#my story is a bit all over the place because its an au meant to roleplay with but im developing a main plot for fun

[minnieeeworld]

more sketches of my vampire au! this time with a kaito i've been developing, he is a vampire hunter lol. making this dynamic is everything to me because this au basically exists because i watched first kill last year. this is dedicated to u bbygirl

[kandlewick]

since its taking so long, im gonna drop a preview of my leona's ''i'll dry the villain's tears'....... this one is special because i unfortunately decided mid writing that i wanted it to be romantic but alas that means i had to scrap a lot of twst lore to fit my narrative hghfg so think of this one as an au to my usual entries. an interest check. these entries were MEANT to be strictly platonic but a few of them (leona, MAYBE azul and malleus (between lilia and the reader)), just gave me so many ideas.

SO IT IS UNFINISHED! its 4k words but still unresolved unless people like, want me to scrap twst lore as heavily as i did in this lmao

i'll dry the villain's tears pt. 3.1415926535897

you get reincarnated into a role that became the breaking point of the villain's story and you, be it an unwillingness to cause them harm or a desire to survive, must work hard to make sure they grow into a better (or at least safer) person.

all entries are USUALLY to be read as platonic however this one wouldn't go away. All are USUALLY meant to be taken place in the TWST universe accurate to the game but this one is special because I love leona and he'd be so cool as a manwha love interest.

You awaken one day with perhaps the largest bump you've ever seen placed nearly perfectly center on your forehead. You don't remember how you got it exactly but the two princes never left your side (Falena would not stop crying and despite his claims of laughter at your expense, you can tell his brother was equally worried), only being dragged away by their tutor as soon as they let their guard down.

You looked down at the hands on your lap and clutched your fists open and closed over and over again. Gone were your long fingers and wide palms, instead you looked down at the chubby hands of a child no more than six.

From what your handmaiden had told you, the three of you had been playing spelldrive together and Leona, in his eagerness to best his brother, had shot the disk perhaps a bit too strong and instead of flying in to the goal, it had changed course and struck you hard enough to knock you unconscious for the rest of the early hours of the morning.

You remembered this event. It's what led to Falena's betrothed sticking closer to him and farther from Leona. What once was a well balanced trio had become a teeter totter with Falena and her on one side and Leona alone, unable to change anything with what little weight he had to offer.

Falena's betrothed; that was you. From the story you had read, the two were deeply in love and ruled the kingdom hand in hand towards a brighter future... all while unknowingly leaving the youngest brother in the shadows, forgotten and alone and desperate. You couldn't afford for that to happen.

You don't see the two of them until late that evening. Falena looked exhausted, like the tutoring had beaten any last bit of energy he could spare and with a loud yawn, had eagerly hopped into the cot next to you on your right. Leona was slow to join the two of you but settled himself to your left, his shoulder bumping yours as you turned to give him your attention, curiously returning the gesture. Leona matched your gaze, looking you over for any signs of pain before he opened his mouth.

"You look ridiculous," he spoke aloud, glancing at your bruised forehead. Subconsciously, you reached up and checked the tender spot and gave him an unimpressed look.

“I only look like this because you can’t shoot a disk right.” You huffed, choosing to ignore his presence, instead cuddling up to Falena who was more than eager to reciprocate, easily wrapping a comforting arm around your shoulder and nudging your chin in a friendly hug. “At least your brother is being nice to me.”

However, despite your teasing voice, Falena was quick to come to his defense, “Leona’s just not good at showing he was worried about you. You should’ve seen his face when he saw you fall over, I’ve never seen him run that fast in his life.” Leona rolled his eyes but made no response as his brother laughed, choosing to settle himself in your cot while closing his eyes, his tail lazily curling up behind you. Your beastman tail - you don’t know when you would ever get used to that - sat itself besides his, curling the two into a gentle hold. Leona glanced over at you from the corner of his one opened eye but chose not to comment about it.

Even at your young age, you could tell that Leona communicated in a particular way. His words may be harsh, but his actions were tender.

“Mmm, someone had to.” Leona muttered, nuzzling himself deeper into the pillows, “Falena was too busy crying about you to be of any help.”

Falena made no effort to deny the claims and sheepishly smiled at you, “He is not wrong, haha. I was very worried for you! You should’ve seen the maid’s face when they saw you passed out in the field!” He reached out and plucked your hand into his. When you looked at him, you could still see the red dotting his eyes from how hard he had cried. It was no wonder your body’s original owner had fallen so head over heels for this boy. While he and Leona were brothers, they couldn’t have been more night and day. 

“You shouldn’t have worried too much, Falena! I’m fine, really. Kifaji said that I should be fine in a few days.” You waved his worry off with your hand, gingerly pressing the tips of your fingers against the small lump, “There wasn’t a concussion or anything but he wanted to make s- Hm?”

Falena and Leona both looked up at you with wide eyes, both of their gazes making you feel small. You slumped in your seat and blinked at the both of them, silently feeling sheepish all of a sudden, “Is something wrong?”

“Why are you calling me by my name!” Falena looked almost scandalized as he let go of you, his hands floating at your sides like he was too scared to touch you, “Are you mad at me? Did I do something wrong?”

“Eh? Eh?”

“Looks like I hit her a little too hard.” Leona chuckled, watching in barely contained amusement as his brother’s soul practically floated out of his chest, “What happened to calling him, ‘husband’?”

This body’s former owner was a precocious little child, wasn’t she!!! You couldn’t believe the audacity, calling your ten year old fiance ‘husband’!

As required of any royal belonging to the Sunset Savannah, you were expected to build lasting relations with other tribes and honorable guests much like any other adult and as such, other than the two royal siblings, you were given many playmates. Some were older than you and some were younger, but they were many and varied and always tried to stay on your good side. And as such, they were exceedingly worried about you when you arrived late to your most recent playdate with a freshly bandaged head.

“My liege, what happened!” the youngest cried, quickly latching on to your arm, tears welling up in his shiny eyes, “Are you alright? Does it hurt?” 

You waved them off with your hand, a soft but embarrassed smile on your face. Their eyes watered, their large elephant beastman ears flopping up and down wildly as they looked you over head to toe for any sign of injury. You could hear them loudly sniffling as they bit back tears. They’ve always been a bit of a crybaby from what your memories could tell you. A shy, but friendly young boy… if a little bit of a hypochondriac. One of your older playmates rolled her eyes but you could tell she was worried by the subtle way she refused to leave your side, glancing over at you from the corner of her eye.

“I can’t believe Prince Leona would do something as clumsy as hurting his brother’s fiance!” One of your newer playmates huffed loudly, her eyes narrowed in annoyance, “Really, he’s lucky his brother forgave him so fast - ah! You as well, it’s good you forgave him too!! He doesn’t deserve it if you asked me!” She huffed loudly as she played with your toys, her jaguar tail batting the floor loudly. She paid no mind to your two companions sounds of offense, instead choosing to meet your gaze from over her shoulder.

You blinked at her, your eyes wide in confusion. Your two other companions matched your expression, the two of them surprised she would dare to say anything like that outloud. Leona hadn’t meant to hit you after all! You were playing…

Your newest playmate, so new you could hardly remember her name scoffed at the three of you, obviously annoyed you didn’t join her in her thoughts. “For real, who does he think he is? He’s the second son, he should be bowing on his hands and knees at your feet! You’re the future king’s fiance, he should be grateful he’s even allowed to play with you two! W-”

You don’t know what came over you and why you did it, but you felt your body react to her words, and somehow, your fist made contact with her cheek sending her sprawling on the floor. The sound of her collapsing was loud enough to shock you out of your stupor, a dull ache throbbing around your knuckles. She looked up at you with wide eyes as she cradled her cheek, you staring down at her with equally large doe shaped eyes. You couldn’t believe you had just done that!

“Leona is my friend.” Your lips began moving before you could even think. You were firm on this even as tears began welling up in your eyes. Ah, you sighed. Even if your mind isn’t young, your body still is shaking like a leaf. The hand you had punched the child with quivered from nerves. “Dont - don’t speak that way about him!” Your voice raised in pitch, “His brother and I love him very much!”

The little girl bared her teeth at you, unwilling to take your actions lying down, “How can you say these things? He hurt you!” She hissed.

“It was an accident!” You matched her tone, the sadness quickly evaporating into anger, “Sometimes accidents happen when you’re playing! He’s good and kind and would never, ever hurt me! Ever!”

Your shouting was quick to alarm the servants stationed outside your playroom’s walls. Kifaji was the first one in, eyes sharp as he immediately separated you from the other children, stepping in the way with his back to you. “What is going on here?” He questioned. There was no room for nonsense in his expression and his words matched that as he gazed around the play area. The girl cradled her cheek as she glared at you, unwilling to speak up. She may have made the mistake of bad mouthing the second prince in the presence of other children, but she knew better than to say those words around another adult that wasn’t her own parent. Kifaji raised his brow at her silence before turning to your gorilla and elephant companions, silently questioning the two. They shrunk under his glare and made no move to open their mouths instead choosing to nervously shuffle closer to you. 

You tugged on Kifaji’s robes, the fabric soft between your trembling fingers. Glancing over at you, he leaned down and crouched to match your gaze. While his eyes were hard and strict, you could tell that he cared about you and the princes. He would listen to you. You could trust him.

“She was talking badly about Prince Leona…” You whispered to him, “so I punched her.”

Kifaji made a face, but nodded his head slowly. You hoped he understood. With a heavy sigh, he gathered up his robes and picked himself up.

“Come along,” He gestured to the girl, “Let us find your parents. I believe the playdate has come to an end.” and with a gentle hand, he helped her up as she began dabbing away at her eyes but not before shooting you a glare from over her shoulder. You stuck your tongue out at her. As soon as the adults exited the room, you quickly reached up and wiped away the tears staining your cheeks before returning to your friends, the mood sufficiently ruined for the rest of the play date.

It wasn’t until later that evening that Kifaji returned, a cross expression on his face. The guards at his sides were quick to disperse as he approached you, his robes billowing out behind him like colorful plumage. With practiced precision, he kneeled down to your eye level and reached out, bringing your small hands into his. His rough hands itched against your soft ones.

“What you did today could have ended very poorly, my liege.” He spoke softly, but his tone was firm, “You must remember, your position here in the palace is not final. If you cause too much of a ruckus…”

Was the king’s advisor really telling you to ignore this? That you should let Leona be bad mouthed by those in power? You were quick to glare at the older man, ripping your hands away from him and taking a few steps back, eager to separate the two of you.

“I’m not going to let people say whatever they want about Leona.”

Kifaji, shocked, stared for a moment before narrowing his eyes, “This is what I’m talking about, my liege. You are too quick to anger. You must calm yourself. I am not saying you must ignore the problem, but what I am trying to say is, your position in the palace as Falena’s future spouse, is not permanent.”

You hated to admit it but he had a point. You bit your lip but said nothing, cowed under his words. It was the truth. If you wanted to protect Leona, despite having the best intentions, you couldn’t exactly expect to have the sway as an adult. You were a child and easily replaceable. A glorified playmate.

“That is why, my liege,” Kifaji brought himself to his feet, dusting off his robe with a flick of a wrist, “you come to me.”

You turned and looked at him, not expecting the protective glint to his eye. He nodded his head before continuing.

“I will make sure that these things are handled correctly without repercussions. As the king’s advisor, I am not so easily replaceable.” He chuckled, fixing his glasses with a precise motion, “I will admit I am not as… in touch with the other servants in the palace and diplomats are always so careful with their words around me, it’s difficult to gauge their true intentions but with you, they will surely slip up and speak more plainly then perhaps they should.”

You stared up at the man in awe. You couldn’t believe your luck! Kifaji was taking your side and was going to actively help you in your quest to project Leona. Maybe before he was never given the opportunity, never had the time to set aside to investigate. Maybe he never knew. Now, however, he was given the chance with you to defend the prince. You very nearly teared up but were quick to wipe them away as Kifaji laughed, his hand reaching down to ruffle your hair affectionately. 

And so the two of you were quick to act, swiftly cutting contact with merchants and dignitaries that shared less than favorable feelings for the second prince. You and Kifaji would have monthly meetings together with snacks courtesy of the king and his wife as you spoke of matters in the palace. You had a special role, scouting out and spying on maids and soldiers that gossiped in the servant’s quarters. Nobody expected anything when you even brought in your two playmates, Magani and Akut (the gorilla and elephant beastmen respectively) to join in on the spying. This carried on for several years as you heavily vetted all coming through the palace all without letting Leona see the work you pulled behind the curtains. All the strings and wires were yours to control and you were going to make good use of the opportunities you were given. 

But, for some reason, Leona never seemed to want to leave your side. While you worked on your schooling, he would sit and while away the hours under the light of the sun from his favorite perch right beside your desk. Even in this life he was a lazy lion, preferring the quiet you brought then the loud personality of his elder brother. Sometimes you would join him on his naps, your tails quietly intertwining in a silent embrace. It was a comforting feeling. Moments like this were always a relief after the hours you and Falena had to spend together in your diplomacy lessons. A lot was expected of you as the future queen of Sunset Savanna. There were many late nights where you both stayed up till the crack of dawn together, stubbornly unwilling to give up with tears in your eyes as you studied until your vision blurred. It wasn't an uncommon sight for Kifaji to find the two of you bundled up together with books piled at your feet in the early hours of the morning.

Afternoon lunch dates with Falena and Leona were also rowdy and fun. While Falena was always quick to stay by your side and fight for your attention, Leona was seemingly content with letting your future husband monopolize your time. It wouldn’t be uncommon for Leona to doze off while Falena tried to do ‘couple-y’ things with you

It was all perfect.

Until Falena was accepted into the Royal Sword Academy. 

“You’re… breaking our engagement?” 

[baronessvonglitter]

Cherry, Cherry 🍒 Chapter 1 🍒 “Austin"

pre-outbreak! AU!Joel Miller x f!Reader

It's the summer before college and you're sure you have your life figured out.. then you meet your new neighbor, single (hunky) dad Joel Miller...

Word count: 2K

Summary: new to the city, you befriend Sarah, and in a time of need you befriend her dad Joel

WARNINGS: this particular chapter is safe for everyone to read, but future chapters will contain smut; mild cursing, little bit of flirting; age gap (reader is 18, Joel is 35); reader is tomboyish but otherwise no race specified and will not be throughout the series; until otherwise specified, this story takes place in the summer of 2003 and is AU with no outbreak, no use of y/n.

Author's Note: this was the first fic I ever wrote, after months of lurking on AO3. It's one of my favorites to write and probably my most popular on AO3, so I'm bringing her to the party. In this particular chapter Joel fixes a sink, and I did minimal investigating into the world of plumbing, so obviously any mistakes are just gonna be there.

🍒🍒🍒🍒🍒🍒🍒🍒🍒🍒🍒🍒🍒🍒🍒🍒🍒🍒

Austin is quiet. So much quieter than where you came from: Houston, the city on the bayou, where there's always something fun to do. Not that Austin is without its charm, it just kind of feels like living on the moon after the hustle and bustle of your hometown, the fourth largest city in the US. But the people are friendly, the vibes are mellow, and you soon begin to feel at home.

Soon you'll be starting college at the University of Texas, a school you've had your eye on since fifth grade. Your mom, overprotective but meaning well, allowed you to stay with your older cousin Sofia rather than living on campus. And you're excited about it because even with a roommate, this is your first time on your own, away from home, about to really live your life.

School starts in a couple months, so in the meantime you get a job at a new Starbucks in town, providing you with a little spending money. The first few days are a blur, making drinks, learning the register. But it keeps you busy, A few times a week a younger group of kids come in, ordering the cheapest things on the menu. One of them, a girl 13 or 14 years old, approaches the counter. She studies the overhead menu with an air of seriousness. "What's in a frappuccino?" she asks.

"Um, coffee, espresso, milk, ice, and syrup blended together, basically. Comes with whipped cream on top. I could give you one to try," you offer, as your manager is out that day.

"Sure," the girl answers eagerly.

You make the cold, frothy drink and hand it to her. "I'm still pretty new at this, so if you hate it, I'm sorry," you joke.

She smiles and walks back to her friends, sipping the frapp.

You work until evening and pick up some fast food on the way home, Getting out of the car with your food you lean back against the vehicle, stretching a little, trying to wake yourself up a bit. Then you hear the sound of a truck coming up the driveway next door and the engine shutting off. There are a couple of voices you hear as the people begin to exit the truck.

"Hey, she's the one who gave me the free coffee today," you hear, and though it likely isn't meant for you to hear, you glance over and see the young girl from earlier today, climbing out of the truck. From around the driver's side you see a man, mid-thirties, tall, well-built, a black t-shirt clinging to his torso. Dirtied jeans and work boots complete his attire. It takes a moment before you realize he's looking at you.

Immediately you glance back at the girl, obviously his daughter. "Hey," you smile and give a quick, awkward wave. She waves back politely and he gives a curt nod and quick wave. They make their way up the front porch and you hear his gruff voice: "You had coffee? Great, now you'll be bouncin' off the walls all evenin'," before the door closes behind them.

"Guess I met my neighbors," you mutter, making your way inside as well.

Over the next few days the girl, who you now know as Sarah Miller, comes to Starbucks, ordering the same frapp every time. "Don't tell your dad I'm giving you all this caffeine," you tell her, hiding a smirk.

Sometimes you give her a ride home from the cafe, though she claims to use the bus now and then. You come to see that Sarah is a lot more mature than you were at her age. You hang out from time to time, swim in your backyard pool, go to the mall, and every time you drop her off you catch a glimpse of her dad, always a figure in the background. You exchange a wave or polite smile and move on.

It's your day off, a Sunday. You intend to spend the day lounging, watching TV. Maybe Sarah will stop by. After making a quick breakfast for yourself you do the dishes. When you're finished, you realize the class ring you'd set on the counter is gone, likely washed down the sink. "Damn!" you exclaim, and text Sofia, who has just left for work.

Go next door and ask Mr. Miller if he can take a look and get it out. He's helped around the house before your cousin replies.

You sigh and put the phone down.

You're a little hesitant going to speak to him. His truck is in the driveway so you know he's home. You knock on the door, feeling self-conscious about your first interaction with him, and Mr. Miller opens the door.

"Good morning," you introduce yourself. "I'm Sarah's friend.. from next door."

"Nice to meet ya, I'm Joel Miller." He extends a calloused hand and you shake it. You've always assumed him to be a man who does hard work for a living, but in your first time seeing him up close you admire his tousled, dark brown hair, his deep brown eyes that seem serious. "What can I do for ya?" he asks in his gentle Texan drawl.

You smile. "Well, I was told you're pretty handy around the house, and I lost my ring in the sink just now." You chuckle at your mistake. "Would it be possible for you to come over and take a look?" You feel really shy about asking this of a man you barely know.

He takes a moment to think, clears his throat, raises his brow. "I suppose I could stop by." His tone is gruff but his manner seems warm enough. "I'll give it a shot. I'm no plumber, but I'll see what I can do." He shrugs.

You smile and sigh with relief. "Of course. I mean, even you just checking it out would be a big help.. whenever you can stop by I'll be here." You don't want to make demands on his time.

"All right.. I'm not doin' much right now, so I could swing 'round if you like. Just let me grab my toolbox."

Once inside, with minimal conversation Joel gets on the floor, under the sink, and gets to work. You wait nearby, trying not to hover, but also wanting to be available in case he needs anything. Plus he's good looking. You watch as he works. His shirt rides up, revealing his torso, and a hint of the waistband of his underwear. Your eyes wander lower until you force them away. To distract yourself you start putting things away in the cupboard.

"Sarah tells me you're new to Austin," he says as he works.

"Yeah, I'm actually from Houston. I'm starting UT in the fall, and staying with my cousin in the meantime. I take it you know Sofia?"

"I do. She's nice. I keep an eye on her place when she's away. Even when you're there."

You mean to say something in reply, maybe 'thank you' but you're thinking about him keeping a protective watch over your home while you're inside, unaware.

"So you're starting university? How old are ya?" he asks.

Something about his question makes you feel like a deer in headlights. "I'll be nineteen in September. On the twenty-sixth."

You can almost hear the smile in his voice. "No shit? That's my birthday. Except I'm far from nineteen. Small world, ain't it?"

"Yeah," you say, sneaking another glance at his torso.

"What're you studyin'?"

"English," you answer, excited to talk about it. "More specifically Literature. I want to write, and maybe one day work at a huge publishing house."

You hear Joel give a grunt. "What do you write?"

"Poetry sometimes, short stories, I have a few ideas for novels."

Another grunt. "You don't look like the type.. the writer type.. no offense."

"What type do I look like?" Your heart races as you realize he's categorized you already.

He peeks out from under the sink and his eyes fix on you in a way that makes you shiver. "I don't know yet. But you're young. Maybe you're the rebellious type." He goes back to work.

You sit on the floor, your back against the fridge opposite him. "How am I the rebellious type to you?"

He's quiet, and you see the gleam of his eyes from where he's under the sink. "Haven't quite figured it out yet.."

You can tell he's having fun with this, and there's a vibration in the air, a palpable chord struck, and you wonder if he feels it too.

"Anything I can do? Feeling kinda helpless over here," you chuckle.

"Just stay out of the way," his voice is more gruff than maybe he intends. Frowning, his eyes focus on an item lodged in the P-trap. He reaches in and pulls out your ring. It's covered in gunk and grime but you recognize it immediately.

"Oh shit! Thank you..." It's your class ring. 'Class of 2003' is engraved on the side, with a princess cut sapphire on top. You put it aside to clean it later.

Joel smirks. "No problem."

"I really owe you one."

"I dunno about that. Just don't go throwin' away your valuable stuff next time, okay?" He's teasing, almost playful.

You laugh "Okay.. hey I'm working at the cafe tomorrow. If you come by I could get you a free coffee." You put the offer out there, testing the waters though you aren't sure why.

"Free coffee? Careful, girl, between giving away free stuff to me and Sarah, you're gonna run Starbucks out of business," he grins. "But yeah, I might have to stop by."

You walk him out, even though Joel says it's not necessary, but you can tell he enjoys your company. "I guess I'll be seeing you around Joel.. Mr. Miller."

He stifles a chuckle. There's a touch of amusement in the way he speaks to you, but he hides it behind a warm, open expression. "Call me Joel. No need to be so formal around me."

"If my mom was here she'd say I was being disrespectful, calling you by your first name." You can't help a little blush.

"I won't complain about respect," he smiles again.

"She's pretty protective of me," you describe your living situation, your freedom that is being given in increments.

"Well your mom might've done you a favor there." Joel looks out past your front porch. "That's probably a wise decision, ya know? What about your dad? He ok with you living far from home?"

You shake your head. "He's not.. really in the picture. My parents divorced about five years ago. My dad went up north, Minnesota I think, and I haven't seen him since.." You feel a little vulnerable revealing this.

Joel's brow furrows and his expression darkens. You wonder if he's thinking about Sarah. You don't know much about her mother and haven't felt okay to ask. "I'm sorry to hear that. Are you all right?"

You shrug. "I guess so. I've managed this long without him.." You give a smile that doesn't reach your eyes. "I shouldn't be bothering you with all this.."

"No problem, I don't mind listenin'. Do me a favor," he says suddenly. "Be careful out there, okay?"

Something about this catches you off guard. "Of course I will."

He smiles. "Good. I'll see you at the cafe tomorrow," he phrases it like a hopeful question.

"Bright and early," you say, feeling a few butterflies in your stomach.

He laughs and nods. "Til then."

You watch him leave and though you cringe at how young, foolish, childish you must appear to him, you can't deny that you feel something, even for a brief moment. Maybe it's nothing. But something about him sticks with you, an odd feeling in your chest. But it's just a dumb, knee-jerk reaction. He has a family, he's twice your age. You're focused on school and your future. Joel Miller is the last person you should be thinking about...

...right?

[infini-tree]

episodic - part 3

< back | next >

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Summary: It's business as usual. At least it looks like it, and that has to count for something. The boys do a bit of arts and crafts. Krupp takes a step back.

A/N: literally the worst part of writing fic for CU is trying to think of pranks. they’re up there with choreographing fight scenes. also these next chapters were brought to you by: me referencing the movie’s art book i got as a gift. Locations And Fascinating Objects section my beloved…

this chapter's scene went through a lot of shuffling-- melvin was supposed to be in this one. but alas, once this was finalized he was pushed back into the next chapter. ideally. at the earliest. its been almost 4 years, i swear he actually has a part to play in this AU, he's technically part of the core secondary cast--

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Back in the present day, the boys snuck into the art room. Even now, there wasn’t a proper class for it in Jerome Horwitz, despite The Prank For Good. But because of it, Krupp never had the thought to put it under lock and key again. The doors still remained unlocked for any kid that needed it. And George and Harold had a big need. In fact, they had been caching away supplies when no one was looking.

Captain Underpants trailed behind them; he looked at the room and gave a small nod, murmuring something about being “back at the start”.

“What will we be doing this time, sidekicks?” He clapped his hands together. “Oh! I could try and ask for a carnival again–”

“NO!” both of them shouted. The hero jumped up in surprise and stayed in a low hover.

George was the quicker of the two to regain composure. “No, no– we’re doing something different.”

“Oh.”

Harold unpacked the contents of his bag. There was a ridiculous amount of flour and bottles around them, along with other plastic pails and shovels.

“Ooh, are we making a cake? Can I decorate it?” Captain asked.

George sighed. “It’s not for a cake.”

“Well, what is it for?” 

Harold dumped a bunch of flour and oil into the largest bucket with the glee reserved for children about to make a huge mixture of stuff. “Sand!”

When the hero continued to look baffled, George cut in. “With Krupp instating the grade-wide assignment gauntlet, we have to retaliate with the exact opposite of that.”

“…Recess?”

“Close!” Harold began to mix the concoction with a plastic shovel. “Summer vacation!”

“And we need to make a lot to really sell the beach vibe.”

“Oh…” Captain nodded with the confidence of someone who had no idea what that meant. He knelt down and gave a curious sniff at the flour sand, catching the faint whiff of some sort of cooking oil.  mix his own bucket the other boy handed to him.

To make a long story short, they managed to create enough of it to create a sizable layer in at least two classrooms. They hauled the first half of it to Guided’s classroom–or rather, Captain flew it over in record time. He began to push all the desks back and started to stack them high up against the edges of the wall. It reminded Harold of that one time he showed George a boardwalk on a faded postcard, tall buildings looming over sandy beaches.

“Why only two?” Captain asked as he stacked some of the desks on the teacher’s desk. “Why not make the whole school a beach?”

The boys perked up from their efforts to place the sand evenly across the classroom floor.

“‘Cause the first big tests are in Ms. Guided and Ribble’s classrooms,” Harold said.

“We’d have loved to do something big," George explained as he scattered the beach toys. "Really put the last big prank that happened here to shame–”

“But we had to improvise. Go for lots of smaller ones for the first part of this plan, you know?”

“First part?” Captain echoed. 

“Yeah!” Harold continued, ushering them all out of the room. Captain followed in a low hover, and George swept over the remaining footprints with a hand. Looking back at their work, it looked like no one was ever in the room.

“The first bit is to wear all the teachers and Krupp down. And then–”

“Bam.” he punched into his own open palm. “That’s where you come in!”

Captain tilted his head. “I thought this was where I came in?”

“What? No– I mean, we appreciate your help, but you have a bigger part to play here.”

“I do?” he asked.

“We figured you’d want to get back at Krupp, right?” George said. 

Captain was silent, his expression dumbfounded. 

“With enough pressure, he’ll back off from you and he’ll back off with all the sudden assignments!” Harold clarified. “It’ll be great.”

“We’re not sure how long he’s planning on making everyone miserable, but we’re planning for the long game.”

That seemed to make things more murky for him but the curiosity still remained. He tilted his head with furrowed brows, as if trying to figure out the connection between the two facts. “…How long, exactly?” 

“As long as it takes.” Harold gave him a good natured punch to the side. “Now come on, let’s get the other classroom set up.”

The boys grabbed his hands and led him back to the art room, chatting about what else they could do.

---------------------

The school didn’t know what hit them. 

Later that day, the fourth graders enjoyed the slices of beaches in the pair of classrooms. They made their sandcastles and moats as the teachers tried– and failed– to get their papers from their desks buried under their own students’ desks. 

And on the day after that, there was the petting zoo in the math classrooms on the same day a calculator-less test on long division was meant to happen. It was no tiger, but the kids enjoyed petting the sheep. For extra salt in the wound, there were numbers drawn in bright colors on their wool. 

Corralling the animals out was one thing. Finding out they were only Sheeps #1-6 and 8 was another, leaving all the teachers to scramble to find the last sheep of the set for the past few hours.

Apparently, the third time wasn’t the charm as George and Harold were called into the principal’s office. When they walked in, he had never bothered to close one of the desk drawers, clearly embroiled in whatever work principals do. Krupp was faced away from them, yelling into the phone.

“How many times do I have to explain it to you, there probably isn’t a Sheep #7– are you falling asleep counting them?” He turned to face them and grimaced. “I’ll get back to you.” 

He hung up the phone, glaring at them as they took their respective seats. 

“Care to explain the last few days?”

Harold shifted in his seat as he gave a glance to the other boy. “We have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“We were a bit too busy dealing with the sudden wave of assignments and tests to try anything,” George added with a shrug.

“Don’t play innocent with me. The gaps in my memory are extremely obvious.” He waggled an accusatory finger at them.

“Like we said, we were busy–”

“What– watching him get bit by sheep yesterday?!” He held up his other arm filled with band aids of various sizes.

George leaned over to the other boy and whispered, “Man, they can be really vicious, huh?” 

Krupp slammed his fists onto his desk. He opened his hands. Closed them. Before pushing himself off his seat to look down at them. “Whether you’ll actually admit it, I’ll cut to the chase. Stop whatever you’re trying to do.”

“If it was us, why would we? You started it.”

“Oh, hah–” He let out an incredulous, breathless laugh at that. “I started it? You’re one to talk after all you’ve done to me. You should be grateful I don’t just hold you back right now for that comment!”

Harold was unmoved. “Man, you got so much worse– I didn’t think that was possible.”

“Oh, I can do so much worse after your little breaking and entering stunt,” he shot back. “Invading my privacy, looking into things you shouldn’t–”

“So you admit you were talking to him.”

“Now I never said anything about talking, have I?”

George and Harold leveled a glare at him, refusing to give him any confirmation or satisfaction that he was right. “So that is why you cracked down on the entire fourth grade, huh?”

“Or maybe it has to do with the fact that I’m losing sleep over mysterious injuries!” The boys wanted to speak up, but he refused to give them that. “And– and, seeing the school be nearly destroyed multiple times a week.”

“Not like you really cared about the school before,” George grumbled.

Krupp spluttered furiously, turning a new shade of red in the process. “Says the children who keep on endangering it and wasting its resources!"

“We’re saving the school!”

“From problems you made up.” He slowly made his way around his desk to them. “Is that why you made me your little stooge? Were you just tired and wanted to feel important in your little superhero fantasy? Or was getting rid of me the main motivation here?”

George stood up from his chair. “Oh, if we could have, we would have!”

As soon as the words left his mouth, it suddenly felt like the office had turned somewhat askew. Gone was the red in Krupp’s face and gone was the anger– if anything, he looked like he had been slapped in the face. His mouth opened. Closed. Nothing.

The boys were suddenly aware of the clock ticking, now that it was completely silent. George couldn’t help but be reminded of the time he said something that crossed some unseen line with his mom.

And just as quickly as the conversation was fishtailing out of what any of them were used to, the principal clambered for any sense of control.

“I’ll deal with the both of you later.” He put up a hand to rub his temples– and conveniently hid his eyes. “Get out.”

Harold blinked. “What–”

“NOW!” He whipped his arm to point at the door.

They stumbled out of their seats and ran without a second thought.

---------------------

For the rest of the last class of the school day, Harold was sitting on pins and needles as he looked at the clock. While most kids looked at it expectantly for the final bell to ring, right now he was dreading it.  He figured George was doing the same.

Krupp getting the jump on them was a matter of when today , not if, especially when he was as mad as he was earlier.

Five minutes. He glanced to the front of the class. Even Rected was struggling with the new mandate to increase kids’ work. Which, he guessed, made sense– more work for them meant more stuff the teachers had to look at.

Two minutes.

Speaking of work, he was quickly scribbling out some ideas for the next issues. Though he couldn’t help but let his mind wander off to the other prank plans they had– he figured by the way Rected was pulling at his hair, they can bring Captain in for the cherry on top by the end of next week–

The speakers screeched to life. There was a beat of silence long enough for someone to ask if Krupp called an announcement on accident, until–

“Pop science fair, end of this week,” he said tersely. “Hope you can wow the teachers, since this is now a good chunk of your mark. How much? That’s the ‘pop’ part of that.”

The kids began to groan and slam their heads on their desks. Even more heads fell on their desks as another screech echoed through the school.

“You have George Beard and Harold Hutchins to thank for that. That will be all.”

The bell rang. One by one, everyone turned his direction, some shocked, others confused, many furious. Even Mr. Rected gave a baffled look.

After dodging the onslaught of kids ready to hound him or worse due to the announcement, he found George running down the hallway for similar reasons. At some point along the way, the other boy got their skateboards and helmets. With a frantic throw, they skateboarded out of the front yard and down the quickest route to their house.

“George?” Harold said, once they turned to their street. He had been eerily silent the whole time.

The other boy jumped off his own board and pulled his helmet off. He could see how much sweat was on his forehead now.

“Change of plans–” He stomped the end of the skateboard to make it stand before quickly grabbing it. “We’re taking stock of everything tonight.”

Harold stared at him. He knew why– he could still feel a flare of indignation from that announcement.

It was like George read his mind. “What Krupp said– those were fighting words. We’re going to move the Captain Plan up next.”

He gave a curt nod.

[raina-at]

Mouse

In celebration of this fandom and how much fun I'm having right now, with the May prompts and the fic club, have a bonus ficlet set in my theatre universe . (Another one of my AUs ticked off the list) (short premise for those not familiar: John is a stage manager and Sherlock is an actor. Mary, Molly and Sally are all part of John's crew.)

This is especially for @totallysilvergirl and the members of the Johnlock fic club. You all know why.

Warning, mention of an accidental animal death.

Also, this is loosely based on a true story.

-------

“What on Earth are you doing?”

“Be quiet,” Molly shushes Sherlock as she drags him through the stage door into the green room area.

“Oh thank god.” John sighs in relief as he sees Sherlock enter the room. “Save me from this madness.”

“Sit back down, Watson, this is all your fault after all!” Mary snaps. She’s pregnant again and the glare she gives him is filled with the homicidal rage of the permanently uncomfortable.

John sits back down and sighs. “Okay, fine. Let’s get this over with.”

Molly pushes Sherlock into a chair. “You be quiet now, we’ll be done in five minutes.”

Molly sits on Mary’s other side on the floor and takes Sally’s hand, completing the circle.

Mary gestures to Molly. “Do you have the object?”

Molly produces the live mousetrap and puts it in the middle of the pentagram Mary has drawn on the floor. 

“I hate to repeat myself, but what the actual fuck are you doing?” Sherlock asks, watching them with a mixture of curiosity and disgust. 

They all turn their heads in surprise, because they all know how rarely Sherlock swears. 

“We’re doing an exorcism,” Molly explains. “John killed a mouse and now we’re haunted.”

“I didn’t, I repeat, DID NOT kill a mouse!” John very nearly yells, sick and tired of this argument. 

“You left the live trap open over a bank holiday weekend,” Mary growls. “The bloody mouse sprung it, died of thirst in it, and ever since we’ve had one accident after another. First my fucking brand new moving head blew on its second night, then Molly twisted her ankle, and yesterday you were nearly hit by a stage wall.”

“So did I understand this correctly? You, rational, adult, competent professionals, had a few easily explained accidents and then came to the inevitable conclusion that you’re being haunted by the angry spirit of a common house mouse?” Sherlock asks, steepling his hands under his chin. 

“Duh,” Molly mutters, rolling her eyes. 

“Anything to say, genius?” Mary asks, glaring at Sherlock in a way that makes John hope that Sherlock will consider the words that come out of his mouth next very, very carefully.

“You need sage,” Sherlock says after a moment of silent contemplation. “And candles.”

“You’re not fucking serious!” John stares at Sherlock as if he’s grown a second head, which would frankly have surprised John just a tiny bit more than the current development. “You’re superstitious? Since when?”

“All actors are superstitious,” Sherlock says, ducking into the tiny theatre kitchen. “It’s the better safe than sorry principle.” He comes back with mixed herb salt and some tealights. “This should do nicely. Budge over.” 

He sits between Sally and Molly and takes their hands.

“This must be what going mad feels like,” John mutters, but he takes Mary’s and Sally’s hands and completes the circle.

Mary shushes him and lights the candles. Then she shakes a bit of the salt over the live trap. She turns to John and gestures to the trap. “Now apologise.”

“But I—”

“I said,” Mary says with a smile sharper than a battleax. “Apologise.”

John clears his throat. “Um.” The thing is, he is sorry. He never meant to cause an animal’s death, even indirectly. They only ever use live traps for a reason. But he feels slightly ridiculous all the same. 

He knows this is necessary, though. Theatres are places where legends and superstitions and rituals live for generations. Case in point, no theatre person in their right mind would ever refer to the Scottish play by its actual name. Case in point, you never say good luck backstage. This is no different, he knows this.

Of course the knowledge doesn’t stop him from feeling completely ridiculous as he says, “I’m sorry, mouse spirit. I didn’t mean for you to die. Please forgive us and stop haunting our theatre. We’re really sorry.”

He puts a piece of cheese into the trap, and every member of his crew follows suit. Sherlock contributes another sprinkle of the herbal salt, and then Mary, in lieu of setting the trap on fire, which would trigger the smoke alarm, bashes it in with a cricket bat. It’s horribly loud, but the trap is unusable afterwards.

“Be at peace, little mouse,” Molly whispers, and John can see the tears in her eyes.

They all share a long look over the mouse trap, and then they burst out laughing.

“You’re all insane,” Sherlock says, but he’s laughing as well, and there’s a lot of affection in his voice.

“Yup,” John answers, still giggling a bit. This is my crew, he thinks. Dangerously foul-tempered, certifiably insane, scarily silly at times. And I couldn’t love them more for it. He looks at Sherlock, who’s watching him with sparkling eyes and so much unguarded affection, and he smiles. “And you fit right in.”

----

Tags under the cut as usual.

@calaisreno @keirgreeneyes @lisbeth-kk @catlock-holmes @peanitbear @meetinginsamarra @friday411 @inevitably-johnlocked

[tumblingxelian]

Lady Glasswing & the Golden Guardian

Sooo I had some Butterfly!Marinette thoughts after writing the prologue and decided to share:

Tentative naming theme, The Golden Guardian & Lady Glasswing. IE, Chloe & her team center their IDs on acting as Guardians.

The story opens on Fu meditating to commune with the new Butterfly. He tries to be nice & diplomatic it all goes to hell when his explanations for not resurrecting people come off as "Selfish/Foolish"

But he figures they are a child without much real malice, he can handle this alone.

He cannot handle this alone.

Because Marinette is cunning & full of tricks.

More under the cut:

Its Winter, cos there's no strict reason to start this on the new school year. Both Adrien's parents are alive, so while cloistered he's not as desperate to get out. Some like Kagami may already be around.

I could also see the story being less "Episodic" and more being like, several "Specials" or movies.

IE, Glasswing's debut & Chloe's rise, the formation of the team & a betrayal, Shanghai & ID reveals, Heroes' Day, conclusion, perhaps?

The story would mostly follow Chloe & her allies, but cut back to Marinette fairly often and have some back and forths showing the steady shifts in dynamics as time passes.

As discussed Marinette's arc here is sort of study in a "Good" victim shifting into a "Bad" victim. In this case its also how the systems and cultures in place can fail both.

IE, Marinette was a good victim in response to tragedy, she didn't lash out, or make people uncomfortable. She cried as one would expect but she never made too much of a scene & she tried not to impose on others.

As a result she did not get nearly enough support & the systems meant to help her failed.

Either by simply not giving her enough time (Still expected to return to school) or through stuff like legalities & language (Her uncle & aunt can't do much) or negligence, (Her grandmother is her guardian but is not very preset because Marinette seems to be handling this well)

Add in a magic butterfly with empathy powers giving her a skewed sense of how emotions work. Leading to her alienation from the human condition & increasing desperation to undo her tragedy... Well this leads her to isolating & lashing out at others. a vicious cycle.

Ideally, I think the story would end with her being defeated but her identity covered up so she can get some fucking therapy. Possibly cos Chloe as a bad victim in her own right can kind of see a lot of herself in Marinette, like:

"If I had ended up with magical powers after one of my mothers visits, I'd have destroyed a lot of stuff too."

But unsure, the one gripe I have with this AU is how low key grim everything is while also finding that fascinating.

A lot depends on the tone really.

Because post prologue I basically envision a Mylene Akuma serving as Fu's debut & him saving Chloe, maybe an Ivan one the next day. Then Evilustrator so Marinette can cover her ID by rejecting him and being a target alongside Chloe.

Which also lets her see Fu has limited stamina.

Cue her creating several Akuma over a few days & then transforming several people; letting them run wild while keeping one on a leash (The Magician) to wear down Fu, then hit him with a surprise attack.

He manages to slip away via the Horse Miraculous with Chloe who was targeted as usual, but... Well his body basically gives out. With Chloe being defaulted to as the Box's new Guardian by proximity or Fu trying to get her to heal him.

Cue Chloe having a bit of a breakdown.

In the grim versions of the story he stays deceased, while in the lighter one's he returns via the Miracle Cure but has Guardian amnesia so he's mostly just able to offer her tea & a sympathetic ear.

Either way, this would also be where Marinette finds out Akuma cannot be wrangled as easily as she thought.

This forces a brief team up with Chloe that also lets her escape & gives motive to not pull a stunt like that again.

Meanwhile Chloe as the New Guardian realizes she is liable to be Glasswing's main suspect & living a very exposed life, does not keep the box or all the Kwami with her.

Instead, she hands them over to the few people she trusts, or that they trust. Keeping adults out of it either at the Kwami's advice & her own suspicion as taking them back would be super hard.

As a result:

Sabrina gets a couple and basically serves as Chloe's partner & or sidekick.

If she & Kagami are on decent terms or Adrien recommendation due to being tasty in a fight she gets some right away or after arrival.

The largely homebound Adrien holds the box along with Kaalki and Tikki. As Chloe captures the Akuma & brings them to him for Purification & Miracle Cures.

Chloe wants Tikki & Plagg as far away from Glasswing as possible.

Which leads to her sending the Black Cat to Zoe. They aren't close but they are family so she trusts it will work out. Plagg isn't a fan but in Chloe's words:

"No! I refuse! I refuse to let her win no matter what! Do you hear me!? Lady Glasswing might kill me, but she does not get to win!"

Plagg feigns agreeing because he respects spite, but it only takes him a few weeks to convince Zoe to become a hero and ultimately go to Paris.

Chloe: See this! This is why I have trust issues! Zoe: (Waves) Hi :) Plagg: >;3c

Zoe's also not over her "Pretending to be mean" phase, but adopts a more "Spoiled/Clingy little sister" act with Chloe; who despite herself, due to what happened with Fu is pathologically protective.

This, her time as a hero and getting emotional support from the Kwami & Fu, as well as seeing how little her parents; care all feed into her steady self improvement & bettering mental health. Plus therapy.

Chloe doesn't start out notably better than canon though just to be clear. But she does opt to not start anything with Marinette given the tragedy... But she is less patient when several members of class try & demand that of her too.

The stammering voice of Mylene hit Chloe's ears, a faint tremor touched with heat, "C- Chloe I need to, to tell you, Mari-" 'Again!?' White hot anger flashed across Chiloe's vision and before she knew it her palm had slammed against the nearest locker with a resounding bang! "I swear, if you and your rainbow dreadlocks are not fleeing my sight by the time I turn around, I won't care if I am held responsible for what I do to you!" Pivoting, Chloe was satisfied to see Mylene fleeing around the nearest corner. That was more like it, Chloe could feel the tightness in her chest fading as satisfaction replaced anger. "Chloe!" Sabrina's terrified squeak was all the warning Chloe needed to spin around to face a furious Ivan. The towering boys hands slammed either side of the lockers boxing her in. "You had no right to speak to her like that!" 'Oh, its about her,' Chloe realized, his voice ringing in her ears as a smirk forced its way onto her lips. A vicious one with teeth. "That's hilarious, given the likes of you have no right to speak to me at all." His hands balled into fists still clanking against the lockers as veins throbbed on his neck. Chloe opened her hand, long, deadly nails poised as her blood began to race. "Go ahead, see what happens when a plebian tries to strike their better." For a moment it looked like he might act before ripping his hands back with a roar. "You aren't worth it!" "Please," She muttered, turning and strutting away, "A strand of my hair is worth more than your house." Sabrina fell in at her side, gasping, "That was amazing Chloe, you really scared him off!" Preening, she waved her hand, "Some people just need to be reminded of their place, several in fact." Sabrina's brow knitted together, "So does that mean we're going after M-" "No, I already said that she's irrelevant, utterly irrelevant to me. But the rest of the class, they need a reminder of etiquette." - Within a dimly lit room, a smile spread across a masked face as she watched the pulsating cocoon finally hatch. "I knew I could count on you to hurt someone, so predictable." The violet Akuma flexing its ghostly wings before taking off into the air and towards its target. "Fly , fly my Butterfly, and bring me my prize."

Still unsure on some names, especially as Golden Guard is in use lol, plus do love Medusa for a Snake & Bee fusion.

Broadly most of them rely on swapping out between 2 or 3 Miraculous in fights or outright fusions, so the team is smaller but has more powers. Though using many in short succession or more than two at a time does have consequences.

Fei Wu joins the team as the sixth ranger around the same time or slightly after Lila is booted or leaves & hooks up with Marinette. Due to her father not being dead she's much more chill & kind of a nice jock in terms of vibes. She wants the other half of the Prodigious stolen by Lady Glasswing to be used by her & Lila back.

IE, Fei Wu has physical enhancements but Lila can spew all sorts of magma or radiation and such due to Fei fusing with the actual spirit, but Lila holding the Prodigious. To compensate, Fei also gets the Mouse.

Its funny how this was inspired by the Dad!Villain AU, but without the Wish thing, that'd change the tone again. But also probably just lead to Gabriel being murdered in his sleep XD Plus leaning away from the reality rewrite by using the Twelve Kwami lore.

[drconstellation]

A Dash of Nutmeg

I'm in the middle of preparing my next meta, and while mulling over a problem a had a wtf! moment. More like a "lead balloon" moment, really, where you realize you're looking at one of those glaring anachronisms that the Good Omens AU has plenty of but never makes a big deal of.

Nutmeg. And lemongrass. You know, they get mentioned together in this little passage in the book:

"Come off it. Your lot get ineffable mercy," said Crowley sourly. "Yes? Did you ever visit Gomorrah?" "Sure," said the demon. "There was this great little tavern where you could get these terrific fermented date-palm cocktails with nutmeg and crushed lemongrass-" "I meant afterwards." "Oh."

Nutmeg then turns up in the S2 as part of Aziraphale's magic sleight of hand performance.

The reason it jumped out to me is that nutmeg has played a significant role in the history of the world - it was the center of deal between two countries that you could say became a "sliding door" moment about 500 years ago. And because of that, I knew its origin put it at unlikely odds of being in the right place at the right time in the GO story (but when has that ever stopped anything getting in the way of the story!)

Although we don't know if Sodom and Gomorrah were actually real cities, we know they are supposed to predate the Roman Empire, and that is what matters here. And the matter I'm trying to get to is that the natural origins of nutmeg are from small cluster of islands in the Indonesian archipelago that were a closely guarded secret for centuries. The first nutmeg reached Rome in the first century AD, long after Sodom and Gomorrah would have been razed to oblivion by Sandalphon's smiting efforts. And there was never very much of it. It was always in short supply, and considered precious.

Oh, and its a well known hallucinogenic, if you consume too much of it. Even just a generous amount sprinkled on your Christmas pud can give you a lovely relaxed, floaty feeling...mmmm, or was Aunty Jill a bit heavy-handed with the brandy, I'm not sure...

Lemongrass is also of south-east Asian origin. It likes a hot, damp environment to grow well. I'm not sure that's the kind of place Sodom or Gomorrah was!

So for Crowley to describe a cocktail, of all things, with two exotic, rare ingredients from thousands of miles away in a "time" when the trade routes hadn't quite spread that far...

ugh. My head hurts just thinking about this one.

Did I mention I found a thing that many cultures believed nutmeg could protect you against evil? Right, right...whatever. Go for it, Crowley. You've obviously been into the mind-altering chemicals for millennia anyway.

[imagionationstation]

Hi! I read your TMNT 2012 separated au that you made with ellestrade and it really gave me brainworms so I wrote a small one-shot for it! The characters kinda ended up writing themselves haha.

anyways, wanted to share it with you and also make sure that you're okay with it. Not sure how you feel about other people taking inspiration from you ideas, so if you would like me to take it down, just let me know!

Thanks for sharing such fun ideas. Here's the post (I've also tagged you in it but sometimes tags are weird and don't always show. Also its on my fandom specific sideblog, but I am the same person haha)

Gotta love those brain worms! (Ironic statement from a 2012 viewpoint, actually-) HOLY CHALUPA, BRAIN WORMS IN THIS AU UNIVERSE, WAIT WAIT ACTUALLY WAIT-

*background rambles and spazzing*

Okay, I’m back.

I’m always a-okay with whatever fan things anyone wants to create with inspiration from something I made or helped make. As long as it isn’t containing some stamp that says “this I deem canon” when neither me (nor my partner) deemed it canon, no one ever has to worry with me getting upset over some story/comic/art.

I’m going to give some thoughts and I want to disclaimer.

When I discuss my thoughts on your POV of events in the AU, I will never, in any way, intend to diss or attack the story. I think the flow was excellent and Raph’s analysis of the events occurring was intriguing. I loved it! And nothing I say will be a statement otherwise.

But, since I have a distinct inability to keep my mouth shut when it comes to turtles and you asked, I have thoughts 🧐

My brain is now turning and ya’ll have to deal.

Characterization:

Donnie: Much distrust. Much sass. A strong sense of duty to defend his brethren turtles who don’t deserve it but he’s doing it anyway.

Very on point. Much approval 👌

Mikey: Could not be more perfect. I love him. Sweet soul ✨

Leo: He’s a bit less… Forceful. Cold and calculating. Than I envision.

I’d imagine that he had to learn to shut feelings down in order to survive. Fidgeting/smiling/visibly hesitating is out of the question. Staying in Shredder’s graces meant learning to play the game. His silence is what earns Raph the ability to be loud. The only times that he’s himself is when him and Raph are alone, outside of the sight of cameras, or when someone in is danger and fear/fury overwhelms all else. He seems bland to outsiders and it takes the Hamato brothers a while to see that that he’s just a scared little boi at heart that’s just trying his best in a cruel world.

He’s also set in his beliefs, so he’s going to assume that they’re being tormented mentally, if not physically. There’s no place in his mind that wonders if they were actually safer elsewhere.

I do like your POV, though. Plenty for me to play with.

Raph:

He’s ABSOLUTELY the first to question the differences between how Shredder treats them and how Splinter treats their brothers. He doesn’t jump the gun, but as devoted as he is, he’s never really liked Shredder. I love the implications that he’s been filing away concerns subconsciously and his brain keeps poking him like “HELLO?!”

He’s very deep. I can’t decide how I feel about that 🤔

Shredder would have wanted to fan that temper into something unforgiving and vile. Or course, that doesn’t mean he stops being a sensitive soul. It could… Have something to do with Shredder manipulating him into being angry when he wills it (basically all the time) and solemn and still when he doesn’t (such as during lectures, punishments, etc).

His brain registers this situation as one where he’s not meant to be loud and angry, and so he’s kinda… Shut down. Sassy, but mellow. Processing. Adapting. Letting what happens happen because he’s not meant to stop it.

It’s a reason that Leo gets so defensive when punishments come into play. It forces Raph to feel small. It make him vulnerable.

HOLY MOTHER OF MUTATIONS- I AM IN LOVE WITH THIS NEW TAKE ON THE AU @ellestrade TELL ME IF I’M ONTO SOMETHING

Anyway, commentary:

“in one of Takeō's strategy books he couldn't care less about”

It’s like Space Heroes. He claims so and YET he read, recalls, AND clearly has DEBATED the passage so I call sus vibes.

I get giddy when I think of Takeō discovering Space Heroes-

“Junkō and Kōta— or Donnie and Mikey, whatever false name they’d been given—”

My brain made connections. I don’t know if it was intended, but I always believe that they knew them by Shredder’s names through the beginning of season one, end of season one/beginning of season two they were associating them as both, and then by the time that the City is under attack, they’ve adapted to using their real names. (But the Saki brothers still keep their Foot names.)

So, now I assume this is somewhere in that middle plot.

Fun little Easter egg~

“Takeō and Akihitō were the offense, and Donnie and Mikey were the defense” “They held their own. In fact, they dominated.”

I’m in love with Raph’s simple acknowledgment of their roles in battle. It’s a very practical outline of exactly how their dynamic on the field plays out and he's so certain of his place.

On the other hand, I’m a bit uncertain about whether they’d dominate. I do believe that they are trained and can hold their own, but I don’t know about them being as impressive as Raph&Leo, simply because Splinter trained them to defend and Shredder trained them to kill. The Hamato brothers haven’t had much time to practice in the offensive, especially since that’s Leo&Raph’s job. (In non-AU canon, they are all offensive/defensive.)

I think Mikey might learn that kinda strength at the farmhouse after being taught by Leo&Raph, and Donnie will step back from that, finally finding his place not as a fighter/leader, but as a scientist.

Definitely an interesting take, tho 🤔

“Only now does he think that, perhaps, there was a reason their master made their primary weapons blunts and not blades.”

I am chewing on this line so hard. It’s so powerful.

I can’t even tell you why. It just is.

“Akihitō knows that Takeō isn’t lying. He’d already tried to take tonight's blame all on his own shoulders, spare Akihitō of the punishment. But Akihitō knows all his tricks and he won’t let his brother suffer alone. Again.”

100% behind Raph learning to butt in when Leo tries to take the fall as they get older and punishments get worse.

“Seeing the situation, the evidence glaring at him, Akihitō cannot deny that this wasn’t exactly a great sell. Takeō and him are tied to the ground, trying to convince these two strangers that they would be safe with them. That their clan would not hurt them while that same clan was just about ready to beat them to a pulp.”

I was thinking the same thing 🤣

Leo, dude, seriously. Look around. Think for a second. You are not selling your point. You are doing the opposite.

In the end, it doesn’t even matter. Sensei will always find them no matter where they run. It was better to follow than be chased.

SOMEONE NEEDS TO TEACH THESE KIDS THAT THIS IS A TOXIC RELATIONSHIP. YOU SHOULD NOT FEEL MOTIVATED TO STAY WITH DAD BECAUSE HE WILL FORCED YOU TO REMAIN OTHERWISE. BRUH. RED FLAG.

These were Foot Ninja binds made specifically to hold them. Mutant strength and all.

It makes sense that Shredder would make these. But.

But man. He made those. For them.

Takeō tries to take control of the situation again, the bossy oldest sibling coming out in him.

HA. Got him. Leo is Leo in any universe.

“His name is Mikey.” Donnie glares. “The rat is lying and he has—” “Donnie, its fine.”

Absolutely how they view things. Mikey doesn’t care what they think or do as long as no one he cares about is paying the price. Donnie feels it is a manner of principle that they accept logic and truth.

Leo talking over both of them is valid. This kid, I swear.

“Then tell your older brother to shut up about—”

LEO IS IT OFFICIAL YOU HAVE BEEN DISOWNED

“Sounds like a you-problem.” Donnie stands. “Mikey, we saved them. It's time to go.”

Donnie would die for them <3

A hand lands on his shoulder, and he recognizes it. Takeō always knows when to give support. He’s a good brother. He hopes Donnie and Mikey will know that one day too.

OH. OKAY. WELL. 🥺

THOSE FEELS CAME OUT OF NOWHERE-

He loved his big bro sm hjkhkjhkjhjkkjhkjhkjhku

If Akihitō didn’t know any better, he’d say it was longing.

Oh, don’t worry, he is dying to have other people in his life who genuinely care for him, but as long as you guys are with the enemy, you’re a threat to his baby brother and daddy and not to be trusted

And, just maybe, it could be their world too. 

Oh, so that’s what pain feels like. Glad to be reminded.

[myloveforhergoeson]

✨ - How does your character navigate social cliques or groups in school? Are they part of a specific crowd or more of a lone wolf?

for roxy, especially after the whole thing with brand new day went down. tho feel free to answer for the others :)

ughhh oh my god brand new day... essay incoming that is mostly just me rambling about things i have thought much about but have never put into words

as per usual, i have lots to say about this one. shockingly, i didn't give roxy too much social backstory outside of high school just because i didn't want to get over caught in explaining like. her whole life story? she's not anti-social obviously, but mag and dani really were her only good friends. while roxy had many acquaintances, like cait in the Minnesota chapter!, she didn't really have anyone besides BND she'd hang out with on the reg. this kind of forced her into the social outside i guess? but only because she was bunched in with the other school musicians not because she was bitchy or anything lol. she never really made her personal life a priority unless it was music related, so mag and dani were really all she needed!

i think i briefly mention it in one of the chapters but jo and camille are really her first pair of good, close female friends

as for clique navigation, i'd imagine she wasn't too good at learning the ropes at first, especially if other kids were already shoving her into the musician box before she was able to pinpoint them as a jock or stoner or whatever but overall didn't really affect her. she was more the flying under the radar type. of course this changes when she meets btr later on but that's how i imagine school was for her the first year :)

i'm not sure she'd place herself in any category, that's not super punk yk, but she definitely wasn't a lone wolf. she was more reliant on making connections in the local music community so BND could play gigs and stuff. if that meant she got super buddy buddy with a kid that had a basement for them to play a show in, that's what she'd do, but it was mostly just community connections for her.

if i went to school with her i'd definitely peg her into the musician + artsy type groups. hanging out with mag and dani would also swerve her into the smoker category lol. i tried to include that in the story when she grabs a lighter on the way out the door when she and james go to the show in duluth but got lazy and only had them have the conversation about it in my head. sorry! she used to be a social smoker just as a byproduct of being in the punk community... never her own cigarettes but if someone offered her a hit she wouldn't say no. she used to think it was really cool. girl! stop that! they're so bad for you! we see a bit of this in the rockstar au lol

after the band break up, she was def going lone wolf mode in hopes of protecting herself from ever being played again. not that she was intentionally going out of her way to avoid other people, but she wasn't attempting to form lasting connections outside of sitting next to someone in class or meeting anyone outside of class like she would mag and dani. btr are really the first friends she'd made since the split.

as for the guys idkkkk they all give such jock energy its hard for me to imagine them in any other category. hate to do that to them but really that's just how they present themselves both in public and private. they all seem like social butterflies, even if sometimes they get a bit awkward in certain instances, but they're hard not to like. they're not rude, they're super cute, they play a big time sport, they always help out their friends... who wouldn't like them!

(mag if they went to school together... but that's a conversation for another time...)

tysm for the ask you know how i love to talk and talk and talk <3 what do you think about our oc miss octavia or katie !! i know they're younger, but still. middle school age is like prime time to be clique navigating lol

find an emoji and ask away!

[gryphonlover]

Curious about the guidemarks au 👀

Guidemarks AU - Main

This is one of my biggest projects so far, if not the biggest. It even has its own Scrivener project, unlike my other stuff. I've been working on it for months, and there are still a lot of things that need straightened out or fixed before I can start posting it. This is going to be a very long post, but like I said, it's a very big project.

It's kind of a mish-mash of a few different things, but I'll do my best to explain it. The setting is basically a modern version of Hyrule, an urban fantasy modeled after Percy Jackson and the Olympians, and of course the guidemarks themselves, which are kind of the point of the AU in the first place.

Every setting you see in the LoZ fits into the geography I'm configuring, which has some obvious problems. The Great Sea, for example, was never meant to exist alongside Hyrule and New Hyrule at the same time. This and trying to reconcile all the timelines makes me want to bash my head against the wall sometimes, but it's going to be worth it when I'm done.

Speaking of the timelines, everyone's backstories will be fairly accurate to the games, since the same people, places, and magic exist in this AU. However, I'm still planning on writing everyone's backstories anyway because I'm not letting all that planning go to waste, it'll be fun to give all the games that classic Percy Jackson and the Olympians flavor, and I want to be able to give more context for everyone's guidemarks.

The guidemarks is actually where I started with this whole thing. I was originally going to write a soulmates AU, but I've never had much of an interest in romance stories (I usually ship at random for random reasons and have minimal attachments to ships anyway), and I could have written a platonic version, but that's been done before, and I wanted to write something that everyone could relate to regardless of how they feel about different types of relationships. I love reading soulmate AUs, and yeah relationships are very important to people, but I sort of wanted to screw around with the idea of finding true love or finding the right person. So I decided I'd keep the idea of soulmarks, except instead of pointing you towards the most important relationship(s) in your life, it would guide you to the moments of crucial self-determination in your life and the moments that would ultimately change your life and who you become. So you still can have the equivalent of a soulmate, but it's not about matchmaking anymore.

It still needs some fine-tuning because there are one or two details I'm really thinking over, but overall I'm very happy with how it's turning out, even if it is taking approximately forever and a half.

So now that you've suffered through reading my entire info dump, here's a piece of the little bit I've actually written down so far:

Then the scent of blood hit his nose, jolting him at least partially back to reality. He lurched backwards, pawing the airbag out of his face, to be met with the familiar taste of blood dribbling down his face from his nose. That wasn't exactly great, but it could be worse. A quick mental check and he concluded that he'd gotten off lucky. He was stiff and sore, but the worst of it seemed to be concentrated in his neck and face. Whiplash and some bruises, if he had to guess. He sorted himself out, stiffly emerging from the vehicle to carefully stretch out his limbs and evaluate how bad the damage was.

[mint-yooxgi]

Cruel - Slight Yandere!Demon King!Jackson Wang X Reader

Slight Yandere AU & Demon AU- Based off of Cruel by Jackson Wang

Genre: Mature, Horror, Angst

Pairing: Jackson X Reader

Words: 3,421

Warnings: This is a Yandere story, it will contain themes such as stalking, violence, obsession, possessive natures, and just general overall creepiness and swearing. You have been warned.

A/n: So I know this isn’t the update I mentioned earlier but as soon as I watched the MV and listened to this song I was hit by the inspiration and motivation freight train (which, honestly, is quite surprising for me as of late) so I really wanted to get this written and posted. I think this MV is honestly going to be one of my favourites, it’s just so amazing and the aesthetic is right up my alley oof.... anyways, I really hope you all like this one even if it’s a bit short! As always, feedback is greatly appreciated! Enjoy~

They took you. They thought they could keep him away from you, but oh, how wrong they were. 

Nobody touches what’s his and gets away with it, least of all if that someone is you.

They took you away from him, and now they must pay.

The underworld can be a cruel place, not meant for the feint of heart. It takes a brave soul to be able to travers its expanses unless you are one of the Seven rulers of the land. One of which has been missing for centuries, leaving the Six remaining to divvy up the territories, and rule over those that remain.

Everyone knows the most basic rule: it is not a land for humans.

Until one was brought here against their will.

Of the Seven rulers, Five Queens and One King remained. Led by Queen Selkie, the Five Queens plotted against the King, for he should not be sharing a bed with someone else. A mortal no less. A mortal who had no idea of the demon they let into their home every night.

Thus, you were kidnapped in the middle of the night. Torn right from within his grasp, weakened by the power of Four under the Fifth, who commanded your capture upon learning of his connection to you.

If she couldn’t have him, no one can.

Selkie’s love for Jackson was strong, her desire for him twisting deep into the darkest parts of her soul. What she didn’t realize, though, was that he was the same way. Only, his darkness ran deeper; was stronger, and all because of you.

Which is exactly why they had to take you from him, to lure him right into their trap once and for all.

It was no easy feat, kidnapping you right from beneath his nose, but they did it. Too many of their underlings lost their lives keeping him busy long enough for the Queens to bring you back to the underworld. By the time Jackson had arrived, his shirt had already been torn to shreds, his skin bathed in the blood of the damned.

Phasing into the underworld in a haze of smoke, Jackson’s feet touch the ashen wasteland of his home. Fires already burn around him as he breathes in the all too familiar toxic fumes. No flame blazes as bright, or as intensely, as his eyes do. Eyes which frantically search for any sign of you.

Taking a step forward, Jackson puffs out a breath of flames, needing to expel some of the pent up energy he’s created fighting off the underlings from earlier. Besides, if he doesn’t find you soon, he may just go insane. That is, if he hasn’t already.

Luckily, it doesn’t look as if he’ll have to look very far, for one of the Four materializes before him, a dagger held in her hand.

“Where are they?” Jackson’s voice is but a growl as he locks eyes with the Queen in front of him.

Her own eyes burn gold as they meet his own, a hiss passing her lips, “soon to be dead. As they should be.”

A roar escapes him as Jackson lunges for the Queen. Extending his arm, he gravitates her body towards his, catching her by surprise as he lands the first hit. Her eyes widen as he mockingly caresses the side of her face, cupping her jaw in his hand.

The dagger falls to the ground as her lips part. The fury blazing within his eyes is like nothing that she’s ever seen before. Incurring the wrath of the One King is not something any one of them should have taken lightly, but now, faced with the full force of Jackson’s rage, his insanity, she cannot stop the tremor that runs through her body.

What have they done?

Moving quickly, the Queen slaps his arm away, bringing her other hand up to wrap around his neck. Unfortunately, she isn’t fast enough, and Jackson shoves her off of him in the next moment. 

He scowls, the Three other Queens materializing out of thin air to surround him.

“You won’t get away with this,” he spits, eyes like liquid gold.

The Four Queens manage to bind him, the Three raising their daggers to strike as one whispers in his ear, “we already have.”

A flash and he’s turned the tables, flinging the Three off of him with a force strong enough to have them dropping their daggers. The Fourth, now trapped in his embrace, struggles to free herself as his hands sear their touch onto her skin.

Tracing his one hand up to her neck, the Queen can feel her essence following in its path. Her lips part, a fiery hue escaping past them as Jackson sucks the soul right out of her. The other Three can only watch on in horror as their sister gets thrown to the side, her body now an empty husk of what it once was.

A battle cry leaves the Queens’ lips as the Three lunge at Jackson.

Taking advantage of their blind rage, Jackson easily lets himself be caught by the Three. Again, he traps one in his arms, sucking the soul right out of her as the other Two claw at him from behind.

“No!” The Two shriek as they watch yet another one of their sisters fall to the ground.

Jackson smirks, grabbing onto each Queen behind him by the neck as he uses his newly gained power to obtain the both of their souls simultaneously. As the fiery wisps enter his system, his whole body glows. Golden veins light up his skin as the Two fall to the ground, lifeless and empty.

For a moment, Jackson stands there, his eyes closed as he lets this new power wash over him. Never before has he felt so alive. Well, other than when he’s with you, of course.

Calming his racing heart, his eyes flare open, gaze lit with the flames of insanity he carries within him now. Nothing will stop him from getting you back. Nothing.

Slowly, Jackson begins to advance towards the throne that sits between the two High Pillars of the underworld. A throne which he knows Selkie has wanted to share with him since the dawn of time.

He scowls, and this time, his rage escapes him in the form of another breath of flame as he raises his head to the scorched sky above. How dare Selkie take away what’s his. How dare she touch you. If she thinks this works in her favour, then she is sadly mistaken. 

The only two things on Jackson’s mind now are killing her, and saving you.

Finally, he reaches the bottom of the stairs leading up to the throne. Looking upwards, Jackson inhales the smoke from his lungs. His golden eyes burn the brightest they ever have, like liquid flame, as he slowly begins the ascent to the throne.

The moment his head breaches the peak of the stairs, a gasp is escaping your lips. Never before have you see the look in Jackson’s golden eyes. The look of a crazed man, who has been betrayed, but will also stop at nothing to reclaim what has been taken from him. 

With wide eyes, you assess his figure. 

Black blood covers almost every inch of his bare torso, smeared along his neck and all over his hands. You swallow your suddenly dry throat as he meets your gaze, and he looks almost relieved to see that you’re still breathing.

There you sit, beaten and bloody on the ground, dirt covering your wounds. Never has he felt so close to you, yet so far away at the same time.

Selkie sits smugly on the throne before him, her legs crossed as she twirls a dagger in her hands. It’ll only take him a minute to wipe that smirk right off of her face, but he still cannot stop the relief from racing through him at seeing that you’re still alive.

His brow nearly furrows. How are you still alive? The climate of the underworld would kill any normal mortal. Unless Selkie has done something to you.

“Jackson.” His name is but a plea from your lips.

So badly does he want to speak, to tell you that he’s here, and that nothing else is going to hurt you. Except, he cannot, for Selkie beats him to it.

“See.” She hisses, a chuckle falling from her lips. “See what a demon he’s become.”

Jackson’s eyes flash briefly to glare at Selkie before softening his gaze to look at you. His heart nearly stops right then and there. You can’t be looking at him in fear, can you? No, that can’t be it. You know he would never hurt you, but who knows what lies Selkie has fed you to further her own desires.

“What have you done to them?” Jackson turns his intense gaze to the Queen before him once more.

“Me?” Selkie hums, pausing the twirling of her dagger as she looks down upon him in her throne. “Why, I simply told them the truth.” She stands. “About who you are.” She takes a single step down from her throne. “What you are.” She takes another, each phrase accented by her slow decent down the stairs of her throne. “What you become.” Another. “Your desires.” Until finally, she’s on even ground with him, standing directly beside you as you brace your hands in the dirt before you. “And how you’re only using them to get what you want.”

A silence settles over the three of you as Selkie’s words sink in. Then, in a voice barely above a whisper, you speak.

“I never said I believed you.”

“Silence!” Selkie’s eyes flare gold as she backhands you across the face, your whole body crashing into the ground as dust rises at the impact.

Jackson sees red.

“Touch them again and it will be the last thing you ever do.” His voice is but a growl as his eyes flare gold, his fists clenching at his sides.

“Honestly, I don’t know what you see in a pathetic mortal,” Selkie rolls her eyes, shrugging off her jacket while cracking her neck. “You deserve a Queen. One that is both strong and cunning. Not some weakling.”

“A Queen, you say?” Jackson hums, mockingly, tilting his head slightly as he look at Selkie before him, her golden, spiked crown glinting through the hazy atmosphere. He smirks. “I already have one.”

With those words, they both lunge for each other. Selkie raises her dagger to strike, but Jackson is quick to counter, grabbing both her wrists in his own. In an instant, Selkie drops her blade, it skidding to the side as she knees Jackson in the stomach. Not even a second later, she uses her powers to flick him away.

Dragging his hand on the ground to steady himself, Jackson skids to a stop, snapping his head up to look at the slowly approaching Selkie. Taking a stand, she waves a hand in the air, making the rocks surrounding her levitate. With a flick of her wrist, she sends the stones flying at Jackson, who easily dodges them. 

Landing back on his feet, Jackson is quick to look around seeing as Selkie has seemingly disappeared. You can see the furrow in his brow as she appears behind him, and you panic.

“Behind you!” You shout, just in time, too, for Jackson manages to duck beneath her next blow.

Turning around, the two come face to face once more. Selkie goes to strike him next, but Jackson parries her blow, managing to get in a hit on her ribs and sending her stumbling back.

She glares at him, and then you. Only, before she can even take another step in your direction, Jackson is stepping between the two of you. All you can see of him now is his back, but you know from the scowl that Selkie wears that she is not pleased about this turn of event.

“Your fight is with me.” He states, voice low and ominous, like the threat of an oncoming storm. “When I’m done with you, there will be nothing left.”

Selkie flexes her fingers, nails sharpening into claws. “You’ll come to regret those words.”

Again, Selkie lunges at him, swiping at his neck with her claws. Luckily, Jackson manages to dodge in time, only to get hit by the kick she sends his way right after. Stumbling forward, she uses this to her advantage, landing another blow to his side and causing him to tumble to his knees.

“Jackson!” Your voice comes out frantic as you watch Selkie hoist him up by his neck.

With her fingers digging into his skin, she uses her powers to raise them both off the ground. She smirks.

“Now, look at where that vain desire got you.” Selkie chastises mockingly, shaking her head in the process. “We could have had it all, you know? Power. Glory. Everything.” She tightens the hold she has around his neck as Jackson chokes out a gasp. “We could have been so good together, but you went and threw it all away for some human.”

Jackson can do nothing but struggle, Selkie’s powers binding him in the air as she maintains the hold she has on his neck. Slowly, she brings both of her hands up to caress the sides of his face, still keeping him bound using her powers. He grits his teeth, golden eyes ablaze as he meets her own.

“The sad part is I now have to kill you,” her eyes flit to you who Jackson can clearly see looking on in horror from over her shoulder, “and I think I’m going to enjoy it. Though, not as much as killing them.”

In an instant, his eyes widen, lips parting in protest at her words. However, before he can say anything, he can feel his soul leaving his body as she sucks the essence right out of him. Those same fiery veins that lit up his skin appear on hers, trailing down her neck as she drains the life right out of him.

Once she’s satisfied, she releases the hold she has on him. Instantly, a portal appears behind Jackson’s body, the dark clouds swirling within as Selkie flicks her wrist, sending him flying through the air. With another flick of her wrist, the portal disappears, Jackson along with it.

Carefully, her feet touch the ground and she’s turning to you once more. You, who sits there, surprisingly still, as shock courses through your body. Jackson couldn’t have been defeated so easily. It’s not possible.

Looking up at Selkie, you watch as she approaches you menacingly, a smirk clear on her features. However, what you’re not expecting, is for a dark smoke to start swirling behind her. You blink.

“Now, to dispose of you.” She snarls, teeth bared as her claws extend once more.

Just as she raises a hand to strike you down, her whole body freeze. Horror paints her face as she feels an arm snake around her torso, a separate hand wrapping around her throat.

“I thought I told you,” Jackson’s voice is low as he speaks from right beside her ear, “I’ll kill you if you touch them again.”

With a spray of blood, Jackson rips her throat out with a snarl on his face. As her ruined body falls to the ground, he absorbs the essence of her soul, the fiery substance setting his eyes ablaze once more.

Taking a deep breath while closing his eyes for a moment, he steadies his breathing. A moment later, his golden eyes are snapping open, locking onto your trembling figure.

“It’s okay,” his voice comes out much softer now, his eyes holding nothing but that fondness for you that you’ve come to know from him so well. “I’m here now. You’re safe.”

Instantly, his arms are around you, pulling you into his chest as your own wrap around his torso. Gently, he rubs circles into your back, using his powers to heal you all the while. Surprisingly, you have not shed a single tear.

“Please tell me you don’t have any more crazy exes,” you mumble, and he lets out a laugh in disbelief.

Slowly, he pulls away to look into your eyes. “I don’t know what’s more shocking. The fact that you’re taking this so well, or the fact that you thought she was my ex.”

“She wasn’t your ex?” Your brow furrows, and immediately his one hand moves to smooth the creases from your forehead.

“She did this because I wouldn’t be with her,” he replies.

This only causes your frown to deepen, “crazy bitch.”

He chuckles, a subtle smile tugging at his lips. “You don’t know the half of it.”

A small silence settles over the both of you as he continues to hold you in his arms, your head now resting on his chest. That is, until he’s breaking it once more.

“Still, you’re taking this surprisingly well.” He repeats his words from earlier.

You take a brief pause before answering, as if you’re hesitant to say your next words. “I’ve always known you were different.”

“Oh?” Jackson cannot help but be surprised. “You have, have you?”

“You’re not very good at controlling your eyes when you get emotional.” You reply, a small smirk causing the corner of your lips to tug upwards.

“I’m not?” He sounds quite appalled by this revelation.

Grabbing his face in your hands, you caress his cheeks. In an instant, you’re bringing your lips to his, wordlessly conveying how grateful you are for him, especially in this moment.

Pulling away slightly, you look into his eyes. Eyes which have once again flared gold as he continues to stare at you with that lovestruck expression on his face.

“See,” you hum, smile clear on your features. “Exactly my point.”

He doesn’t even need to look at himself to know that you’re right. After all, he can already see the glow of his eyes in the reflection of yours. An image of which that has him tightening his grip around you subconsciously.

“I thought you were going to be terrified of me,” he whispers, his gaze now downcast. “When I got here, I thought you were scared of me.”

“I could never be scared of you.” Your words set his heart racing in his chest. “If anything, I was terrified of losing you.”

“You don’t know how much those words resonate with me right now,” he says, staring deeply into your eyes. “I don’t know how I could go on without you.”

A subtle grin begins to tug at the corner of your lips, “you’re being melodramatic.”

“I’m not.” Jackson shakes his head, resting his forehead on yours as he grabs your one hand in his. 

For a moment, all is silent. Even the fires burning around you seem to have gone quiet as the two of you revel in each other’s presence. Nothing could come between you now, and Jackson will always be there to make sure of it.

“Stay with me.” His words are but a whisper on the wind, but you still manage to hear them. “Rule at my side, where you are always meant to be. Never leave me, and I will never leave you. I promise you, for as long as we both shall live, nothing will ever harm you, or take you away from me again.”

You smile, giving his hand a slight squeeze with your own. “Always.”

With those words, his lips are on your once more. 

Slowly, he pulls you closer, one hand finding purchase on the back of your neck while the other grips your waist. Carefully, he parts your lips with his own, breathing his essence into you. 

Your whole body heats, veins of liquid fire igniting along your skin as his power washes over you. Never have you felt more alive.

Keeping your eyes closed for the moment, you feel him pull away, somewhat reluctantly. The weight of his forehead pressing against yours grounds you once more as you feel your head spin.

“I’m yours and you’re mine.” His chest rumbles with every word that he speaks. 

You can only hum in response, your eyes opening to stare deeply into his own. The molten gold hue he sees igniting within your gaze is the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen in his life. 

He smirks. “Forever.”

[en-vys]

muichiro - valentines

summary : when muichiro gets a valentines day letter from an old friend.

content & warning(s) : school!au, m4f, muichiro lying to genya wfafaffwfwf, fem reader with glasses, i made genya the same age as muichiro lol, sfw <3

“HEY MUICHIRO its valentines day! did ya get anything?” it was genya, holding two cards signed with a heart in the middle. “first valentines day as freshmen! so. what’d you get? you gotta at least have som-” he was interrupted by muichiro turning the corner. “helloo? dude respond!” genya shook him. “yes. I got a card.” he illuminated the “a” as a singular item.

“who’s it from? is she hot?” “she’s from my math class, & my homeroom. she signed with a pen name. i believe so, because i don’t know who l/n, y/n is.” genya’s face turned from happiness, to sheer confusion. “y-you don’t know ‘er?” “no.” opening the homeroom door. “shes the president of the schools newspaper! everyone knows her!”

he nods as he enters the room, genya directing his face towards you. a wondering young woman, looking around. your hair styled just as you liked it with your glasses peaked at the tip of your nose. genya could swear muichiro’s eyes widened just a smidge. “well. talk to her. ask her out.” he pushes muichiro towards a bit, off the door frame. but he didn’t make his way to you. he made his way to his desk.

genya sat behind him and was in shock. “you aren’t going to do anything?” muichiro just shrugged and opened his planner. “you’re not phased at all? that one of the most well known girls in our school wants you?” “it’s just a small infatuation. she’ll get over it.” genya felt a flame within him. “you’re crazy for thinking like that.” he hooks the crook of his elbows to pick up a squirming muichiro.

“n-no. let me! down! genya” he shook his head before turning the other way to face your desk. “not. until. you ask. her. out.” genya says with each step getting towards you. “uhm is there something i can help you genya. o-or muichiro?” to the fellow readers. this would be a sight to see. imagine seeing a genya picking up a squirming muichiro, flailing his arms around.

“actually, ms. president could you list more of your qualities to dear mui here since hes too chicken to ask for your number or ask you out.” genya said. placing a nauseated muichiro on the seat next to you. “really? okay then-” muichiro interrupts you by criss crossing his arms into a form of an “x”, while shaking his head no. “ms. president.. would you like to go on a date with me after school?”

muichiro finally mutters out, his tone indicating signs of shyness. “so i’m guessing you got my letter then.. muichiro?” you let out a small laugh. “it was desperate-” genya nudged muichiro in his side as a sign to rethink his words. “oh i meant- yeah i read it.” you were already prepared for his blatant comment(s). “you think so?” you said rubbing the nape of your neck.

“i wanted to ask though if you wanted to go to the playground.. where we first met, y’know.” muichiro said, genya’s face contorted into a sour, confused face. “hey didn’t you say that-” “i lied to you. i’ve known her since we were in pre-school. I was just bored.” you giggle. “what’d you tell him?” “that I had no actual clue about who you are.”

“oh really? well-” genya’d already left by the time you responded, something about ‘getting a room’ he said as he left the two of you. “oh well. guess he doesn’t get to hear the end of my story.” muichiro stares at you blankly as always. “who really cares?” “ugh me! i do, you idiot.” you say, nudging his shoulder, you scan the room. “huh seems like ms. shinobu isn’t coming today.” he just shrugs and returns to his normal seat.

“but yeah. i’ll go with you mui.”

“i knew you would.”

[freedom-shamrock]

How much salt do you think a salt fic should have before it becomes too unpleasent to read?

Great question! First, it's important to note that different people are going to have different salt tolerances, some folks just want a little for flavoring while others want the whole dang salt shaker. But there is a happy medium that most can agree on as pleasant to read.

Next we need to define salt. Because it's slang and it gets used (and misused) to mean a lot of things. One need not go out of character (OC) and full evil to be salt. Salt/salty has to do with being upset, angry, bitter, or hostile. Some people require these feelings to be associated with embarrassment, failure, being attacked or out of place in order to be considered salt, but most people (myself included) don't require this qualifier.

To be a salt fic, these salty feelings need to be the driving theme of the story. This can be realistic, exaggerated, or wildly unrealistic. You can keep the characters as canon as possible or go massively OC.

In my Saltinette story the goal was to be realistic and stick with canon as much as possible. As a result it's on the lower end of salt options for this situation. To increase the salt content, I had Marinette decide to leave school and let go of her friendships. It's a somewhat nuclear option for her academic and social life, but it's also something both my kids have had to do as a result of bullying.

In the follow-up story, Treading in the Brackish Pool, shows a lot of those salty feelings, this time from Marinette's former classmates once she's left. Again, the goal was to stay realistic and close to canon, which meant I had to explain how and why the classmates made the decisions that ultimately pushed Marinette away. I wanted to avoid making them actively evil; they're just young and a little ignorant on social stuff.

That last bit highlights where things tend to cross into too much salt to be a satisfying story. Taking a canonically kind character and making them a psychopath will definitely increase salt, but without any explanation or set up, it's going to feel wildly OC and a lot less pleasant to a larger number of people. But it can work if you set it up right.

A lot of people who write heavy Miraculous salt make Alya an active bully. In some cases this works because it's built up over time (starting with disappointment, moving to chastising or ridicule before verbal bullying and finally physical bullying). In other cases, there's no groundwork or authorial hand waving to explain how Alya went from being kind, confident, and maybe a little pushy to being okay with assault or murder. Adrien also often gets an evil makeover in heavy salt. If the author takes the time to build up Adrien's corruption from the Miraculous or a two-faced nature like his father (Paris' sweetheart in public vs controlling asshole in private) it can work really well. But a lot of times he's just OC with no justification, which will make it appeal to a smaller audience.

I think it's essential to remember that fans of a show generally like the characters. Yeah, they may not love all the characters, but you're not going to watch something that focuses on characters you hate. When you warp characters into something they aren't, the story risks losing some of its broader appeal. The more popular a character is with the audience the easier it is to step into the realm of too much salt. The same can be said for the amount of canon material for a character. If they are a major character, it's easier to go too salty. If you want to go heavy salt, setting it up as an AU or taking the time to show how the characters grew from canon into something else will help. Failure to do either of these will result it a reduced audience appeal.

Did that answer you or did I go wildly around the question? Let me know! Thanks for asking

[adultish-momma]

Dumpster Diving

Automation Au - Jamil

Automation Au belongs to the creative mind of @jackplushie

Regarding the rabbit hole that we went down in this automation au, I had three very distinct ideas revolving around sentience believer!MC. Cater was one, this is another, and one of the Leech twins will star in the next fic. Hope you all enjoy it! And thank you to everyone who read my last story, genuinely I didn't think many people would find it, so I'm very glad I entertained at least a few of you guys!

Also tagging @dandelionwhisp because again, I was asked so nicely and I'm an easy person to please.

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He should be used to this.

He should be used to doing questionable things under the cover of darkness. Even before, when they still lived with his last master, he was used to operating completely in the shadows. Before, he was never meant to be seen. Before it was a matter of pride, for his master to have all the credit for having a beautiful and unique trophy bot, and a matter of pride for his existence to never be acknowledged.

Jamil should be used to all the hiding by now. Because now it's a matter of survival. Now it's a matter of keeping looters far away from every precious thing that makes up Kalim's body. Now it's a matter of avoiding authorities for fear of being decommissioned. Now it's a matter of surviving each day until they finally find a place where they can just breathe. And if Jamil is being honest with himself, it's still a little bit of a matter of pride on his part.

Which is how he has come to find himself buried two feet deep in the dumpster of a companion bot customization store on the rich side of the city looking for salvageable parts. It's a risk being here, a risk he really shouldn't be taking, but Jamil is used to luxury just like Kalim. And unlike Kalim, Jamil just can't seem to swallow that bit of pride that keeps him from using parts from scrap yards and dumps on the outskirts of the city where it's safe.

So yeah, he really should be used to this.

After getting thrown out with Kalim, he really should be used to that last bit of stubborn pride getting him into trouble. His pride is the reason he's in this dumpster, so his pride is also to blame for the shout of alarm he gives out when a trash bag full of discarded machinery lands on his head.

"Hello?" a voice calls out, fear and suspicion clear in their voice. Jamil tenses up, hoping the human will do what humans do best and write his presence off as paranoia and their imagination. There's only the noise of the city around them, and he thinks maybe just this once his luck is in his favor.

"Holy-" Jamil looks up to see a face peering over the far side of the dumpster. He must have moved too fast, because when he makes eye contact the human jumps and loses its grip on its perch. That stubborn bit of his pride hopes to hear the sound of the person falling on their ass.

He should be used to disappointment by now.

"Oh my god, hi, hello, you okay in there dude?" The face appears above him again, studying him with this... pensive look on his face. He would call it concern if he was stupid. He knows a human would never look at him with any emotion that could be construed as care.

"I'm perfectly fine" he brushes them off, opening the bag they dropped in the dumpster earlier to continue his search. He just needs this one part and then he could move on, never to return to this high-risk location again.

"Hmm." He can feel it, that look again. He can feel it hovering around his face, waiting for him to slip. Which he won't, he's worked for the facial control he has, and no random nosey human is going to be the one to see through it. They'll move on soon and forget about him like humans always do and that's just-

"So was your shoulder sparking before or after I nailed you with trash?"

Said broken shoulder that he still can't find the fucking part for gives a violent twitch at the shock that runs through his system. The truth of the matter is that his shoulder has been getting progressively worse for weeks, and Jamil finally prioritized finding replacement pieces for himself only this morning after it began sparking. It's why he's still standing in this dumpster. He knows this store has the parts he needs, has parts high quality enough to where he doesn't need to swallow that bitter lump of pride stuck in his throat.

Jamil is used to this, this feeling of seeing an easy target. Jamil is used to setting up the dominos so they fall right on his cue.

"That would explain why my arm isn't responding as well as it should." With practiced ease, Jamil slips into the appropriate mask to convince this human to give him the parts he needs. "Ah, and my master was expecting me home soon too. Now I'm going to come back empty-handed and in need of repair. If-"

"Ah, so you were here trying to steal". Jamil has to admit, that the human has thrown him off his rhythm. He opens his mouth to protest but is cut off again by the sound of giggles. "Nah man I don't really care. Fuck capitalism and all that, plus this is our dumpster. So it's not like we want or need any of this stuff anyway. But seriously, come inside and I'll do my best to help you fix that up."

Well, that went easier than Jamil expected. Which puts him on edge. So he assesses this human, he examines that look that is still on their face that he refuses to label as any form of concern or care. He notices that the human, despite having jumped out of their skin from fright nearly five minutes ago, has settled into a carefree attitude. That in itself is... concerning. So he voices his concern about their lack of concern.

"Oh no, as soon as I saw a person standing in my dumpster I've arranged it to where if you lunge police will be on their way. I might die but I'm taking your ass down with me. Listen, you're free to stand here in a dumpster all night if you want, but once I go inside I'm locking the doors. So are you coming or not?"

Considering this is more or less what Jamil wanted, he doesn't hesitate for long before he nods his assent. He makes his way to the side of the dumpster so he can begin to climb out when the human surprises him once again.

Jamil is learning to become used to this. He's learning that humans, especially as individuals and in one on one interactions, are predictable in their unpredictability.

The human has their hand reached out towards him. Palm up, fingers relaxed, patiently waiting for him to grab it or rebuff it. Clearly, they intend to assist him out of the dumpster. And Jamil is shocked enough just by the gesture itself that he doesn't smack the hand away like he would have Kalim's. He doesn't take the human's hand, of course, he leaves it dangling into that forsaken dumpster as he swiftly leaps out. But he does acknowledge that the human tried to help. It doesn't escape him that they were trying to support his damaged side.

"Alright fair" he hears them comment before they leap down off their perch and join him on the ground. "Come on, I've got a workbench with your name on it for you to use." The human continues to prattle on as he follows them inside, asking questions about what he needs to fix his shoulder all the while. Briefly, Jamil wonder's if this is how they interact with their customers during the store's open hours. He can't help but like it, just a little bit. He can pretend for one fleeting moment that he's more than what he is, that he's just a regular human looking for parts to fix his companion bot waiting for him at home. The moment is over fairly quickly when he has to pop open a panel on his shoulder. At least it's over on his part.

The human still gives him that same look that's been plaguing him all night. It doesn't even begin to fade until he's all patched up, shoulder functioning as good as it can get with self-maintenance. The human still continues to talk to him, but they don't ask any deep or personal questions of him, and they don't provide those kinds of details about themselves either. But they do just talk, the kind of small talk that he's seen other human acquaintances participate in. They offer to cover the charges of all the parts he had to use, and even let him steal a spare part for free. The human, you, tell him to swing by after hours again if he needs anything as he finally heads back to where Kalim is waiting for him.

And Jamil finds himself wanting to get used to you. He wants to get used to that feeling of more that you provide. He wants you to keep making him feel human. It's almost a matter of pride for Jamil.

So you should get used to Jamil. It's almost a matter of survival.

[what-is-love-babey-dont-hurt-me]

My brain keeps on lingering over various bits of world building for my sci-fi Kirby au. My previous post might be helpful for context.

The idea of starships so advanced that they can talk to you is fascinating, no?

The old Halcandran language is still spoken on the planet today by small groups. They claim to be descendants of ancient Halcandrans, and with their cooperation, the old language had been translated with accuracy.

“Lor” translates to paradise.

The Paradise Starcutter.

The Lor Starcutter is a paradise, according to the few remaining records talking about the starship. But is it? Other scholars argue that the records of Starcutter ships are meant to be interpreted differently, that they take you to a paradise. This topic has become something of a debate ever since the ruins of Halcandra have become a popular point of interest.

But only the ruins of Halcandra.

There is still life on the planet. New societies have risen in the ashes of the old, many aliens have descended from the stars and found a home amongst volcanoes. The planet is remarkably peaceful compared to others, with a emphasis on technological progress and the pursuit of knowledge. If you didn’t mind the hot weather and storms of ash that can block the sun for months, Halcandra is a nice planet to live on.

This is largely ignored.

Visitors are sparsely receptive to the idea of staying in one of the modern cities, and many are ignorant to Halcandra being more than its ruins and legends.

This galaxy and the people who inhabit it have a blind adoration for tales of long-gone civilizations. Ancient civilizations are put on a pedestal—a pedestal which casts a shadow over any modern accomplishment. Stories of their capabilities take any seed of truth and become embellished facsimiles.

Unlike the tales of the bored Fire People who became gods, stories about Halcandra are more based in truth. To a degree.

Experts who specialize in history of The Ancients say that Halcandra split into societies of magic and technology. This makes sense, of course, since many artifacts suggest that ancient Halcandrans idolize the Fire People, who they called the Fire Gods.

It makes sense that these that they pursued the path to paradise, which modern men seek to retrace. It makes sense that there are no more of The Ancients because they built ships that can reach paradise. It makes sense that The Ancients were capable of magic, even though such feats have not been repeated since. How else did they able to create technology that could reach the Fire Gods?

Modern researchers are sure that if they can learn the magic-technology of the Fire People, of The Ancients, that anyone can ascend into paradise as well.

Ignore how the Fire People never developed advanced technology, and that they died when their planet crumbled. Ignore the overwhelming evidence that The Ancients were locked in a brutal civil war, and that their technology was their own demise.

But there is a seed of truth in these stories.

Technology and engineering were—and still are—heavily valued, and Halcandrans did worship the Fire Gods. At one point their society wished to abandon their volcanic planet to follow in their footsteps.These are two things that historians got correct.

Ships were certainly built to be vessels to a better place, but not to paradise. The idea of paradise meant something different to them than it does to off-planet visitors: in the eye of a Halcandran, Paradise is only achieved through death.

New Halcandrans could tell you as such, and will warn anyone to never board a Lor Starcutter. Paradise is not worth it.

The Ancient Halcandrans named those vessels after paradise to serve as a warning, and it is not unwarranted. Locals have passed down story after story of bright minds who approach paradise and never come back the same. They say that a Lor Starcutter can poison a person’s mind after one encounter. The accounts all note their behaviors become dangerous, their minds falling apart as their bodies waste away.

It is unknown if the side effects are exaggerated or not, but there is one certain truth to the tales. Anyone who boards a Lor Starcutter will eventually never come out.

Visitors who do hear the warnings suspect many things of them. Some take the knowledge of people never coming out as confirmation. Those disappearing passengers must mean that a Lor Starcutter will indeed take its passengers to paradise. Others suspect the warnings are out of greed, that the told tales of doom are spread to keep them away from a treasure. Most often however, warnings are simply passed off as folk tales.

These warnings are disregarded easily.

See, the warnings do not make sense when anyone thinks deeper of them. Why would The Ancients build ships that are paradise, that will take someone to paradise? Why build a passenger ship that is a death trap?

Perhaps that question is best answered with additional knowledge. The important thing to know about Lor Starcutters is this: Halcandrian scientists never developed artificial intelligence.

The idea of a starship so advanced that it can talk is fascinating, yes. However that was—and still is—well beyond the Halcandran scope of possibility. Talking machines have been experimented with, and the crowning achievement in that regard had been a star-blessed clock. One that replied based off a word bank, one that only responded to prompts. Creations like this have no will of their own.

This fact is not well known.

Perhaps if those ambitions visitors, researchers, treasure hunters, and fools had every piece of the puzzle, they would have realized the truth sooner. Unfortunately, it is a well recorded fact that Lor Starcutters do indeed talk. Lor Starcutters have a will of their own.

If The Ancients had not been capable of building machinery with a will of its own, then the conclusion is simple. Lor Starcutters are not starships built by The Ancients.

So what are they?

As mentioned, records consistently note the starships talk to them. The starships indeed have a will of their own. Detailed logs mention Lor Starcutters asking the passenger to leave as little as possible. The early steps on the journey to reach paradise is well known.

Information from people who have boarded the ships and tried to record the experience becomes inconsistent eventually. There is a point where the passengers start to guard any information with a vicious jealousy.

Scholars who try to make sense of the Lor Starcutter interactions speculate that this is out of greed or necessity. This must be the point where they discovered the secret to how to become immortal, how to reach paradise, how to join the Fire Gods. Those people who have encountered a Lor Starcutter must have found whatever the legends had promised them. Passengers who live on the ships are never seen again after this point, so that must be what happened to them… And if you like to live in an idealistic world, perhaps that is all you need to know.

What is a Lor Starcutter exactly? If The Ancients did not build those starships themselves, then who did?

Everyone works under the assumption that they are starships, which is exactly what a Lor Starcutter wants you to think. Calling them starships is incorrect, however. There is no starship so advanced that it can talk to you, and Lor Starcutters built themselves.

Cunning creatures who are made of metal-like plates, who can talk through the mind, who can shift and mold their body into any shape, who can survive the depths of space in a slumber, who feed off of like energy. Creatures such as these already exist in the form of Parasites, and have existed again.

Parasites, of course had key differences from these creatures. These creatures are ambush predators with wings that can sail the stars and eyes that can see past atmospheres .

Long ago outside of the atmosphere of ancient Halcandra, such a creature had been observing the planet when it hatched a plan. This creature noticed starships that were always leaving the planet. The creature noticed that people would walk on board without a second thought, and it wondered if it could simply get prey to walk into its mouth.

The creature contorted it’s body into a mockery of those passenger starships, and it’s brethren watched with interest.

The cunning creature had been correct, because it was boarded without question. In order to keep its prey entertained, to keep them from leaving the jaw of the beast, the creature had to be diligent.

The creature, ever so clever, It created illusions of paradise inside the vessel. It talked to each passenger like a friend. In their minds, the inside of the ship was infinite, and they could open any door to a new world as long as the the secret was never revealed. In their minds, the passengers had ascended to the live with Fire Gods.

Reality would reveal that the creature had been slowly leeching their life force, taking them to paradise. The passengers are never seen again.

The creature’s brethren change their form and descend as well, a fleet of deadly starships to lure anyone who dared to dream of a better place into a slow death.

Stories of Paradise Starcutters were soon whispered across that volcanic planet. At one point Halcandrans had wanted to join the Fire Gods and find a better place, but surely the ships which killed their passengers were a sign of their rejection. The Fire Gods had shunned the Halcandran people, they would never find that better place, and this was the beginnings of a civil unrest that would eventually turn into war.

Knowing the truth of the Lor Starcutters might be helpful for someone like Magolor.

He had a troubled life, and believed he deserved a better place. This cat-like alien is enamored with the tales of Halcandra, he is willing to claw his way to the top and ascend to the throne of the Fire Gods.

One of the New Halcandrans, a four headed reptilian adorned with a sharp golden crown jeweled with a moving eye, had tried to warn Magolor.

Landia had been ignored.

Magolor disregarded everything, of course. Landia, who knows the truth of everything, did not take it well. The alien felt all four of their heads simmer in anger as Magolor left to pursue his doom.

On top of those four heads was another alien who watched the foolish man leave to his paradise. The crown blinked as she contemplated the situation.

Years ago, Landia had met a massive golden creature with many eyes and a hunger for life force that was buried under volcanic rock for eons, simply sleeping time itself away. The creature had been confused at waking up in a time so different, but Landia had been so helpful, and so she decided to make an offer to the four-headed alien. The golden creature would give guidance and power to them, if they agreed to give her energy and a companion.

Two became One, and Landia had been strong enough to establish a symbiotic relationship rather than waste away like most would when merging with a Parasite. The two shared minds, and Landia realized the Fire Gods did not exist and never have. The search for paradise was a fool’s errand.

Landia knew more than he ever would.

Their Parasite, who was named Master Crown, noted how upset their companion had been, and she urged Landia to stop the foolish traveler before it was too late.

Landia had listened, and set off across the volcanic wasteland to the cursed site they had been warned to never approach. The Lor Starcutter should have been dark and cold, it should have been impersonating lifeless metal, but it was pulsing with life, about to ascend into space. Landia knew they were too late. In frustration, they used Master Crown to lash out at the hull of the deceptive creature.

Their outburst left a deep, bleeding gash across the hull of the Lor Starcutter. Master Crown had leeched as much life force as she could as her companion struck, and the most she could do it hope that is enough for the creature to cough up the poor passenger.

There is one less Lor Starcutter littering the volcanic landscape of Halcandra, but Landia had learned something valuable. Their whole life, Lor Starcutters seemed untouchable, but the cursed ships could bleed. After loosing Magolor to his ambition, Landia would set off on a journey with Master Crown to stop it from ever happening again. No more Lor Starcutters would be left to trap unsuspecting victims

Landia’s mission to remove these invasive creatures from the planet was the ire of many ambitious researchers, but would eventually earn them the title of a Hero. There had not been someone to earn such a high title in Halcandran society since ancient times, and it was only reserved for people who are seen as saviors to the planet.

Sometimes Landia would think back to the traveler Magolor, and they hope that someone managed to save his sorry soul.

[forestgoblinvibes]

Task force 141 x Male!reader(oc?) (platonic to start)

Hello!! So this is my first time writing on here in a very long while! This post will be more of a get to know me/setting up the AU to what I’ll be writing as well as a starter for people to get to know the MC.

I want your opinions before I post the first chapter so this is just an info pamphlet?

But I, like many others have fallen down the rabbit hole of Modern Warfares 141 men. So a few things to start for the future.

My writing is 18+ not because of smut (I may or may not write this) but because of dark themes such as writings mentioning PTSD, gore, violence, weapons, death and so on. Each chapter or one shot will be given warnings in according to what there is.

My idea for this story is an AU. It won’t follow the video game exactly (gives me more room for creativity) but all characters will be from MWII. And while I know some of the characters lore I’m not an expert. This is simply my interpretation of characters but I’m more than happy to accept criticism and help.

The au will be mainly for the character (you) who’s less then human, not over powered as they have no actual magical powers unless you consider shapeshifting. For this Au shapeshifters are a dying breed, and while not unknown there aren’t many full blooded shifters left in the world. And while shifters have the same rights as anyone else, not many join the military because of the dangers and their dying numbers.

MEETING THE MC (you!)

You are born to a kind and loving family, but while they supported you, they weren’t all to happy when you decided to join.

Your like the 141’s Guard Cat, loyal to the bone and protective to all hell. But of course you weren’t just immediately placed on 141

Training was hell. While trained besides humans, being the only shifter in your unit meant the higher ups gave you a hard time and pushed you further. You were naturally stronger than the average human, and growing up a bit spoiled meant you needed to hone all your skills. But you prevailed in close combat and stealth training. And you were too figity for sniper training.

Being a shifter in military training had its highs and lows. Some highs being you finally felt useful, you enjoyed being able to constantly train and push yourself to new limits as your home life was full of high society socials and studying. You enjoyed the rush of training and making a few memorable friends. But the downside, training didn’t teach you how to handle a comrades death, didn’t teach you that after your first mission you could be plagued with nightmares. That after being captured the light you held would be sniffed out like a dying flame.

-

Now I don’t wanna spoil the first chapter and I want to wait for some feedback if I get any. But some background information for the characters you read as.

Will mainly be addressed by their call sign, Kitty (gained after their first mission), Chirps (has not gained this call sign yet), Red and Chaos (not yet received.

The only prominent features to be discribed would be their dark hair and honey brown eyes and any scars the rest will be left to your imagination:).

But yeah I think that’s it, please ask any questions before the first chapter and please do give feed back!