voice of Baba filled her brain and her eyes naturally opened and focused on where the voices were coming from.

“Boss always wins, it’s so unfair.”

“Why d’ya play if ya just gonna complain every time ya lose?” Mamoru groaned, followed by the sound of ice clinking against his glass as he finished the auburn liquid inside. 

“It’s fun hanging out with my besties.” Baba practically sang, his theatrics never ceasing in any situation. 

“You’re so gross, old man.” Ota grimaced. 

“Have you not learned by now that I always win.” Ichinomiya said. 

It wasn’t a question that needed an answer and no one gave one as Mr Oh dealt the cards again. 

Everyone looked at their hand and Ota and Mamoru immediately folded. Ichinomiya raised the bet and Mr Oh and Baba matched it.

Rose watched the twitch of Mr Oh’s ears - which she found totally adorable considering his completely sinister expression. Funnily enough, she figured out his tell first. It was hard not to notice something like that on a face that rarely moved. She then looked to Baba, the inside of his left cheek had sunken in slightly, she was surprised his tell wasn’t a wink or a kiss face. 

“Shouldn’t you both just fold. Why’d you both raise when you’re aware that I know your tells.” Ichinomiya said. 

Then it hit Rose like a frying pan to the face. She knew EXACTLY what his tell was. 

“We’ve been playing poker with the boss for years and none of us know his tell, even Sor!” Baba threw his cards into the middle to fold shortly followed by Mr Oh who more delicately placed his cards in front of him face down, agreeing with Baba’s fold.  

Ichinomiya revealed his cards and from the reactions he had a royal flush. 

Rose smirked, validated by his bluff and the fact she’d worked it out. She wasn’t sure why she wanted to know this information. It’s not like it was particularly useful. 

“Why are you smiling to yourself Koro? Did you manage to catch your own tail?”

Her smirk fell from her face, Ota’s voice nothing but a headache to her. But now the other Auction Sponsors were focused on her. 

“I want to play.” 

Was all she said. Her eyes staring at no one in particular but focused in their general direction.

There was a pause in the air but of course Baba filled it. 

“Princess, you continue to amaze me! I never took you as someone who understood poker.”

She wasn’t really sure how to take that, was it compliment or an insult? Well with Baba it was most likely a compliment. 

“The kid worked in the casino right? Course she’d have some sort of understandin’.” Mamoru added in her defence. 

He wasn’t wrong, Rose had had several shifts in the casino prior to that fateful day but that wasn’t where she learned how to play.

It wasn’t an interesting story, she used to play with the people she travelled with to kill time when they had no money to go sightseeing several years ago. She managed to win 9/10 times when her cards were right, although she never really played for money. They were all students, none of them had any money to play with.

“You have nothing to offer.” Ichinomiya stated. 

And that seemed to register on all their faces. Rose didn’t have the kind of money they were betting, nor did she have any possessions that were worth anything.

But she did have one small thing to offer. 

“I may not have anything you want,” Rose stood up from the sofa and walked causally towards the table, the diamond coloured dress flowing gracefully with her movement until she was stood next to his chair. “But I know for sure I have something the rest of them wants.” 

Rose didn’t really do sexy, but in that moment, the power she felt in her words came out sensually and teasingly. Possibly the most feminine any of the men had seen her be other than her physical appearance.

Baba’s eyes sparkled like a kid in a candy store and Rose was certain she didn’t want to know what he was picturing in his head. While she didn’t linger on his wandering gaze, she knew she had their attention. 

“Spit it out, Koro.” Ota whinged.

She grinned, again, possibly the first time any of them had seen her act almost natural with them. 

“I know, the great Eisuke Ichinomiya’s tell.” 

She said smugly waiting for all their ‘like fuck you do’ comments, especially from the man himself. 

“I do not have a tell.” He stated. 

“Of course you do.” Rose countered. 

“How did you notice it from so far away Princess?” Baba asked.

Rose just smiled and tapped her nose, if she said too much she’d reveal her hand before she was able to get an acceptable deal struck.

“I think Koro should play, every puppy needs some fun.” Ota grinned back at her. 

And while she really wanted to take off her six inch heel and throw it at him, she refrained. If they all agreed to letting her play, she could have not only a nice wad of cash, she might ruin Ichinomiya’s winning streak. 

That was temptation enough.

With no protests from the other bidders, this went in her favour. Ichinomiya nodding his head in acceptance - not quite defeat but more absolute arrogance that a mere maid would be able to beat him. 

“Damn, kid. Ya got us all intrigued, but what are the stakes? What d’ya want if you win?” Mamoru enquired, more lively than his usual demeanour. 

“If I win, I want all of this,” Rose circled her hand above the money placed in the centre of the table. “And, one of you has to be my maid for a day.”

She wasn’t going to miss out on an opportunity like this, the money was great on its own but why not mess with them in the same way they mess with her on a daily basis? 

“Fufufuuuuuu, this just got extremely interesting.” Baba smirked, his eyes wide and his mouth almost salivating.

“And if you lose?” Mr Oh asked.

“I share Ichinomiya’s tell and whatever else you want - within reason.” 

She wanted to make sure it was abundantly clear that she would not do anything illegal - more so than she was doing by being involved with any of them and that they didn’t take any kind of advantage of her. 

“Deal.” Four out of five said in unison 

This was going to be either be a blank or a royal flush. However, Rose liked her odds, she was severely underestimated and her tell was just as obscure as Ichinomiya’s which meant it was a battle between the maid and her king. 

[spacetimewraithwrites-archive]

12/12/12

I was tagged by @livvywrites! Thank you.

rules: answer 12 questions in character as an OC, ask 12 questions, & tag 12 people!

Warren Cougar will be answering this today from the year 2272!

1. What teachings from your parents still affect you to this day? Do you wish that they didn’t?

My parents taught me to love everybody, regardless of who they are and where they’re from. But they were also very firm on the idea that some people don’t deserve your love and attention, and not to blame myself if someone turns out to be just so vile that my love would be wasted on them. It’s gotten me through a lot of shitty relationships both romantically and platonically, and it’s helped me survive jobs with terrible bosses.

Lookin’ at you, Hastings, you fuckin’ douche. Rest in shit.

Honestly, it’s one of the values I hold closest to my heart. So, thanks Mom and Dad for that one. I miss you guys.

2. Who is the person who has made the greatest impact (good OR bad) on you, and who you are today?

Hm...I think a combination of a few people in my life are responsible for who I am today. My parents, naturally. Grandma and Grandpa Cougar, who opened their hearts and homes to me when my mom and dad died (miss you guys, too, deeply). As much as he’s a dickass, I do think maybe Hastings shaped me a bit. Gave me thicker skin.

And this goes without saying, but I owe Thrive so much in terms of...well, everything, but especially for showing me that I’m worth something to at least one person.

He’s shown me that my presence is not inconsequential in the best way.

3. If you could do anything, without strings or consequences attached, what would you do?

Oh! I’d absolutely take a ship to Zliyagi and blast the eliyi to pieces. Absolutely.

4. A genie gives you three wishes. What would you wish for?

A deserted, tropical planet for no one but myself and Thrive where we can live in peace for the rest of our lives without being harassed by people wanting things from us...and I guess [REDACTED] can join us too. *Chuckles* I think I’m technically just wishing to live on Tournaltis without any drama.

I’d also wish for all of my friends to live happy, healthy lives. Especially Guetry. He deserves so much better.

My last wish would be...for Thrive to finally find peace of mind. He’s pretty damn good at hiding his inner turmoil, even from me sometimes, but I know everything he’s been through has created a permanent scar on his heart. I want more than most things for that pain to be eased for him.

5. When you go to pack for something—whether it be as simple as tucking items in your pocket for a normal day, or an overnight trip—what are three or so items that you couldn’t live without?

The letter from my mom, the one she wrote before he died. I’m still blown away that Thrive kept it in perfect condition for me over the course of two-hundred-plus years.

I haven’t read it yet, but I think I’m getting closer to having the strength to try.

I don’t know if I would need to bring anything else. Between living on various spaceships and planets and not knowing where I’m gonna sleep next, I’ve kinda had to let go of material items. That’s fine with me, to be honest. I’ve never really been a materialistic person. I mean, I love coding and programming but I'm able to do enough of that without a personal phone or a computer these days, you know?

6. Is there someone in your life you can’t live without? Who are they, and what is your relationship like?

Mm. Definitely Thrive. He makes me feel like the only other person in the universe, and even writing this now has me smiling like an idiot.

I first met him when his spacecraft crashed spectacularly in the lake by my cabin. He’d been flung all the way from the Andromeda galaxy just to land almost literally in my lap. And he hated me at first. No joke. I’m pretty sure if I had hit just the right button he would’ve choked me out or broke my neck.

But I guess I grew on him like a fungus because he and I click so hard and work so well within our relationship and as a team that I sometimes can’t even believe that we’d ever been so strained. I guess...maybe our hostility was hidden tension. Either way, he’s beautiful and incredible and I don’t have enough words to describe how much I love him.

7. What do you think your childhood self would think of you now? How is your life different from what you pictured then?

My ten-year-old self would be like, “Wait, I’m gay?!” And then he’d be like oohhh...that makes so much sense. That feeling I got around some of the boys was not a deep desire to be best friends with them. *Laughs*

I think he’d also freak the fuck out that I’d get to see the far reaches of space and interact with actual aliens. I get giddy just thinking about it today and I’m living it right now.

8. How do you feel about where you are now? About the person you are now? What, if anything, would you change about yourself?

...I kinda like who I am now. Which is a MASSIVE change from who I was at like, 17-18 when I was at my lowest, mentally. I do think I probably strive too hard to be the best version of myself I can be. I think maybe I throw myself too quickly into dangerous situations for the people I care about. I’m living for others, too, now, so I should take it easy.

9. What do you do to de-stress, and take your mind off of things?

I either sit in front of a window and watch the stars, dance, or spend whatever quiet time I can get with Thrive. Maybe all three. Dancing helped me through hard times in my life and it still keeps my mind free, and the others go without saying.

10. What is the most ridiculous thing that you can recall doing? Do you remember why you did it?

My whole LIFE is a ridiculous thing?? Uh...I taught a bunch of venevans some of my dance moves after I won a drinking contest against Ysha, that was pretty fucking weird.

11. If someone were to record what was happening to you, the story of your life, how would you want to be portrayed?

Just...as honestly as possible. Get all my flaws, all my stupid mistakes, all of my good decisions, all of my indecisions. I’m not perfect. I don’t even think I’m a good person when it all comes down to it. I’ve done shitty things. As I’ve said probably a thousand times to Thrive, I’m only human.

12. What is your ideal future life like? When all is said & done, what does peace look like to you?

Peace looks like...adventure. I wanna explore the galaxy and beyond. I want to know everything I can possibly know. I want to help people, to help the universe heal. I want to make a difference.

Also, I want to live forever.

Tags and questions under the cut!

I’m tagging @madammuffins, @pen-in-hand, @touchingmadness, and @ditzysworld! No pressure, and sorry if you’ve already been tagged or don’t want to do this. Your OC questions are:

1. If you could take back one thing you’ve ever said to someone, what would it be and why?

2. If your house or place of residence were to catch fire and all of the people/living creatures inside were guaranteed safety, what would be the first thing you’d try to save?

3. If you have dreams, what was the best one you’ve ever had? If you don’t have dreams, what’s something you think about a lot that makes you happy?

4. What would you be doing if you weren’t doing what you’re doing now?

5. What would you say you’re surprisingly good at? Any hidden talents or abilities or hobbies you’ve perfected?

6. What’s your worst flaw? Are you trying to rectify it?

7. Who do you see sticking by your side forever? Romantically, platonically, or some other way?

8. Do you have a favorite type of music? What comes to mind when you hear it?

9. Who is someone you regret ever meeting?

10. What was your best decision? How has it changed your life?

11. What do you want most in life?

12. Is your happy place a mental space or a physical space? What’s it like there?

[ckret2]

Chicken Salad

Fandom: Borderlands, pre-canon Characters: Zer0 and an OC invented to be observer Words: 2900 Summary: An assassin doesn’t get the kind of jobs that rack up a 32 billion bounty without first doing a few low-profile hits. Tonya’s abusive ex was one of the earliest—a job with the offered reward of a mere hot meal. Notes: I like the idea Zer0 rising from a nobody to assassination infamy, so I might write some more one-shots along these lines exploring different points on that journey. Also: when Zer0’s voice is described as freakishly deep in the fic, I specifically mean way deeper than it ever is in canon. Gotta play around with those vocal settings before finding something that feels fitting. Warnings: There's a few vague allusions to past stalking and past abuse, but none happen in fic and the abuser ain't present.

With her grocery bags balanced awkwardly between one arm and one forearm, Tonya had to rub her thumb over her apartment door's greasy old lock five times before it registered her print. Adjusting her grip on the bags, she pushed the door open with one shoulder, clicked on the light with her elbow just a second before the door swung shut, and with a small scream dropped her groceries.

There was a person squatting on her kitchen table.

She was so paralyzed by shock she couldn't even think of how to react. All she could do was gape and ask, "Who—? Who—?"

The person was dressed top to bottom in all black—jeans and hooded windbreaker and gloves, even a ski mask and goggles—and was just crouching there, arms crossed loosely, resting elbows on knees. No, not resting on knees. There was a sword, glowing blue, resting across knees; arms resting on sword. "Your name is Tonya?" It was the deepest voice she'd ever heard, far too deep for this spindly invader. "I'm here about the bounty." He held out a folded scrap of yellow legal pad paper. "The one you posted."

She backed up against the door, too terrified to think of opening it and running. "Oh shit." Her ex.

Three months ago, she'd finally managed to leave him. She'd been penniless and friendless. He'd stalked her halfway around the city, tracked her down to the shelters she'd found (not hard, there were only two in town) and lurked outside, only to disappear before any authorities arrived. In desperation, she'd gone to town square—the real town square, not the unwanted Tediore-sponsored square in front of city hall—and left a note on the job board: her ex's name and address, a promise to cook a hot meal for anyone who "got rid" of him (all she could offer), and her name (she had no permanent address to list). The next day, she'd gotten cold feet—okay, understatement, she'd been terrified beyond belief that someone who knew her ex would find it and tell him—and had gone to the board to remove it. But by the time she'd gotten there, it was already gone, along with half the other jobs.

She'd told herself that some civic-minded passerby had been looking over the board and tore down any jobs that looked illegitimate or flimsy (or immoral, if the passerby happened to be someone who wasn't down with murder). But she'd always feared—always—that maybe he'd been following her that day, and maybe he'd seen her post the bounty, and maybe he'd taken it down himself, and maybe he'd started plotting revenge.

And now here someone was.

Two months ago, Tonya had moved halfway around Janus Alpha. A cousin had helped her get a new job, and a hacker she'd known in high school had helped change her name. But he'd still found her. He always found her. And he'd sent someone to do to her what she'd tried to do to him, or—worse—to drag her back to him.

"You were hard to find." He stood up, half-hunched on the table, taking his sword in one hand. He had a long, huge rifle strapped to his back. "An unexpected challenge. Appreciated." He jumped down. His heavy combat boots crashed on the cheap fake wood floor, and she jumped.

"I'm—! I have a—" She groped in her purse for her Tediore shocktase—a thrifty girl's best friend™—but he kept walking toward her, relentless.

"He wasn't as hard." The invader raised his sword, and she flinched back, pressing harder against the door; but he only sheathed it, and reached into the pocket of his black jeans to pull out a photo. She saw her ex's face, and flinched again; it took her a moment to register that there were several inches between his face and his neck. And then she just gaped. "Photographic proof, for you." He shook the photo. Dumbly, she took it. "I've come to collect."

Collect. Collect. He'd done her job. He'd killed— Her ex was dead. He was dead. He was gone forever. She'd—made it happen. She'd hired a hitman. She was safe.

Tonya gaped at him. And then his words registered. Oh, collect! His pay!

She looked down at her grocery bags. One was soaked in the red gore of a broken bottle of spaghetti sauce. "That was it."

"Ah."

"You can come back tomorrow?" she offered. "Or I can make us sandwiches."

"I'll take the sandwich."

He sat on the kitchen table, observing, while she made the sandwiches. She could feel his hidden eyes on her back. Watching her. Sizing her up. For what, she didn't know. In case he had to kill her? In case he wanted to kill her?

Somehow, the thought didn't scare her. It was amazing how fast a heavily-armed stranger stopped being terrifying once you knew he'd killed your abusive ex for you. Or maybe it was the shock.

He'd decided on a chicken salad sandwich.

She hoped he was okay with plain white bread, the ultra cheap kind made with synthetic flour. It was all she had. "Do you want it cut?"

"Four triangles."

Between her construction of one sandwich and the next, he hopped off the table, walked up behind her, and took a towel at the edge of her periphery vision. For a moment, just a split second, she was sure he was going to try to strangle her from behind. And the only wild, panicked, irrational thought she had, trained into her by her ex, was don't let him know you know what he's about to do or he'll get madder; and so, with heart pounding, she kept making her sandwich. But he returned to the table. When she glanced back, he was wiping off the surface of the table where he'd been crouching when she came in.

Well. She appreciated the gesture, but she wished he'd grabbed a wet paper towel to wipe it down properly. Or, better yet, not stood on her table in the first place. It was a rickety metal folding table, she was lucky the legs hadn't snapped. She turned back to the sandwiches. "Why were you waiting on my table, anyway?"

He made an impossibly deep I-don't-know noise. His voice wasn't real, she thought. He was using some kind of voice disguising thing. Could be a Maliwan body mod—but by the looks of him, he couldn't afford such luxuries. He was trading murders for hot meals, for goodness's sake.

Speaking of— "D'you want your sandwich nuked?"

"Eugh. Chicken salad?"

She huffed. "Well, I promised you 'hot.' I can throw in a can of tomato soup?"

"Fine."

"Great." She pulled a can out of a cabinet, popped the lid, and dumped it in a bowl. It was cheap, watery stuff, but she'd never promised a good hot meal.

As it heated up, she leaned back against the kitchen counter, and surveyed her visitor. God, he was skinny. No wonder he'd gone for the hot meal, and tracked her halfway around the planet to collect on it. His thinness hadn't really registered for what it was when she'd first seen him, except one more thing that made him look a little more uncanny and a little more dangerous—but now that she was looking at him as a person, not as a dangerous bloodthirsty burglar who was about to slit her throat with a sword designed to cauterize the wound even as it was being made… Nobody got that skinny naturally.

Tonya had been that skinny a couple of months ago—sunken eyes and bony wrists and ribs that could cast shadows. A slight breeze was enough to chill her to the bone. (She didn't look that much better now, to be honest, but at least she was starting to move in the right direction.) And she was a good foot shorter than this guy. What kind of life had he lived? "… What's your name?"

He stared at her (she assumed he was staring at her, anyway), and shrugged.

"Seriously? Then I'm gonna call you Chicken Salad."

He shrugged again.

"All right. If that's what you want."

The microwave beeped. She balanced the soup bowl on the edge of Chicken Salad's sandwich plate, and carried both plates over to the kitchen table. "Here you go. One hot meal. Not sure it's worth a human life, but…"

She looked down at the cheap synthetic bread and watery soup.

"… No, I guess this is about what his life is worth."

"Heh."

No regrets from him, she supposed. But he was a professional. Supposedly. He didn't look very professional, but he sure had a professional's sword and a professional's rifle.

Tonya wondered when her regrets would kick in. You're supposed to feel regrets, right? If you kill someone—or get someone killed—aren't you supposed to regret it? Nightmares and guilt and stuff? When did that kick in? Maybe tonight, when she tried to sleep. It hadn't kicked in yet, at any rate.

She sat down in front of her plate, he slung his rifle off his shoulders and hung it on the back of his chair to sit in front of his, and she looked up at Chicken Salad. "So, are you gonna…" She pointed at his face and gestured up, implying lifting his mask. "Are you gonna eat, or…?"

To her surprise, instead of lifting his mask, he reached into his back pocket, and pulled out a black bandana. For a second, she thought he was going to tuck it into his windbreaker like a bib—but instead he tied it around his face, just over his nose, and then reaches under it to push up his ski mask. Tonya could only stare in complete and utter amazement as, disguise thus altered, he very carefully stuck one triangular quarter of the sandwich under his bandana and, presumably, into his mouth.

He devoured the quarter in three bites—she wasn't even sure he stopped between them to swallow—and looked up at her. "What?" She quickly looked at her own sandwich. And in her peripheral vision, he picked up and devoured another quarter of the sandwich, just as quickly.

What was he hiding, she wondered, for him to cover up like that, even when eating, even when in front of the person who had hired him to kill somebody?

Her first thought was that maybe Chicken Salad did this for her because she'd hired him to kill someone. Maybe to stop his clients from being able to identify him later to people who wanted to kill him. But, no, she didn't think he'd done this just for her. Chicken Salad had come prepared with the bandana, he'd made the adjustments too fast, and he'd devoured half his sandwich too adeptly for this to be his first time eating like this. And surely he didn't usually have dinner with his clients.

Or, then again, maybe he did. Images flashed through her mind of cinema-worthy scenes of expensive restaurants, the interior decor black and red and rich, patronized by CEOs and stockholders who wanted to discreetly hire assassins, saboteurs, and mercenaries. But, no. If this guy was snatching up job board postings with only a very loose definition of pay, he wasn't getting classy jobs from executives.

Either way—either way, Chicken Salad had come prepared to hide his identity even while he was eating. So, how afraid was he of being identified?

And she was sure that was what it was: fear. She understood fear like that. Until he'd handed her the picture of her ex, she'd lived with fear like that. The fear of being followed, of being found. Nothing was more terrifying than being recognized.

Who did a six and a half foot tall hitman with a sword and a sniper rifle who killed men in exchange for sandwiches and soup have to fear being recognized by?

… How hungry did a six and a half foot tall hitman who was skinner than some toddlers have to be to kill a man in exchange for a mere sandwich?

He probably wouldn't appreciate if she asked.

In the time she'd spent contemplating Chicken Salad's fears and hunger, he'd finished his sandwich. She'd only taken a couple of bites out of hers. "...Do you want another?"

"Yeah." Without waiting for any further permission, he walked into her kitchen, pulled out her bread and remaining chicken salad, and started making his own sandwich.

"Oh, oh okay, that's—yeah. That's fine." She turned back to her own sandwich.

"Do you have straws?"

"Uh—yeah, the cabinet over the sink." With a jolt, Tonya realized, "Sorry, I didn't get you a drink, did I?" She turned toward the kitchen, as if she could see through the fridge door to see what was available besides water. Had she even refilled the ice tray lately? "Do you want me to get you something to—"

"No." He sat back down, with a sandwich and a straw, and stuck it into the soup.

Oh. God. He was gonna—well, of course. He'd just make a mess if he stuck a spoon under his— But, a straw— in the soup—

She looked up at the ceiling, staring at the flakes in the paint, to prevent herself from laughing at a man a foot taller than her who killed people for a living.

When she looked back down, he had his sword out, and was delicately using the tip of it to slice his sandwich into quarters. The edges he sliced sizzled as they made contact with the blade.

Tonya bit her lip.

Chicken Salad made an absurdly deep frustrated sigh, and muttered disparagingly, "Hot chicken salad."

Tonya burst out laughing.

When her fear of being stabbed in anger finally reasserted itself strongly enough to force her to restrain her hysterical laughter, he was staring at her, silently. She waited, breath held in dread, to find out how insulted he was.

All he did was say, "Heh."

They continued dinner in silence. Once Tonya caught sight of Chicken Salad drinking his soup with a straw, almost choked on her sandwich, and made him splutter into the straw and splash some soup on the table.

At the end of dinner, as they were cleaning up—he still wasn't using a wet paper towel as he cleaned the table—she asked him whether he had somewhere to stay. She certainly wasn't about to let a hitman who'd broken into her apartment stay the night; but she'd convinced herself now that he was afraid, hungry, and hunted, and she knew those feelings too well to feel comfortable turning him out without knowing he had somewhere to go.

But he said, unconcerned, "Hotel or bus stop, alley or homeless shelter; I will find a place."

"You don't have a home?" The question was only confirmation of what she'd suspected for quite a bit now. Black clothes hid old uncleaned bloodstains and frayed cuffs, but not completely.

"Don't need one," he said confidently, either like he actually believed or like he desperately wanted to.

Well, if Chicken Salad was used to making his own arrangements, Tonya didn't think it would be wise to stick her neck out any further for him. This was it, then.

He clearly had reached the same conclusion, because glanced at the door.

"Thank you," Tonya blurted out, and he paused. "I don't think I ever actually said—thank you. For... doing the job. It means more to me than I can say. It definitely means a lot more than a couple of sandwiches and some runny soup. I'm sorry that's all I had to offer." 

He stared at her while she spoke, but glanced away when she finished, with a shrug. "The job's its own reward," he said gruffly; and if he'd left it there, she could have thought he meant the emotional satisfaction of helping a poor scared girl get out from under the shadow of a monstrous ex. "Although killing him was dull, tracking you was fun."

A chill settled on her neck and shoulders like a thin dusting of snow; and Tonya had to remind herself that, while it was true that somebody who'd kill a man for a hot meal was at least an 8 out of 10 on the desperation scale, it was also true that he probably scored pretty low on things like empathy, or value for other people's lives. Even though she knew she shouldn't ask, she did: "So, is—is that why you're a hitman, then? Because it's fun for you?"

She wasn't sure she'd quite kept all her trepidation out of her voice; but if she hadn't, Chicken Salad didn't acknowledge it. "You know what they say," he said, and then paused, as if trying to work out exactly what it was they said. "If you do what you love you'll—never work a day." There was a strange hitch between his words, a pause in the sentence that didn't belong there.

And without anything else to say, he turned toward the door again. This time, she let him leave.

Tonya stepped half into the hallway behind him, and watched as he headed down the hallway. She wasn't sure why—to make sure he didn't vanish the moment he left her apartment, maybe. To make sure he was real. To make sure the job was really done and she was really free. He paused at the end of the hall, turned to look back at her a moment, then took the stairs up. She wondered what he planned to do upstairs. Maybe jump from rooftop to rooftop instead of walking around like a normal person, that'd fit his whole... vibe.

She never saw Chicken Salad again.

No matter how long she waited for the regret to kick in, she  never felt guilty for putting out a hit on her ex.

Fic also available on AO3, link in my sidebar.

[coalessscence]

✨ TAGGED BY: The Babe (tm), @patiencetaught <3 ✨ TAGGING: UHHH @heavystvff @paperrcages @psychicsass @f-ckingpassword and whoever else wants to do it ???

NAME: star NICKNAME: none??? im accepting if u have Ideas AGE: 19 FACE CLAIM: my boy brendon urie, the hero we need but do not deserve akdhfkghgjh PRONOUNS: she/they. i prefer neutral terms (like ‘person’ instead of ‘woman’, etc) otherwise. HEIGHT: 5′2. BIRTHDAY: September 29th.

AESTHETIC: pastel grunge. that’s the most accurate and universal description of it. i do have this aesthetic blog where you can see what i mean.

LAST SONG YOU LISTENED TO: tommy’s party by peach pit  from their audiotree live session is on right now.

FAVORITE MUSE ( S ) YOU’VE WRITTEN: i cant ???? choose that ??? i can say herb is probably among most iconic. tbh herb, ruby, and mira are the three that are most ‘popular’ and who most people know me for writing. but i can’t say i personally prefer one of them.

WHAT INSPIRED YOU TO TAKE ON YOUR CURRENT MUSE ( THAT YOU ARE POSTING THIS ON ):  this is a multi so idk im just gonna tell you how i am usually inspired to write a muse in general ig???? if i feel like a character connects to me, not necessarily in a “i have a lot in common” with them way but in a “i feel like i get this character” kind of way, the door’s open for me. if i don’t get a character i don’t think i could write them in rp bc that’s a lot of dedication to knowing that muse inside and out. i have a love for every muse i write as a character and i’ve spent many many hours thinking about them and planning out my headcanons from their perspective.

WHAT ARE YOUR FAVORITE ASPECTS OF YOUR CURRENT MUSE: i think i did this once before and listed something for every single muse but i have like 20 now and i don’t know if it’s gonna be worth it, but i’ll try to make it short because idk how else to answer this. i love lorraine’s boldness, i love andy’s drive to succeed, i love that even though he’s an asshole herb has that inner morality he can’t shake even if he claims to, i love mira’s intelligence, i love jennifer’s self-confidence, i love ezra’s Secret Moral Goodness (tm) that he doesn’t want you to find out about, i love remembrance’s grit and easy determination, i love linda’s unapologetic attitude, i love jacob’s patience and kindness, i love lisbon’s strength and caring,  i love maude’s independence, i love ruby’s ability to keep living even in pain, i love johnny’s bounce-back nature, i love seaborne’s dedication to his work and passion, i love roach’s ability to just always have a good time, i love tommy’s dedication to making the world a better place, i love natsuki’s inherit strength managing to stay as kind as she has considering her home life, i love lucille’s unapologetic nature, and i love bunny’s innate cheer.

WHAT’S YOUR BIGGEST INSPIRATION WHEN IT COMES TO WRITING: real talk my writing was very much developed from adoring the work of my babe @cemonstre / @colorintrusion, all the way back in the day on her tiff tannen blog, i always felt her writing was so above me and the aesthetic was so beautiful and the phrasing was so perfect and i just wished i was even a fraction that good. i would never have worked so hard for the aesthetic my writing has, that i continue to strive for, without her, so i thank her v much for that !!! i would say my writing is defined by a present tense, by focusing on settings and scenes and physical descriptions- not enough to leave you reading paragraphs of description, just mentioning aspects of a scene that are enough to tell you the aesthetic of it without making you read about EVERYTHING. i love to use very conversational and straightforward terms and phrasing to describe how characters are thinking and feeling and juxtaposing it to very flowery scene and setting aesthetic descriptions. i also consider very IC dialogue to be a strong suit of mine most of the time. as far as actual inspiration goes, if i’m having trouble finding it for a muse i’ll watch some of their canon scenes, if applicable, or i’ll listen to their playlists, read past threads ive written w them that i loved, go thru their aesthetic tag, etc.

FAVORITE TYPES OF THREADS: i love me some angst and i also love me some storytelling ??? but everything doesn’t have to be plotted. i love my muses building relationships with other ppl’s, whatever sort those may be. ofc, fluff and unplotted, see-where-it-goes stuff is rad too. i just want to have fun.

BIGGEST STRUGGLE IN REGARDS TO YOUR CURRENT MUSE: i’ll tell you which muses of mine are hardest to write and why bc idk how else to respond to this in my situation: maude standish is pretty tough because she’s probably the only muse of mine who falls on the “evil” side of the character alignment. she’s not a good person and it’s tough to balance things she’s done that WERE good with that? and tough to keep up with her motivations and desires as a result because i relate to her the very least.  lisbon can be hard to write well because i feel like there;s stuff i don’t know about her, i need to do a mentalist rewatch but i haven’t had the time lol. but anyways, she’s often saying the opposite of the truth about herself bc she either doesn’t always know herself as well as she likes to imagine or she doesn’t want you to know her too well. and that can make it tough for me to feel as though i know if it’s accurate or not. remembrance is tough for the same reason- i love her but she tells me nothing. i feel like i know nothing about her and shes my hecking oc adhfkfhg jacob is also tough because he has a very specific dialogue style and i’d say  have the most trouble of all my muses, when it comes to dialogue, with his. it’s a fine line to walk his vocabulary and his old-english phrasing and also the very commonality and down to earth way of connecting he has. frankly, it’s often sort of beyond me. finally, mira can be tough to write because she’s Very Very Smart and im not so i feel like making her the way i did, i frankly i just played myself aldhfkfhg