#that’s not how it works. it permeates the entirety of the work

[reikunrei]

when it’s about queerness it’s “groundbreaking and powerful and beautiful high art that’s going to change the world” but when it fumbles topics of race and class and disability and copaganda it’s “not so serious omg it’s just a tv show why do you have to make so much drama about it” like do you see your own dunce cap in the mirror

[haechansdoll]

stress reliever - ljn x reader

Pairing : Lee Jeno x f!Reader

Description :You come home to find that your loving boyfriend is feeling particularly frustrated after a hard day's work. Making him feel better is the least that you can do!

Warnings : Light BDSM ,Dom/Sub, Vibrators, Bondage, Spreader Bars, degradation, rough sex, dirty talk, aftercare, Cunnilings.

From the moment that you felt the tumbler click and unlock the door, you could feel Jeno’s bad mood permeate the entirety of the apartment that you shared. He sat slumped over on the couch, glass of some dark colored liquor held in his fist as he glared at the floor. His usual gravity-defying hairdo was replaced by a messy bun, and if looks could kill, you’d be dead on the spot. Light music was wafting around the room, but he didn’t seem to be in tune with it like he usually was. 

You kicked off your shoes and dropped your work bag by the door before striding over to your sullen lover and placing a hand on his shoulder to try and stir him out of whatever thought spiral he had gotten himself into. You sat yourself next to him, being careful not to sit too close. Squeezing gently, you whispered his name and hardened citrine gazed back at you.

You couldn’t pretend to understand the grief and tragedy that had occured in his life up to this point. He would share tidbits here and there in a joking matter as if his trauma could be played off as a joke while his voice cracked and tears swarmed his eyes. He became easily frustrated with daily life, and his persona crashed down around him whenever the world around him became too much.

But tonight felt different. For one, he was home when you were home. With the three jobs that he worked, nights off were unheard of, and you always marked when he had any time off in your calendar to ensure that you would also be available. Spending time with him was a luxury that you tried not to squander. 

But as you gazed back at him, something felt different. He wasn’t upset...not that you could tell anyway. There was a strange anger and ferocity in his eyes that was new to you. You pushed forward as your body tingled with nervous excitement.

“Hey, Jeno? Do you...want to talk about anything?” You moved your hand from his shoulder to his unoccupied hand. “You know that I’m always here for you. Just let me know if I can help with anything.”

Both of you sat in an uncomfortable silence in that moment, just staring at each other until Jeno broke the silence by downing the rest of his drink and placing the glass on your coffee table.

“You can help me by getting your ass up the stairs and getting ready for me to take my frustrations out on that body of yours.”

His words shot straight to your core, a familiar warmth starting to bloom from just his words as his gaze sharpened. Oh. It was going to be a night like this.

He stood after his remark and moved to pour himself another drink, replacing the ice with a few whisky stones that you’d gotten him as a present from an occasion long past.

“And don’t let me beat you up the stairs. You know what happens then.”

With that, you all but bolted from the couch and up the stairs into the bedroom off the landing. When Jeno was feeling especially frustrated by work and life in general, he loved to take it out on your body. That being said, he normally preferred a slower pace to help himself relax, but rarely he really let himself go. Jeno was anything but vanilla, and you were excited to see how hard he would push you tonight.

You heard his footsteps from the staircase as you undressed as quickly as you could, getting ready to bare yourself completely for him. Your clothes fell in a rumpled heap at your feet as you undressed as quickly as you could, fingers trembling in anticipation.

You kicked the pile of unwanted clothes away from the bed as you heard the doorknob turn. Perching yourself on the edge of the bed, you watched as your lover stomped inside and admired how quickly you had gotten ready for him, eyes lingering over your chest and thighs.

“Such a good little slut I have. Already ready for me.” His voice wasn’t it's usually peppy self. The deep baritone made you quiver with want at his words. It was going to be a long night.

He took another swig of his drink before placing it on the bedside table and moving to take his shirt off over his head. It was quickly discarded in the same pile of your clothes, and he continued undressing and provided a simple command.

“Ass up, baby.”

You happily complied and got comfortable on all fours at the head of the bed as you heard Jeno stripping himself of his remaining garments. He then dropped to his knees by the side of the bed and pulled out the container that you used for...special occasions.

Hearing the latches click open caused your body to involuntarily clench at the possibilities, and you dropped your chest onto the bed to better present yourself to him. The bed gave slightly behind you as Jeno crawled up to your waiting form, electricity buzzing beneath your skin as his hands ran from your hips to your thighs and back up to your chest. 

Taking both pert nipples between his fingers, he rolled them gently between his index fingers and thumbs causing a low groan to escape your mouth as your chest arched to welcome his fingers. He chuckled darkly as your body reacted to his roaming fingers, tangling in your hair to hold you firmly in place and teasing past your lower abdomen to lightly stroke your sex. 

Bucking up to meet his hand was impossible with the grip that he used on your scalp. You whined quietly against the pillow that you rested on, your sex coating Jeno’s fingers as he dipped into your awaiting entrance with his middle and index fingers.

He stroked your twitching walls and used the hand that held onto your scalp to lace under your neck. Tugging your head up roughly, he applied the lightest pressure to your throat as you tried your best to fuck yourself on his fingers. He added a third finger and curled his fingers in just the right way that made you see stars, your hips working vigorously in tandem with his hand as your release built within you at a blinding pace. 

You began to moan his name in broken gasps, random syllables falling for your lips as he continued his assault on your lower body, your slick beginning to run down the tops of your thighs as you felt your orgasm within your grasp. Your walls began to clench sporadically, and you knew that you were about to fall over the edge.

He removed his fingers at that moment, causing you to sob involuntarily as you looked unsteadily back at him.

“What’s your safeword, babygirl?” He reached behind himself and positioned a few items within his grasp.

Confused, you parroted the word back to him in confirmation. Why ask this now?

“Good, good girl~” He cooed back at you with the gentlest tone that he had yet to use this evening. He used his tongue to lick a fat stripe from your aching hole to your clit where his tongue remained. He activated his quirk and caused his tongue to start to pulse and vibrate against your aching bud as you threw your head back with a cry of his name.

You were barely able to contain yourself as you felt his arms reach underneath your body and fasten restraints to the slats in the headboard before winding them around your wrists and pulling them taut to connect them. Your orgasm was rushing to meet you again as he sloppily ate out your cunt, using his tongue to pulse inside of you and back up to your clit as you squirmed against your new restraints.

Cruelly, he removed his tongue and used his knee to push your calves further apart to secure a spreader bar onto both ankles.

He removed all contact from your body and admired the way that your hole pulsed with need as you whined for him to do anything, absolutely anything , to get you over the edge. Your entire body swayed with want and for him to ravish you as he had done so many times before.

“Oh, babygirl. Tonight isn’t about you~” His voice was cold and teasing as his hand ran up your hip and grasped tightly at the skin there. He dropped his head to growl into your ear. “You’re going to stay here offering me your needy cunt until I decide that I’m finished. Or you use your safeword. Whichever comes first.”

You shivered involuntarily at his voice as he reached down again to palm your tits before slapping them gently to get your nipples to peak again. 

“Good girls do what they’re told, right?”

You whined in agreement, enjoying the way that he teased your body and eagerly awaited the way that he would be using you tonight.

Thankfully, you didn’t have to wait long for Jeno to pull your lower lips apart and watch as your cum drooled onto his waiting cock from your entrance. After stroking himself to fully coat his cock in your warm essence, he plunged into you to the hilt as you cried out his name loudly. He started a rough pace and used your ass as leverage to push and pull your hips to meet his. There was no warm up, no time to get accustomed to the stretch of his girth as it hammered inside of you.

His hips slammed against yours as he roughly fucked you. Your hands clawed at the sheets uselessly as he used your body to get himself off. Tonight, you were nothing but Jeno’s fucktoy, and it felt so good to be used like this. 

Your walls fluttered around him as he moved a hand to thumb at your clit, earning him a yelp as your chest dropped fully onto the bed.

“That’s right, baby. Clench around me harder. Let your body show how much you want me to come inside your slutty little hole.”

It was difficult to thrust back with your restraints, but you rocked as hard as you could to show how devoted you were to him. 

“Fuuu~ck--Jeno! I’m so c-close! I want your cum s-so badly! Please!” 

You begged like you never had before, babbling and desperate for him to let you come and feel his release fill you to the brim. He pinched the overstimulated bud between his fingers, and you finally tumbled over the edge all but shrieking his name. Stars exploded behind your eyes as you felt your hips bucking involuntarily to extend the orgasm that you’d need so desperately.

Your thighs attempted to close to protect yourself from the dull pain that came from his hand still attacking your clit, but your restraints kept you from doing so. With each flick of his finger, your walls clenched harder around his cock, and Jeno spilled soon afterwards with a gutteral moan. His fingers dug into your hips with bruising strength as your pussy clenched around him, coaxing him to spill as much of his seed into you as possible. 

You whined as he slipped his cock from you, his cum spilling out of you in tiny rivulets. Jeno took a few deep breaths to steady himself before reaching forward to stroke your cheek.

“Such a good girl for me. Now stay put. I’ll be back soon. Try not to let too much of my cum spill out of you.”

He stood and left the room after that, leaving you a panting, overstimulated mess as you came down from your first high of the night.

And the night continued like that, with Jeno sporadically coming into the room for another round or to tease another orgasm out of you.

The second time that he came into the room, he dipped his finger into the amber liquid of his cup before tracing patterns and shapes over the curve of your ass. His tongue followed the patterns that his fingers created, biting and marking the sensitive flesh with his teeth. More than once, he dipped his tongue into your cunt to taste you and used his quirk to tease you with vibrations until you were squealing and squirming and begging him to let you come. And every time you did, he removed his mouth and dipped his finger back into his glass again to enjoy the taste of his liquor and how it melded perfectly with how sweet you tasted.

The third time he came into the room was to just slip a bullet vibrator into your throbbing pussy before leaving again, remote in hand. He teased you relentlessly from outside of the room with various vibration patterns and pulses that had you seeing stars and coming over and over until your thighs were coated again with your own slick, much to Jeno’s amusement.

He had returned to remove the vibrator from your fluttering hole only to replace it with his throbbing cock as he jackhammered into you again, body curling over yours as he needily clawed your breasts. With breathy moans, he reminded you over and over that your hole belonged to him and he’d fuck you until you couldn’t walk. He wanted to fuck you stupid and until you only thought about how well his cock filled you. He wanted your greatest joy to be begging for his cum anytime that you saw him.

His release wasn’t long after as his cum mixed with yours as it painted you both inside and out, leaving you a sticky mess. He plunged a finger into your pussy then, scooping some of the gooey mixture onto the digit and commanding you to clean it off. You happily did so, and you were rewarded with praise as you diligently sucked until Jeno removed it from your mouth and exited the room leaving you positively exhausted.

You didn’t even notice the fourth time that he returned until his cock was firmly lodged back in you...what surprised you was the hole that he had chosen. Jeno was drilling into your ass as his balls messily slapped against your entrance, his hand pushing on your lower back to increase the arch and improve the angle that he was able to fuck into you with. How had you slept through all of his prep work? There wasn’t any pain or discomfort as he mercilessly plunged past the ring of muscle over and over again. 

You didn’t have much time to think as he plunged two fingers into your leaking entrance and curled them deliciously, causing you to clench around his cock and wail about how full he was making you. He realized that you had woken up at that point and removed his fingers only to shove them past your lips. You gagged on them as he pushed them as far as he could before sliding them back into your pussy and repeating the process. 

It didn’t take long until he unceremoniously unloaded into your ass with a grunt and moan as you bucked erratically against his fingers as you coaxed another orgasm out of your worn out body. He slid his softening cock from your ass only to watch as his cum spilled messily to mix with the current mess coating you. He kissed the marks that he had made previously and left again to let you doze off one more time.

You woke up again as you felt Jeno untying your wrists and ankles. He gently massaged both parts of your body as you stirred awake, barely coherent after the night that he had put you through. Your entire body ached as it was finally allowed to slump onto the bed, your limbs twitching involuntarily with the prolonged effort of keeping up with him throughout the night.

“I’ll be right back, baby.” Jeno placed a gentle kiss on the top of your head as you attempted to keep yourself from drifting away again. He returned quickly with a few warm, wet washcloths as he dabbed and cleaned your most sensitive areas with care. You apologized at your inability to help him, and he smiled down at you before moving your hair from your face.

“Oh, sweetheart. Don’t apologize. I’ve got it from here. You did all of the hard work earlier.” He finished his statement with a wink, and you giggled and relaxed as he continued to wipe down and massage your thighs. 

The next thing that he offered was a bottle of water, and you gulped down the cool liquid greedily before flopping back onto the bed. You winced as you realized how much of a mess you’d both made and whined at the thought of having to lie in your own mess tonight.

“Do you think that you’ll be okay for a quick bath, babygirl?” He asked as he cupped your face gingerly. You nodded in agreement as you held out both of your arms. He helped you wrap them around his neck and scooped you into his arms. 

The bath had already been drawn, and the smell of your bubble bath wafted towards you. Jeno delicately placed you into the warm water, and the sigh that left your lips turned into a yawn. He left the room with the promise of clean sheets and blankets upon your return as you soaked in the soothing water and let it relax your muscles.

It didn’t take him long to return, clad only in a clean pair of boxers as he knelt beside the tub. He guided you to lift your arms as he washed you, taking great care to avoid the marks that the restraints had left around your wrists. As he continued to wash your body, you couldn’t help your curiosity.

“How long was I tied up like that?”

“Only for a few hours. It’s almost midnight but not close.” He furrowed his brow as he moved to wash your hair next, brushing through it with his fingers to create a soft lather as he massaged your scalp.

You stared at him in astonishment as he guided your head under the spray of water from the faucet to rinse the shampoo out.

“I mean, you did take a couple of power naps in the middle.” You attempted to swat at him, but your arm felt too much like jelly to even reach any part of his body.

“I was rudely interrupted in the middle of my naps though. It explains why I’m so tired, Jeno.” Your comment didn’t have any bite to it, but Jeno indulged you by pretending to be offended for a moment. Your boyfriend helped you stand on shaky legs as he thoroughly towel dried you before scooping you back into his arms and walking back to the bed.

Jeno tucked you in on your side of the bed and turned off your bedside lamp before sliding under the blanket on his side. You scooted forward until he had both arms wrapped around you, his nose buried in the top of your hair as you relaxed in his arms. 

It took a few tries to get your mouth to cooperate as you felt your body drifting away. “Love you, Jeno.”

“I love you too, y/n. Forever and always.”

It didn’t take long for you to drift off, the rhythmic sound of his breathing acting as a lullaby as you fell into a deep slumber.

[ghoulie-67-baby]

Packmate- Ghost (Part 2).

Summary: A new ghoul is summoned to the Abbey and the ghouls get to meet their new packmate.

Warnings: Negative emotions, anxiety, panic attack, ghoul pile, crying, fluffy!Mountain, dissociation, exhaustion.

Pairing: Ghoulette!reader x nameless ghouls (possible Copia).

Word count: 2,445.

Ghoulette! Reader POV

I was still getting used to the ghouls' den and every time I left I ended up getting lost, wandering around aimlessly and hoping to make sense of the endless rooms and corridors. A handful of times, I had been spotted by other ghouls and siblings of sin but I pretended I knew where I was going, like I was doing something specific. It was ridiculous, childish even, but I already felt stupid enough.

"Hey Peach, how're you doing?" I jumped as Cirrus popped up beside me, my hand pressing to my chest to settle the pounding of my heart.

"I'm okay." I hesitated with my answer, I didn't want to her knowing I had been avoiding them all, not knowing how to act when they were all so close to one another. I was an outsider. "How are you?"

"Y'know you don't have to be so formal Hun, we're friends aren't we?" I let my eyes meet hers for a second before nodding softly. "Well, I have a job to do for Papa so I'll see you back at the den okay?" I nodded as she bounced away and spun to leave the abbey before anyone else could collar me.

As I wandered out into the cloudy gardens, I got lost in my thoughts. We're we friends really? I had only been here two weeks and in that time I hadn't really interacted much with them. They had offered me my own personal room in their den and I had been quick to accept. I had noticed the way they tended to pile together or cuddle in smaller groups in each other's rooms whilst I hid away. Nobody had mentioned it to me and part of me was convinced they didn't care, didn't want me to pile with them and it made my chest seize painfully.

Without realising it, I stumbled through the gardens and towards the greenhouses. The rain had soaked me, leaving me shivering, the smell of freshly wet earth and greenery permeated my senses as my heart raced almost as fast as my heart. Gripping the edge of the seedling table before me, I bowed my head as I tried to control my breathing.

The sound of someone clearing their throat startled me and I squealed in surprise, eyes widening as a few plant pots smashed to the floor. My eyes moved to meet the person, filling with tears from my blunder. Mountain's eyes looked back at me from where he was dead-leafing his plants.

"I am so sorry." I gasped, tears threatening to slip over the edge. "I didn't mean to, I just jumped and they fell. I can fix it, I'm really sorry." My pleading trailed off into a sob as my tears got the better of me. My hands shot out in front of me as Mountain stalked over. Fear gripped me as I got flashes of the claws and eyes from the creatures of the pit and I cried out as his hands grabbed my shoulders. The towering ghoul pulled me closer to him, uncaring of my sodden clothes and pathetic state. My head rested against his diaphragm as he rubbed his thumbs against my collarbone. His hands covered the entirety of my shoulders, their warmth bleeding into my skin.

I let my body slump against him when I realised he wasn't going to hurt me. My fingers twitched against his stomach as I fought the instinct to wrap them around him. Unrelenting whimpers worked their way from my throat as tears continued to spill under my mask. The ghoul didn't seem to care about the horns digging into him as my body shuddered with cold and overbearing emotion.

"I'm so sorry," I cried, my fists curling into his shirt. "I'm sorry, didn't mean to, was an accident. I'll fix it. I swear." I squeezed the words out between sobs that rattled through my chest.

"It's okay, I know, you're okay." My body tensed as he moved his hands off my shoulders. I didn't dare look at him as he did whatever it was he was doing. Holding my breath, I let Mountain unclasp the back of my mask and listened to his steady breaths as he slipped it off and placed it on the table. "Look at me." The command caught me off guard but I did as I was told and let my eyes meet his. My breath caught in my throat at the sight of his massless face as he looked down at my tear-streaked face. "What happened?" I couldn't understand the comfort that bloomed in me as he looked down at me with concern.

"Cirrus said we were all friends but I haven't done a very good job at getting to know all of you and I've hidden away because I didn't want to disturb anyone o cause any problems. You're all so happy and comfortable and I didn't want to ruin that but it hurts in my chest because I don't have that. I want to be able to be like all of you but I haven't really been close to anyone since I came here. I've ruined every opportunity to make friends or join in." I rambled on, tears dripping onto my shirt as he listened patiently. "Now I've ruined your beautiful plants and you're probably mad at me and I'm sorry." A shake of his head and a finger on my lips put a stop to my painfully anxious rambling.

"Buttercup," my heart softened a little at the nickname. "I'm not mad at you. They can be fixed and repotted. It's not a big issue. As for Cirrus and the rest of us, we've had plenty of time t get to know each other and you could never ruin or disturb anything. But if you want to be like the rest of us and have the same kind of relationship then we can work on it together if that's what you want. I know that we all want you to join us and bond with the pack so there'd be no arguments if you wanted to."

An unfamiliar warmth spread through me from his words and before I could stop myself, the walls I had so carefully built crumbled along with my resolve. Throwing my hands around the bigger ghoul, I anchored my hands into the back of his shirt and cried against his body, relief flooding through y system alongside the cocktail of emotion.

Careful hands wrapped around me as the rain thundered against the greenhouse roof, not quite drowning my anguish. As the tears began to dry up, I noted how I had burrowed into him as much as I could. Exhaustion rushed through my limbs as I clung to Mountain. It didn't take much for him to notice my shivering and shakey legs or the dark circles that had accumulated under my eyes.

"I'm going to put my mask back on, Buttercup." He muttered softly like he was worried he would scare me. "Then I can get you back to the den. Warm and safe." I nodded against his shirt, wiping my face on my sleeves, grimacing in disgust at myself. "Come on, let's get you back." I blindly felt for my mask, my vision blurred by tiredness and tears.

"You don't need that on, I'm going to carry you if that's okay? Your legs are like jelly and I don't like the idea of you stumbling the distance." Sweetly, he tucked my hair behind my ears and wiped a stray tear from my face. I held my arms up in a child-like manner, lip quivering as he smiled down at my silent consent. He bent down slowly and wrapped my arms around the back of his neck before straightening up, hooking my legs around his waist. Mountains hands rested under my thighs, claw digging in slightly but the feeling grounded me as my heart rate settled a little.

The walk up to the abbey consisted of my face being buried in the junction between his neck and shoulder as the rain bounced down on us, soaking us to the bone. One hand stayed under my thighs as the other rubbed up and down my back soothingly. I felt myself dissociating, not noticing the change in atmosphere as we entered the building, warmth replaced the cold wind and dry air replaced the rain. Mountain's chest rumbling was my only indication that he was speaking; words didn't register in my head.

"She's been like this since we left the greenhouse, I tried to talk to her but I don't think she heard a word of it." An earthy scent mixed with the crispness of rain drifted from the ghoul's skin, soothing me as my mind's fog cleared slightly.

"We should change her clothes at least, you're both going to freeze." The softness of Cumulus' voice reached my ears and I fought with my body to shift my head. "Hey pumpkin," she crooned, stroking my wet hair from my eyes.

The walls of their den came into focus as I shifted my eyes around. The whole pack of ghouls had removed their masks and seeing the faces filled with concern and anxiety made guilt creep in.

"Why don't we get you warmed up, and let mountain do the same?" The ghoulette held out her hand as Mountain uncurled my legs from his waist. I looked up at him unsurely as he placed me on my feet but slid my hand into the waiting one and trudged towards her bedroom after a reassuring smile.

As she settled me on her dressing table stool, she hummed to herself whilst she shuffled through her drawers. Letting my eyes follow, I admired the smoothness of her steps and the sureness of her movements. It amazed me how beautiful they all were, breathtaking no matter what.

"We're friends right, cumulus?" I bit my lip as she froze.

"Of course we are pumpkin." Pyjamas were placed on the edge of the bed as she knelt in front of me. "We all adore you, I adore you." A blush spread across my chest and neck as she brushed her thumb over my cheek.

"Good," I hesitated for a moment. " do you think, if I tried my best, I could become a part of your pack?"

"Well, as far as I'm concerned little ghoulette, you already are." Her smile lit up her face perfectly and I couldn't help but return it. "Okay, ill turn around and let you change. Your skin is like ice." I wrestled the wet clothes off, drying myself and slipping on the soft cotton pyjamas. Once I was done I tapped her shoulder and smiled as she spun around, holding me at arm's length to check they were okay. They were a little big but that just meant more fabric to snuggle into.

"Let's go and show the others, you cutie patootie." I laughed at the name, nose twitching as she tapped it playfully. Slipping my hand into hers, we wandered slowly back to the group in a warm and comforting silence.

"Yeah but why? Does she not like us? Did we say something, do something?" I stood just outside the door, squeezing Cumulus; hand to ask her to wait. "And what was with the flowers when you brought her back?" Dewdrop's ranting was incessant and Cirrus tried and unfortunately failed to reign him in.

"I. Don't. Know. Dewdrop." Mountain sounded stressed and pent up; something I had obviously caused. "I know it wasn't me so it must've been her."

"Ah-hem," clearing my throat, all eyes flew to us and I shrunk back against cumulus. "Dewdrop, I do like you, I like all of you. The problem is I feel like I've never had a proper bond. This is unfamiliar to me and you guys are so used to it with each other. Nobody has said or done anything wrong, I'm the one that hasn't made it easy and I'm sorry I've made you all stressed and exhausted but ill be better." I wrung my fingers together, head bowed to the room.

"Sweetheart," Rain's voice was gentle and quiet, especially calming to everyone in the room. "You did nothing wrong, it's been a tricky few weeks for you and you've been thrown in the deep end. We're just glad you're okay and we can work on it at your pace, okay?" Ever the voice of reason, he lifted my chin to look at everyone, smiling as I nodded with a sign of relief.

"I still don't get the flowers." Dewdrop hissed to Aether who groaned dramatically. My face screwed up in confusion at the fire ghoul's comment.

"You have flower's in your hair, Doll." Aether trudged over, plucking one from behind my ear and placing it in my hand. I stared down at the yellow petals, eyes flickering to Moutain.

"Oh, it's a chrysanthemum." Fiddling with the stem, I watched the earth ghoul. "did you put it in my hair?"

"No, you have about a dozen all over." His answer only added to my confusion. "Sometimes they symbolise sadness." My eyes widened at his words.

"D'you think, maybe." I pointed at my chest as he nodded. "Does this mean I'm an earth ghoul too?" My eyes lit up despite the exhaustion.

"It could do, Peach." I squealed a little in excitement, jumping on the spot. "It's amazing and exciting but you've been hit with a lot today. I think perhaps it's time for some rest." Cirrus raised her eyebrow at me as I stumbled a little, caught by Cumulus' hand on my hip.

"M'Kay," a yawn ripped from me as I began to notice just how tired I really was. "D'you think I could stay here tonight, think I wanna snuggle?" Rubbing my eyes, I let myself be guided to their pile.

"You're more than welcome to stay, you need the warmth anyway because of the weather."

"Here, ill warm you up." Dewdrop wiggled his eyebrows suggestively as I crawled over, a sleepy laugh being pulled from me. "Come on tiny, time to sleep."

Mountain cuddled in behind me, his big frame acting as a cushion as Dewdrop wiggled under my arm, head on my shoulder. I really could understand why it was a 'pile' once everyone settled and couldn't help the smile as warmth encased me.

"'Night everyone." They all uttered and whispered their replies before soft hums rumbled in their chests. Before I had the chance to ask what it was, my eyes slid shut, drifting to sleep surrounded by something I didn't realise I was missing.

[kaiju-art-for-the-heart]

An heir to the throne

Ok, I made this blog for both art and fanfiction. Welcome to the first chapter of my Mothzilla addiction. Enjoy!

As the smoke cleared, debris and crushed buildings riddled the entirety of the city.  The smell of burning flesh permeated the air as Godzilla composed himself. The fight was finally over, and Godzilla has finally brought peace back to the planet once again. As he looks around him, the same kaiju that had been causing mass destruction merely hours before, bowed to him in recognition of their powerful king. Godzilla growls, getting the attention of the large titans instantly. "Return to your territories. And do not leave them unless called upon. Go." He snapped, the air around them instantly changing. With haste, each kaiju bowed to their king once more before starting their journey back home. As Rodan raised himself, he could hear another low growl bellow from his superior. "You. Stay." He commanded, his piercing eyes felt as if they cut straight through Rodan's hardened exterior. Watching as the rest made their speedy exit, the fire demon quietly looked back to Godzilla with worry. For the first time in many years, Rodan felt true fear wash over him.  "My king.." he clicked calmly, lowering his head to Godzilla as he approached. "Silence." Godzilla huffed, causing Rodan to look up in shock. 

"You are a traitor, Rodan. I should have your head for your foolishness." Godzilla scowled. Rodan's gaze dropped to the floor, unable to look Godzilla in the eye. He knew what he did was reckless and defiant. He aided in the murder of the Queen, something he knew he wouldn't be able to get away with unscathed. With a few clicks of discontent, Rodan sighed in recognition. "I'm so sorry my king.." he started, searching for an excuse to somehow get out of this. "I just-" "Just what?" Godzilla interrupted, he seemed to get more irritated as the conversation went on. "I.. I was merely following the orders of the alpha. I promise.. I will never do such things again! You are the true King!" Rodan paused, his breath hitching in his chest as he waited for Godzilla's final answer. After a minute or two the large titan huffed loudly. His gaze still locked onto Rodan as he spoke. "If you ever pull a stunt like this again... your life is mine. Get out of my sight." Godzilla growled, watching as Rodan quickly spread his flaming wings and lifted himself into the air, only the ash remaining as he squabbled away. 

Godzilla watched as each Kaiju disappeared into the smoky waters away from the city. All this work just to take down one bad egg, what a waste of time. Taking in one deep breath, the titan exhaled in a seemingly relieved fashion. He turned once more to the large metal bird the humans liked to observe him in. Though they didn't do much work, he was somewhat grateful for their little help to get him back into the fight. After a moment, he turned away from them to make his way back to the shoreline. He needed to take a nice long nap after this mess. Finally getting back to the water felt amazing to Godzilla. The cool waves felt almost healing to his aching muscles and skin. Thinking back to it, he hadn't reached that burning state in quite a while. It had been years since he came so close to death, though this time was different some how. His mind pondered for a moment before remembering a crucial detail. 'Mothra's sacrifice..' he thought to himself, swimming effortlessly through the ocean currents. 'She sacrificed herself for me.. I survived because of her..' he continued, feeling an intense set of emotions take over in that moment. It had been many moon's since he last saw Mothra as well. One day she was there, warning him of a battle she would be fighting alone. And the next, she was gone. She was always so fearless when it came to fighting, though he already knew why. The thought of her re-emerging as a feisty little larvae made him crack the ghost of a smile.

Night had fallen fast as Godzilla traveled the calm seas. Slowly he rose from the waters, soot and grime falling from the creases of his battle hardened skin. He was finally met with unoccupied grasslands, the cool breeze of the night helped put him in a much more somber mood. "Mothra.." he sighed quietly, lowering himself into a large patch of grass. 

'Where ever you are..' His golden orbs raised to the moon, its rays glistening off his watery scales. 

'I know you're healing..' his thoughts continued, the sound of soft crashing waves easing his mind. 

'It does not matter how much time passes.. I will always wait for you..' he yawned, his eyelids quickly becoming heavy as exhaustion took over. 'My Queen.. I will find you again..'

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The days quickly passed by Godzilla. Turning from weeks, to months, to years since the fight with Ghidorah. Though it hadn't been all sunshine and roses since then. The number of fights Godzilla found himself in was quite staggering to say the least. From Kong and Mecha Godzilla, to Scilla and Tiamat, then back to Kong and Scar King, Godzilla was tired(Though some of those fights he intentionally started).  Within a fraction of a second, Godzilla's eyes snapped open at the sound of familiar singing, a soft scent lingering as well. The large nest he had found seemed to be the same, no signs of those pesky humans at the moment. Before he could even shift from his position, her golden presence gracefully landed on the ledge of the colosseum. The soft clicks and purrs of her calls instantly calmed Godzilla as he raised his head to look at her. "My Queen..!" he snorted happily, quickly rising out of the comforts of his nest to greet Mothra. 

"My King." Mothra trilled back, watching as the large titan bowed before her. As their eyes locked, Godzilla's usual scowl softened into a longing gaze. Their initial reunion was sweet but short due to the following fight. And to add to that, Mothra stayed behind for a bit to finish up some chores in hallow earth. With that, its safe to say they didn't have the time to enjoy each others company. After a moment, both titans leaned into each other to form a tender nuzzle. Mothra's soft head fluff grazed Godzilla's snout, sending shockwaves of comfort through his body. Gentle yet excited trills and clicks came from Mothra as she melted contently into his warmth. "I have been waiting for you, my queen." He chirred quietly, pulling away just enough to look at her again. "I assume you've taken care of the humans down below?" he huffed, getting a nod of agreement from her. "I made sure to make their barrier extra sturdy." she stated triumphantly. "Though I have confidence Kong will make sure they are safe as well." she continued, a grunt of approval coming from Godzilla . "Are you ready, Goji?"  she questioned, watching as Godzilla's expression changed to instant confusion. "Ready? Ready for what? Did I miss something?" This made her chuckle as she lifted herself into the air above him. "No silly, I have a surprise for you. But you have to follow me in order to see it. So up you go." she chirped, watching as the large lizard lazily left the comfort of his nest to follow her back to the ocean. 

As Godzilla's body disappeared into the blue of the water, his calls to her could still be heard as clear as day. After small back and forth, Godzilla was finally informed of their current destination. A decently sized island just far enough away from human civilization to live comfortably. This was a pleasant surprise to him. He had been so used to stepping around (but mostly on) humans that he forgot it was truly a problem. Without sparing anymore time, both titans made their way to their new nest. As Godzilla lifted himself from the icy ocean waters, Mothra landed in front of him to present her findings. As he looked to her, his golden orbs rested preciously on her refined elegance. She truly is as beautiful as the day he lost her. And now was the perfect time to keep her as close as possible. 

[wordywarriorwrites]

Heat

Heat |  A03 | Rating: M

Pairing: Frankie Morales x F! Reader

Summary: You and Frankie take the next step in your relationship.

Warnings: A/B/O. NSFW. Smut. Language.

The house smells like you.

Your scent permeates every corner, filling Frankie’s lungs and clouding his senses the moment he steps inside. The windows are wide open, welcoming in the cool, fall breeze, but the strength of the wind billowing the curtains and rushing through the house does nothing to dissipate it.

Ambrette, citrus, and ylang-ylang – he can taste it in the air. Just like a siren’s song, the urge to seek more of it is too powerful to ignore, and as soon as he sheds his coat and kicks off his boots, he lets his nose lead him past the kitchen, out of the living room, and into your shared bedroom.

The afternoon sun is high, and bright streaks of light coming in from the window above the clawfoot bathtub catch on the sweat beading your brow and along the column of your throat. Frankie wants to lap it. Savor it. Swallow it down.

Fuck, he’s so hungry for you…  

But you’ve been off for the past few weeks. Moping. Pouting. Making him sleep on the couch only to wake him in the middle of the night and insist he return to bed because you can’t sleep without him. You’ve been quick to anger and even quicker to tears, watching movies and reading books that upset you that much more. Frankie’s lost count of the number of times he’s catered to your nesting urges, and sex, once consistent and passionate, has seesawed between ferally enthusiastic or entirely absent.   

You swear it’s nothing.

But you called off work today. Now, you’re weaving on your feet, head dangling over the sink as if you may tip over at any second. Rivulets of water are streaming down the back of your neck, sliding off your mouth and chin to stop at the collar of your shirt. Your teeth are chattering, fingers curling into claws against the countertop as you groan and curse your discomfort.

It’s not nothing. It’s very much something. In fact, it’s everything.

He sends a couple of texts – one to his boss to clear his schedule for the time being, and the other to the guys, telling them to keep away until he says otherwise. Frankie doesn’t wait for responses; once the messages are out, he shuts off his phone, absentmindedly dropping it onto the nightstand and directing the entirety of his focus onto you.  

“Hermosa?” he calls, tone low and steady as he slowly approaches. “You alright?” 

“I forgot,” you breathe, furrowing your brow and pressing your hand to your lower abdomen. “I forgot how bad it hurts.” 

The distress and pain you feel – it rushes through the bonding mark so furiously, so swiftly, that it causes the hairs on the back of his neck to stand up.  

“Y’smell good enough to eat, guapo,” you croon, voice straining and breathy.  

He chuckles and inches closer, “You should’ve called me. I would’ve come back sooner.”  

You shake your head slowly, “You were in the air. Wasn’t gonna interrupt that.”  

“You need me, you call,” Frankie barks testily. “Nothing’s more important than you.” 

You’re too stubborn for your own damn good – jutting your chin and sticking out your tongue as if it were no big deal. As if today was just another day. Frankie, on the other hand, has been preparing for this since the moment you stopped taking your suppressants and birth control over a year ago, and he’ll be damned if he’s not at home with you for every, single moment of it.  

The changes in you over the past twelve months have prompted his own, special type of metamorphosis. While not nearly as drastic or severe as what you’ve gone through, his own body, behavior, and way of thinking have significantly altered.  

Adding on extra pounds, not cutting his hair, drenching himself in your scent, and encouraging you to renew the mark you graced him with – they’re all outward displays showing he’s strong and capable of taking care of his Omega and whatever offspring he may have with you. It also proves to unmated females and other Alphas looking to court that you’re his, he’s yours, and he intends to breed you.  

The heightened aggression, the need to protect you and the home you made together, and the urge to have you beneath him at all times – they’re all indicators that your fluctuating hormones have been doing their job, and he can physically, mentally, and emotionally feel you pulling him into a rut the likes of which he hasn’t experienced since first presenting.    

Frankie’s been stocking up on essential supplies while you’ve been not-so-subtly covering the bed with endless blankets and pillows to burrow in. You’ve been wearing the same shirt – his favorite shirt – for four days, and he can’t get you to take it off, even just to wash it. He also hasn’t showered in three days because all the books say not to, as it’ll be his unaltered, natural scent that grounds you and comforts you through it.     

Your first heat together. The first time trying for young together.

“Cariño, I think it’s time,” he murmurs. 

You swallow a handful of water and let out a ragged breath, “I know.”

Frankie takes it upon himself to turn off the tap, and as the water gurgles, he reminds you that you’re safe. You’re shaking, wincing with every breath, and he reassures you that everything you need is in the bedroom. He offers you a steady hand, and you place your trembling one in his, allowing him to guide you out of the ensuite. 

“We talked about this,” Frankie whispers against your temple, fingers reaching for the snap on your jeans. “We’re ready for this, aren’t we?”

You nod. Let out a croaky, ‘yes.’ He lowers the zipper and wrangles the well-worn denim past your hips and over your knees. Kneeling at your feet, he helps you step out of your pants and slips your socks off one by one. You’re already writhing, skin clammy and hot to the touch. Your scent, combined with your arousal, is so much stronger now, making his mouth water and his cock throb.  

This isn’t his first rut, and it’s difficult to put a leash on his baser instincts, to handle you with the delicacy and patience you deserve for your first heat with him, but he manages it. He can do anything, endure anything, for you.  

Frankie swallows hard and looks up at you, “I’ll take care of you. Promise.”  

You stare down at him – lips parted and eyes dilated, chest heaving and limbs tight. A tear slips down your cheek, and your stomach jumps when he presses a gentle kiss to the freckle above your belly button.  

He rises slowly, careful not to startle you. Mouth pressed into a hard line and fingers twisted in the hem of your damp t-shirt – he takes his own steadying breath and reminds himself this moment is precious, meaningful, and not to be spoiled.  

It takes effort to peel the cotton from your body, and your bra isn’t much better, the fabric straining and digging harshly into your skin. Frankie knows you’re uncomfortable, when he releases the hooks and gently slides the straps from your shoulders, you sigh. It’s that tiny, almost inaudible sound of relief that buoys him, fills his chest with something indescribable – makes him feel like a man worthy of his woman and an Alpha capable of servicing his Omega. 

“I can’t – I keep fucking crying,” you blurt, shoulders curled, and head bent. 

“S’okay, cariño,” he sighs, rocking you gently and nuzzling your neck. “I got you.” 

You make a sound in the back of your throat that vibrates through him, giving him a headrush that makes his hindbrain lean into you, into your mating, even more. You settle enough to undress him, and Frankie watches with rapt attention as your instincts unfurl like a clenched fist.  

Each seemingly insignificant action becomes tender, almost reverent, and absolutely wondrous. The way you look at him and scent-mark him. How you carefully touch him and move with him. The need to dominate, to assert his control, to make you present yourself to him – you’re somehow channeling it, meeting it, and feeding it with your own calming nature, and it brings a new balance to his rut that he’s never felt before.  

It’s a sacred dance. Ritualistic. Sensuous. Something your kind have done since the beginning of time and will no doubt continue to do long after the two of you are dust.  

When you’re both naked and settled deeply into the nest you built, the weight of it all, the seriousness of it – it’s still there, but it becomes less of a burden and more of an honor. The two of you are as you’ve always been – bared to each other, vulnerable, but safe. Committed. Loving.  

“Te amo,” you murmur. “So much, Frankie.”

Frankie presses a kiss to your forehead, “I love you, too, hermosa.” 

The corner of your mouth quirks – a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it thing that gets wiped away when you cup his cheek and kiss him, and he simply melts into you, into the assurance of your touch and the comfort of your presence and the way it all just clicks into place.  

Tears return. This time, you let out great, heaving sobs of relief when he gets you off with his fingers, and his own scent surges in response to mingle with yours. Your release takes the edge off the pain and eventually gives way to even more pleasure when he puts his mouth to use to make you come until your thighs shake. 

“Papi,” you entreat, fingers tugging at his curls. “I – I need…”  

“I know querida,” he groans, licking into your mouth. “Let me give it to you, yeah?” 

His mustache is covered in your slick. Your inner thighs are littered with his teeth marks. The peak of your nipple against the flat of his tongue and the heel of your foot pressing into the meat of his ass. You’re lying on your side, and he takes you just like that – bodies slotting together like two puzzle pieces as he bottoms out in a single thrust.  

Your core is molten and saturated, fluttering and squeezing, and you hold him in an embrace that’s simultaneously tender and urgent. The soft sounds you make, the way your breath stutters, and how your tongue tastes when he sucks on it. There’s no hiding your greed, or how desperately he wants to breed you, and when you bare your teeth and demand more from him, the pleased rumble Frankie lets out is more beast than man. 

“Fuck, you feel s’good,” he grunts, digging his fingers into your thigh, allowing his hips to swing freely for a moment before slowing. “I’m tryin’ not to – I don’t wanna…”   

You nip at his chin and rake your nails down his shoulder, “M’ready. I can take it.” 

It doesn’t take much to maneuver you into place, and you fall into the presenting position with such graceful ease, with such eagerness, that something in his chest tightens.

Lazy thrusts morph into harsher snaps of his hips. You go lax, limbs supple and spine melting, and when the tears fall this time, you’re smiling – brow smoothed, looking resplendent, and entirely pleased with yourself. He slips a hand between your thighs and strokes clit, bringing forth another rush of wetness that will make the next part easier.  

When you’ve saturated his groin, Frankie finally drapes himself over your back, rocks into you as deeply as your body will allow, and digs his teeth into your scent gland until you yip out a comingled sound of submission and pleasure. 

“Tell me, mi pequeño lobo,” he pants in your ear. “Tell me you want this.”  

“I want this,” you repeat throatily. “I want you. Please, Alpha…”  

It’s as if your words are the permission he needs to give in to the instinct – to finally let go and do what needs to be done. Supporting you, protecting you, and loving you – it’s just the beginning of a story that’s still being written. Breeding you, knowing it will likely be successful, that he’ll have made you his in the most primal of ways – that’s the next chapter.  

Frankie’s orgasm is indescribably, incomparably intense. A prolonged release that feels too good, one that’s on the knife’s edge of pain, somehow bringing forth feelings of helplessness and complete control. The delirious sense of peace he feels when he knots you. And when you come again for him, and your body just takes it all – accepting everything he has to offer – it’s wonderous in the extreme. 

Spooning you to keep you close, to supply comfort, to keep you warm, and to ensure nothing is lost or wasted – it’s as natural as breathing. Eyes welling. Pride surging. Frankie’s seen you safely through the first wave, and again, it’s your sigh and contentment coming through the bond that lets him know he’s done everything right.  

“We’re ready for this,” you tell him, voice full of excitement and certainty. 

“Si, mi corazón,” he agrees, your echoing of his earlier words renewing his own conviction and joy. “We’re ready for this.” 

[dicklessthewonderclown]

writing patterns :)

thanks @father-salmon for the tag!

rules: list the first line(s) of your last 10 posted fics and see if there’s a pattern

1. time means nothing to an eternal being | 2.1 k | mature

Day One

Normally, the Mark on Castiel’s arm is nothing but a dull ache. While annoying, it’s easy to handle, easy to push away the quiet voice suggesting how nice it would feel to run someone through with a blade.

It gets worse, Dean had told him.

2. christmas blues | 4.2k | mature

Handel’s Messiah plays quietly in the background. Castiel watches the record go around and around on the turntable in the corner of the living room. Soft voices drift down from the attic, eager and excited. Flames crackle in the fireplace. The room smells of fresh pine. Flames crackle in the fireplace. The room smells of fresh pine.

3. just ask him out already | 2.6k | teen

The regulars are Dean’s favorite part of his job. He knows some of them by name, for others, he and Charlie have come up with nicknames.

4. swapping bodies | 1.4k | gen

Dean grunts as his back hits the wall, gun landing several feet away from him. He dives for it, narrowly avoiding another flash if light. The witch begins to mutter something in Latin, and oh shit, that doesn’t sound good, but he doesn’t have a clear shot. “Sam!”

5. wrath | 5.2k | explicit

“Dean!” Michael’s harsh voice echoes through the camp, heads turning to stare.

Dean ignores him, head held high as he stalks across the footworn paths. Rage bubbles beneath his skin, his fists clenched, the back of his neck prickling with the watchful eyes of both his and Michael’s armies.

6. no grave can hold my body down | 1.8k | teen

Pain. Blinding, nauseating, permeating every cell in his body, pining him in place. His shirt is warm and wet, clinging to his skin. His hand shakes as he clutches Sam like a lifeline, tears blurring his vision. Sam’s hand is burning hot on his wrist. “Tell me it’s ok,” he whispers.

7. staring in the blackness at some distant star | 1.7k | teen

Dean frowns, body still heavy with sleep, when he reaches behind himself to pull Cas closer, when his hand finds an empty space in his bed, not even any warmth left from Cas’s body.

8. i need you | 1.4k | mature

Cas grips Dean tightly, and in an incredibly nausea inducing pull behind his navel, the submarine’s walls, along with the entirety of 1944 vanish. Dean blinks, willing himself not to throw up as the bunker rapidly appears around them, Cas’s hand still gripping his shoulder tightly.

9. catstiel | 1.8k | mature

Friday

Dean is late getting home from work on Friday night. Bobby had asked him to stay late to finish up a car for some hotshot banker who had paid extra to ensure it would be done before the weekend. Dean doesn’t actually mind, though he had bitched about it all day to Cas via text.

10. mornings aren’t so bad with you | 1.1k | teen

Dean’s favorite thing to do on Saturdays is sleep in late, wake up to Cas sliding back into bed, warm and naked after his morning run and shower, the irresistible smell of coffee brewing wafting through the house. There’s no better way to suffer through the atrocity that is mornings than Cas pressing soft kisses to his shoulders and the back of his neck, the promise of coffee in the air, his husband in bed with him, and sometimes a wonderful wakeup blowjob

[lexosaurus]

The Truth to Light

This was supposed to be a drabble. Day one of Side Hoes Week 2023 featuring Tucker and the prompt "power up!"

Characters: Tucker, the news Words: 1458 Warnings: descriptions of dissecc

[ao3]

****

Tucker powered up his desktop. Anticipation permeated the air, buzzing around the light and bouncing off the walls. Underneath it stank of stress, and below that, rotting deep in the recess of Tucker’s mind was a hint of dread.

Today was the day.

Today would bring the truth to light.

He could have run the program yesterday, or even the day before. But something stopped him. Insecurity prickled his brain, worming its way up his spine and whispering flavors of, “It will never work…you’ll get caught…you’re not good enough at hacking…you’re not that smart…” in his ear.

But no, he was done. He couldn’t let this go on any longer—not if he had the power to stop it. 

And so, today was the day.

He entered his password, then watched as his profile loaded in. Each increase of the bar brought a rise in tension, and he could have sworn his fingers were trembling as he booted up the virtual machine.

There was no more running. Not from this.

Danny needed him.

Amity Park needed him.

Hell, the world needed him.

Even if no one would ever find out who did it.

He clicked on Tor, went to his normal site, opened the chat log, and typed two words in:

>geeksquad: I’m ready.

>cr0mb: You sure?

>Petabyte: Hell yeah, dude.

>geeksquad: Yeah. It’s time. 

****

The video was fuzzy, the frames were clunky. But even so, no amount of low-resolution could mask the horrors on the screen.

Ectoplasm on the floor, the walls. The metal table. The tubes, needles (ugh), metal instruments. The screams, shaky breathing, choked sobs. The deep voice, sadistic chuckles, flat, bored tones. 

The image of his best friend on the screen, grasping onto his chest, ectoplasm seeping through his fingers.

Traumatizing, Tucker realized, wrapping his hands around his perched knees. Watching this, knowing that this was real, was traumatizing. 

And yet, this wasn’t a memory he would be able to unpack in therapy later. Because all this evidence of Tucker’s involvement lived on a hard drive that no one would ever find. No one could ever know.

Not even Sam.

He cut this portion from its tape, dragging the new selection down onto the end of the dozens of other clips just like it. Tucker was going to release the videos in their entirety, of course, but there were weeks worth of content. The likelihood that the average person would even have the disk space to download that amount of content was laughable.

And so, a highlights reel was necessary, and Tucker had to be the one to do it. Which meant he had to sit here alone watching hours of his best friend being tortured. He had to sit here alone and choose the “best” moments to showcase. He had to sit here alone and edit the next viral video together.

And he would do it because Danny would die without it.

How’s that for a ride-or-die friendship, huh?

Danny, you owe me, dude, he tried to joke in his head, but even that tasted sour to him.

He shook the creeping fog from his mind and sat back up straight, put his hand back on his mouse, and got back to work.

****

“We would like to warn you that our next segment contains imagery that is extremely graphic and may be upsetting to some viewers.

“Earlier today, a data breach on the US federal government revealed leaked video footage showcasing details within the Ghost Investigation Ward. The video footage, initially uploaded to Tor under the username Geeksquad, showed graphic treatment and experiments involving Amity Park’s local ghostly hero, Danny Phantom, who disappeared two months ago. Since then, it has been reuploaded all over the internet, sending the world into a frenzy. The video footage revealed insight into the hero who was shown to morph between his popular ghostly appearance, and that of a human, teenage boy as shown here. The teenage boy has been identified as sixteen-year-old Daniel Fenton, child of the famous ghost hunter family, who has been reported missing for the last two months. His family claims they did not know that their child was a ghost, and also expressed doubt that Phantom and their son were connected, suggesting that it may be an attempt for Phantom to gain sympathy from the agents. 

“We will keep you updated as more information arrives regarding this story.”

****

“Breaking news on the details of the leaked Phantom files from the Ghost Investigation Ward. Close friends to Daniel Fenton, the human child that Phantom morphs into numerous times throughout the videos, came out stating that Daniel Fenton and Danny Phantom are, in fact, one and the same. The teenagers told reporters from APC News that Daniel had been in a lab accident in his parents' laboratory two years ago, and that they witnessed the event. They claim that ever since the accident, Daniel had been able to morph appearances between his ghostly and human persona. The teenagers also claim that the accident both killed him and brought him back to life, and as such Daniel still has a heartbeat and a pulse. 

“If this information is true, that could mean severe issues for the Ghost Investigation Ward. Already, protests have broken out in Washington DC as well as Amity Park, Illinois. APC News here with more details to come.” 

****

“As more unfolds about the leaked files from the federal Ghost Investigation Ward, more questions regarding experimentation ethics and the blurred laws between humans and ecto-entities are coming to light.

“APC News was able to interview an anonymous source from within the Ghost Investigation Ward earlier today, who claims that the agents within the GIW did know that Daniel Fenton Phantom had a heartbeat and a pulse.

“‘A heartbeat and a pulse…you know what the implication of this means, correct?’

“‘We all did. And not only that, but we also knew that if his heartbeat stops, then he would die.’

“‘Die. That’s an interesting choice of words.’

“‘It is, isn’t it?’

“The director for the FBI put out a statement saying that while the GIW has been sanctioned to perform experiments to further the knowledge and understanding of ecto-entities, also known as ghosts, they are not authorized to operate outside of the law and perform experiments on US Citizens.

“The director of the GIW, under the code name Agent Alpha, also put out a statement citing that Danny Phantom registers as a level seven ecto-entity and does not qualify as a human, despite the appearance of human organs that seem like life-support. He stated that like other ghosts, Phantom relies on an ecto-core to exist and that his human organs are merely imprints of when he was alive. He reiterates that the Ghost Investigation Ward did not operate outside of the law while Phantom was under their custody.

“Phantom has been relocated to a holding cell while internal investigation and legal proceedings occur.”

****

“Tucker…” Sam’s tilted her head. Dark circles tattooed the skin under her eyes, and her chapped lips pressed into a thin line. She’d lost weight, and her cheeks were hollow, sharp. And yet, that hint of a spark in her eye, that silent flame of determination, had yet to go out.

Although, for as run-down as Sam was, Tucker was sure he looked about the same. 

“What is it?” he asked.

“Do you know who the hacker was?”

Tucker was lucky he was such a practiced liar. But even still, he was sure that not even he could mask how thrown off he was at that question. “How would I know who he was?”

“I know you hang around those circles.”

“Yeah, but it’s all anonymous. I don’t know who anyone is. And besides.” He leaned back in some faux attempt of acting nonchalant. “There are so many hacking groups out there, Sam. It’s not that small or tight-knit of a community.”

“Yeah, I figured,” she said, though her eyes didn’t relax. “I just found it odd, you know?”

He could feel his heart skip a beat. “What’s odd?”

“Well, I found it odd that the GIW was targeted when they had Phantom. And no one else knew that Phantom was there except for us.”

“Or, maybe other people figured it out.”

“Maybe…”

“Come on, it’s not that implausible. Danny disappeared for two months. That’s not really his MO. I’m sure some gray-hat group online did the process of elimination on where he could be and figured out he was with the Guys in White.”

“Yeah.” Sam’s gaze went to her knees, where her hands were clasped. Tucker followed her sight and realized that her fingers were shaking.

He let his tone turn more serious. “Sorry, I don’t know who leaked the files. I promise.”

“Okay,” she said, her voice small. “I believe you.”

****

chapter 2

[lilithfairen]

Bet you can’t criticize this FRWBY post:

https://www.reddit.com/r/RWBYcritics/s/QuqWXp1RMQ

I bet I can!

So it starts off by saying that the Malachite twins as Cinder's sidekicks, having Yang listen to Blake's backstory instead of Sun, and having Roman be Ozpin's vessel are good changes. Except none of them are, whatsoever.

The Malachite twins are an unnecessary addition to the story. As of V6, they exist as another instance in which the majority of Fixing RWBY revolves solely around Roman.

Yang listening to Blake's backstory gives no opportunity for character development between Sun and Blake, nevermind the fact that Blake opens up to Sun because he is a Faunus.

And lastly, Roman as Ozpin's vessel. This is purely about the white guy Celtic Phoenix adores replacing a PoC character. Now, the post you link whines about "character bloat" (while acknowledging Fixing RWBY dragging up Cardin fucking Winchester of all characters), except Roman's role in both the original show and Fixing RWBY highlights the idiocy of said complaint. Roman in the original show is a minor character. He's a villain of one story arc, then no longer plays a role beyond that story arc. That's not "character bloat", that's how stories work.

But people who write and adore stories like Fixing RWBY want "character bloat", in that they want all of the white male characters to permeate the story and remain constant fixtures of it. Roman isn't a fitting vessel for Ozpin whatsoever, nor does Fixing RWBY even utilize the contrast between Roman (a largely selfish individual who only gives a crap about himself and Neo) and Ozpin (someone who isn't "morally grey" no matter how much douchebags want to feel smart, but someone genuinely trying to do good despite his mistakes and flaws). Heck, Fixing RWBY's Roman Torchwick isn't Ozpin, nor is it even Roman Torchwick—he's just a bland jerkass who's made special so the actual protagonists of the show have to be subservient to him, with the main character treated as his sidekick.

It also completely misses the point of why a new character became Ozpin's vessel, rather than an established character—so said character could be inexperienced and untrained, not overshadowing the actual protagonists. In the case of Fixing RWBY, the entire point is to have Roman be treated as the main character even by the titular heroines of the show.

Then the post you link to claims the show better develops the characters, except it fucking doesn't. It wastes time on minor and inconsequential characters (because the creator likes any white male character more than the lead heroines). The perfect example of this is how the post fawns over Vernal, a character who's written to be Celtic Phoenix's underage-fanservice cultural-appropriation daughteru, a character whom the protagonists barely know as an enemy and then come to care about more than their own family members.

And of course it touches upon Adam, a character losers like Celtic Phoenix and his stans wanted to be a more important villain than he ever was in the show, purely because Adam is white and male. They can't stand the fact that he wasn't the most unstoppable badass in existence, because they can't stand a white male character not being just better than everyone else.

Along with more stupid claims (like saying Cardin/Velvet is good writing, when as we all know it's about a white man believing people like himself deserve love from non-white women just for not being a racist piece of shit to them), the post claims Bumbleby is better written. To note, Blake and Yang have barely any interaction that isn't caustic throughout the entirety of Fixing RWBY V6, and the "mending" of their relationship that courses throughout the original V6 is hastily thrown out at the last second in FRWBY V6 (because the story cares more about Adam having an impact on them than each other).

The post does acknowledge glaring flaws with Fixing RWBY (the incredibly poor job it does at foreshadowing anything, the random and stupid character antagonism, the way Adam is written to be invincible against Team RWBY and instantly jobbed by anyone else, the fact that a "fix"-fic still rips off 95% of the plot and lore), but then proceeds to complain about complaints it thinks are invalid. Such as:

Faunus heat cycles (it doesn't matter how briefly it's mentioned, it's stupid garbage purely for fetishy fanservice)

Roman as Celtic Phoenix's self-insert (it's fucking obvious)

the queerphobic "jokes" aimed at Ren (yes they are queerphobic, much like Celtic Phoenix minimizing the presence of queer characters and treating a queer woman of colour who prevented a massacre as less sympathetic than a straight white man who committed a massacre)

All in all, it's a shitty "review" written by someone who highlights how the audience for Fixing RWBY is white men who hate stories where anyone but white men matter to the story.

[beesmygod]

JJBA PART 5, VENTO AUREO IS THE UNDERBAKED MESS I CAN'T STOP THINKING ABOUT FIXING...PART 2

FIX 2: WHAT DO YOU DO WITH A PROBLEM LIKE GIORNO?

thats the homo photo of my dad

answer: i dont know.

the unfortunate and honest to god truth of the matter is that the protagonist of JJBA part 5, giorno giovanna, fucking sucks.

what if that little shithead from the twilight zone episode "it's a good life" was gay and watched "goodfellas". you might think "wow that sounds great" but, well, somehow it's not.

it is months later and i have been struggling with writing this for a bazillion reasons: i got sick, real life events occurred, i had to work on comic, i died, etc. but the most strenuous reason of all in the end was facing the impenetrable, tangled, and deeply complicated gordian knot that is the little ladybug loving bitch named giorno and not knowing where the fuck to even begin.

i had to think long and hard about how to approach the problem of "giorno giovanna". he is like a diamond of sucking ass: multi-faceted and beautiful in his perfection but is, ultimately, just a stupid fucking rock from the dirt. he completely lacks the innate charisma and personality inherent in previous jojo protagonists AND antagonists; despite having both the joestar AND brando gene pools to pull from, he manages to snag a net total of 0 personality traits. this problem is multiplied 100 fold once he starts actually doing things to move the plot along and the universe repeatedly bends itself like a pretzel in order to gift him undeserved and unrewarding (to us, the audience) win after win after win.

his theme goes hard as hell tho

if you were to ask me what is wrong with giorno, i would have no problem making a long and detailed list of why i want to slap the little cinnamon rolls of his head. i have no idea how to organize that list into a more coherent form of criticism that points at the overarching structural weakness of part 5. part 5 really, really wants you to like and root for giorno. it hinges on it. his victories are explicitly supposed to be emotionally and morally gratifying. they are instead trite and annoying.

for years, YEARS, my only experience with the entirety of part 5 outside of infamous panels and the most basic information about the story, was this incredible, evergreen and laser targeted tweet:

i thought this was a funny shit post. all i knew giorno had some kind of "life creation" power. what i didnt know was:

giorno says this exact line and then turns cars into frogs so that they (the bad guys) cant catch them (they do catch them)

giorno's power IS fucking stupid

i fucking hate him

he should stop using it

abbacchio was right. he was right about everything

how DO you talk about giorno? giorno's blandness permeates any situation he has the misfortune of attending and the parts of the narrative where he's missing for one reason or another are significantly improved by his absence. in comparison with the deuteragonists (bruno bucciarati) and tritagonists (the members of bruno's squad in the mafia family passione), he has all the flavor of a communion wafer. his character arc is non-existent. emotionally, he might as well have just gone to the store and back by the end of the story.

and, look, araki likes to play fast and loose with how powerful a stand is or what its abilities are. im not here to measure power levels or fucking whatever stupid shit people get up to. the more wild and insane he gets with his incredibly "unique" ""understanding"" of science and geometry, i'm 99% on board for. but giorno's stand, gold experience, is whatever the narrative needs it to be at any given time with no consistency. it's OP as hell long before he gets the 11th hour power boost; his stand has the extra trans-dimensional ability to remove any tension from a fight scene. through this, gold requiem can destroy the psyche of the audience, truly making it the most powerful stand of all time.

people used to love to bitch about not understanding how the villain's stand works in this part, but if anyone tells you they understand what the fuck THIS means they're lying to you.

anyway, there is only one solution i can think of when it comes to how to approach this: assess the major story beats in order. i think jumping around in the progression of events to highlight individual flaws in the character will not adequately impart the suffering one feels as an audience member while the narrative yo-yos between being rollicking good fun and being at the mercy of the little 15 year old twink with god mode on.

and so, having made it past koichi's tiny ass role (and his tiny ass) in the story and addressing how we can proceed, we can cover bruno (a genuinely wonderful character), polpo, and the wasted character building opportunity of the piss drinking scene, which vexes and infuriates me to this day. [thinking about the piss scene and getting mad again] ooooh!!!!

[yolowritter]

Anybody order an Evil Emilie Au?

Hello there everyone, and welcome! I'm back on my bullshit and 99% sure I talked about this before, but who cares? This, this wonderful thing is the Games of Innocence Au! Did you ever want a world where Emilie is a psychopath? Did you ever imagine her being as morally grey as they come yet still trying to be a mother to her son? What about if it was Gabriel who used the Peacock instead? What if she's replaced him as Hawkmoth? Empress actually, but still! And what somewhere down the line, she tries to manipulate Nathalie into helping her?

What if Emilie accidentally falls in love with her best friend? This absolute masterpiece is one of my favorite show re-write ideas of all time, and I've got some sweet 9.5k words for you guys to enjoy right here! Thing is, since I already have an Au that's over 300k words long, and rapidly approaching 400k...not to mention the next huge project on my list (a conservative estimate of 500k words)...I will not be writing the Evil Emilie Au in it's entirety. Most of it is a show rewrite anyway, and I simply don't have the time go through each individual episode and change it so that psycho!Emilie is there instead of mr Mothballs. I'm currently trying to write the finale, since it is the single best part and my personal favorite scene, hopefully to post it both here and on the Archive when I'm done.

However! I can and will rant about it until the end of time, assuming someone asks! And since the voices in my head did, here's an entire analysis about this version of Emilie! It's right below the cutoff, but I'd highly recommend to first read the fic! So here's the Ao3 link, hope you enjoy!

Alright then, welcome back! I hope it was a good read! Now as a disclaimer, I am not a mental health specialist, and might be confusing the terms "sociopath" and "psychopath" here, but I did read that sociopaths often struggle to control their emotions and act erratically (which Emilie doesn't, she has great self-control), where psychopaths have difficultly forming any emotional connections, so I feel like the latter term describes this Au's Emilie much better. Let's get right down to business, and explore (this) Emilie Agreste's mind, shall we! Obvious spoiler warning for the above fic.

Firstly, I'd like to make sure we're all on the same page with what kind of person Emilie is! Whenever I refer to her I'm obviously talking about this Emilie, so don't confuse it with canon. I have another upcoming post abt that. Her main attribute is that life as a concept is permeated by a general sense of boredom. Wake up, do tasks that only matter because she's told they do, sleep, repeat. Emilie was born into a rich family, which immediately means expectations. I'm assuming that she was kept pretty isolated aside from eventually starting school, so the only emotional connection Emilie formed in her early life was her sister, Amelie. She does genuinely care about her sister in a way that Emilie just can't bring herself to for her parents or staff, though she is nice to the latter and appreciates the work they do for her. Her parents are just stuck-up snobs but who cares? And so, Emilie shows this care the only way she knows how. Being perfect. Excelling at everything she does, getting the top grades in class, you all know the drill. The only thing she doesn't have is friends, and hangs out mostly with her sister. But even with Amelie, who she feels very strongly for...Emilie has a hard time expressing these feelings. For an example, see this flashback when they are sitting together in the garden:

“Sister…do you love me?” Amelie asks in a soft tone, her voice barely loud enough not to be carried away by the wind. Emilie recalls that she must have been... ten, maybe closer to eleven? And in all her admittedly few years, she never felt her heart stop beating as suddenly as when she registered Amelie’s words. “It’s- it’s just- …m’ sorry, Em. I… I don’t know, but whenever you smile at me...” the girl lets out a tiny sigh, nervously fidgeting with a stray strand of platinum-blonde hair. “It’s the same smile mum has when people are coming over…”

Emilie remembers it as clear as day—the way that the soft blades of gray grass between her fingers felt as if they’d been sharpened enough to draw out blood. Why…why would Am ever think she didn’t love her? Emile had done everything she was expected to do! She kept up her good grades like father wanted, always smiled and politely socialized with mum’s friends and family whenever they came over, and- …and she’d been nice to Amelie. Her twin sister, the constant presence in her life that truly felt like family…did not seem to think so. Or, maybe, Emilie had messed up somehow and given her the same bland niceness that the world would present her with day in and day out. But what else could she do? Wasn’t this what family meant? Just... be nice to one another and keep up with what was asked?

And over here, notice the way Emilie thinks of herself as a corpse, as not alive, even at such a young age:

“I- I’m sorry, Am,” she manages to whisper, even as confusion washes over Emilie’s mind. But…this is her sister. The one person who might understand how she feels about all of this, how the world itself registers only in dull shades of gray, how she can barely tell cold and hot apart, or how her heart sometimes feels like it’s stopped beating for hours at a time. “It’s hard for me to feel,” Emilie says, in the same reserved tone that’s always marked her sister’s voice.

And yes, obviously I know I'm the writer of the whole Au. I'm not patting myself on the back with these scenes, I'm just trying to get the point across. Emilie's life has always been that same dull grey, and the only people who can make it go away are Amelie, Adrien, Nathalie, and (to a lesser extent) Gabriel. She's been wearings masks her whole life, trying to be accepted by others but knowing that nobody would ever like who she truly is. And when she's alone...the thoughts come back, she can't tell if she is alive to begin with. Quote from the fic:

"Oftentimes, Emilie isn’t even able to feel her own heartbeat, never mind registering the expanding and collapsing of her lungs with every breath. When left alone and with nothing to catch her eye, Emilie could easily fool herself into thinking she’s some kind of undead or a ghost haunting the manor’s halls with twisted, quickly-fading memories."

Just to be clear here, Emilie suffers from deep depression. She feels isolated and alone, depending on the very few people who are perceptive enough to see even a tiny bit under her many masks, and she gets extremely attached very quickly. She isn't unable to love, since she (at the timeframe of the fic) has started to fall for Nathalie despite actively trying to manipulate her, but it's an extremely difficult mental situation to even begin dealing with. Emilie has hyperfocused on her family, and especially Adrien, her son. She isn't possessive and does genuinely love him, but there are obvious complications with their relationship. I'll get to that in a bit, but let's backtrack to her childhood one last time.

Emilie has absolutely no moral qualms with murder. Wow, that is a special combination of sentences right there! But in all seriousness, she thinks in a purely black-and-white kind of way. Emilie's #1 priority are her people, and for them she would burn the world to cinders. If anybody even looks at Amelie wrong, they will be wiped off the map for no reason other than the fact that this person was percieved as a danger. Emilie is that level of extreme in her protective streak. To give a few examples related to her sister, right after that flashback between the two of them, Emily recalls finding out that a slightly older girl was bullying her sister at school. And in a move that would make Ashley Graves proud, she straight up murders that child. No hesitation, no grievances, no regret. That girl was a threat to Amelie, and got swiftly eliminated. No questions asked, even at the grand-old age of 11.

Furthermore, Colt Fathom is straight-up dead in this Au. Emilie killed him when she came to visit her sister and nephew, staging a company emergency and sabotaging both his car engine and breaks, just to make sure. Can't take any chances with Colt of all people. Again, another threat to her sister eliminated, with Amelie's (implied) knowledge and support. The only reason she didn't kill him before the wedding is because Amelie personally convinced Emilie that she was willing to take on the burden for their family's sake. And also to use Colt's connections behind his back. Who doesn't love a good scheme?

Now...Gabriel and Nathalie never realized who exactly they were dealing with. It's worth mentioning here that Nathalie was actually Emilie's college roomate, and Gabriel was studying in the same university. Little detail, but I wanted to add it because Emilie canonically went to France to further her education. And Amelie got to work making friends in high places while Colt was busy in the 'murican bars downtown or something. Listen, all my homies hate Colt Fathom, and all you need to know is that the police didn't find enough of him to put in a casket. Anyway, Nathalie was studying business and finance, Emilie and Gabriel studied creative arts, and they met during their college years. The thing is, Emilie did love Gabriel. Only...not exactly the way he loved her. Quote again:

"Ever since she’d met him, Gabriel had been downright lovely. Polite, bookish, and a little nerdy, but with a creative spark powerful enough to bring forth an inferno of passion for his work. And he was also very loyal, most of all to the pretty popular girl who’d taken an interest in him and decided to befriend him in their first few days of college. Gabriel Agreste had turned out to be far more than just an interesting critter, and he was admittedly one of the extremely few people in this world Emilie had ever felt for, even if she was not fully able to reciprocate his feelings. Well…not in the way that Gabriel wanted, at least. Of course she loved him, hence why she obviously married him later on in life, but the man was…more of a cute, adorable puppy than a husband. If she were to put it crudely, Gabriel was far too easy when it came to matters of the heart."

Yeah...poor guy didn't notice the Yandere even after he married her. Also, another detail is that the reason why Emilie even took interest in Gabriel is because he saw through almost all her masks, believe it or not. Aside from the rampant psychopathy and slightly murderous tendencies, Emilie Graham De Vanily was an open book to him. Oh well, sometimes she ends up being crazy! What can you do? But anyway, worth mentioning that this Gabriel is far closer to his Reverse!Gabriel counterpart in terms of personality, and never acts in the callous, cold way we see in canon. Granted, we don't see what he was like before Emilie's canonical demise, but I don't like leaving room for implications on this matter. So you get your Good Parent Gabriel Agreste tag and you'll like it too!

As for Nathalie...there's an entire four and half posts' worth of ranting to do, so I'll just leave you with what the fic already has for now. Suffice it to say, she's very much into Emilie but knows she shouldn't be. I'm sure that with Empress trying to emotionally manipulate her into keeping the basement fridge life support pod thing a secret, that's going to go very well! Especially when the villainess herself is accidentally falling in love with Mayura! The Eminath is extremely strong with this one...

But anyway, about Adrien! Considering that even in canon, Emilie still wore his Amok-ring inside her sleeping pod, it's obvious that this Emilie will be wearing it too, right? Absolutely! And guess what? Thanks to a little help from an Akumatized Nathalie (prior to Origins in this Au), she magically enchanted the ring to make it literally impossible to unwillingly remove from her finger for as long as she's alive. Control issues, much? Seriously though, she does love Adrien very deeply, and does her best to be a mother. Emilie knows that he loves her back, and absorbs that love the same way a starved wolf devours fresh meat. She isn't oppressive and does her best to give him certain freedoms...but Adrien also never went to school in this Au. In her defense, she'd have little issue with it normally, but Emilie also wants to start her supervillainess career on the same year...and the thought of Adrien being caught in the crossfire genuinely terrifies her. Plus, in canon he does get involved in several Akuma attacks because of Gabriel, so... He still manages to get out of the house long enough to bump into Fu, hence Chat Noir, but doesn't ever meet Marinette and co. Not even for the Gum Incident.

In that case...hello Marichat! But again, that's for another Games of Innocence post. Today we focus on our resident Yandere! Believe me, it will become extremely evident why I call Emilie that once I post about her relationship with Nathalie/Mayura. Just trust me on this one. Back to Adrien, his dearly beloved mother is very much that. Beloved. But he is slowly starting to understand that something might be wrong with his home life, and tries to talk to Emilie about it.

This, I think, is an excellent time to talk about the color-coding in this Au. In a lot of my works I incorporate color theory and those meanings into stuff like aura colors, presences, Luka Vision™ (listen my hc is he has Synesthesia), etc. Obviously Adrien is supposed to be a vibrant green. Fresh start, new life, we've heard this all before. And Emilie...as Empress, she is a dark purple, because she's embracing her mystic side, and going absolutely wild with any and all magic shenanigans involving the Miraculous. But like I said above...in those moments where she's alone, not clinging to Adrien's side, or talking to Nathalie, or spending time with Nooroo...she's a dull, dead grey. The same tone that's haunted her since childhood. As a side note, Emilie doesn't abuse her Kwami. Nooroo actually thinks they could be good friends. You know, if she'd drop the quest for ultimate power and all.

Speaking of that, as far as Nathalie knows, this is all for the sake of bringing Gabriel back to life. Which...is true, yes. He's Adrien's father and Emilie did marry him, even if as "just a friend". She did actually have feelings for him by the way, just supressed them to avoid hurting herself when she realized he wasn't seeing her psycho side and then convinced herself that said emotions were better off locked up in the back of her mind. Never again...until Nathalie. But anyway! Emilie's main goal is Unlimited Power!!! Why? Shits and giggles, of course! She can do it, it's really fun to play this game with Ladybug and Chat Noir, and Akumatizing people just feels so intimate!

Do not get me wrong here! The reason why Emilie is obsessed with Akumatizations is because she loves going into people's heads and manipulating them! It's not weird, just the only coping mechanism she had in her entire childhood! Bless Amelie for giving her at least that... But yeah, Emilie basically treats the whole Akuma Shenanigans™ is her personal reality tv show, coupled with as much drama and action as anyone could ask for! And she gets to control the narrative! Plus, there's times where Emilie lets the Akuma do their thing just to see what might happen. Evillustrator is a prime example here, but that's part of the Marichat post so I won't get into it here.

Okay, okay. This rant is getting way too long. TL;DR: Emilie Agreste is kinda insane but still a better parent that canon Gabriel! I am currently working on the finale for this fic, because the ending is the best part and I want to share it with you all! In the meantime, feel free to send me as many asks abt this Au as you want! I'll be more than happy to have an excuse for more ranting! Anyway, I'll be seeing you all soon, but until then, Stay Miraculous everyone!

[indndwnshead]

Soulful Strangers: Part III - ...friends

Pairing: Min Yoongi x (f) Reader

Genre/tags: Actors AU, Somewhat Canon Compliant, Stranger to Friends to Lovers, Slow(ish) Burn

Series summary:

It wasn't during your first encounter, nor the second or third. You've lost count of how many times your paths crossed before you truly got to know him. He was a rare soul, hiding his kindness and true emotions, revealing them only through his actions

In this (maybe low-key soulmate AU) story, follow Actress!Reader and Idol!Min Yoongi as their chance encounters gradually blossom into a deep and lasting connection. This is a slowish-burn journey from strangers to friends to lovers, as they bond over shared passions and kindness.

Warning: this chapter: - is basically me worshipping Yoongi's music - contains assumptions about the social service agent system. I took the liberty of assuming this chapter scenario is possible - all concert-related are purely based on what I've seen online, apologise if there are details I missed!

A/N: Tell me what you think, please! I'm devastated that I can't watch the D-Day show since I joined this bandwagon far too late :( Let's be friends and stan Yoongi together on twitter @itsdndwn 💜💜

---

Masterlist. Previous Chapter. Next Chapter.

Also read on: AO3

---

2023

You were scrolling through your phone on a lazy Sunday in April when a headline caught your eye. Min Yoongi was going to release his debut solo album 'D-DAY' as Agust D on April 21. It was your first encounter with his alter ego, Agust D, and curiosity got the best of you. With nothing else demanding your attention, you decided to explore his solo music. As you delved into his solo discography, you found out that “D-DAY" wouldn't be his only venture as Agust D; you uncovered two other mixtapes in his repertoire.

Your first choice was "Daechwita," undeniably his most renowned track. As you slipped on your headphones, the song burst forth, engulfing your senses with its infectious beats and potent delivery, sending electrifying shivers down your spine. It was an auditory masterpiece that left you utterly captivated.

The sheer impact of "Daechwita" left you craving more, prompting you to embark on a journey through the entirety of "D-2." With each passing track, your admiration for Agust D's musical prowess continued to swell. One aspect that particularly struck you was his remarkable versatility, effortlessly transitioning to smooth vocals on the slower beats of some songs. This seamless shift provided a delightful contrast to his usual rapid-fire rap style, showcasing his multifaceted talent and leaving you in awe of his artistry.

Intrigued by this newfound dimension of his solo work, you decided to journey back to his first mixtape. While you readily acknowledged his exceptional technical skills, you couldn't overlook the distinct emotional tone that permeated these songs. They carried an undercurrent of anger and frustration, with Agust D fearlessly expressing the sensation of being trapped within a predetermined image. His lyrics exposed his struggles with depression, obsession, and self-loathing, granting you a poignant glimpse into his vulnerability on the arduous path to success. He delved into the intricate dynamics of achieving fame while contending with the relentless judgment and scrutiny of others, revealing the duality of his existence as both an artist and a human being.

Agust D's music soon became an inseparable companion in your daily life, accompanying you on your journeys and offering solace during quiet moments. Each track felt like a window into the depths of his soul, forging a profound connection to the artist behind the idol.

Then came the night when you discovered that he would embark on his first solo tour later that month. You were elated, but your excitement was tempered by the realization that tickets to his shows were already sold out. A hint of disappointment washed over you, but for the time being, you found contentment in listening to his digital records.

As the days ticked by and the release date of "D-DAY" drew nearer, your anticipation for Agust D's new music grew stronger.

Finally, the much-anticipated day arrived, and you eagerly played the first song, the title track. His lyrics exuded contentment, revealing a newfound sense of liberation from the past. It was a self-reassurance delivered with an intense trap flow, leaving you nodding in agreement. In "Haegeum," he once again showcased his skilful fusion of hip-hop with the traditional Korean instrument. Through his lyrics, Agust D prompted you to ponder the concept of liberation.

However, it was "Amygdala" that etched the deepest impression. The haunting melody, coupled with Agust D's raw and raspy vocals, transported you to a realm of profound emotion. His lyrics delved into painful moments from his life, from his mother's heart surgery to his father's battle with liver cancer. It was a song that laid bare his soul, and you couldn't help but be deeply moved by it.

The entire album felt like a transformative journey—a raw, unfiltered, and deeply personal one. You couldn't shake off a tinge of sadness when you learned that this would be his last album under Agust D for the time being.

Days passed, with his songs weaved into your cherished playlist.

Then, on one unsuspecting day, a friend randomly sent you a screenshot that appeared to be a ticket purchase confirmation. This friend was among the few you had confided in about your recent musical infatuation with Yoongi, or rather Agust D. You had intentionally omitted the fact that you actually knew the artist personally. On that unexpected July night, that one friend quickly became your favourite. He surprised you with an early birthday gift— tickets to one of Agust D's additional shows, on August 6th.

You eagerly anticipated the day you would see Agust D perform live for the first time.

On the night of the concert, excitement filled the air as fans from all over gathered for this momentous event. From the very beginning, the night promised to be unforgettable as Agust D delivered one powerful song after another, leaving you in sheer awe. His exceptional rap skills and stage charisma created an atmosphere reminiscent of a noir musical, complete with dramatic thunder, lightning, and a purple haze that added an air of mystique.

The excitement in the crowd reached a fever pitch when Agust D brought out RM for a captivating joint segment. The deafening screams and cheers from the crowd echoed throughout the venue. As Agust D and RM performed together, their synergy was palpable and it was evident that they were feeding off the energy of the audience.

As the concert neared its conclusion, a sense of melancholy began to settle in. The realization that this might be Agust D's last in-person performance for years due to his impending mandatory military service cast a bittersweet shadow over the event. The impending farewell made the night all the more poignant for you and the entire audience.

Your floodgates of emotion finally opened during the performance of 'Snooze'. This song has been your source of comfort and inspiration lately, reminding you that dreams are worth chasing, no matter how difficult the path might be. As a struggling actress, you related to the lyrics on a profound level. As tears welled up in your eyes, you couldn't help but shed a few tears. It was as though Yoongi had reached into your heart and put your feelings into the song. And in that performance, despite his best efforts to hold back tears, Yoongi couldn't help but choke up too.

However, it was during his performance of "Dear My Friend" that the concert reached its emotional zenith. You were acutely aware of the significance of this song, delving into themes of friendship, addiction, and personal struggle. As the haunting melody filled the venue, you witnessed the raw, unfiltered emotions that Yoongi poured into his performance. You, and the entire audience, were moved by his heart-wrenching and beautiful rendition.

The defining moment of the night, etching itself into your memory, came at the end of the concert when Yoongi exited the stage. The symbolic significance of that exit wasn't lost on you. It was as if he was closing the door on this chapter of his career and life, healing himself from his past trauma.

---

Your paths unexpectedly converged once again later that year at an animal shelter in a calmer neighborhood, somewhere in Seoul. Your little sanctuary away from the bustling city.

The news of Yoongi's enlistment had made headlines, with thousands, if not millions, of his fans, expressing their sadness at his temporary departure. Despite your obvious appreciation for Yoongi’s music, you had always been one to avoid gossip and celebrity news, so you weren't aware of his social service agent assignment.

As animal lovers, you occasionally volunteered at that particular animal shelter. But recently, your career has demanded more of your time and you haven't been able to dedicate any time there. But on this particular afternoon, you found yourself back at the animal shelter, ready to spend quality time with the animals that had become a significant part of your life.

Although the shelter provided sanctuary for various animals, it was often brimming with dogs, and occasionally cats. So, as you entered the shelter, you were met with wagging tails, excited barks, and the overwhelming joy that only dogs could offer. As a regular volunteer, you were known among the shelter staff for having a special way with the dogs, calming even the most anxious pups with your gentle demeanour.

And then, you heard a familiar voice. "Hey."

Turning around, you were met with a sight that both surprised and warmed your heart. There stood Min Yoongi, with the same genuine smile that had captured your attention when he greeted Holly on the last day you saw him at the daycare, almost two years ago. It was a smile that spoke of warmth and kindness, a smile that seemed to say, "I'm glad to see you," without him ever uttering a word.

The jarring difference between the last time you saw him at his Agust D concert, clad in his performing outfit amidst the glamour of the stage, and here, in the animal shelter, wearing a simple but neat shirt and slacks, like the other staff, shocked you. You hadn't expect to encounter him here, in a quiet haven for dogs and other abandoned animals alike.

You were embarrassed to admit that it took you a few seconds to greet him back. "Hey! It's been a while." Surprise and genuine warmth coloured your tone.

Yoongi nodded, his eyes reflecting the sincerity of his greeting. "Yeah, it has."

---

From that day on, your friendship blossomed. It started with quiet moments spent walking the shelter dogs, sorting out inventory, preparing food for the animals, and offering gentle words of comfort to the furry residents whenever you didn’t have any casting calls or campaigns to shoot. Every encounter deepened your bond.

Slowly, he learned about your fears and aspirations in the acting industry, your desire to be recognized for more than just your pretty face, and the challenges you faced in securing meaningful roles. You confided in him about your determination to prove yourself as a talented actress.

In turn, Yoongi opened up about his journey to achieving his dreams as a musician. He shared the challenges he faced in the music industry, including the compromises he had to make. He revealed that fame and awkward public appearances were part of the package, things he didn't always enjoy but accepted as part of his career. He also spoke passionately about his love for producing music, the creative outlet that allowed him to express himself beyond the glitz and glamour of the idol world.

The time spent volunteering at the animal shelter and bonding with Yoongi became a pivotal chapter in both your lives. As your friendship continued to deepen, life carried on its course. And nearing the end of Yoongi's service at the animal shelter, your commitment to drama shooting often took you away. 

Then, on one chilly early spring afternoon, while you were engrossed in a challenging scene on set, your phone rang. Panic washed over you as you glanced at the caller ID – it was from the pet daycare. Bagel, your beloved dog, had once again become a regular at the pet daycare center as you began shooting for this new drama. Something was wrong with Bagel.

After ending the call, confusion and the threat of tears clouding your judgment, you hastily dialled Yoongi's number. You knew he was well-acquainted with the daycare, and Bagel had grown fond of him during their shared experiences.

"Yoongi," you blurted out, your voice trembling with worry, "it's Bagel. They say he's sick. Can you please check on him if you're free?"

Without a moment's hesitation, Yoongi agreed to help, his concern palpable in his voice. He assured you he'd immediately head to the daycare and investigate what was ailing Bagel.

Minutes dragged on like hours as you anxiously awaited Yoongi's updates, stolen moments in between shooting your scenes. When the message finally arrived, your heart sank. Bagel required urgent veterinary attention. The situation was dire, and your thoughts swirled in a whirlwind of fear and anxiety. His next text messages was a lifeline amidst the chaos.

Yoongi: Bagel needs surgery

Yoongi: Don't worry, I'll take care of him

Yoongi: You focus on your acting

Yoongi: We'll get through this

You couldn't help but dial his number once more, desperately needing to hear his reassuring voice. He answered promptly, and his words were like a warm embrace. He talked you through the situation, his voice steady and soothing, effectively calming your racing heart. Yoongi promised to care for Bagel as if he were his own dog, and through his reassuring words, you gradually regained your composure. Your trust in Yoongi was unwavering.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, you managed to leave the set and rush to the vet clinic. Yoongi was already there, waiting for you with a gentle smile that eased the last remnants of your worry.

He stayed with you the entire night as you watched over Bagel at your apartment. Throughout that night, as you both watched over Bagel at your apartment, a deep bond formed between you, strengthened by your shared love for a furry friend and Yoongi's unwavering support. You were eternally grateful for his reassuring presence.

---

When the day of his farewell at the shelter arrived, it was a poignant moment. He was leaving to resume his life as a worldwide famous idol, and you were continuing your journey as an actress. Yet, the bond you had forged over dogs and dreams remained unbreakable.

Despite your busy filming schedule, you made time to attend his farewell. As you stood amidst wagging tails and furry faces, you both understood that your connection was something truly special. It was a testament to the power of shared passions, the ability to find kindred spirits in unexpected places, and the determination to pursue your dreams, no matter the challenges that lay ahead.

Even though your paths diverged once more, the memories of your meaningful interactions, your love for dogs, and your shared artistic aspirations remained etched in your hearts.

[animehouse-moe]

Ghost Fixers Chapter 2: Don't Worry, That's Definitely Real

Though I might be a bit of a Summertime Rendering hater, I ultimately acknowledged Tanaka's visual talent with the series, and was curious to see how their next work would go. Though it may only be two chapters so far, I think Ghost Fixers really is a great extension of Tanaka's ability that sees them improve a great deal in regards to the written work of manga.

The action comedy angle very easily permeates the entirety of this chapter once more, really showing the awareness that Tanaka has of the direction they want to take this in. Though it might be humorous quite often, and take advantage of strong character dynamics early on, the overall genre of the work does little to get in the way of Tanaka's exposition and exploration of this world.

Starting each chapter off with an explanation via VTubers that Hifumi watches for example, is a very novel idea and does well to tie in to both the world and its more humorous side.

Even the exposition that Hifumi's mother provides rolls off the tongue of the work very easily. Truthfully, I think a lot of that comes from the overall flow provided.

To that end I think Tanaka's conversational dialogue has grown a great deal (though works really well when played against strong character dynamics), and fits quite well against the really full and dynamic panel layouts.

Overall the conversation rarely has felt dry, and the scenes are quite varied and focus a great deal on depth within confined spaces, keeping things from getting monotonous or settled.

And within those conversations, Tanaka's done a really great job of drip feeding the reader information. Hints towards superpowers and the prior existence of the supernatural in the world has been given, and we even see some information as to how Kirarazaka's briefcase works- which in its own way was super interesting to learn about.

Where Hifumi's ghost was explored at the beginning of the first chapter, the first ghost that Hifumi and Kirarazaka fought in that first chapter was actually a nod to Kirarazaka's own ghost. Very fun idea.

Anyways, though I've been praising the subversion of expectations with Tanaka's subtle and very well integrated foundation work, they've also done great at expressing the more intense moments of action and humor so far. Things like Hifumi jumping out of a window to avoid Kirarazaka, or Kirara (her name's too long) teasing Hifumi once they're at school come across very naturally, and find just the right entry points to break up any sense of monotony in the chapter.

It's overall, just a really great showing from Tanaka. Being able to get into the feel of things so quickly with this new series is really great to see, and being such a departure from Summertime Rendering gives them plenty of space to explore new and interesting ideas through this fresh world.

Though, we'll still certainly see some... Ghosts from STR. After all, Shunpei (under a new name) has made his debut in this Ghost Fixers chapter as a homeroom teacher.

[nine-of-words]

No Vacancy (Part Five)

M Merfolk x M Orc Reader

PREVIOUS || STORY TAG || NEXT

Wordcount: 3028

Content Warnings: Smoking, References to Sex Work

This segment was emotionally exhausting to write (complimentary)

“Eat.” 

Rosing all but slams the bowl down in front of you, where you’ve been sitting in your cabin staring out the porthole, lost in thought. 

You’ve been so distracted with your agenda and the calculations you've been scratching out that you didn’t even notice that she must have started cooking when she entered the galley a while ago. But now, it’s hard to miss the warm, spiced scent of curry when it’s sitting right under your nose.

You’d been avoiding taking meals in general; you’ve had no appetite with the pit of worry occupying your gut. But this scent is almost enticing enough to make you forget about that for a few minutes…

You know better than to waste food she’s served you, so you do start to dig in. While you start pretty unenthusiastically, her cooking is too good to not end up eating voraciously before you know it.

“You can’t hide in your cabin forever.” The kobold woman scolds you unabashedly as she takes her own meal. She sighs. “Moping over a boy.”

Despite the chiding from someone less than half your size, having the company feels good after sequestering yourself lately. 

“I don’t plan on it.” You say, rubbing the back of your neck with your free hand. “After we drop these tourists off at the island, I’m going to make a small detour on the way back, but it might delay our arrival at port for a bit."

"Because of his issue?"

You did tell Rosing a good bit about what happened - she's just too good at extracting information from you, basically being your family at this point. You just tried to stay mindful of which specific details you shared, for Noa's sake.

"Yeah. It'll probably only take half a day. But I know you like to take your leave in port, so I wanted to make sure that was okay with you before committing to this plan.”

“Doesn’t bother me, if it’s what you need to do. Dancehall will still be there.”

That’s a pretty glowing endorsement from her, so you’re pleased to have the support.

The day after next, you've arrived at your destination and anchored your boat. Unsurprisingly, it’s begun to languidly drizzle while you’ve made your preparations. 

You pull on your raincoat and say your goodbye to Rosing. Then, you board your captain's gig and lower yourself into the water with the winch.

It's difficult to not second guess yourself, when it's just you and the sound of the outboard motor and the raindrops smattering loudly against the rubber hood covering your head. 

You are technically going against his wishes by getting involved, but… You know you can help him. You have the ability to easily solve his problem- how could you claim to love someone and sit idly by while they suffer? You certainly can't.

The rain is persistent the entirety of the short trip towards the other, looming ship, to the point of you wondering if the small dinghy will completely sink while you're gone as you secure it. …A risk you're willing to take, you decide as you climb out of it.

It’s been a long time since you’ve been on a working ship; a vessel that isn’t completely spotless as to not offend tourist sensibility, but one that exists in a constant state of semi-grime. Still, it’s far less disgusting than the deep permeating filth of a fishing boat - at least the rain is giving it a good wash.

It doesn’t take much time between someone spotting you as out of place, and you being escorted to the captain’s cabin. The cabin itself is pretty cluttered and dingy, but it isn’t its state of cleanliness that puts you at unease, so much as the poor lighting exacerbated by the weather. Every corner is coated in thick shadow, like a spectral hand could reach out and grab you if you get too close. You take off your raincoat and hang it on a nearby coat rack.

“Well, fancy seeing you here.” Uttar actually has a flash of surprise visible on his face before it swiftly vanishes underneath his hardened features. He motions to the ratty velvet padded chair across from him. “Folks tend to get lost.”

"Hello, nice ship you have here.” You take a seat and say, meaning it for the most part- you've been on much, much worse, after all. As far as fishing boats and pirate ships go, there isn't that much difference besides decor.

"My line a’work has it's perks. Better than breaking my back haulin' fish all day. But I’m sure you know all about that, yerself.” Uttar grins as he pulls a cigar box from his desk drawer. 

“True.” You have to question just how similar your work is now, but you can at least agree on that point…

"Now, what brings ya to my neck of the seas?" He slowly selects a cigar, and motions to offer you one. You decline with a subtle hand movement, so he puts the box away and proceeds to light his own. “Can’t imagine a little social call in this sort a’downpour.”

“No, this is more of a business matter, I suppose.” You chuckle, trying to break up the undercurrent of slowly building tension in the conversation. "It's regarding… a mutual friend."

"Well now, that does sound interestin'. I was under the impression that we didn't have many a’those left these days."

“Oh, I wouldn’t go so far as to say that. You seemed to enjoy yourself the other day, at least?”

“Didn’t say I didn’t, but I haven’t seen head or tail of you in near’a decade and then I see ya twice in a fortnight? Things don’t just go’n spring up like that without reason, as it were.”

He’s not asking the question directly, but it’s there all the same.

"The reason is Noa." You say, cutting through the niceties to the heart of the issue.

You dig a hand into the breast pocket of your kurta and set a neatly packed case of thin, flat traveler's gold bars on the desk.

Uttar takes a long drag from his cigar and rubs his wiry beard in thought, probably to avoid looking like a salivating hound upon seeing that much gold presented to him.

“Didn’t think ya the type of man that needed to buy himself whores.” Uttar sneers in a teasing, infuriatingly chummy tone. “Old charm not what it use’ta be?”

“Oh no, I do fine for myself in that area.” You keep your tone even and a smile on your face, even if the language choices he’s making really make you want to reach across the desk and throttle him yourself. “And to be as clear as possible, this isn’t for any service of his. It’d be to pay off his debt in full.”

“Surely ye understand why lettin’ ya just waltz in here and purchase one o’ me gold makin’ assets out from under me is a bad business decision.” He draws a long inhale of smoke, and lets it filter out through his nostrils, dubious. “Interest is the whole point of lendin’.”

“I thought you might say that… If it’s not enough, I can make up the remainder."

"A whole lot to spend on a ship with a broken mast, that." He mutters derisively. “Yer outta yer mind.”

“I feel quite sound of mind, actually.” You chuckle politely and unclench your jaw. You’re not sure exactly what he’s getting at, but the implication that Noa is broken angers you, regardless. “But thanks for your concern.”

Calm. Deep breath. You just have to get through this without trying to kill him, and it’s almost over.

"Oi… Fine. It's a deal." Uttar extends his free hand over the table for you to shake after a few more moments of deliberation. "But only because we got history, aye?"

"I appreciate it." You shake his extended hand.

The cabin settles into a somewhat tense, but not unwelcome silence while Uttar double-counts the gold tablets and scribbles some notes down in his own records as he goes.

But something that's been on your mind for a while just won't vacate the space. You know it'd be better to ask Noa directly, but you haven't exactly had the opportunity…

"I do have a question, if you don't mind me asking."

"Aye?"

"Do you know what his debt was for?"

"Dunno. Investigatin' sordid history ain't in my job description." Uttar shakes his head, knocking some ash into the overfilled tray. "These contracts don't track that sorta detail, anyhow. I can tell ya I bought his debt off a pleasure boat eastern like. So that leaves ya with what? Drinkin' or druggin', or gamblin', or fuckin' to excess - then tryin’a stiff the tab."

"That doesn't really sound like him..." 

"Oi? Didn't realize yer boy toy would come with some pricy habit or another?" Uttar laughs, making a show of pressing the stamp into the vermilion ink and then onto the paper. When he lifts the stamp, a bright red rectangle containing the Orcish characters for 'paid' remains, emblazoned across the section containing his information. "They always do. But we already shook on it all proper-like already, so no refunds!"

He slides the paper across to you.

You take the parchment. It feels strangely light, for how much weight it's been causing Noa to carry for who knows how long.

While scanning the information to make sure it's correct, you notice you overpaid by a considerable amount. But that's fine -  You can always refill your savings. What's important is the relief you're feeling on Noa's behalf. And honestly, you expected to be stiffed when you came here, so you're not exactly surprised. 

"Her Ladyship pick up her special cargo yet? …" Uttar speaks into the receiver he’s picked up from his desk. "Good. Bring 'im here." 

It doesn't take long for the cabin door to be thrown open and Noa to be thrust through it.

"Ugh, you don't have to be so rough, asshole! I know where-"

Then he sees you, and freezes in his tracks. He stands motionless as the cabin door closes behind him. 

"There he is!" Uttar coos facetiously and curls a thick finger at him. "C'mere."

"...Why?" Noa sneers in suspicion at Uttar, but is looking directly at you when he says it- as if he's questioning you as well, for entirely different reasons. 

"Just c'mere, you obstinate shit! Spirits, I don't know if I'll miss ya or be chuffed to be rid o’ya!"

"Rid of me?" Noa says incredulously, eyes still locked on you, before they settle on the paperwork and gold still strewn on the table. A panicked look crashes over his features as he puts the visual clues together.

But Noa still complies, moving to stand next to Uttar and spinning around when he motions to. 

Uttar produces a short, wooden wand from the pen cup on his desk; one carved with uniform runes, typical of the preloaded varieties you can buy in most magic shops, that are easily usable by non-magi. He presses it to the top of Noa’s back, right between the shoulder blades.

There is a small fizzle of magic at work, followed by a shimmering, nearly imperceptible shattering of something unseen. Noa raises his hand over his shoulder to rub the affected area, and when his hand moves, the small marking on his skin is gone too.

"There ya go," Uttar says with an almost bored air of finality as he waves his hand. "We’re all square. Trackin’ rune's gone. He's your problem now."

Even though he’s visibly mad at you and you definitely have more pressing matters that require attention, you can’t help but be struck with just how gorgeous you think he is. And you’re simply so pleased to see him again after how things were left, it’s hard to think straight with your heart hammering in your chest.

But to his credit, you’d be mad if you were left in the dark like this, too. You just have to get somewhere you can have a calm, rational conversation, and you’re sure that he’ll understand why you chose to do this.

You rise from the chair, rolling up the contract.

“You heard him.” Noa shakes his head in disapproval and shrugs his shoulders, voice dripping with simmering resentment. “I’m your problem now.”

“I know this looks bad-” You begin to at least start some verbal damage control on the way out.

“It doesn’t matter how it looks. I don’t get a say in it, right?”

“That’s not the case at all-”

"This is all real sweet love reunion ‘n all. Real cute. But I’ve got things to do.” Uttar interrupts, kicking back in his chair and puffing his cigar with a shit-eating grin plastered on his face, reminding you that you are indeed having this quarrel with an audience. “So unless one of ya is gonna suck my cock, get off'a my fuckin' ship."

Noa doesn’t need to be told twice, or even very long to process the words - instead jumping at the offer to no longer be present. He storms out of the cabin, leaving you to hastily pull your raincoat back on and chase after him.

“Noa, wait-” You try to call after him to get him to slow his pace so you can speak, but he’s already out of earshot.

By time you get yourself together and get outside, you hear a tellingly large splash down below. You get back to the gig as fast as you can without risking your boots slipping on the wet surface of the deck, and get yourself into it. Luckily, it’s still floating, and you don’t need to spend any time bailing it out.

“Noa! Noa-” You shout at the water’s surface fruitlessly, knowing your voice won’t carry far underwater or through this wall of rain- let alone both. “Will you just give me a chance to explain?”

“Explain what?” Noa snaps in rage after his head crests the water near the side of the dinghy, water flinging off of his braids in a fine spray as he whips around to face you. "Was this the plan the whole time? You just wanted to buy me too?"

“I wasn’t buying you! I wouldn’t want that-”

“Oh yeah? Because that’s sure what it looked like!” Noa grips the side of the boat as he shouts, slightly rocking it to one side, his dark blue fin spines flaring straight out in anger. “I should’ve known when that sleazy bastard was cozying up on your ship that you were just as bad!”

Admittedly, that stings quite a bit.

“I’m not- you know that’s not true. I wanted to help you!”

“What do you not get?! I don’t want to owe you like that!”

“But you don’t owe me anything!”

“You say that now! But there’s always the expectation attached! It always comes back up! You think I want to try to go on with that always hanging over… whatever this is?! It will absolutely ruin it-”

“Noa, It was your gold!”

“...What?”

“It was your gold. You paid for it.”

“You’re lying- That doesn’t make any sense!”

“I’ve always hated taking gold from you for your room, ever since we became friendly. And especially when we got involved.” You struggle to explain, your voice starting to grow hoarse from straining to be audible over the heavy rain. “I meant it when I said it was on the house. But you were so stubborn about paying anyway…”

It’s a strange sight to see. Noa is dumbstruck, completely silent and nearly motionless in the water, despite the fact you know his tail must still be working to keep him afloat under the surface. Rivers of rainwater run down the slopes of his face and body, which he seems to be completely unaffected by, aside from the hazy nictitating membrane that slides horizontally across his eyes every now and then.

“...I had already set it aside. I wasn’t sure what to do with it. I have a big enough margin even without that room, and the ship didn’t need any pressing maintenance. I thought I’d just end up giving it back to you sooner or later anyway…” You continue, slightly unnerved by the sudden silence and the intense, unrelenting stare. “Then when I found out how badly you actually needed it- it seemed like the best use for it there could be.” 

The longer you try to explain yourself, the more you begin to doubt your decision - but when you think about what the alternative would’ve been, you just can’t bring yourself to regret it. Even if Noa never forgives you for your overstep, at least he’s free now.

“And you just… made all of these decisions on my behalf. Without even consulting me.” Noa cuts in, sounding more distraught than angry at this point. That’s still some small progress, you think?

“Noa… We both know you would’ve refused to let me help." 

Another pause. In this case though, it’s because you know that he can’t argue with you on that point. He would’ve never accepted the gold. He’s just too proud; too convinced that he can handle anything by himself.

“Stupid.” He says bitterly, so quiet now that you can barely make it out over the noise. “I didn’t ask for this. So why?”

Honestly, you can’t really argue with him that you haven’t been stupid; at least not about the way you’ve done things, if not the reason behind it. Sitting here in this dinghy that’s threatening to sink with the cacophony of rain pelting down on your head is making you rethink every single decision you’ve made along the way.

You should’ve just said something earlier - been clearer, or more direct in getting your feelings across.

No time like the present to change that, you decide, Orcish cultural taboo be damned.

“I love you,” You pull the now slightly soggy roll of parchment out of your pocket and hold it out towards him. “And I want you to be able to choose me, if that’s what you want.”

>> ✨ MASTERLIST >> ☕ KO-FI

[claudia1829things]

"TRUE GRIT" (2010) Review

"TRUE GRIT" (2010) Review

I have never read Charles Portis’ 1968 novel called "True Grit". And my only glimpse of Henry Hathaway’s 1969 film adaptation was of John Wayne charging horseback toward a band of outlaws, while armed with a weapon in both hands. So it was with great curiosity that I recently viewed Joel and Ethan Coen’s 2010 film adaptation of the novel.

"TRUE GRIT" told the story of 14 year-old Mattie Ross’s efforts to seek justice and retribution for the murder of her father in post-Civil War western Arkansas. Due to the local law’s failure to arrest her father’s killer, Tom Chaney, Mattie travels to Fort Smith and recruits a U.S. Marshal named Reuben "Rooster" Cogburn to hunt down and arrest Chaney in the Indian Territory (present day Oklahoma). Unbeknownst to Mattie, Cogburn teams up with a Texas Ranger named LaBoeuf, who seeks Chaney for the murder of a state senator and his dog. The two men depart Fort Smith and cross into Indian Territory without Mattie. However, she refuses to be left behind and quickly catches up with the two men.

I must admit that I had no idea how I would accept "TRUE GRIT". First of all, it was a remake of a successful 1969 movie that led to an Academy Award for its star. Many remakes tend to be inferior to the original movie. However, there have been remakes that are just as good as the original – like James Mangold’s "3:10 TO YUMA". There have also been remakes that turned out to be superior to the original – like 1941’s "THE MALTESE FALCON" and 1988’s "DIRTY ROTTEN SCOUNDRELS". Since I have never seen the 1969 version of "TRUE GRIT" in its entirety, I do not see how I could compare it to this new version. I will admit that it turned out to be a very entertaining and intelligent adaptation of Portis’ novel.

In short, I enjoyed "TRUE GRIT" very much. Thanks to Joel and Ethan Coen’s writing and direction, the movie struck me as a well-balanced combination of a character study, action film and coming-of-age tale. The movie’s first half, which featured Mattie Ross’s attempts to settle her father’s affairs and recruit Cogburn or anyone else willing to hunt down Chaney. A good deal of the movie’s midway point featured interactions between the three protagonists – Mattie, Cogburn and LaBoeuf – during their journey through the Indian Territory. But once Mattie and Cogburn come across outlaws associated with a fugitive gang leader named "Lucky" Ned Pepper, the movie’s action kicks into high gear. More importantly, the movie’s shift into action did not impede its strong characterizations and drama one bit. Another aspect of "TRUE GRIT" that I had enjoyed was the dark humor – a trademark of the Coens’ work – that permeated the movie. It certainly befitted the movie’s dark coming-of-age tale and its characters.

I also have to give kudos to the movie’s production designer, Jess Goncher. He did a superb job in re-creating Fort Smith, Arkansas and the Indian Territory during the late 1860s or the early 1870s. One of the best things he ever did was choose or suggest the production film the movie in New Mexico and Texas – states that bordered Oklahoma (formerly the Indian Territory). In doing so, he allowed the movie’s setting to adhere closer to Portis’ setting in the novel. Goncher was ably assisted by costume designer Mary Zophres, whose costumes perfectly captured the movie’s setting and character; and cinematographer Roger Deakins, whose photography strongly reminded me of the old daguerreotype images of the mid-to-late 19th century.

Matt Damon found himself following in the footsteps of singer Glen Campbell, in his portrayal of Texas Ranger LaBoeuf. I have seen some of the 1969 film and I must admit that Campbell gave a pretty solid performance. But Damon’s portrayal of the character struck me as more detailed and skillful. In fact, the actor did an excellent job in portraying the competent, yet egotistical lawman. Not only did Damon made me forget that he had very little experience with Westerns, he is one of two actors I have ever seen convey the correct method (breathing included) in long distance shooting. Josh Brolin had more experience with Westerns – including a co-starring role in the ABC series, "THE YOUNG RIDERS" and the Coens’ 2007 award-winning film, "NO COUNTRY FOR OLD MEN". He portrayed the heroes’ main target, hired hand/outlaw Tom Chaney. The actor did not appear in many scenes of "TRUE GRIT", but his character permeated the movie’s first half like a malevolent spirit. Once he made his appearance, Brolin’s Chaney seemed insignificant and dimwitted. Yet, as the movie continued on, Brolin revealed more of Chaney’s cunning and stealth with great skill and subtlety. The movie also benefited from a solid performance by supporting actor Barry Pepper, who portrayed "Lucky" Ned Pepper, an outlaw leader who is sought by Cogburn. The actor’s Ned Pepper struck me as a curious mixture of ruthlessness, pragmatism and honor. He seemed to have no qualms in killing the 14 year-old Mattie over her evasions regarding Cogburn’s whereabouts. And yet, after she honestly answered his questions, his character seemed very willing to keep his word about sparing her life. I have always been an admirer of Pepper’s talents. This role certainly confirmed my opinion.

When I had discovered that Jeff Bridges would end up reprising the role that led to an Academy Award for John Wayne, I almost felt sorry for him. Almost. I eventually realized that my sympathy would be wasted on him. Bridges was talented and charismatic enough to put his own stamp on the role of Reuben J. "Rooster" Cogburn. Sure enough, Bridges did exactly just that. His portrayal as Cogburn seemed so thorough that I found it difficult to see the actor within the character. His darker portrayal of the character also made me forget about Wayne’s friendlier spin on the role. The main character of "TRUE GRIT", in my opinion, turned out to be one Mattie Ross, the 14 year-old daughter of the murdered man. Her desire and determination to seek retribution for her father’s death turned out to be story’s catalyst. Hailee Steinfeld beautifully captured every aspect of Mattie’s complex nature. In fact, there were times I had felt as if I was watching a strong-willed and ruthless woman inside an adolescent’s body. However, Steinfeld’s performance also reminded me that behind the strong will and ruthlessness lurked an innocent and inexperienced young girl. Steinfeld’s chemistry with her co-stars seemed so strong that I found myself wondering how Cogburn, LeBouef or both would regard Mattie if she had been an adult. I have heard speculations of a possible Best Supporting Actress Oscar nomination for Steinfeld. In my opinion, she deserved a nomination for Best Actress. After all, she was not only the leading female character, but the story’s main character.

I eventually learned that "TRUE GRIT" had failed to earn any Golden Globe nominations – major or minor, during the 2010-2011 movie awards season. Frankly, I had considered this a joke. Not only did I enjoy the movie very much, I consider it to be one of the best movies I had seen that was released in 2010. It is a rare occurrence to find a remake that is just as good or perhaps even slightly better than the original. Fortunately, the movie had earned 10 Academy Award nominations. And thanks to Ethan and Joel Coen, "TRUE GRIT" turned out to be one of those rare gems that I never get tired of watching.

[resolutepath]

‘  almost  dead  yesterday ,  maybe  dead  tomorrow ,  but  alive ,  gloriously  alive ,  today .  ’ (wrio to neuvi 👀)

"Hm...quite."

The soft hum of acknowledgement escapes between lips as the Iudex turns his solemn gaze to the sky. They stand on the brink of a new era, the dawn of a new day coming forth as the prophecy of Fontaine lies thwarted and the judgement that has lie heavy on the people now resolved. It has not come without cost, Miss Navia's closest only a mere fraction of the number lost along the way, but it is now here, ready to be seized by eager hands.

The skies know it, for the gloomy grey clouds part to allow halos of light to penetrate, colouring their sorrows with the hopeful stream of sun anew, the rays glistening off the lowering waters and dappling the landscape in their glittering shine. The world begins again with the sins washed away, the land baptised in his forgiveness and he can feel it sink into the soils, permeating every inch of the nation. His nation. Focalors has ensured it so, traded the gnosis for the sovereign's crown and he can feel the power thrum under his skin, calling to him.

It will take some getting used to.

Wriothesley is a balm in that sense, as they linger on his secret creation, the very thing that has saved so many and he cannot think to ask for a better companion at his side. One who is able to cut through the noise, to drill deep and draw his focus to the now, to see the moment and not what was or what is to be. There is little time to linger on what is to come when the one beside him catches any slipping mood with the keen eye of a hunter and the efficiently quells it.

"I should thank you for your efforts. Without your seamless work driving the rescue efforts forward I fear far more may have been lost in the earlier hours of the flood than occured. You have my gratitude..." He lets eyes fall closed then and turns his head to look toward the other, reopening them once more. There will be many more thanks to offer in the days to come for those that came together and pushed to ensure Fontaine would not fall, who held the line until he was able to intervene, and he will be happy to do so. Once matters are settled. For now, this must be enough.

"Please ensure you get some rest at the earliest convenience, it would suit Fontaine ill to see you crumble after such expedited efforts to preserve life." Here now he spares a smile, a soft thing that betrays something of himself that he will not name, a gentle thing that brings some sense of humanity to one who is so removed from it. It is tentative but present, lingering until noise to the side catches his attention and he turns to see another boat in passing with more people saved. His people.

"It seems this will be ongoing for a while yet, you will be needed by many." I will need you in the coming days, just as I will need all those who have earned my trust. "Best not draw the wrath of Sigewinne in the process... you know how she cares for your health." We both do. "Perhaps a day off or two will be in order for the both of you in the coming days." You could spend it with me if you like.

In his chest the familiar warmth lingers as he lets silence fall once more and returns his gaze skyward, watching the grey dissipate in its entirety until there is only the sea of dazzling blue and the soft white of clouds blossoming amongst it like waterlillies. A fitting symbolism, he thinks as he considers what the day has wrought and lets a sigh finally leave his chest, with it the sorrow of the day.

There is hope in new beginnings, perhaps yet he might find the answers he seeks to all of life's conundrums, even those he allows to remain unvoiced.

[dragonofthestone]

Talking with @kazeofthemagun has brought forth many thoughts and ideas on Timaeus especially in terms of his growth and finding their place/ finding their true self in away.

Even if one believes all life deserves to live by all accounts Timaeus as he is should not exist, whether on purpose or you want to call him an accident none the less he exists purely due to humans foolish meddling in places they should not.

As a Chimera or as a Homonculous no matter how you want to view him he his a single life made up of multiple, the alchemy used to make him was flawed and rather experimental in and of itself causing pain not only to himself but the damned souls within.

Now its well known as a stone is used and it's power gone it also use up those souls - and presumably once a stone is gone those souls are free.

Now his stone is almost always in a state of active if you will working and powering to keep him alive binding together this Chimera that long should have gone into a state of forceful rejection and likely died but still imperfect like a piece of a puzzle is still missing.

Which is where Magic comes in

Whether through simply living in Wonderland and the magic that permeates the very air and entirety of the world as is , or the likes of interactions with such as Kaze, Kumo and Sielu (or anyone else, even potentially Chaos? I mean his existence is well uh chaotic in a way sooo). That magic becomes entwined with his being filling in gaps and holes, offering a new source of energy of power not previously made available.

Allowing him to by pass any limitations that may have previously existed and eventually achieve his true, proper shape through tapping into that magic as well as the power of the souls- which in turn allows those poor souls the freedom and release they need and deserve upon doing so.

The complexity of a soul or exactly what is going on with in them is admittedly more then a little unclear to the Chimera and a bit above even their level of intelligence/understanding. For awhile eventually they may one day come to grasp and understand better

What they do know is it quiets the noise in his head and that what ever it is that's within them without it they would be unable to take on that shape of which they find such freedom in.

They do not change lightly and after each shift they will utter a silent thank you.

Of course with each soul released and a bit more of the stone used up just like the Homunculi it does affect his ability and life. Starting slow and subtle, longer healing times, things that were once so easy becoming more difficult, perhaps not as strong as they once were but a small price to pay when it comes to being able to finally be who they are, embracing their true nature.

Starting as what was once viewed as nothing more then a simple being only able to follow instinct and basic commands, a tool, a weapon meant for others use, finds new life, a new purpose in a way in this new strange land.

Going from the one always in need of protection to being a protector able to defend others not because they have to but because they want to (and can). Of course there's still much trauma and other lingering things that affect their choices - to an extent will likely always remain having little self preservation ready to sacrifice themselves in service of others but at least perhaps with a better frame of mind that isn't just being disposable.

And of course knowing that even if they die doing something either way it means those souls, the yowling, howling voices in their head can finally be silenced and free.

He is in a way a perfect being for Wonderland, after all he is his own a single living being but only exists through the act of merging (and destroying) together so many lives, just as Wonderland is place/world of its own created through destruction and putting together the pieces of so many other worlds.

Although starting as just another of the many lost and afraid within Wonderland in turn becoming one who can protect and help those instead.

This is his home