#now their adult counterparts on the other hand

[minteaspoon]

A Moment of Reprieve

actually happy lucemond hours:)

a/n: this was based off of song of achilles by madeline miller, go check the book out and give it a read - it’s absolutely worth it:)

•_•_•_•_•_•_•_•

Under the Weirwood Tree in the gardens of the Red Keep, there sat two young boys. One of white hair and purple eyes, the other of dark brown locks and dark irises.

The eldest, Aemond, held a book in his right hand, reading in High Valyrian to the younger, Lucerys - all while his left hand caresses his nephew’s head of chocolate.

In the grasp of Lucerys, he toyed with a small and thin horse, listening adeptly to his senior.

He liked listening to his uncle Aemond reading - he had a nice voice. Luke’s smile widens when he sees a servant bringing lemon cakes as ordered by the uncle and nephew duo.

“Uncle Aem! Our lemon cakes are here!” He exclaims, readying to up himself from his laid down position on his uncle’s lap. The brunette feels his shoulders held down, and brought back to rest against the ground.

“Stay, Lucy, the servant will bring the treats over. You don’t have to run and tire your small body,” Aemond jokes, chuckling softly when Luke puffs his cheeks out at the playful quip.

When the servant brings the lemon cakes over, the duo thank them before dismissing them to their chores.

Munching on the sweets, Luke asks, “do you think Mama and Step-grandmother are fighting again?”

Aemond froze, and turns his gaze to his distracted nephew who’s eyes were on the book his uncle had lay down to eat the cakes.

“…Knowing my mother, and with what she’s told me of my half-sister - your mother, I would be surprised if they handled a meeting without even the barest of arguments,” he mumbles loud enough for his nephew to hear.

Lucerys stops mid-bite, before putting his lemon cake back on the tray, wiping remaining crumbs from his fingers while turning to his uncle.

“I guess you have a point…Uncle Aem, do you think we’ll stick together even if our mothers separate us?” This was asked gently and in a whisper, sounding afraid of rejection from the questioner’s source of admiration.

The eldest was silent, before he brings his left hand to pat the younger’s head before it shifts downwards to his cheek. Once there, his thumb makes comforting motions as the brunette further leans into its hold.

“Yes, whatever happens, Lulu, I’ll make sure we stick together, alright? Nothing will separate us, I swear this to the Old and New Gods,” Aemond smiles, as he picks the book back into his grasp.

The duo continue to eat their sweet treats in a comfortable silence, leaning into each other and relishing in the quiet moment of reprieve.

Under the Weirwood Tree, they always found peace together away from the tumultuous life within the Red Keep.

After another minute or so, Luke breaks the silence yet again with a question, this time, one that temporarily stuns Aemond.

“Can you name one hero who was happy?”

Aemond’s face scrunches in confusion, “whatever do you mean?”

“I mean, can you name one hero in our books and lessons who lived and died happily? All at once? Every day and every night, every hour and every minute. They were always happy, and never anything else.”

His uncle’s brows furrowed in thought, as Luke stares at the violet eyes with many thoughts of memories about their Sept’s lessons of past history.

“…I can’t say I have - I’m sorry, Luke.”

Luke shrugs and smiles, “Well, if you can’t name one, then there hasn’t been one both famous AND happy yet, huh?”

“I suppose you can say that.”

Sighing his disappointment loudly, Luke flips onto his back and onto his uncle’s lap yet again. His eyes were closed, and after a few deep breaths, he opens them with a bright smile.

“Alright then, I’ll tell you a secret!”

He scrambles upwards to his knees to the side of his uncle, who’s wide-eyed gaze keeps track of his always moving nephew.

“And what will that be?”

“I’ll be the first!”

Luke brings his soft hands to Aemond’s lightly calloused hands from training, and excitedly shoved their intertwined hands to their chests, leaning into his uncle’s face as his smile widens.

“I’ll be the first hero in history to always be happy! Swear it!”

Aemond’s wide eyes yet again furrows, “why me?”

“Because you’re the reason! Swear it!”

These words were loud yet quiet, as though this claim were so sacred that only Aemond, Luke, the Weirwood Tree and the Old and New Gods were the only ones worthy of hearing it.

And to the boys, it was.

Aemond was brought out of his thoughts by his nephew.

“Swear it,” whispered his beloved.

Hesitantly, he whispers back, much quieter than his nephew; “I swear it.”

Luke leans his forehead against Aemond’s, and both let out shaky breaths held in after the silence that followed their vows.

There, under the Weirwood Tree in the garden of the Red Keep, sat two lovestruck young boys, uncaring of the rest of the world, and relishing in a moment of reprieve from the hectic life of the court.

There they shared kisses and embraces.

There they shared sweet words and sweet treats.

There they comforted the other when troubles arose.

There they would sit and make up when they fight.

And there, a lone man - filled with a burning regret and a strong yearning of a past once forgotten and now remembered - kneels, as the rest of his world burns into nothing but ashes and sulfur, of fire and blood, of the raging ocean and thunderous storms in what once was a place of comfort, safety and love.

•_•_•_•_•_•_•_•

a/n: ….Never said it was gonna end sweet:) Just that it was gonna be a happy moment for lucemond, never said I wasn’t gonna make it end with me tearing y’all’s hearts out:)

a/n ps: @sleeplessdreamer123 IM NOT SORRY, THIS IS REVENGE FOR ALL THOSE TIMES YOU MADE ME SAD WITH YOUR LUCEMOND CONTENT

[kwanisms]

» stray kids masterlist «

➮ bf!Chris × fem!Reader (× implied Minho) wc: 1.8k summary: Your boyfriend really doesn't like it when his friends pay a little more attention to you nor does he like it when you playfully flirt with them. genres/themes/au: smut; bar themes, established relationship; idol au, boyfriend!Chris warnings: adult dialogue, female reader, alcohol consumption, mc flirts with someone other than their partner (Chris), bar setting, sexual content (18+ mdni), see smut warnings under the cut! special tags: @yoonguurt @sanjoongie @millennial-fangirl MINORS WILL BE BLACKLISTED & BLOCKED. AGELESS BLOGS WILL ALSO BE BLOCKED.

a/n: i will be completely honest, I forgot I even wrote this. It's been in my docs for almost a year 💀 but here it is! Thank you for reading! If you like this, please reblog and leave feedback and as always, this is a work of fiction and all characters are not reflective of their respective irl counterparts. for entertainment purposes only.

smut warnings: semi-public sex, oral (f receiving), mild dirty talk, use of pet names, fingering (f receiving), mild degradation (f receiving), implied threesome. I think that's it lol

═══════════════════════════════════════════════════════

[01:08] — isn't this what you wanted?

It was just a bit of harmless flirting. Something you’d done a few times before. It was just your nature to flirt when you drank and Chris knew that. He had never let it bother him before so why was it any different now.

Maybe it was the way he saw Minho’s eyes roam over your scantily clad body. Maybe it was the way you lightly laid your hand on his bicep when speaking to him. He didn’t like the way Minho teasingly flexed his arm, letting you feel the muscles he’d spent so much time working on in the gym.

He didn’t like how close the two of you were standing. He didn’t like the way his friend’s eyes lingered a little too long on your ass when you turned to speak to Han. Maybe that was the final straw. The push he needed to close the gap and grab you by the elbow, leading you away from his friends and into the empty bar bathroom, shutting and locking the door behind him.

“Chris,” you chastised him, trying to step around him and return to the bar. He wasn’t having any of it as he pushed you against the wall, arms caging you in as he placed his palms flat against the tile walls on either side of your head.

You’d only ever seen this side of him once before. The time you were over at the dorms for a movie night and as a joke, Seungmin grabbed you by the waist and pulled you down onto his lap as you bickered with Felix about making space for you on the couch. The guys hadn’t known back then that the two of you were a thing but Chris had made it abundantly clear later that night as he was pounding you into the mattress in his room, pinning your wrists above your head to keep you from muffling your moans.

Since then, no one had attempted to make a move or flirted with you. Until tonight anyway.

Chris thought of himself as not being the jealous type but the moment he had seen you perched on Seungmin’s lap, laughing along with the guys, the green monster reared its ugly head and he wanted the world to know you were his. He could handle random guys flirting with you because he knew they’d probably never see you again. But his own members? You saw them all the time.

“What’s wrong, babygirl?” He asked, his tone low and full of what you discerned was lust. Even though you didn’t like his being jealous, you had to admit it was probably the best rough sex you’d had with him. Normally he was so sweet and careful with you, only going hard when you asked.

That night, he was completely in control and had his way with you and there was no shame in admitting you liked the contrast between the two personas.

“I thought you liked the attention,” he continued, his voice dripping with a mixture of desire and sarcasm. You felt your knees become weak as he gazed at you, his eyes darker than before. You’d really done it now and you knew you were in for a long night.

“I-I…” you stammered but faltered when a crooked smile spread across your boyfriend’s lips.

“You what?” He asked, pressing his body closer to yours, heat from him radiating into you.

“You thought you’d flirt with one of my friends right in front of me, dressed like that?” He asked, nodding down at your choice of attire.

It was a black dress, one you’d worn before and picked with the sole purpose of dressing up for Chris. You only ever dressed like this for him because you only wanted his eyes on you.

“It wasn’t like—“ you murmured but stopped when Chris brought one of his hands up, pressing a finger to your lips. “Wasn’t like that, baby?” He asked. “You thought you’d dress up a little and not expect to be the center of attention? That wasn’t your intent at all?” He asked, moving his finger to caress your cheek, a huge contrast from the way he spoke to you.

You leaned into his touch, lips parting as you let out a sigh. You felt the pad of his thumb brush over your bottom lip before he slipped his thumb into your mouth, pressing it against your tongue. The sweet gesture turned lewd as he watched the way your lips wrapped around the digit.

His own lips parted as you sucked, tongue swirling around the tip of his thumb the way it did when he had his cock in your mouth. “You’re such a dirty little slut,” he groaned, hips rolling forward to press his erection against you. “Fuck, Chris,” you moaned, his thumb still in your mouth.

“You sound so pretty when you say my name like that,” he mumbled, pulling his hand from your face and reaching down to lift the hem of your tight skirt. “Chris,” you moaned as his fingers pressed into your panties, your arousal pooling in them. “We can’t do this here,” you whimpered as he pulled aside your panties, pressing his fingers past your folds, finding your clit easily.

“The door is locked, baby,” he said, leaning in to tease your neck with his teeth. “Besides,” he added, whispering in your ear. “Who are you expecting to come in here? Minho?” He growled. “N-no,” you whined as he worked the pads of his fingers against your clit in slow circles, dragging them down to your entrance only to pull away, teasing you.

“Chris,” you managed to whine but fell silent as he lowered himself to his knees, throwing one of your legs over his shoulder. Keeping your panties pushed to the side, he leaned in, tongue tasting you as he toyed with your clit. Your hands moved, tangling in his dark locks, tugging gently.

Oral with Chris was never quick or to the point. He loved to tease and take his time, coaxing you to your orgasm. This time was different, he’d never managed to have you squirming and moaning in mere minutes, tongue flicking against your clit, sucking on it. “Ah, shit,” you cursed, chest heaving as your boyfriend ate you out like a mad man.

He shifted, managing to throw your other thigh over his shoulder but keeping you propped up against the wall as he dove back in, tongue lapping at your entrance. You glanced down, moaning at the sight of your boyfriend’s face buried between your thighs. His eyes were shut, no doubt enjoying the sounds you made and the taste, hands gripping your ass tightly.

Your eyes rolled back as you felt your climax rapidly approaching. “Fuck,” you hissed. “I’m gonna cum,” you moaned. “Do it,” Chris answered. “Come all over my tongue, babygirl,” he added before continuing his assault on your core.

Your hands in his hair tightened, fingers gripping his tresses harder as your hips moved of their own accord, bucking in his face as your toes curled. You came with a whimper of his name and moaned as he licked up every bit of your release. You tried to shy away from his tongue but his grip on you held you in place. “Chris,” you pleaded, feeling the familiar knot in your stomach tighten. “I can’t please,” you whimpered, feeling tears form. “It’s too much.”

Chris chuckled, the vibrations against your soaked core causing you to tremble.

You looked down when you felt him move his mouth away and the sight had your walls clenching around nothing. The cocky grin partnered with his lips glistening with your slick. It was all you could do to not push him onto the floor and hop on his cock right then and there.

He let you down, holding you steady as your legs shook. You managed to stumble over to look into the mirror, turning on the water to wet your hot flushed face.

Chris had gotten to his feet and pulled his phone out but what he was doing you couldn’t tell.

You noticed him moved behind you in the mirror and gasped as he pulled your skirt up, exposing your ass. “Chris!” You hissed trying to turn but he forced you to face the mirror. “Don’t move,” he ordered, grabbing your panties and pulling them down your thighs, letting them fall to your feet as he brought his hand to his lips, wetting two of his fingers before it disappeared behind you and you let out a moan as you felt his fingers enter you from behind.

He’d just eaten you out in a public bathroom and now he wanted to finger you? This was crossing so many lines but why was it so hot?

“Chris,” you warned, head dropping as his fingers moved in and out of you at a steady pace. “You like that,” he asked, his free hand moving to wrap around your throat. “You like being touched in a public bathroom?” You moaned as he curled his fingers against your walls, your knees threatening to give out.

“This is so wrong,” you whined, head falling back as you felt Chris’ lips ghost over the exposed skin of your shoulders. “Would you rather Minho be in here making you feel this good?” He growled, fingers moving faster. “That’s not what I—“ you tried to explain but fell silent. “Have you ever thought about the others when I’m touching you?” He asked. ‘What the hell?’

“What?” You gasped. “No!” You felt him smirk against your skin. He was teasing you. Teasing and torturing you for drunkenly flirting with his friend. “Have you thought about them when touching yourself?” He whispered, curling his fingers again. You let out a deep moan, causing him to chuckle.

“Does that turn you on? Thinking about other men when you touch yourself?” He asked. You wanted to tell him it was ridiculous, that you only ever thought about him but that wasn’t entirely true. You had thought about Minho like that before. Of course, it was before you and Chris had even started seeing one another. You were single then and free to think about what you like.

“It does, doesn’t it?” He asked again. “No,” you answered weakly. “Don’t lie to me,” he growled.

“You’ve already told me your fantasies, baby girl,” he added. ‘Shit,’ you thought. He was right.

You had mistakenly admitted you liked the idea of double penetration. Chris found the confession intriguing. “Have you imagined yourself, full of two cocks?” He asked again,

When you were done you heard a tap on the locked door. “Shit,” you cursed, pulling your skirt down. “We gotta get out of here,” you hissed. Chris unlocked the door and smiled at you.

“We aren’t done yet, kitten,” he said, pulling open the door and your eyes widened as Minho stepped into the bathroom. “What are you doing?” You asked Chris as he shut the door again and locked it.

“What wrong, kitten?” Chris asked, turning to face you. "After all,"

“Isn’t this what you wanted?”

©️ kwanisms 2024 | all works on this blog are protected under copyright. Do not repost, continue, or translate my works. All graphics made by me. Content and support banners made by me using cafekitsune's template.

[daiziesssart]

a humiliatingly long character analysis of lily evans

Someone sent me an ask that briefly mentioned how misunderstood Lily is, and before I knew it I was typing out this monster. I am. sorry. This is literally just me rambling about her, what I find compelling about her character, and why her character is so often misunderstood.

This is long as hell so I'm putting it under a read more lolol

Part of the reason I like Lily so much (other than my being ginger and projecting onto any redheaded female character I see) is that even though she isn’t explored as much as her other Marauders Era counterparts, we know enough about her to start building the framework for her character. And what I see is a girl who was incredibly interesting, kind, and flawed.

One thing I always think about in regards to Lily is that she was dealt with a pretty unfair hand. As soon as she receives her letter, she’s basically torn between two worlds, both of which have been less than welcome to her. On one hand, we have the muggle world that she’s known all her life, but once she starts integrating into the wizarding world, she likely feels a bit of a disconnect with that world. To twist the knife further, her sister- whom she loved dearly and grew up so close with- starts outwardly resenting her with such unbridled hostility that they likely couldn’t even be in a room alone together without major conflict. 

On the other hand, we have the wizarding world– a world she’s not as familiar with and one she soon learns holds a demographic of people who hate everything she is and would rather see her excommunicated or even dead. And even though finding out you’re a witch/wizard is probably such an exciting and life-changing moment, I can’t help but also take note of the difficulties, especially if you’re the only one in your family with magic. You’re essentially uprooted from the only way of life you’ve known at an already complicated age, and now you have to quickly become acclimated to this new world that you only just found out existed. Not only that, but now you’re suddenly attending a school with classes that are primarily focused on this world of magic (which is still brand new to you), and you have to work extra hard to play catch up in order to do well. Like, that all seems like… a lot for a kid to handle.

And then I remember how young she was when she was thrown into that mess. She was only 11, and kids that age desperately crave any sense of belonging. I mean, that’s something that still holds true for adults, but it’s especially critical for a developing child. So imagine Lily, ages 11-15, struggling to stay afloat in this weird purgatory between these two parts of herself, both of which have been the cause for major and traumatic experiences relating to rejection in her life.

(I say it was the “cause” even though it’s obvious that those things were never her fault at all, but when you’re a young kid navigating the world, the only thing you’re able to process is that the common denominator is you, therefore you’re the one who must shoulder the blame.)

So now we have this tween-teenaged girl who has a dysfunctional relationship with two major parts of identity and probably feels absolutely lost. 

This is why her hesitancy to end her friendship with Snape makes sense to me. Even though by fifth year he’s already well past toeing the line with the dark arts, Lily was willing to overlook some pretty egregious and troubling things in order to maintain the relationship. I kind of interpret that as her way of desperately clinging on to any sense of belonging she has left; her relationship with Petunia has already been poisoned, and now there are people who resent her existence as a witch; if she loses Severus too, what and who else does she have? And what tone does that set for her, if everyone and everything she’s come to hold close to her ends up turning her away?

It’s also important to note that not only is Severus one of her few remaining connections to the muggle world, but he’s also a wizard who grew up in the muggle world; he understands her, and I don’t doubt that he gave her some stability at times when she needed it (her finding out about her being a witch, her having trouble acclimating to the wizarding world, etc).

I see this as being one of her flaws and I can actually appreciate how relatable and realistic it feels. Lily is not a bad person; on the contrary, you’d be hard pressed to find anyone to describe her as such. Not to get all clinical and boring, but the interesting thing about (unhealthy) coping mechanisms is that it can actually be really hard to identify them in your own behavior. Unless you’re in therapy and/or are actively psychoanalyzing yourself, you likely don’t even realize how many of your common behaviors are born from self defense mechanisms put in place by your brain after past events.

To me, it makes sense why she avoided actually confronting the idea that Snape was too far gone. We know that she was aware of the path Severus was taking, but it almost seems like she was still convinced that she could save him, and could possibly steer him back in the right direction. It’s only when she becomes the target of his bigotry that she realizes that the Snape who called her a ‘mudblood’ was not the same Severus who was the one who held her hand and introduced her to this new, exciting world.

In a general sense, yes, it is selfish, to only take a stand when something starts affecting you personally. But I also think it’s important to note that it’s unlikely that this was a conscious decision on Lily’s part. In my eyes, it was easier to delude herself into thinking she still had a chance to save him before it was too late when she was able to separate him from his actions (considering, a lot of the time, she was only hearing about them after the fact, rather than seeing them firsthand). But the elusion is shattered once she sees that the Snape she grew up with– her friend, Severus– is, in fact, the same person who’s out there calling other students slurs, dismissing the malicious use of Dark Magic on others as just “a laugh”. There we see a Lily who is actually revealed to have been somewhat aware of Snape’s involvement with the darker side of magic, and genuinely feels pretty ashamed about her inaction.

Also, this is in no way me being a Snape-anti, and I actually could do an entire separate analysis on his character alone and why I find him so interesting.

Anyways, that moment in SWM is probably somewhat of an epiphany to her. It’s like a dam that’s been broken, and now she’s overwhelmed with the realization of exactly how much she overlooked in order to keep their friendship afloat. And for someone like Lily Evans, someone whom we know is opinionated and unafraid to call others out on their bullshit, that can be hard to swallow and feel pretty mortifying and shameful. And I think this was a huge turning point for her- at that point, she doesn’t have the luxury of avoiding uncomfortable truths anymore and now that she’s getting closer to graduating and being thrown out into the world on the brink of war, this was probably a really sobering discovery.

This is where we don’t have as much info to go off of, and a lot of it is up to interpretation. But we actually have little crumbs to go off of following her graduation and leading up to her death.

One of my favorite little tidbits isn’t in the books, and @seriousbrat's post reminded me about it. Here's the actual entry on Pottermore for anyone who's interested, but I'll summarize: after James and Lily began dating, Lily brings James to meet newly engaged Petunia and Vernon. Everything goes downhill, because Vernon is a smarmy asshole, and James is still pretty immature and can’t help but mess with him (which… fair, I guess). Petunia and Vernon storm out after Petunia letting Lily know that she had no intentions of having her as a bridesmaid, which causes Lily to break down into tears. I mention this because I also think it’s a pretty important aspect of her character; like we’ve seen in her past friendship with Snape, Lily seems more than willing to forgive others most of the time. Petunia is a bit of a complicated character herself, but she was objectively very cruel and unfair to Lily once it became obvious that she was a witch and Petunia was not.

Something that always stands out to me is just how desperate Lily is to earn Petunia’s trust and approval again. Even up until her death, she was more than willing to mend the relationship, were Petunia ever to consider. 

This is a detail about Lily that I feel is misunderstood quite a bit. I’ve seen a lot of instances of her character being reduced to a one-dimensional archetype with little to no complexity. And often, that archetype is “know-it-all, prudish, self righteous bookworm who is also a goody two-shoes with a stick up her ass”. What annoys me is that the reason for this is most definitely the scene in which she blows up at James in SWM for bullying Snape, and hurls quite a few insults at him directly after an extremely devastating and overwhelming situation for her. This frustrates me because we know for a fact that she’s the polar opposite of this archetype I’ve seen her reduced to. 

In actuality, she’s referred to as popular, charming, witty, bright and kind. From flashbacks we also are shown that she’s opinionated, bold, and not afraid to challenge others. With other context, like her interpersonal relationships, we can also see that she’s pretty emotionally driven and wears her heart on her sleeve. 

(I know Remus didn’t mention Lily much in the books, but I really love how he described her in the movies. He tells Harry that the first thing he noticed about him was not his striking resemblance to his father, but his eyes, the same eyes Lily had. He also calls her a “singularly gifted witch” and an “uncommonly kind woman”.

“She had a way of seeing the beauty in others, even and perhaps most especially, when that person could not see it in themselves.”

I know there are mixed feelings on whether or not the films count as canon source material, so take it with a grain of salt, but I personally cannot see a world in which Lily and Remus didn’t become close friends.)

Here we have a direct description of what she was like and who she was, corroborated by recounting of memories of her, and yet for some reason, this feels like the thing that is most commonly lost in translation.

I don’t think I can say why I think that is without mentioning the dreaded M word (misogyny- it’s misogyny), but I also don’t want to get too off topic so I’ll be brief: female characters are typically not given the same grace as male characters. When we have an undeveloped male character, he’s awarded the assumption that despite his lack of depth, there still exists a complex and multifaceted character– it’s merely just potential that hasn’t been tapped into. Whereas when we have underdeveloped female characters, they are taken at face value, meaning that not much exists beyond the little information we have of them. They are not presumed to have a life or a story that exists beyond the surface of what we know like male characters are. That’s why I think characters like Regulus, Evan, or Barty (just to name a few) are more popular than Lily, despite being less developed than she is.

(Before anyone gets defensive, no, I don’t think it’s an individual problem that you alone need to be shamed for. I think it’s the result of a deeper issue regarding misogyny in media as a concept; these are things that we’ve all unknowingly internalized and while it’s not our fault, we still have to do the work to deconstruct those learned prejudices.)

What I find really cool about her character is that despite how much she’s been hurt, she’s also still known as one of the most loving, kind, and considerate characters. There were so many times in her life where the love she received was conditional and ripped away from her– and I think that’s what makes her sacrifice even more poignant. She was able to protect her infant son from an extremely powerful dark wizard, wand-less, knowing that her husband was just murdered in cold blood, just from how much love she felt for Harry. Her love was a force of nature on its own, and I just think that’s such an amazing thing about her. 

I know I’m biased, given that she’s one of my favorite characters, but even upon delving into this, I still just find it so incredibly hard to understand how anyone can actively hate her (not indifference, but actual dislike). In my opinion (again, no one is unbiased, and she is a favorite character of mine, but trust me when I say that I’m trying to be objective as possible when I say this), she’s probably one of the most likable characters of the Marauders Era. I think perhaps a lot of people haven’t given her a chance or really taken the time to learn about her character, but it could be a myriad of other reasons that I’ll never understand. 

There's so much more I could say but this is long enough and I will stop myself

Lily Evans, u will always be famous to me

[meraki-sunset]

Hi Meraki!

Can you draw Carapaces at different points in their lifespan? I wanna see babies, kids, and the elderly chess pieces.

Sure bro. here are some chess people and some headcanons i have

🧸👶BABIES!👶🧸

It's not confirmed if carapace can reproduce naturally or if they can only multiply using the ectobiology machines.

On sburb, the chess people are born as adults and with a specific purpose, with a barcode on their wrist to identify the, i guess, model. So there are no babies on Prospit or Derse.

The babies the players made in the post credits would be the first carapace children to exist.

I headcanon that they're born with a full set of teeth that fall eventually, like with any other child.

They're a little more squishy than an adult carapace but less than a human baby

i also though it'd be cool if sometimes they got black or white spots

(Also, even if chess people remember living for years before the arrival of the players, they effectively began to exist the moment the first player enters the game, those memories being an illusion, same as how, when you buy a game and turn it on, the NPCs might tell you about their childhood, when in reality, they were never kids in the real world, they were rendered as adults for the purpose of being there in the game. The same happens with the chess people)

🎈🎀KIDS🚀🪁

Like before, there are no carapace children in sburb, but I imagine they would be the quiet type of kids. Not necessarily shy, but not very talkative.

They would have a lot of energy and due to their physical endurance, they would play outside a lot, sometimes a little too rough with the human and troll kids

⚽⛱️TEENS🎮👗

I guess this is the period where they would become more vocal.

Also, I can see many of them using a lot of hats/accessories as a form of self-expression.

Suction-cup accessories would be their own version of hair clips and scrunchies

👠👓ADULTS💍🎓

They're the strongest, a lot of them have more pointy features than their teenage counterparts, some may retain the round face into adulthood, but they would still be sturdier than a teen. Their hands have now fully developed claws. They aren't strong enough to open a can, but they can hurt

EarthC adult carapace specifically would be more talkative than Sburb's carapace. Also, not having a predetermined role to fulfill, they would be more similar to humans. If you dropped one of them on one of the sburb moon, they would stand out a lot.

🌙SBURB CARAPACE🌙

Just some apreciation of the canon characters.

i love them to death

👨🏻‍🦳ELDER👩🏻‍🦳

Last but not least, the elderly carapace. Sburb carapace didn't seem able to age, or at least they did so very slowly, because their purpose was to live long enough to act as sort of guides to the players after being exiled.

I suppose they can grow old eventually, specially the ones born outside the game, as babies, they most likely have a shorter lifespan that their Prospit/Derse counterparts.

Probably you can tell they're old because of the damage to their external carapace, which isn't as hard as it used to and their posture, product of time taking a tool on them.

As for wrinkles, they're only visible in their faces, which are softer for facial expression, but they don't even get that many

(also, just so you know i cried drawing the chicken grampa carapace, he knows his wife loves birds so he bought her a chicken, that's not exactly the kind of bird she expected but loves it regarthless, the chicken's name is gertrude, the grampa loves gertrude, she's a chicken orb, a chorb if you will. they're all happy, i would die for chicken-grampa)

And that's all, that's how I imagine EarthC carapace work. They're not so different from the Sburb carapace, but they get to experience growing up and deciding what to do with their lives.

i really love the species and i want to explore them more in the casu epilogue

[b33zlebubz]

RECKLESS ABANDON--------

CHAPTER THREE - some faces are friendlier than others.

TASK FORCE 141 X READER (PLATONIC)

PREV CHAPTER || MASTERLIST || AO3 LINK || NEXT CHAPTER

TAGS: gender neutral reader, angst, fluff, slow burn found family, PTSD, trauma bonding, kidnapping, reader is a foster kid in high school, family drama, blood, violence, guns

"After your life falls apart at the seams very early on, you work hard to keep the small amount of peace you still have. Foster care is rough, work is draining, school is a drag...but you eventually find yourself in a good place. All of that quickly goes to waste, however, when your family's unfinished business finally finds its way back to you."

Fluorescent lights, you've come to realize, might be the lowest layer of hell.  Lower than high school and broken noses and every other unpleasant thing you've experienced thus far in your short life.

The low buzz and flicker of the sterile fixtures above your head seemed to follow you everywhere; almost mocking you.  They were there years ago in the hospital as you held bloodied newspapers up to your disfigured nose, watching the nurses talk to your social worker about what to do with you—then again at your first time working a full nightshift at the gas station down the street.  They were there at every adoption party growing up as you stood in the corner, awkwardly shuffling your feet as you—begrudgingly—introduced yourself to every adult that approached you.  Every school you attended, every clinic, hospital, and residency had them; lights sent from hell to assault your eyes specifically.

Even now, as you shoot upright in the spare dorm-like room Price supplied you with, the fixtures are above your head.  The only difference is that this time, they’re off.  Your brain swims, your breathing tight and fleeting as you grasp the fabric of your sweater in attempts to calm your raging heart.  When that doesn’t work, you throw the covers off and stumble for the door.   Cold, bare feet hitting the linoleum as shaky hands fumble through the dark for the bathroom doorknob.  When you finally get inside, you retch into the sink.

Everything between arriving at your house two days ago and ending up here is a blur.

You don’t leave your room much after the talk with Price—fully content to just sleep the days and nights away until the nightmares took hold.  You only wake up whenever Price knocks on your door and coasts you out to show you around.

You don't know what to think about him---not yet---but you're pretty sure he's safe.  He's painfully British; with thick facial hair framing his face and the faint smell of cigar smoke lingering on his fatigues when you open the door.  Unlike the others you've seen hanging around, always looking very official in pristine business-casual wear or covered head to toe in gear, he has a worn hat that never leaves his head.

He shows you the basics, introducing you to his colleagues around the building and making conversation as you walk.

The bathroom is down the hall, dining facility is downstairs, medical wing on the first floor, the common areas, Laswell’s office, and Price’s office…you can’t say you were able to pay much attention.

Not when that huge, skull-masked Lieutenant is in the same room as you for some of it.

It's then that you learn his name.

"Ghost?"  You question, raising an eyebrow.  You watch the man in question—looking utterly out of place as he slides over to sit with a few others at a table nearby.  He's dressed casually in a black jacket and dark tactical pants; but the balaclava and mask still remain. 

Price places a hand on your shoulder.

"Ghost, Soap…"  he nods towards the Scot you recognize from the day before.  He looks a bit more approachable than his masked counterpart, at least—poking fun at the Lieutenant next to him.  There's a thick bandage around his forearm where you bit him yesterday.

Then, Price gestures to the only one you haven't met yet.  "...And Gaz.”

The man is already looking at you when you meet his gaze, but he quickly glances away again, distracted by Soap who claps a hand to his shoulder.  Whatever he says must be funny, because Gaz laughs and shakes his head, distracted.

"Weird names," you remark, and that earns a chuckle from the captain.

"Callsigns," he replies.  "Nicknames, basically.  Stick around long enough you might earn one yourself…but let's hope not."

You nod.  Your hand comes up to once again brush at the cold dog tags around your neck. "Right.  Yeah, let's hope not."

"You'll be spending a lotta time with 'em for now, probably," Price says, tugging at the brim of his hat as he continues walking, briefly catching your gaze.  "So, I suggest you get used to 'em."

A knot of dread forms in your stomach at his statement.  You glance behind you as you walk—eyes locked on the skull mask.  Again, your head reels with the memory of yesterday.  Gunshots.  Yelling.  Blood on your sneakers.

Blood, blood, blood.

You swallow heavily, "Even Ghost?"

You're sure your unease isn't lost on Price from the way he looks at you.  He places a sympathetic hand on your shoulder, giving it a couple pats as he guides you along with an affirmative nod.  

“Yes,” he says.  "Even Ghost."

The thought makes your mind uneasy.  You swear your heart hasn’t stopped jackrabbiting in your chest since you left your house.  It feels like you should be running, fighting, escaping—something—but instead you find yourself barely leaving your bed.  Your hands itch for your phone to distract yourself but, alas, the only thing Price left you with is your blood-splattered sneakers which sit in the corner.  For good reason, you suppose.

You spend hours staring at the light fixtures above your head in the spare bunk, thinking about everything in your life that's led you up to this point; your father's lies, endless adoption papers, letters, and bright fluorescent lights.  Everything and nothing all at once.  When you finally get to sleep, that's when you find yourself jolting awake at night and stumbling to the bathroom.

When the gagging finally calms, you stand there.  Clammy hands grip the edges of the sink as you breathe—in and out—and swallow back the bitter bile that sticks to your throat.  In your panic, you never even bothered to turn on the lights, and your eyes shine as you make eye contact with your reflection in the dark, dingy mirror.  Light spills in from the hallway behind you, casting a halo of light on your frazzled hair.

Ugh.  You look awful; your bruised eye swollen and irritated again from tossing and turning. The skin on your arms and face is still rubbed raw from viciously scrubbing the blood off in the shower days ago, and you still didn't feel clean. Dried tears streak your face from crying in your sleep.  The thought alone of someone seeing you like this is enough for you to steal yourself.  You take a shaky breath in before letting it out, and you switch on the sink to wash your vomit down the drain.  While you’re at it, numb hands cup the freezing running water before splashing some onto your face, and you stare at yourself for a little while—acquainting yourself with the reality that yes.  This is happening.  Your father faked his death before dying again and now there’s people after you; the man with the scar on his face, you assume, and maybe others.  No, you don’t know the code that Price mentioned and no—you don’t know what’s going on.

You swallow again.

It is what it is.

The dog tags glint against the low light as you turn the faucet off.

Your breathing settled and your heart rate calmed, you're left with a shakiness that comes with the lack of adrenaline.  You lean against the sink for a moment, basking in the silence as the last of your nightmare fades.  You're so lost in thought that the sound of shuffling and low voices in the hallway are almost, almost lost on you.

"It was supposed to be a quiet mission for a reason."

Price's voice can be heard, muffled, down the hall—and you freeze slightly.

"Yeah, well…you can thank the Shadows for that one."  Another, deeper, British accent replies.  One that makes the hairs on your neck prickle.  "'Mission was to extract the kid.  That's it.  If Johnny didn't shoot first, Graves would've.  And we both know how that would've ended."

Price sighs tiredly in response, their voices growing closer as they turn the corner.  You can almost picture him running a hand down his face as he does, the other on his hip.  Then, their footsteps stop a little ways down the hall.

"'Suppose you're right," he says.  "Just…try not to scare 'em too bad.  You know Sparky would want—"

"Yeah…I know," Ghost grunts back, interrupting.  "No promises."

A moment passes. 

There's an unspoken goodbye before you hear footsteps fading off again, signaling one of them has left.  You take a breath and wipe your face before stepping out into the hallway.  You feel his gaze flicker to you as you cross the threshold and pretend not to notice him.  Shaky hands fumble with the doorknob.

It feels eerily similar to the first time you both met.  When he effortlessly killed two men, splattered the blood on you, and then turned around so nonchalantly and asked—

"You good?"  

You freeze up.  Finally, you turn to look at him.

He's not wearing the mask.  Not the skull one, at least, and it works to ease your nerves a little.  The fact that you can see an eyebrow rise at you through a balaclava helps you remember that he is—somehow—human.  A human with a plastic water bottle, a pack of cigarettes, and a lighter in his hand with no gun in sight.

You wipe your face again.  Your throat is tight as you speak, as if you've forgotten how to do it altogether, "peachy."

He huffs a breath at your sarcasm, but he doesn't press further.  

"Good," he says.  "'Cause it looks like you've seen a ghost."

You scoff, "you're not funny."

He shifts and tosses you the water bottle in his hand.  You flinch and just barely manage to catch it by the cap.  Then, confused by the gesture, you look back up at him.

"Keep your head up, kid," he says, the subtle softness of his tone not lost on you—although it seems completely foreign.  "'Cause, with the way things are lookin', it'll get worse before it gets better."

It's strange and cryptic.  Your heart lodges in your throat from the strange advice as you lower your brow at him.  "What does?"

"The blood."

You let out a shaky breath, looking away.   "That's hardly comforting."

A moment passes where he just looks at you.  You're unsure what he sees; other than a pathetic, disheveled teenager who just finished dry heaving into a public bathroom sink over a stupid nightmare.  You feel uncomfortable—like he's reading your thoughts, or maybe he's just amused that you're scared of him.  You’re unsure.

"Maybe not," he shrugs and finally looks away, unlocking his door.  "But it's the truth."

You swallow down your unease as you look down at the water bottle.  

A part of you knows he’s right.  Whatever your father got himself tangled up in—it involved you now.  You were being chased and if there was anything you knew about how these stories went; someone was going to end up dead.  Sulking wasn’t going to get you answers, and it certainly wasn’t going to help you going forwards.  You had no idea how the people in the movies, comics, video games, and TV shows always seemed so put-together.  How they—Price, Ghost, Soap, Gaz, and your father—managed to sleep at night with what they did.  What they saw.

"Does it get easier?"  You ask, for some reason.   Your voice is quiet.  Strained.  

Ghost seems caught off guard by the question, because he hesitates in his doorway—a gloved hand resting on the doorknob.  He doesn’t look at you, not really, and you don’t look at him.  You can hear the rain tapping against the window at the end of the hall and the sound of thunder rumbling across the sky above.  You figure he can read minds, because he seems to completely understand what you’re asking without needing to explain much.

“If you’ve seen enough,” he finally speaks.  “Yes ... you do get used to it.”

A moment passes before he shifts and looks at you again. 

“But try not to," he adds. "Your old man didn’t die just for you to get screwed up like the rest of us.”

And, with that, he steps into his quarters and shuts the door behind him, leaving you alone in the sterile hallway.  Fluorescent lights flicker above your head.

@brokenpieces-72 @warenai @karurururu @pertinentpostmortem @kaoyamamegami @hayleybarnesx @nostalgialeech

[ideas-4-stories]

Cross guild romance prompt:

When S-Hawk and S-Croc are first brought to the Guild or taken in, they both bond with their adult organic counterparts. But they actually really REALLY love Buggy.

He has that energy of Safe For Children, he's actually really really good with kiddos, especially ones with trauma. He really became the kinda person he wanted and needed when he was a lil'un. Buggy really likes kids, honestly, he just doesn't interact with them much, especially lately what with his newfound notoriety. Back in the East, at least, he could go relatively under cover and set up a circus event. Now, he's got his hands tied with options.

Crocodile and Mihawk are both surprised by this but don't particularly care. So what if the clown can make balloon animals and makes the boys actually smile and laugh? He's just a clown. Clowns do that. Whatever.

It only comes to a head when, late one evening, Mihawk goes to check on the boys when he senses a strange disturbance. Buggy beat him there. The swordsman watches from the doorway as Birdie (his own seraphim, name pending, nickname in the meantime) sits on the clown's lap, rubbing tears from his eyes. Angel (Croc's seraphim, name pending, nickname in the meantime) is wrapped up against the clown's chest. The three are in the rocking chair, Buggy holding both of the boys close, comforting them with hands in hair or petting backs. And he's singing softly to them. It's a language Mihawk has never heard before, to his knowledge. Though it DOES remind him of some of the seemingly senseless babble from Shanks when he drank far too much. He stays in the shadows, watching. Observing. Memorizing.

He refuses to acknowledge the warmth in his chest as anything other than mild heartburn.

<>

Crocodile is faced with a similar situation but very much different. It's midday for one. And there are no tears or need for comfort involved for another.

It was a cooler day, and he'd seen hide nor hair from the clown for more than a few hours. Truly, a horrific notion.

He ends up finding Buggy in the kitchen, hair in a messy bun and wearing an apron. The kids are with him as well, in oversized aprons. All three are a mess, laughing, flour and powdered sugar on her faces, aprons, in their hair. It's chaotic. It's loud. It's... happy.

Crocodile just watches for a bit, as the boys bounce and squeal over the dark chocolate and red velvet cake they made, Buggy gently walking them through piping designs. He chuckles when they make a mistake, nudges them with his hip and calls it "avant garde", waves off any concern. He's gentle with them as he guides tiny, deceptively soft little hands in loops and designs, laying out stencils and sifting powdered sugar to make shapes. It's cavity inducing.

Especially when Angel, hair held back with a headband decorated with frogs, looks up at Buggy and asks without hesitation, "Can we take some to Father and Papa, mama Bug?"

Crocodile tenses. His eyes go wide. Has the clown been coaching them, has he been-

Then he catches sight of Buggy blushing, staring wide eyed at Angel. "What did you call me, Angie?"

"Called you mama Bug. Why?"

Buggy kneels down, smiling softly despite the visible confusion. "Why did you call me that, gumdrop?"

Birdie chips in at that point, leaning to peek over his brother's shoulder. "Because you're Mama."

Buggy giggles, tucking a loose curl back. "I meant, where did you silly sweeties learn that?"

Both boys grin brightly. "Books! And that story book you read us all the time, the one with the princes and knights and dragons! Papa is the big dragon, and Father is the king!" They both turn blinding smiles at the clown. "And you're the queen! 'Cause the queen is nice and warm and fun and smart and pretty! And the queen is the princes' mama, so you're mama. Mamas are supposed to be nice and cozy and take care of us. Like you do! So you're mama!"

Buggy sniffles, smiling so fondly, so softly, it makes something in Crocodile thump roughly. He won't put a name to it. He refuses.

When Buggy cups the boys' cheeks, presses a kiss to their foreheads, the logia user turns on his heel and walks away.

<><>

Just. The seraphims up and deciding that the cross guild leaders are the parents and playing accidentally-on-purpose matchmakers. Mihawk and Crocodile angrily falling for the Clown because the introduction of children has opened a new face for him, a new perspective to view and they're so pissed about it. They don't even want to beat him up anymore. They lay awake at night thinking about him. They're so mad. They're feral.

The kids are just like "wow, our dads are dumb. We should help!"

Cue a series of absolutely wild shenanigans, and Buggy is just. So confused. Then so done. So tired. He needs a nap. Maybe an energy drink. Maybe both at once.

S-Hawk and S-Croco makes sense to bond with their adult counterparts or come to a mutual tolerance of each other. The seraphim children really REALLY love Buggy because he has that SAFE energy for kids. I like that headcanon that he’s really good with kiddos, indeed he became the person for children that he wanted when he was little bug.

Buggy must be scared of interacting with kids after becoming one of the Emperor of the Sea. Yeah, Buggy could be a ringmaster and other performers in a circus back in the East Blue.

Headcanon: Buggy can make the greatest balloon animals because why not?

Mihawk going to check on the boys and find Buggy beat him to it, the clown hugging them both and calming them both. Birdie and Angel (holy stars what cute nicknames, let me guess all three have to come to a decision on what S-Croco and S-Hawk’s names will truly be and the seraphims must agree on them) Then Buggy starts singing to them! Mihawk’s heart!

Love One Piece having different languages than the common one… Maybe the language that the clown is singing in the Wado’s original language! Or maybe Roger or another Roger Pirate could speak another language and that’s what Buggy is singing in? IDK

Crocodile facing a similar situation, but it’s happier and more fun because the kids and Buggy are making treats (When you wrote that Crocodile having seen Buggy more than a couple times and to Crocodile it was a horrifying notion… does that mean Crocodile was looking for Buggy!!!) That mafia boss finding Buggy in the kitchen with the children. Awwwwwwwwww

It’s chaotic fun for Buggy and the seraphims, and they are making dark chocolate and red velvet cake! That’s so fucking cute! Squealing and wanting to kick my feet in the air of how cute the imagines I see are!!! Buggy walking them through piping the best he can, telling them that their mistakes don’t matter, and the cake still looks amazing. Awwwwwwwwwwwwwwww

How Angel (love the headband decorated with frogs, you know that was once Buggy’s headbands or Buggy bought it for him) shocks both adults because he calls Crocodile - Father, Mihawk - Papa, and Buggy - Mama Bug! (I don't think it's only because Angel called Buggy - Mama) So, does Birdie call Mihawk - Father and Crocodile - Papa?

Crocodile thinking Buggy taught him to do that, but Buggy is as confused Crocodile is (Calling the Seraphim Gumdrop, that’s a cute nickname) Birdie agreeing with his brother about calling Buggy - Mama Bug and they learned it from books. (I read like Birdie was the one saying it, so Papa Crocodile is the big dragon, Father Mihawk being the king and Mama Buggy as the queen)

Buggy being emotional about this is so him. Crocodile’s heart thumping against his chest while Buggy is pressing a kiss on their foreheads. Going back to making the cake with Angel and Birdie as Crocodile leaves the kitchen, probably going to where Mihawk is.

Love that the seraphims are accidentally-on-purpose matchmakers and deciding the cross leaders are their parents. Love how Mihawk and Crocodile are anger that they are falling for the clown. Love that those two are lying awake and thinking about Buggy.

The kids thinking their dada are dumb and think everything will be well if they help. In the end everything was fine… but in the middle? Holy stars what did those two do? Yeah, Buggy will be needing bot an energy drink and a nap, so confused and done with what’s happening.

[penvisions]

gone to the dogs {chapter 3}

Pairing: Boston QZ! Joel Miller x F! Reader ; Implied Boston QZ! Joel Miller x Tess Servopoulos

Summary: A person from your past makes you feel the changes that transformed you into what you are today. A meal shared feels like another change is coming.

Word Count: 4.9k

Warnings: canon typical violence, canon typical language, canon typical gore, outbreak fic, age gap (only by about ten years), dark fic, dark joel miller, mean joel miller, joel miller is uptight, degrading language, sexual language, heated interactions, adult language, fighting, argumentative language, mutual disdain, sexual content, implication of sex work, unprotected piv (mentioned), sexual acts, reader is snarky, reader meets joel toe-to-toe with insults and it's amazing both reader and joel pov, lemme know if there are any i missed!

A/N: this honestly came out of nowhere. i haven't been writing lately beyond jotting down scene notes and vague ideas,so i've taken a step back from forming actual chapters for the many wips i have at the moment. but this was a good thing to get down amid all the stress of preparing to move for the second time in three months

ao3 link || series masterlist || joel miller masterlist || ko-fi

You step back a few paces, instincts reminding you of the last time you saw the man. He looked older, older than he should if only seven years went by. But the stresses of the world made each one seem like a lifetime.

But upon closer inspection, as you realize that maybe he looks…actually in better shape than when you had seen him last. But not being covered in dirt and grime was an easy difference. No, though, he looked healthy. Far better off than your rumpled and stark appearance.

He says your real name and you feel something soften deep inside. You hadn’t heard your actual name since…no, you cut the thought off, not wanting to think anymore about anything to do with the day you lost your brother. You feel the watching eyes of Joel and Tess as the meeting with strangers turns into anything but. Your connection with one of the men seemingly the last of the outcomes they had anticipated.

“Cane.” You correct him. “My name is- it’s Cane.”

“I can call you that, if you prefer. I’m just so glad you’re okay. When that raider dragged you off, I thought-“

“I got away.” You cut him off, not wanting to reveal the way you had ended up being a resident of the Boston Quarantine Zone. It wasn’t important, it was personal, and it was no one’s business but your own now, how it had come to be the reality of your life. It hadn’t been the first blood you spilled but it had certainly been the beginning of the path you walked and paced and snarled your way around today. He must sense your snub, the way you don’t want to dwell on the past. He nods once, eyes glinting as he takes in the two figures behind you. His eyes focus on Tess, a nod to her in greeting as he connects a face to the voice he had been conversing with for a few weeks now.

Frank turns to Bill, his counterpart on the other side of the fence. Allowing you to let out a huff of breath in relief at the passed moment. Or so you thought, Joel’s eyes were heavy on you. Far too weighted and far too vigilant as he no doubt picks up more than the exchange had been.

“Let’s, Bill, let’s get them inside. Get Cane into the shower, you look a little rough around the edges. You didn’t run into any trouble did you?”

The feeling of water cascading hot from the shower head and down your aching body was something you thought you’d never get to experience again. It was such a rare occurrence to get even lukewarm water in the zone, the water pressure weak.

A soft knock sounded through the hush of water, followed by Frank asking if you were comfortable with him coming into the bathroom. You call out a muffled affirmative, body beginning to ache from the way you had trudged through the night to get to the cordoned off city, especially after the way large hands had roughly pushed and pulled at you atop Joel’s shared bed.

“I just…wanted a second alone with you.” The man broke the heavy silence as he settled on a small bench in the room, opposite the vanity. He was worried, you could sense that much.

“That’s okay, it’s your house and I don’t mind.”

“…it could be your house too….if you wanted.”

On the other side of the door, Joel tries to keep his breathing light as he listens in on the conversation. A feeling of protectiveness hard to squash as he saw the other man slink off in search of you. There was something between you two, a shared past. A worry the other man felt entitled to have over you, the utterance of a name foreign to him but meant something to you. Joel wasn’t sure what to think, the way Tess had described him had been all positive and hopeful, a potential trading partner for things they couldn’t find in the rubble of the city remains or within the walls of the zone.

A connection to you was the last thing he had expected out of this trip. And he was on high alert for any issues that might bring to light. He keeps his eyes trained on the end of the upstairs hall, instincts telling him that Bill knows he hadn’t really been in search of a restroom for himself. Another dog with something to protect, with something to defend and fight for. The two men far more alike than they would want to admit and they had only just met. Your voice is quiet, something he had only ever experienced when he walked in on you and Tess alone. So used to you projecting it, to speaking loudly to ensure people heard you and understood the intent behind them.

The vulnerability with a man you obviously knew isn’t lost on him.

“Don’t think Bill would like that.” Cutting under his offer, you want him to realize that it would never work, his life is set up here due to the other man. Even if you were to be minimally evasive and keep to yourself, it was a life you weren’t sure you deserved let alone were worthy of being offered. It would be a disturbance to their way of life, from the gardens they tended to the house they obviously shared as their own.

“Yeah, but even so. We could convince him, if that’s something you’d be interested in. I don’t…I don’t like the thought of you all alone in the zone, fighting everyday for things you deserve to have…”

“I found my brother, I’ll be fine, I promise.”

“Did…I just…I’m sorry to ask but are you- okay after-“

“Yes.”

“It’s okay if you’re not, you know. That kind of thing, that violence changes people.”

“I am…okay, for the most part. Change or no change.”

“You don’t…I just want you to know you have a place here. If you’re…resorting to certain things.” His words are hesitant, but firm. He knows you, had known you through your college years. He had been an artist of local renown, in Baltimore. Where you had moved to go to college and stayed after you graduated. You worked with him in his own studio, helped him to organize classes for those interested in the arts and helped to manage his small gallery. But that was a lifetime ago, a paintbrush traded for the butt of a gun in your palm. A flash of teeth in a gummy smile you had offered too easily exchanged for the snarling of teeth as you bared them for anyone who threatened you.

It was a lifetime ago, the turn of your age into the next decade of your life bringing endless and adaptive change. If it was for the better you weren’t sure, but your survival was dependent on it and that’s all that mattered.

Joel feels a tightness in his chest, the inference of the man’s words of violence that had been acted out on a younger version of yourself not settling well, violence that ripped you from the one person who you had been with at the end of the world. The weight of the realization like rocks in his stomach, churning around in his middle. More weight is added as he hears the admittance of you’re the activities he had caught you in the act of doing to earn ration cards, of the activities he had been all too willing to indulge in with you just the night before.

“I don’t like doing it, but it’s kind of a ‘use what ya got’ kinda world now.”

“Cane…”

“It’s fine, I’m not…I’m not bothered by it.”

“Honey, of course you are. Anybody would be. We used to- we used to spend our days painting and setting up gallery shows and that- that’s gone from the world now. There is no more art, there is no more humanity, there is only-“

“I’m not anybody.” You feel your lips part in a show of teeth, hissing the words out as anger flares and memories of a time passed cross your mind. You were so naïve, to think the world would allow you to be who you wanted. For anyone to be who they wanted, but now it molds you into something inhumane, weather you find yourself infected or not. “I’m a survivor and I have power in the zone, with or without those I traveled with here today.”

“Okay….I’ll let you finish washing up and I’ll get you a change of clothes, that sound alright?”

“….thank you, Frankie.”

“Of course, anything for you. Always.”

Thoughts of a younger you set in front of a large canvas atop an easel flashes before Joel’s eyes as he quietly descends the stairs. A paintbrush replacing the commonality of a gun in your grip, light in your eyes instead of a dark threat. It was an uncomfortable one, to find out just how much you had been altered. He knew the pain of being transformed beyond recognition and he hated for the knowledge of your past as it burrowed into his brain and refused to leave.

A table is set up outside, Frank insisting on enjoying the gentle breeze that graced the day. A lace trimmed white tablecloth atop it for dishes and wine glasses and cloth napkins to be set atop. A meal to try and tide the churning waters of an agreement, the combining of two factions. Everyone is seated at one of the four sides of the small table, an extra chair beside Frank for you two to share one.

Bill’s back is to the house, to allow him a full view of the street and surrounding area within the gate of his land. Joel is opposite him and to your right, Tess is across from you. It’s all so close an imitation of family dinners you used to have before you left to embark on your own life. Though the people surrounding you couldn’t be any different.

The four of them had fallen silent at your appearance once you came down the steps. Hands itching to run over and smooth down the flowing fabric of the dress Frank had gifted you to change into. A white, floral-patterned fabric you would’ve once fawned over. But now it feels like some sick, twisted joke even if you knew the man hadn’t intended for it to be taken that way. He had been working off memories of your preferences, not knowing who you were now.

Tess’s lips had lifted at the corners, though she hid it well at the way your eyes had cut through her when you heard the small chuckle she had tamped down on. Joel’s eyes had roved over you, an expression unreadable and far too harsh in the daylight back outside. Frank had been elated, praising how well it fit you and he was so glad it was the right size, that the pattern looked lovely and you cleaned up nicely. Bill had nodded along, most likely warned by his partner to be nice to you, though he hadn’t looked to thrilled that you had been left alone inside his home. He seemed so much like Joel, though there was no worry for him to reach out and grab you by the throat.

“Well, this really is just- it- it’s amazing.” You keep your eyes downcast at your place setting, the way Tess stumbled over her words unfamiliar. She was trying so hard to keep her own tendency to come off as threatening out of her demeanor and you wondered if it was closer to the that of the woman she had once been. Shirking herself back into that mindset in order to appeal to the men whose trade you admittedly, desperately needed.

The city is getting more dangerous to scavenge as time continues on. Supplies and even everyday items so scarce it doesn’t justify the risk of sneaking out of the zone much. You worry for the future, as things only seem to be getting more dire. As the hangings increase, as the Fireflies gain traction and power among the unrest.

“Right?” Frank smiles so openly and brightly at her across from you, reaching for the bottle of wine in the middle of the table. He reaches over to fill the half-empty crystal glass before her, the scent of it strong as it catches in the wind. You take the final sip of your own glass, catching Joel’s gaze out of the corner of your eye. You feel more than see the way his eyes trace the stain of the dark wine on your lips, how it dampens them as it clings to the plush of your bottom lip. How he shifts in his seat as you swipe your tongue over it to collect the errant drops.

“Mhm.”

“Can you not, please?” Joel’s eyes shift to the gun gripped tightly in Bill’s hand atop the table. Frank’s as well, an exasperated edge in his voice. The roll of his eyes he tries to fight making warmth flare in your chest for being able to recall it so clearly and aimed at you in the past. He’s much the same man he was when you knew him, but almost…happier now despite the fall of the world. He’s found his person and that does change people, you can see it in his boosted confidence and comfortability. He’s protected here, until he wishes not to be.

“I’m the same way.” Joel offers, to bridge the gap and mind the tension in the air.

“Oh, you’re a paranoid schizophrenic too?” Frank chuckles, shoulder bumping yours but you don’t join him in the banter. You feel wildly out of place, aside from having to share an edge of the table. It had been so long since you sat down at a clean table, a dressed table laden down with crystal glasses and fine ceramic. A meal made from scratch, hot and actually tasting like food.

“I’m not schizophrenic.”

“Sure.” Frank moves to fill your glass at the nod of your head, he knows you favored red once upon a time, the perfect paring for the meal Bill had been kind enough to offer you all.

Tess clears her throat and it strikes something in you. She’s acting more like she does when she’s alone with you, letting the glimpse of who she is shine amongst the pair. It’s easy to see now why Joel is by her side, she’s much better spoken than you. She’s good at knowing what to do and when. But then again she does have a decade on you much like he does. More experience in a world that had been whole and allowed for different skills.

“Well, can I just say, uh, gun aside, which I get, by the way.” A nod to Bill, to let him know he’s seen and understood. “How nice this is to have a civilized meal in such a, a beautiful place. It’s been so long.”

The unspoken but very loud ‘can’t get these two to stay in the same room long enough to even eat rations without an argument breaking out’ sentiment hits you like a brick wall. She knows, is the first thought you have, and it freezes the blood in your veins. She knows what you and Joel did but she hadn’t voiced it or confronted you about it. Perhaps she confronted him or had just known the second she walked into the apartment last night but either way, you know you have to be honest when she approaches you.

“I just wanna say, uh, thank you. Even if we don’t end up working together. Which I wouldn’t fault you, these two tend to rub some people the wrong way. I really needed this.”

“We are working together.” Frank raises his own glass to mirror hers, his other hand reaching for yours atop the table to shake it gently and reassuringly. “We are. Even if Cane hadn’t turned out to be the third party of your group. Though it was such a pleasant surprise.”

They clink their glasses together, urging you to do so as well. Your glass now full for a second time as well.

“You know what? Let’s go inside. Tess, I wanna show you something.”

“Actually I have been…waiting to see inside.”

“No. Not inside.” Bill tries to reign them in but neither are paying much attention to the table anymore, already getting up from their seats, full wine glasses in hand.

“Darling, do you want to join us?” Frank offers, reaching for your hand to help you up. But you shake your head, not wanting to go back inside so soon.

“Oh, um, no thank you. The fresh air is…”

“Of course,” He slides a hand over your shoulder, comforting and grounding.

Bill calls out his name once, then again with more force as they begin to walk away from the table, leaving the controlled setting. Both parties are laughing as they disappear inside the house with their wine glasses. He huffs as he looks from you to Joel, not having anticipated this course of events.

“I understand.” Joel speaks up across from him. He’s chewing a bite he had just taken, a second helping taken when offered still on his plate. He doesn’t even look in your direction, his attention solely on the other man at the table. “If my, uh…if mine…brought strangers into our situation, I wouldn’t be happy either.”

“Thought this one was yours.” Bill tips his head in your direction, genuine curiosity thinly veiled in his tone.

“No. This one is on her own.” His voice hardens, giving away his distaste for the insinuation.

“I’m no ones, certainly not his.” You feel the need to speak up, not willing to let them both talk about you as if you weren’t right there. It was not only insulting, but to insinuate that you could be anybody’s was more than aggravating. Joel ignores you, but Bill’s eyes meet yours briefly, gauging you silently.

“But of all the people he could’ve found on the radio, we’re actually decent people just tryin’ to get by.”

“Oh, well aren’t I the lucky one.” Bill scoffs, eyes trained back on Joel and remaining.

“There’s stuff we have in the zone that you don’t have here. Books, medicine, machine parts. We can help each other and get that gun outta my face.” There’s a hint of the man he is in the zone as his voice pitches low, a threat that he would act on in a heartbeat with the slightest inclination. Bill heeds the threat, knowing he would meet it head on. Both aware of the fragility of the situation, both aware of their people inside the house alone with each other and getting along. Bill concedes and the gun is locked before placed back in its holster.

“So, what, you were a…prepper or somethin’?”

“’Survivalist’.” Bill doesn’t continue eating, like Joel does. Ever the picture of controlled ease as he chews bite after bite on his plate. But the language of his body is obvious to you, he’s primed and ready to lunge, ready to fight, to kill. Something you had washed off in the shower with the appearance of someone you once thought long dead. “Maybe you are decent people, Frank vehemently vouches for her. But maybe you aren’t and maybe she’s changed. Doesn’t matter. We’re self-sufficient here. I don’t need you or your friend, or her complicating our lives. Is that clear?”

Even if you aren’t focused on one of them for more than a moment, eyes flitting between them evenly, you see the way Joel glances at the perimeter fence. Seeing something you don’t or can’t, had seen since first approaching it, keeping it to himself and only revealing it with his next words.

“That fence has got a year on it, tops. The galvanized wire already started to corrode. I can get you ten spools of high-tensile aluminum. Last you the rest of your life.” He seems to think better of his words and with another swallow of chewed food, remedies it. “Lives.”

The realization that Joel could be polite, he could be cordial, and he could assert himself in a nonviolent way to appeal to someone and get what he wants without shedding blood, breaking bones, or slinging harsh words is a hard realization. All you’ve known from him is backhanded comments about your skills, about your willingness to let them into the world you had helped shape in the zone. Someone who had come in with the intention of asserting his dominance over those already in charge had faltered only when you showed your own teeth. And he never let you forget the way you had showed your belly to allow them to be a part of it, no matter how mutually beneficial the situation was.

He saw you as weak and it’s glaringly apparent in the way that he tries to appeal to the man across from him now. A man who has things Joel has set his sights on, wants to get his hands on. But it’s much more than them both being men, it’s much more than them both being so similar in nature. It’s about the respect they have for each other, it’s as plain as day. The commonality of a kinder and gentler handler of a partner at their sides. Someone to protect that have bonded with each other.

It further proves how alone you truly are. The wine sours in your stomach, the food spoils and you excuse yourself from the table. Bill’s hand is back over the gun holstered to his side but pushes up out of his chair and follows you. Joel watches until as the man follows you to where you had sought space on the curb of the street, his brow furrowing and his mouth turning down as he thinks you’ve just ruined any hope of finding agreement.

“Save it, neither of you have even considered what I have-“

“Look, I’m not much for being honest these days. The world doesn’t care anymore and I never did even before it fell. But,” He’s sitting down beside you, a grunt at the low level nearly flush with the ground. A few feet separate you, but you understand the meaning of him doing so. Willingly putting himself beside you and at a disadvantage should you be brave enough to try something.

“I wasn’t willing to even entertain the thought of reaching out on the radio. But Frank was determined to wade through the signals. And he did all of it in search of you. He’s devoted so much time to finding you, alive or dead. And when he couldn’t find word, he didn’t leave the bed for weeks. He’s been haunted by your ghost since the day he stumbled onto my land. And yet, God delivered you to him alongside two people offering trade. You say I think of you as fodder, but you don’t know me. I may not really know you, but I know what you mean to Frank. That makes this worth the trouble and the risk. Not some one trying to appeal to me across the table, not some woman who Frank is set on impressing. It’s you. I can see through the act of that one back at the table a mile away, he’s behaving though he doesn’t want to. But you haven’t tried to hide you who are, what you are.”

“I didn’t feel the need to, not here, not with Frankie.”

“I know you may not be the same person he remembers and share stories with, but he’s gone through all the efforts to set this up. He was going to ask them if they had any word of you, he never gave up hope that somehow you had survived that raider tearing you out if his grip as you both ran from the ambush of their group. Something tells me you have the sway the two with you think they have, have become accustomed to because you allow them to reap the rewards of it.”

“It’s a partnership. Protection for equal shares of everything. I provide the knowledge. One person alone can’t hold their own any longer, certainly not in the zone.”

“You have the knowledge.” He agrees quietly, his eyes locking with yours as you look over at him.

“We’re you runnin’ off to?” Joel’s voice doesn’t startle you, but it’s unexpected in the doorway of the back porch. You had slipped out of your room the second you were sure everyone had been settled long enough to sleep, or at least resolve themselves to trying to rest for the night. It can’t be easy for either Joel or Bill to rest knowing the other doesn’t trust them, but you hadn’t anticipated anyone leaving their rooms at the late hour. Stars twinkle above in the sky, visible through the windows unobstructed by screens. You had just wanted to come out and see them, get some fresh air.

“Didn’t want to impose.” Your voice is quiet, though not in meekness, it’s swathed in the worry of waking a house full of people.

“We were offered rooms for the night, wouldn’t call that imposing.” He exhales heavily as he moves to stand beside where you are before one of the large panes of glass, looking out. “Besides, Frank seems to be easy on you, doubt he would say no to anything you needed.”

“Yeah, well, room’s too big, house is too big.” He watches you, catching the sight of your eyes tracing the landscape bathed in night and shadows. You absently wonder if he can smell the body wash you had used earlier, different from your own back in the zone but had washed the lingering scent of him on your skin all the same.

“Can’t get outta the gate on your own.”

“No, but it’s better than being stuck in that house.”

“It bothers you.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Truly, you don’t. There’s no way he’s privy to the feelings and desperation to push down memories of the past that have endlessly bubbled up today, trying to drown you as they reach for the surface.

“Don’t play dumb, we both know you’re not.” His hands rest on his hips, the clinking of his belt buckle ever present loud in the silence of the night. Of the open land just beyond the enclosed porch. “You’re uncomfortable because they’re in a room and me ‘n Tess are in one.”

“I couldn’t care less about the sleeping arrangements.”

“Then what is it?”

“It doesn’t matter.” You think to tell him of how suffocating it was in that room, not because you were alone but because of how much it reminds you of where you used to live. But Joel isn’t one for you to be open with, to share honestly with. He’s been nothing but demeaning when it comes to any humanity you dare to show, conversations with Tess cut short the second he opens the door to wherever you are. The reason you don’t linger or share meals, the reason you don’t know why he had allowed for last night’s activities to happen and now they feel heavy, like a mistake you had let yourself fall into that never should have happened.

“Cane.” When you don’t respond, he voices the name Frank had called from behind the fence when he recognized you. It’s like an arrow to the heart, striking true and killing that part of you all over again. A name you had never expected to be called again, let alone by Joel Miller as he tries to get you to speak plainly with him. For once and never likely again.

“Drop it.” Your voice rasps, the scream you feel building in your chest desperately trying to break free.

“Not until you tell me.”

“Just because your mouth’s been on me-“

“That’s not what this- Jesus, fine, be difficult like you always are. I’m goin’ back inside.” He’s turning away, stepping toward the back steps. You hear the sound of his boots on the wood but only the first step before he’s whipping back around with a glare. “If this falls through, it’s on you. Not me and not Tess, you. And if that’s the case, maybe you should begin to consider that offer to stay here. And if that doesn’t pan out, don’t come crawling back to us.”

You don’t look at him or think of telling him the deal has been made because of you, and his steps take him further away from you, leaving you to sit on the outdoor furniture that reminds you too much of your old home. Of the one you once shared with family, of the one you had shared with Franke. Both more than likely just rubble or overtaken by twisted and decayed cordyceps. You feel the scream thicken your throat, swelling it up to make you try to gasp out for air to release it but it comes out as a harsh prattling sob. Your resolve to be strong cracking for the first time in years.

previous chapter || next chapter

taglist: @sawymredfox @tuquoquebrute @orcasoul @itsokbbygrl @keylimebeag

@n7cje @hiddenbabynyc @ameagrice @everythingiwanttoread @furiousmushroom

@vivian-pascal @76bookworm76 @dugiioh @jellybeanxc @littlemisspascal

@undercoverpena @janaispunk @jessthebaker @persephone-girl

@corazondebeskar @harryscum @morgaussy @burntheedges @pascalpvnk

@cavillscurls @joelmillerisapunk @copperhalfcent @blackcatgreengrape

@the-orange-tabby-cat @yxtkiwiyxt @punkshort @cumberpegg

@littlemisspascal @mosssbawls @luxurychristmaspudding @cherrycolouredflunk @mellymbee

@tobethlehem

[ratherembarrassing]

nobody:

nytimes:

In ‘House of the Dragon,’ a Sapphic Subtext Reigns Supreme

HBO’s “Game of Thrones” prequel “House of the Dragon” has returned for a second season, bringing back the greatest tragic love story now on television: the star-crossed love of the central characters, Alicent Hightower (played by Olivia Cooke) and Rhaenyra Targaryen (played by Emma D’Arcy).

The romantic energy crackling between the two queens is clear enough to have drawn notice. As teenage best friends, they loved each other in that heady mix of romance, friendship and mimicry characteristic of girlhood. As adults, stripped apart by forced marriages and primogeniture, their romance withers into endless competition and bitter cruelty. They plunge their families into a brutal civil war, replete with parricide and dragon fire.

All the show’s conflicts could be solved if our heroines could explore more productive possibilities. Like any good tragic romance, the unfulfilled longing that stretches between the two characters acts as the tension that holds the story together. Without it, the story would feel far less Shakespearean.

The story’s queer subtext is purposeful. Emily Carey, who played young Alicent Hightower in the first season of “House of the Dragon,” has said that the two characters are “in love a little bit” and that their interactions “toe the line between platonic and romantic.” Her counterpart, Milly Alcock, who played a young Rhaenyra Targaryen, noted the way societal circumstances keep them separate: “These women aren’t given the privilege to know what choices they have, because of the world that they live in.”

The women of the universe of “Game of Thrones” are no strangers to sexual violence and are most often accessories to patriarchal ends. Oftentimes, the fantasy show’s violations are poorly explained away as attempts to craft a realistic mirror of historical violence. But in the case of Rhaenyra and Alicent, a “realistic” setting functions as the perfect garden in which to cultivate an allegory about the consequences of compulsory heterosexuality.

If the queens lived in a society in which they could fully explore the feelings that hang between them, would there really be any need for a world-crushing, family-savaging civil war? Wouldn’t their world be a better place if they could just fall in love?

Queer people have long trained ourselves to hunt for marginal subtext — longing looks, brushes of hands, impotent anger — when overt queer narratives are absent. The subtext in “House of the Dragon” is not marginal. Without it, the show would be yet another unremarkable installment in a franchise that has outstayed its welcome.

[chimkin-samich]

Hello it’s me again asking about the merman au!

1- how where they found? (Did they come out on their own or were they captured?)

2- what research were made on them? Why are sun and moon being kept around?

3- when did eclipse came in the picture ?

4- how (and who) did the researcher discovered that sun and moon needed heat suppressants??? (I’m the most curious about this one lol)

Aand i think that’s it for now. Sorry if i asked things that are already known, i pretty new to your blog and art

Oooo many questions time for a long post, gonna put under a read more to not take up the whole feed lol

I think weve answered some of these before but we’ve changed some plot here and there so will answer em again

1) All 3 of the boys are wild mers each from their own individual pods, Eclipse raised the 2 ,Sun from age 10 and Moon from age 13. Sun and Moon were caught when they were young adults at age 18(sun) 19(moon) and were taken to the aquarium were they first did shows until Moon became hostile and after a bloody incident they were just shoved into the tank they are in when they first meet Tari

2) Fish mers are extremely elusive compared to their mammal mer counterparts so not a lot was really known on any of the fish mers, so the research was a mix of both biology and behaviors, unfortunately because of this the general public and ethical marine biologist are unaware of the level of intelligence they have and once that comes out with ppl who keep fish mers they keep that secret to keep their “precious specimens”,

this becomes prominent during the part of the story after Tari frees them and has to have a whole legal battle where she’s accused of being an “animal lover” let’s call it and freeing company property , luckily she kept files and recordings as evidence that helped her win the case and leads to a whole bunch of investigation on other aquariums and ppl who own fish mers that includes them into the law that protects cryptids and other sentient mythical creatures

3)Eclipse was in the picture at least with Sun and Moon from their preteens to their early adult years when they were captured, He comes into the picture with Tari about a year after the boys are freed, Tari was left alone for a year after their escape because the two got caught in a current that pulled them further away so they basically had to find her after getting lost

Eclipse shows up a few months after they show up cuz he had been tracking their scent when he caught it on a current but took a while to catch up since they were on a constant frenzied search looking for her, he did try to kill her since he believed that she was their captor but her experience with Moon gave her a hand with escaping him by temporarily blinding him lol

4)Heat suppressants are a thing since like mentioned before, cryptid’s and other mythical creatures/furries are a thing separated in categories, either Beasts(those who look like creatures so mers, minotaurs etc.) and Shifters(anything that can fall in the were (werewolf for example) category or can change parts of their appearance in someway)

A lot of Beasts and Shifters have heats so it was more a matter of seeing what type and dosage they needed to keep theirs suppressed

[a-twistedheartslonging]

Spooder Idia and spider limb regeneration.

Cdysis: When a spider molts, which happens every few months, it sheds its old exoskeleton and gets ready to rock a fresh one. During this molt, the spider also regenerates any lost limbs. It’s like a two-for-one deal, a new exoskeleton and a new leg.

The Blastema: At the site of the missing leg, a structure called a blastema forms. Undifferentiated cells with the power to transform into specialized tissues. These tissues include muscles, joints, and cuticle, the spider’s outer shell. The blastema orchestrates this transformation, guided by complex genetic and biochemical signals. Scientists are still deciphering these signals, so it’s like a cryptic spider morse code.

Slow and steady Growth: Spider limb regeneration isn’t an overnight sensation. It takes time—weeks to months, depending on the spider’s size and the number of legs it needs to regrow. It can take a couple of molts to fully grow a limb that matches the original. The catch? The new leg isn’t always as buff as the original. It might be a bit shorter or weaker.

Species Matters: Not all spiders are equal in the leg-regeneration. Orb-weaving spiders, wolf spiders, and jumping spiders are ones that can regrow legs. But even among them, efficiency varies. Some spiders regenerate like they’re on a mission, while others take it slow and steady.

Spiderlings vs. Adults: Spiderlings regenerate legs more efficiently than their adult counterparts. Adult spiders, on the other hand, take longer.

Now for Drider's, and more specifically, Idia.

I think it makes sense for Drider's to function similarly to their tiny counterparts when it comes to regrowing limbs, though I don't think it would be limited to simply their legs, and they can also regrow their arms and fingers.

The spider nervous system is different than the human one so while I'm sure Idia would feel pain with losing a leg, I'm not sure if it would be to the same extent as a human losing theirs...and likely would be less...messy.

To be honest, he probably has some prosthetics made for him in case of that happening.

[ateez-himari]

[240802] THEIR LIGHT

...

Hold my hand, hold my hand The two of us are enough

The darkness of the foreign city streets never slept yet the nine friends walking along careless about whatever stresses life might have to throw at them seemed to liven it up further, one member speaking in an exaggerated tone whilst others argued in between chuckles. It was almost impossible to tell whose arm was around which shoulder with the way they so often collided with one another attempting to navigate the tight sidewalks, eyes crinkled in long sustained joy. While the fashionable clothing paired with ethereal visuals despite the very slight presence of makeup gave away their idol career, one without knowledge of this industry would very easily mistake them for normal adults enjoying the beauty of togetherness.

Only two stood out from the group due to their visible romantic relation, the girlfriend clearly younger than her male counterparts stuck tightly to one of the taller friends' side, who seemed much more focused on her than the conversation they were having. Ruffling the young woman's hair with a ringed hand it seems as though time had slowed down specifically for them the second he met her eyes, sparkling under the streetlights while she gazed at him like the entire universe resided in his being. Everything from the way her arm wrapped so perfectly around the rapper's bicep to the light melodic laughter slipping past slightly glossed lips at an older member's joke seemed almost surreal.

Wooyong pulling their maknae aside to showcase whatever exceptional talent he had suddenly acquired after several drinks almost saddened him even with the knowledge that they would find themselves in the same bed in a few hours. Despite this no one could deny that watching them speak excitedly whilst making grand hand gestures was amusing, not even the rapper made needy by the very drinks that had rendered everyone else rather strange.

The sudden absence of warmth was easy to overlook when an innocent happiness radiated from his girlfriend as both members ran off to tell the older men what they had found whilst giggling with one another. The falsely exasperated looks in the eyes of those who had finished raising her and the intrigued yet confused expressions of the younger ones provided evidence that she was the sun itself, lighting up those around her, the brightest star known to mankind somehow trusting the fragility of its heart in his own palms.

Too lost in the whispers of his heart, the rapper failed to notice that the young woman in question had moved from sight and the sudden loss of her presence struck panic in his alcohol hazed state. Luckily the attentiveness of his best friend had not diminished despite his consummation of the same substance and a light nudge to the lost boyfriend's shoulder was enough to point him in the right direction, to a street performer's stage in front of which their vocalist was now dancing with the mountain of a man.

'Like a moth to a flame.' Yunho chuckled, taking out his phone to film the two.

Within the blink of an eye he had an arm around his girlfriend's waist, stopping the improvised choreography in its tracks, and their lips were locked in an ever so brief yet loving kiss which inevitably drew gags from their friends. Sticking out her tongue made bright pink thanks to the previously eaten lollipop to their disgusted bystanders, the maknae pecked his cheek and pulled him into whatever dance was supposed to grow out of her agile steps. Despite the previous remarks, everyone present knew that these two were crafted by fate itself for one another, the strings of their hearts entangled in an uncuttable embrace.

Taglist; @teezingsiyeon (I saw the message late so I'm just now starting on it ㅜ.ㅜ)

[kwanisms]

The Library of Illusion :: Cult of Dionysus Event

Welcome to the Library of Illusion. A place where legend and reality go hand in hand.

Enter each section if you dare. Your task is simple: collect the keys to unlock the Restricted Section and find the treasure hidden within. Will you suceed?

Status: COMPLETE.

➥ ateez ot8 × fem!reader

summary: After finding a box full of information on the infamous Library of Illusion, something only spoken about in her childhood, and the hidden treasure it contains, Y/N decides to track down the library and find out if the rumors are true.

genre/themes/au: non idol au, fantasy, science fiction, horror, history, crime/mystery, adventure, supernatural themes, slight biblical & demonic themes

warnings: adult dialogue, sexual content (mdni 18+), elements of bdsm, female reader × ateez, see each part for further warnings

a/n: this has been a long time coming. I'm so excited to finally be able to unveil this event as we've been holding onto it for a while now. Please make sure to check out the other wonderful works by the other writers on this masterlist!

Thank you so much for reading, as always this is a work of fiction and all characters are not reflective of their respective irl counterparts. Banners made by me with help from a template made by @imlevis. All my works are ©️ kwanisms. If you enjoy these works please reblog!

permanent taglist: @yoonguurt @wonderfulshinee @candidupped @dejavernon @violagoth @tigermoonbiss @katsukis1wife @luvsooby @thesolarplanetarysystem

ateez taglist: @2hodefender @cixrosie @pyeonghongrie-main @flowerboykun @sanjoongie @anyamaris @stardragongalaxy @kpop-stories-21 @wooyoungmybelovedhusband

special tags: @thelargefrye @hwasdollie

join my taglists: permanent | ateez.

»»» E N T E R «««

»»» E N T E R «««

»»» E N T E R «««

»»» E N T E R «««

»»» E N T E R «««

»»» E N T E R «««

»»» E N T E R «««

»»» E N T E R «««

»»» E N T E R «««

═══════════════════════════════════════════════════════

The Witch & the Lamb ⛧ Of Hellfire & Saints ⛧ The Library of Illusion

↬ dive into the backstories of the Demon & and the Keeper of Keys to learn how Hongjoong became a demon, why Seonghwa made a deal to become a vampire and how the Library of Illusion came to be. »» coming soon

═══════════════════════════════════════════════════════

[hecalledme-jagi]

The Ponderings of a Man In Love

I've had this FanLore for Zen strewing in my brain for a little over a year and finally decided to write it out into a one shot!

Enjoy!

What does it mean to experience first love? 

Zen wondered as he watched you doze off beside him to the sound of a movie you both had forgotten about halfway through. He smiled to himself softly, gently brushing away a strand of hair that had fallen over your face, planting a tender kiss on the top of your head. The comforting gesture caused you to snuggle further into his side, cozy and loved. Treasured and wanted.

Zen often thought about the meaning of first love when he was with you. He always felt a pang of guilt over dating other girls before you, even if you weren't bothered by it. He knew you were his yesterday, today, and tomorrow--his dusk and dawn. His moon and stars--leaving him with the fact that you weren't his first, which felt wrong in every way imaginable. So there he sat wondering, and really pondering, what it meant to experience first love. Had he experienced it before? If so, that idea devastated him, leaving his heart aching, poking, splintering, and desperately wanting your comforting. Hoping all his wondering meant nothing. 

He snuggled in close, soaking in your warmth, soothing his self-inflicted wounds, nuzzling your hair, blinking back the sting of tears.

Slowly he doze off to the sound of your steady breathing, calming his anxiety. Slowly learning to bask in the simple pleasures of a quiet evening. 

His breathing steadied, finding rhythm with your own, and in complete unison, your chests rose and fell. 

He found his peace in his small basement apartment.

But absolutely and entirely, he found his peace here with you.

And in his slumber, there came a dream. Or, more accurately, a nearly forgotten memory.

Zen was younger here, much younger than you knew him now. His hair barely reached past his shoulders, fashioned into something of a mullet. His leather jacket just a size too big, but in a year's time, it would fit him perfectly. And he stood in a place filled with familiarity. His secret mountain hideout. The view was the same as it had always been, and somehow, that comforted the young boy, here now, and the man he would come to be. 

The cold evening air nipped at his cheeks and nose, a gentle breeze passing through his hair with the faint smell of cigarette smoke. Following the scent with his eyes and nose, he found a scene this young boy very well knew but was far from the scene his adult counterpart adored. There stood a girl who simply wasn't you.

Ji-an, a younger, much more boyish Hyun, recognized with an air of giddiness coating his thoughts, and in like manner, she was viewed with rose-tinted glasses. 

He admired her long black hair as it gently swayed in the passing breeze, her sharp and unusually dark eyes staring down at the view he found so much comfort in, reflecting nothing of the setting sun or the city lights flickering on one at a time. And her lips turned in a slight frown with a lit cigarette in hand. Ji-an was a girl made entirely of mysterious beauty, and for a long time, Hyun might've considered her the most beautiful girl he'd ever met. She was in the same gang as Zen, that's how they had met. She was older than him, but only slightly, maybe sixteen or seventeen. She was a force to be reconned with, a calm before a storm. Freedom and rebellion. Anger and desperation. Loneliness and devastation. But other than that, she was a total mystery. Hyun never knew more about her than she let him see, and maybe that was part of why he clung to her so helplessly. Or maybe it was because he envied her and how free she seemed to be. Maybe he wanted to live reckless abandoned where he was allowed to be who he wanted to be, the way Ji-an seemed to. Or maybe it was because bad habits always seemed more attractive than good ones at the start.

Ji-an sucked on her cigarette, holding the smoke in her throat until it burned. 

“You know,” she began as she turned to look at Hyun, “I think if we had met before everything hit the fan, I would’ve fallen in love with you for real.”

Hyun watched and admired the rugged elegance she exuded. Marvalling, despite how her words cut him deeply. His heart secretly wondering--when will anyone ever truly love me?

“For one thing, you’re a real looker,” she leaned in and kissed Hyun's lips softly, leaving the faintest taste of cigarette smoke and strawberry lip balm on the tip of his tongue. 

Is that all I'll ever be? A pretty face barely worth loving? Another secret wonder he wouldn't discover until much later.

“You’re not so bad of a guy either,” she reached out, with her free hand and gently played with the fringe that hung over his forehead. “If I wasn’t so damaged, I’d probably be able to appreciate that heart of yours,” she poked his chest playfully and with a tone of self-mockery, sucking another puff of cigarette tar into her lungs. 

“But instead, here I am, giving you cigarettes, beer, and bad memories,” she scoffed. 

Hyun took a step closer to Ji-an, standing shoulder-to-shoulder with her. He peered into her face, hoping to read the meaning in her words by seeing her expression more clearly, but there was nothing he could see. Her eyes continued to stare dispassionately at the scenic view, and not for a moment did she meet his searching gaze, nor did she acknowledge his presence at her side. Instead, her brow furrowed, and irritation fizzled in her vacant eyes.

"We shouldn't have met," she said, tossing her cigarette onto the ground and stomping it out under her boots. 

Hyun felt his heart drop.

Ji-an turned on her heels and walked towards her motorcycle.

"W.. wait! Ji-an, where are you going?" He called.

There was no answer except the loud roar of a motorcycle engine starting.

"Ji-an!"

She paused, looking towards Hyun, with more emotion in her eyes than Hyun had ever seen before, "Get out of here. Become something." 

And that was it. 

She rode off, the rumbling of her motorcycle fading the farther she got. And Hyun could only watch, confused, lost, and entirely too alone for a boy his age.

Zen jolted awake, beads of cold sweat running down his back and his heart dropping into his stomach, leaving his chest feeling hollow and unbearably lonely until he heard you.

"Hyun?" you said, coming back into the living room with a glass of water, "Are you okay?"

He looked at you, and the frenzy in his eyes became calm. A deep breath entered his lungs, and it was exhaled smoothly.

And that's when his wondering all made sense. 

Zen realized it then as his hysteria calmed at the mere sight of you. He knew then that perhaps in all possibility, before you came and before he had forgotten what life was like in your absence, he would've considered Ji-an his first love experience. And in some way, maybe she was. Maybe she was his first love, but that thought didn't seem to bother him so much anymore. Because maybe love was more about changing than firsts and lasts. 

(Although, admittedly, he was perfectly enchanted by the idea that you would be his last. You would hold all his ending chapters, and perhaps, that was far more important than keeping all his opening phrases.)

Ji-an encouraged his flaws but neglected his strengths. He knew now that they were bad for each other, beasts ravenously hungry for love and acceptance. In love with their shared self-pity. Wanting each other because of the addictive nature of cigarettes, loving the nicotine clinging to their clothes and mingling in their mouths. Loving the faint taste of strawberries after every kiss that made the bitter taste of tobacco seem pleasant and sweet. But even still, she inspired his drive for freedom.

And you? You came and captivated him.

You nurtured his strengths and loved his flaws, and for that, he loved you, but as his feelings began to grow, he wanted to be better for you. He wanted to change. So maybe, just maybe, it was for the best that you came at this moment in his life. You came at the point in his life when he still had room to grow but was mature enough to treasure you wholeheartedly. Perhaps now was the best time to love you--not to say it was the only time he could love you, nor was it the perfect time, for he knew that if he had met you ten years ago or ten years from now, he'd be ready to love you precisely and honestly--so now as Zen looks at you, finally finding his moment of lost peace, he realizes that all this wondering about "first love" was for not because all that matters is that he loves you.

Zen nods, gently grabbing at your waist and pulling you in. He rests his forehead against your torso, hugging your waist tightly.

 "Never better, honey~"

˚✧₊⁎𝒥𝑎𝑔𝑖𝑎⁎⁺˳✧༚

I do not own any characters, all ownership goes to Cheritz. Thanks for reading!

[wntrsnat]

Was Natasha a kid when she met Bucky?

It’s a widespread misconception outside of winterwidow fandom that Bucky and Natasha have known each other since she was a kid. I’ve seen a handful of people object to their relationship for this reason or (sometimes in a humorous manner) comment on how weird it is. And I'd have to agree with them. Bucky dating Natasha despite having trained her since she was a child would have been utterly inappropriate, if not immoral and disgusting. However, the assumption is not only incorrect but also fundamentally impossible.

Let’s go back to the beginning to clarify why that assumption is fundamentally impossible. Different universes equal different realities, and different realities equal different characters. Sometimes characters' counterparts across multiple realities only differ in details, not the basics. MCU characters have a similar correlation with their What If counterparts but not comics’ ones, which is a grave mistake cinematic fans make. I believe that’s why we have this absurd assumption as well, from someone thinking that 616 Black Widow and Winter Soldier are the same age as their more famous counterparts.

MCU’s Natasha Romanoff was born in 1984, and Bucky – 1917. Thus, an adult-kid dynamic is plausible. If we consider cryostasis, Bucky was still pushing 30 when Natasha was born. The situation, however, is significantly different for their 616 counterparts. Let’s start with Earth 616’s Bucky Barnes, who was born in 1925, making him nearly a decade younger than the cinematic one. But that isn’t what disproves the aforementioned belief. What disproves it is that Earth 616’s Natasha Romanoff was born around 1928, making her 56 years older than her cinematic counterpart and just 3 years younger than 616 Bucky. You will find this information on the following page from Black Widow: Deadly Origin, a 2009–2010 graphic novel (which I will be using as a basis today):

This alone debunks the adult/child misconception, but I want to go one step further and discuss the timeline of Natasha's time in the Red Room and the early years of the Winter Soldier.

At the young age of 20, Bucky Barnes "died" alongside Captain America in late 1945, in last days of the war. The Russian submarine discovered Bucky's preserved body after the war while hoping to retrieve Captain America’s remains. And with that, the Winter Soldier story began, along with his role as a super soldier trainer at the Red Room for Department X.

Now, one might say, "Ana, if he was 20, Natasha was 17, which is still kind of wrong, no?". My answer is yes; it would’ve been rather inappropriate. "Would’ve been" because there’s a catch: Natasha wasn’t part of the Red Room when he joined.

I know what you’re thinking: What the fuck, wasn’t she...? Didn’t she…? So let me explain that one from the beginning.

Natasha Romanoff, then 10 years old, was brought to the Red Room in 1938 by her father figure, Ivan Petrovich (a terrible piece of shit about whom I'll write a blog), Taras Romanov, and Joseph Stalin himself. After her trainer, Wolverine, killed Taras in 1940, she let Wolverine go, fled into the woods, and was found three months later by Ivan, possibly going back under his care, which can be seen below:

She returned to the Red Room only at the age of 28, ironically enough, becauseof Ivan, which is depicted on the following page:

There, we find a collapsed building with a bleeding Ivan and a sobbing Natasha, who have been approached by …. *DRUM ROLL* ….  the Winter Soldier, who has been sent by his superiors. They were both offered the super soldier serum that would save Ivan in exchange for their newfound loyalty, which Natasha accepted despite Ivan's protests.

Here we are, then: Natasha, 28, meets the Winter Soldier, roughly 31, who’ll soon be her lover and her trainer. Two adult people who met when they were both adults. And with that, we conclude our blog, disproving the infamous “she was a kid when they met!” argument.

Thanks for reading my blog. If you have questions or have found a mistake, let me know. I'll be happy to answer and discuss <3

[ayabeanworks]

Title: Reach for your Hand

Synopsis: When you started attending Jujutsu High, you realised Shoko was the biggest flirt of the three, and you wondered how you became closest to her before the others.

Character: Ieiri Shoko x reader

Series: Let's Meet in the Spring (SaShiSu x reader)

Notes: Pure fluff, little bit of angst.

Ieiri Shoko was a nonchalant person - she didn't express much, but she was steady, strong and kind. That was your first impression of her, anyway. She healed you up and patched together your injured leg after you were delivered to her by Geto & Gojo, both of whom saved you from the curse haunting you.

She only asked the most basic of questions, and Yaga, who had come after hearing his students, did most of the talking in the infirmary about what was going to happen to you now that you were safe and your curse exorcised.

While he talked, you couldn't help but watch as Shoko did her thing, seeing her use cursed energy on you to revert any other injuries. It was amazing, and you wanted to know if you could do that one day too.

But, you also had no idea what the hell all this jujutsu stuff was, and there was a steep learning curve to catch up to all your peers. Even though your immediate peers and you were first years at the moment, it was amazing to you that they were already being 'adults' and were far more individual and independent than their non-jujutsu sorcerer counterparts.

To start off with, Yaga had asked you if you wanted to be a jujutsu sorcerer as there seemed to be an affinity with cursed energy and curses from you. That was when you asked if you would be able to learn what Shoko was doing, sparkles in your eyes as you looked between the teacher and your healer.

Yaga would continue on to explain that your cursed energy channels were blocked, and that if you didn't want a similar occurance happening to you that allowed Geto & Gojo to save you, you would want to control and begin to manipulate it, so you can get rid of curses in your own right.

It was then that it was decided that you would change schools and become a jujutsu sorcerer.

The only problem to start, was that your cursed energy output was blocked, and it would be incredibly hard to be a jujutsu sorcerer if it continued to be blocked.

So, you were scheduled for frequent visits to Shoko or other jujutsu related medical staff to control and monitor your condition.

"You have a high capacity for cursed energy, it seems." Were the words Shoko spoke to you after examining you for the upteenth time.

With the current treatment plan and training conducted everyday, you were slowly able to use your cursed energy and manipulate it with hardship, but the support around you was impeccable, except for the occasional comment from Gojo who deemed you 'weak' and teased you about not being able to properly become a jujutsu sorcerer.

When you got into a fight with Gojo and he allowed you to hit him, it was like a lightbulb moment went off in Shoko's brain, and she was amazed at how her two friends were able to get along (or not?) like so (of course she healed him afterwards as a reward for allowing her to see this happen). This was when she realised her teasing Geto about his sadistic streak towards you, was becoming something she had herself, maybe on an even larger scale to Geto.

Her smiles, winks and closeness started from then on. She wanted to get to know you, and see the type of person you were, all the expressions you made, all the noises, everything. She wanted to know you.

For you, you were happy she was becoming more open with you and sought you out to hang out on a daily basis if she wasn't preoccupied with other things. It made you grin ear to ear, since she was so cool, calm and collected. If you could use one one word to describe her, it would be 'COOL' in big, capital letters.

The longer you knew her, the more she teased you. It could be related to anything, and she'd make a joke relating to you, all in a positive light. Initially, you were surprised she was one to joke since she didn't have any difference in tone of voice nor lilt, but when you overheard Geto & Gojo mumble to each other about how it was rare for Shoko to joke around and flirt, you knew right then and there that she was joking around with you.

But even with them telling you that she was joking, you had no way of knowing whether she actually was. She delivered in such a flawless way that when you realise a moment later that she's teasing you, you become a mess, whether it be a new expression, red ears, cheeks or even stuttering.

For Shoko, it was a sight to behold, and she was incredibly satisfied with herself that she had seen those expressions from you. At one point, she started to take photos of your expression after pulling a joke or saying something she knew would illicit a cute or funny reaction.

"They're for my collection. I don't think I need nicotine when I have you." Were her exact words, one which made you become as red as a tomato, the biggest reaction they've ever seen. This was when you ran away and hid behind the other two, hiding your face from Shoko because you didn't want her to see nor take more photos.

Shoko on the other hand, was persistent and tried her best to get to you, but Geto & Gojo managed to get you to safety somehow so you could calm down. You did end up running away from Shoko for a day or two here and there because you knew, with that glint in her eyes, her inner flirt was raging and ready to be set free.

Geto & Gojo on the other hand, having seen everything happening, would look to each other and simultaenously agree that she was incredibly flirty and teased you the most out of the three, and was nearly unstoppable lest you run away.

When Shoko and you got into a fight because you were having a bad day after a tough mission, she apologised and gave you a hug, lightly wrapping an arm around your shoulders and leaning in to rest the side of her head against the side of yours. She was uncharacteristically soft this time around and apologised for not being considerate to you.

You remember there being a time where you were burdened with the feeling of becoming a jujutsu sorcerer, since your cursed energy blockage was taking too long to get released, and was taken on a mission with Geto as an assistant.

It was one of the elder's ideas.

Afterwards, you heard Gojo screaming at Yaga from the other room, with Suguru's more levelled, but slightly louder tone, cursing out the higher ups for putting an inexperienced jujutsu sorcerer to this task, even as an assistant, stating the dangers of doing such a thing with a higher grade curse in comparison to level.

"Being a jujutsu sorcerer means being ready for death."

When a response was given directly from the elders, it made your heart drop and Gojo cursed even louder at them for endangering you. Even Geto, who normally doesn't raise his voice much, started talking at a louder volume than before, bordering a shout.

You could feel yourself tear up at everything they said, while laying down in the infirmary as Shoko used her technique on you. Before the tears could fall, a warm pair of hands covered your ears and a shadow hovered over you, pressing their forehead to yours as they instructed you to listen to them and drown everything else out.

"I'm glad you're alive." Were words Shoko uttered when she stayed in the position for what seemed like an eternity.

She pulled away and wiped the tears away with her fingers, shaking her head, "There's no need to cry, you're stronger than this."

Her voice was soft, but she made a good point. In a world with jujutsu sorcerers and curses, you couldn't be weak. You had to be strong. Crying over something like death would make you weak, and fear would make the curses cackle and decide on their next prey.

Once Gojo & Geto finished their screaming match, it was then that they came into the infirmary, all bothered about the whole ordeal. Gojo tapped your forehead two times lightly before smoothing out the area, checking your body for any other injuries, before leaving with a grunt and a curse towards the higher ups, while Geto stayed behind and wiped a stray tear that fell to the side, apologising for raising his voice in the other room and explaining the situation.

Since you had suddently burnt all your cursed energy reserves in an explosive state, you were teetering on the borderline of death for a couple of days because expelling all that from your body all at once was not a good thing, even more so because you didn't know how to control it, and caused more harm than good (even though the main curse was exorcised by you). Geto had freaked out when that happened, and carried you like a precious gem, yet again, to the infirmary, almost a repeat of when he first met you.

Shoko was even more shocked, she nearly snapped.

See, the mission Geto and you went on was the first mission where you activated a extensive amount of cursed energy and burnt your reserves trying to kill a curse that had been a big problem to deal with. Even though Geto had been with you, you were trapped inside a curse's hypnotic gaze, and taken out of Geto's sight. That was when it became frantic, with Geto exorcising as many curses as possible to get to the main curse, who had already taken you to a location away from him. He had no doubt that you were fighting it, but since it attacked your mental state, it was a different matter due to the curse being a higher level than what was previously reported.

And, inside the curse's hypnosis, all the worst things imaginable happened, shoved into your brain and forced to live a life that wasn't yours, in their dreariest moments. Many of them, from people in all walks of life. It was all too much, and flipped a switch deep within you to protect yourself.

After you were brought to the infirmary for Shoko to handle, she didn't sleep much as she focused on your condition, making sure you were going to make it out alive. Occasionally, the others would come and have talks with Shoko, and you would feel some touches on your cheek and forehead.

From then on, Shoko was much more alarmed in making sure you were healthy, and fussed over you like a big sister would their younger siblings, a change to the way she was treating you before. It was heart warming she did all this, and she even brought multi-vitamins, food, super healthy food like traditional herb soups and whatnot, to help with your recovery and making sure your body was tip top condition. She didn't ever want to see you on the verge of death ever again, and nearly considered wanting to ban you from the infirmary.

She also didn't mention that she brought all these nutritional supplements and food with Gojo's money. Gojo & Geto were also tight lipped about it and in on it too, and didn't say a word until one day, Gojo let it slip out when talking about supplements, but immediately regretted his choices as he did promise the other two that they didn't want to make you suspicious.

You gave each of them the biggest hug you could muster, and they in turn, returned it with even more vigor.

When you're able to use your cursed energy better, you request Shoko to teach you her RCT since you were fascinated with how it worked. You come to realise she is a terrible teacher, should never teach, and did not understand a word she said about how to use the technique.

(Gojo & Geto don't either, so you weren't just seeing and hearing things).

She did, however, show you how it was done after you receive light injuries from your sparring with the boys, as you had to train your body to become stronger to withstand more.

Shoko smiled a lot more when she was a teenager. She doesn't smile as much now, but every once in a while, you would see her light up when she saw you and caught up with you, her eyes tired from having to tend to too many emergency injuries as there were more curses springing up.

If she were a cat and you had one like her, she'd be the calm type, but once she was with you, her favourite human, she'd be vying for your attention, clawing at your legs to get you to cuddle and hug her. Either that, or she'd be lying somewhere relaxing or sleeping - no inbetween. And if you have the trio of cats similar to Satoru, Suguru, and Shoko, it would feel like a fun little party.

Ieiri Shoko is steady. She is cool, calm and collected, and you wouldn't trade that for the world. The way she cares makes it seem like she's nonchalant, but actually, she cares more than she cares to show.

So when you reach out to Shoko and grab her hand, she pulls you in closer so your shoulders are touching, making sure to lean her head against yours on the side, just like she did when you had your first fight. It was comforting and let you know that you were not alone.

For a world with jujutsu sorcerers, death is inevitable, and being close to another may be more dangerous than it is not, but who else can you rely on but your friends who are in a similar situation and can understand you on a deeper level?

Maybe you should also take that next step forward, and grab the hands of those you haven't already. But, this time with no hesitation, and with enough strength that it pulls them towards you, so everyone is shoulder to shoulder, standing by each other's sides. And no one would be left alone.

A/N: Here's part 2 from Shoko's viewpoint ✌🏻

I 100% headcannon Shoko to be the most nonchalant and flirty one in the group without breaking a sweat 🤣 this one has more lore and details about the reader as well :) which adds to the information given from Geto & Gojo's fics.

If you want to read it in order, please read Gojo's, Geto's then Shoko's!

For Gojo's one, here ;)

For Geto's one, click here!

These are all part of the same series, and all have information that come together to form a bigger picture 😸

[notyour-valentine]

The Spirits that I summoned (Young!Tommy)

[Masterlist] [Taglist]

Summary: Where Arthur sees danger, Tommy sees a quick way to make some money and use people's prejudices against them.

Note: This is my participation for Chi @little-diable 's 15k celebration - what an accomplishment, and what an incredible, versatile body of work. In typical student mindset, I'm scraping the deadline, but I hope you enjoy all the same. The quote I drew was: Even as a child I felt it, and marvelled at the power of this woman who, though veiled, could electrify a room

All my writing is produced by an adult and created with an adult audience in mind (18/21+). You are responsible for your own media consumption. I do not consent to my work being translated, copied or posted elsewhere on this platform or any other.

Warning: Stereotypes of travellers (in line with what is shown in canon)

Wordcount: 1588

He twirled the coin between his fingers. It was a habit of his he knew he better ought to shake. 

Though his hand was hidden deep in the pocket of his brown worn trousers, Tommy knew one glance would give away his restless nature, his nerves. His weakness. 

Lucky for him, his counterparts weren’t always as perceptive. 

They were young, younger than he was, but not by much. And they were playing dress up, the same way the children were doing down at the fair, picking up wooden sticks and calling themselves knights. 

Oh they had chosen well, he had to give them that - sturdy boots made for walking, weatherproof coats, and thick scarves to keep out the cold. 

But the leather was polished to a shine, the shoes free from any scratch. And the coats had never seen repairs, at least none that were visible to the eye. 

The scarves matched the boots and the boots the purse and the purse the coat. All a little too perfect to be accidental. 

Besides, the shorter one of the two had forgotten to take her earrings off. 

Pearl, he could easily tell, even in the fleeing light, with a little gold stud. 

Tommy knew money when he saw it, and he saw it now in the shape of these two newcomers. 

“Go-good evening.”, one of them said, looking from one to the other. 

Arthur only glared at them suspiciously. 

“Are, ahm, are you one of the-”, she gestured to the illuminated camp site behind them. 

“Who’s asking?”, Arthur wanted to know, building himself up to his full height. 

He had a strange look in his eye as if he wasn’t sure whether to scare them off or take them to bed. Either one. Or both. 

“We, ah, well, we-”, the one stammered again, nervously fidgeting for words. 

“We want our fortunes told.”, the other one said sharply. “They say you people know how to read palms and teacups. We want to know our future.”

Do you now?, Tommy thought, his eye-catching the reflection of the moon on those earrings, those pretty, expensive earrings. Peal and gold. 

“Yes.”, the first one, the shy one said. “Please.”

“Oh I can read palms alright.”, Arthur said, running a hand through his hair. 

“Arthur,”, Tommy said, cutting off his older brother, who glared at him as if Tommy had slapped him. 

He gestured for his brother to take a few steps away. 

“What are you on about, Tommy?”, Arthur demanded to know. “I like the look of the tall one. You stay out of it.”

“Shut up and don’t think with your cock for once.”, he sneered. 

His brother’s face hardened. 

“You can either get your end wet, or…we can make a sweet little something off of them.”

Arthur shifted on his feet, humming under his breath. 

“You think?”, he said. “Bringing them to Aunt Pol? Or Queen Boswell?”

Tommy shook his head. 

“We’re not bringing them anywhere.”

Birmingham was too far away, where Polly was haggling with the baby and Ada, and that Boswell hag would only take more than her share of a cut. 

Besides, these girls weren’t kin. They didn’t know what they were asking for. So they wouldn’t know what they would receive either. 

Arthur didn’t seem too convinced. 

“Mother said not to mess with things we didn’t understand. That if we disrespect the traditions, there’d be punishment.”

Their mother had said that. Their mother had also had most of her visions when she had drunk a gallon of rum or whisky in a single evening. 

Tommy was already thinking about how much those earrings would buy them - food, or new winter shoes for the whole lot of them. Maybe even a horse they could train to race. 

He’d like a horse, but those shoes would have to come first. 

“Just let me do the talking, eh?”, he told Arthur before turning back to the women. 

“So what made you come to us?”, Tommy asked, after bringing them into Polly's wagon and telling Arthur to stand guard. 

He could see the girls' eyes dart around it, picking up in little details. The crochet curtains, the Black Madonna, the framed pictures of the family. The countless candles. 

The girls exchanged a look, then one glanced down while the other squirmed in her seat. 

“My brother thinks it's all a hoax.”, the first told her lap. “But he wasn't there when…”

She took a deep breath. 

“Our mother used to hire a woman to tell their fortunes. A traveller woman.”, she said. 

“We weren't allowed to be there, but we saw her enter. Even as a child I felt it, and marvelled at the power of this woman who, though veiled, could electrify a room.”

She dropped her voice to a whisper. 

“Everything she said came true.”

Tommy nodded solemnly. 

“It's good to know you have a respect for these matters.”, he said. “Oftentimes those that are not learned in these arts underestimate the forces at play.”

He tried his best to choose words as ceremonious as possible. 

“Are you sure you want me to read your palms and tell your future?” 

The girls nodded eagerly. 

“We have money!”

She reached into her purse and pulled out a few coins. Tommy knew at a glance it wasn't a stingy offer, but the pearls would be worth more and so he shook his head. 

“Knowledge of the future cannot be bought with coin. It has to be a trade.”

“A trade?”, the shorter one asked. 

Tommy hummed. 

“Sometimes they'd tell the farmers the days weather and get a few apples for their worries. A fair price for something trivial. Are you asking about something trivial?”

He already knew they weren't, that was why he was telling these lies. 

It wasn't long before one urged the other and she took off one of her earrings. 

Just like he had hoped. 

“I want to ask about women.”, she said, slipping off her gloves and handing her hands to him in a show of surprising determination. 

“On the continent there are whispers of a woman's emancipation, of votes for women and equal rights to men.”

Tommy nearly laughed. 

“Will that happen here in England too?”

She looked almost eager, like a child desperate for sweets. 

Tommy took her hand in his, squinted, then ran his fingers along her palm. 

Just like he had thought, a soft hand that smelled of expensive ointment, probably lavender. 

“I can see you think highly of the value and purpose of your sex.”, he said, before contonuing. “Others will come to realise it's indispensability in a more clear, more distinct way.”

Poor brother, father or lover to deal with the consequences of his words, but Tommy wanted that earring, so he decided to add just a little more. 

He took a deep shaking breath and nodded. 

“And yes- don't let the distance to the continent discourage you. What happens there will spread.”

He lowered her hand gently. 

“Me now.”, the other one insisted. 

“A moment.”, Tommy asked, dabbing his dry brow with his sleeve. “Tis not an easy task for me, nor was it an easy question.”

He bit back his smirk at the look of sympathy in the woman's eyes. 

Finally he cleared his throat and urged the other woman to give him her hand. Gently, he stroked her palm while glaring deeply into her eyes. 

“I'm getting married soon.”, she said. “Or I may be. I'm not too sure about him.”

“Do you love him?” Tommy asked. 

“I do, but…”, she sighed. “He is a soldier, training to be an officer.”

“And?”

“I'm not sure I want to be married to a young Officer in His Majesty's army. But it's a thankless business being a soldier's wife.”

“And now you have come for insight to clear your doubts.”, he asked, before glancing at her palm. 

He took more time now, running along the lines of her palm, shifting and squinting and making a right show of it. 

“I can tell you one thing.”, he said. “It will not be thankless.”

“No?”, she asked. 

“Oh no- if you think your intended is set for a dull career in the forces, you are much mistaken.” He said. “I see service, yes, duty and courage too, but it will not be thankless. It will be celebrated and honored and remembered for generations to come.”

“My George?”, she asked surprised. “You can see that just in my hand?”

“That and more.”, Tommy promised her, picking up in the glint in her eyes. She may not like the idea of being a soldier's wife, but she seemed to enjoy the thought of being a hero's ons. 

“Medals, marches, hymns-”, he nodded, trying to piece together what little he knew of soldiery, most of it what he had picked up from pinched newspapers. 

“And the pride of our whole nation.”

Wasn't that what they said soldiers were? Those soldiers at the races certainly thought they were- as if all of England should bow before them just because they put on a sense of importance along with their uniforms.

But those words made her beam from ear to ear- both now without their earrings, as they left, clearly content with their visions of heroism and women's rise. 

Tommy let them go gladly, his fingers toying with the earrings in his pocket. They were worth a pretty penny and could stretch far. 

Easy money, for once. He didn't even pity those two for their ignorance. Of course he had never learned to read palms or cards or dreams, why should he? 

He had never shared Polly's conviction or Arthur's fear. Why should he? It was all just smoke and mirrors, nonsense, and charlatanry. Nothing to lose sleep over, he thought, as he tossed one of the earrings up in the air and caught it again.

~

Thank you for reading - I'd love to hear your thoughts

Taglist

Overall

@lilyrachelcassidy @jyessaminereads @chlorrox @watercolorskyy @books-livre @quarterpastmidnight  @lilyevanswhore  @polishcrazyone  @zablife  @just-a-harmless-patato  @stevie75 @flyingjosephine-blog @runnning-outof-time @cillmequick @babayaga67 @butterfly-skinnylegend @shelbydelrey @mrkdvidal1989 @raincoffeeandfandoms @midnightmagpiemama @adaydreamaway08 @kmc1989 @trixie23

Tommy

@knowledgefulbutterfly @babayaga67 @signorellisantichrist @lespendy @geeksareunique @look-at-the-soul @lothbrokcore @rangerelik @elenavampire21 @evanore