#I promise I'm much more eloquent in my head

[arecaceae175]

Gratitude Part 1: Wild

Summary: Eight times Sky receives a gratitude crystal from the chain plus one time he gives some away

WELCOME this is inspired by this post chain by @linkvcr and @somer-writes! I'm going to post each section on tumblr until they're all done, then I'll combine (and edit lol) them for AO3 :D

This one is based on and uses some dialogue directly from the woodcarver comic by @linkeduniverse

Part 2. ART!

Wind blew lazily through the trees, rustling the leaves pleasantly. One fell and floated down onto Sky’s lap. He brushed it away and it fell next to the pile of wood chips from his latest carving. He was essentially finished; even the decorations were done. He was chipping away at any imperfections he could find– and fixing any more he created– to keep his hands busy.

A bird chirped in the distance. Sky eagerly looked up and followed its path over the forest. It was so cool. Sky racked his brain for a word to describe how incredible the bird was, but couldn’t come up with anything more eloquent. He laughed softly to himself and turned his attention back to his carving. 

“What are you laughing at, birdbrain?” Legend asked. Sky smiled at the nickname. 

“True to my name, I was watching a bird. It was cool,” Sky said. 

“Of course you were,” Legend said, as his eyes roamed the skies to find the bird himself. Sky smirked. 

“Food’s ready!” Wild called. 

“Perfect timing!” Sky said. He blew a breath over the spoon to knock off the loose shavings, then wiped it down with a cloth. It was perfectly smooth.

Sky hopped to his feet and walked over to the group with the spoon hidden behind his back.

“Okay, so it’s a light meal today, since we had that amazing soup earlier. Rice and vegetables over here, and then there’s some meat if you want. Cucco in that bowl and deer in that bowl. But I put some vegetables with protein in, so you’ll be fine without those,” Wild explained, pointing to the bowls as he talked. “Oh, and no peppers.”

Sky felt a warm feeling in his chest. Wild put so much care into their meals and ensured they catered to everyone’s individual preferences. It wasn’t easy to make one meal that suited nine people from different backgrounds, but Wild made it work every time.

“Oh, I need a spoon for the rice. Um,” Wild turned to dig through his cooking supplies.

“How about this one?” Sky said. 

Wild turned around and his eyes widened in surprise as Sky held out the spoon. His mouth dropped open slightly as Sky pushed the spoon into his hands. 

“You made this?” Wild asked. 

“I did! For you,” Sky asked. “As a thank you for always making us such good food.”

“Wow!” Wild said. He held the spoon up to his face, closely inspecting the patterns. A spark of orange flickered to life above his head. It wasn’t quite a full crystal, but the sight made Sky smile warmly nonetheless.

“This is beautiful work,” Wild said. 

Sky beamed. “Thank you!” 

Wild’s face fell from its smile. Sky mirrored the expression and stepped closer. 

“What, what’s wrong? Do you not like it?” Sky asked. 

Wild frantically shook his head and his grip on the spoon tightened. “No, I love it! I’m just… what if I break it?”

“You probably will,” Sky said with a chuckle. Wild looked up at him with wide eyes full of worry.

“But that’s okay. It’s meant to be used. If you use it enough to wear it down, I’ll know I did a good job,” Sky said. 

“Are you sure?” Wild asked. 

“Promise,” Sky said. 

Above Wild’s head, the spark rapidly expanded into a full gratitude crystal. Sky watched it with awe as it floated over and into his chest, where its warmth spread throughout his body. Sky wiggled in happiness.

“Thank you, Sky. I love it,” Wild said. 

“You’re very welcome,” Sky said, his smile bright and wide. 

Next Part ->

EDIT 01/19/2024: THERE IS ART NOW!!!! This art by @linkvcr :DDDD

#who should I do next? #feel free to throw any ideas my way #linked universe #legend and sky sitting together and being besties beloved #legend using birdbrain as a nickname for sky because he knows sky loves it my beloved #linkeduniverse #lu sky #lu wild #lu legend #ace writes #gratitude

[mymainwastoocluttered]

Anything You Can Do (Jamil)

Jamil is incredibly dedicated to his charade of mediocrity, but Reader can snap him out of it faster than he can scramble for his usual level-head

AKA: (almost) anything Jamil does, Reader can do better and it drives him crazy

— (°ω°╬)

Years of perfecting himself, building skill upon skill to be the best retainer for the spoiled brat Kalim, while also perfecting the facade of just average so said brat boy wouldn't be outshined

ALL GONE IN A BLINK

FUCK

Jamil isn't one for raging. He gets annoyed, he sasses and maybe even snaps sometimes, but lately, he's gotten so worked up that he can't help it

His many pillows have met the walls of his room too many times

All because he just. Can't. Win.

Jamil can cook? (Y/N)'s food is apparently tastier and better looking, according to everyone (but Kalim). Jamil can clean? (Y/N) renovated the entire Ramshackle building practically by herself. Jamil can dance? (Y/N) also dances and he will admit himself that she's absolutely mesmerizing. Jamil can play basketball? (Y/N) used to be in her previous world's school team... As the captain.

The only two things he does that she can't do are tending to Kalim and using magic, both which he can't pride himself for being superior

He promised himself years ago that he'd never feel proud that he is Kalim's slave servant. That, and the mere thought of her tending to Kalim makes Jamil feel a bit too murder happy, independent of how well she might do it

And magic is just something he was born with, it's hard to feel superior when she can literally do everything he can without the safety net of magic. And it would've been unfair to say he's better in a competition she can't even participate

He feels the need to prove to (Y/N) that he is capable. Of what exactly, he doesn't know, but he feels the need to prove himself and it makes his self control slip and next thing he knows, he's getting above 90 in all tests, outshining Kalim's ~80 for the first time since they were children

And. He. Still. Lost.

Because (Y/N) just had to go the extra mile and get even higher scores than him

He feels like slapping his cheeks in the hopes of waking up from this nightmare

And maybe forget the warmth that pooled inside him when she—his rival—congratulated him with a sunny smile and told him she was proud of him for showing his intelligence

Again. FUCK.

— (°ω°╬)

Jamil is not one for running away, specially not like a sinner running in shame from the temple, but this time he barely processes who talked to thin before turning to walk the opposite side. Of all days for Kalim to be sick and leave Jamil alone. Were he a bit more paranoid, he's wonder if they were working behind his back, but, then again, Kalim would never be able to hide a plot from Jamil.

So he runs.

Until he doesn't.

Because Jamil is a failure, he's figuring, a weak man who cannot help but yearn for his tormentor.

It's her voice. It's his name in her voice. That's what stops him on his tracks and makes him turn to her.

She approaches with a sheepish smile—beautiful like every other expression she has ever and will ever make, more beautiful than Jamil might ever be able understand—, clutching her folder to her chest. He wishes he had his folder to hide behind.

"Yes?"

"Can you... Can you braid my hair? I keep messing it up, and you have some really nice braids..."

"Uh..." He answers eloquently.

Next thing he knows, he is sitting behind her on a random bench, gently braiding her hairin a simple but charming hairstyle, while she praises him for his tender handling and confides that braids are her weakness.

"No matter how many times I try, the braid never comes out good," (Y/N) says, turning her head just enough so he can see her smile, "You're so good at it, though, I'm glad I asked you! Thank you so much for helping me, Jamil!"

And oh. He now understands what he wanted to prove so badly.

"You can come to me for anything, I'll gladly help you"

Someone who can do everything by herself does not need him, after all.

#jamil viper x reader #jamil viper #twst imagines #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland #x fem reader #female reader

[poppyclangen]

"Hello Visitor!"

Meet PoppyClan's StarClan Guide, OleanderPaw; brother of FallenStar, PoppyClan's first leader, and judge of the dead.

OleanderPaw was killed by the flood that swept the founders away, and used his power to give FallenStar her nine lives, and grow the first poppies that now populate the moor where PoppyClan lives.

His reddish orange coat can be seen in many of FallenStar's children, proof of his bloodline and strong ties with his sister. He does not often visit the clan medics, though when he does, it is considered a great honor and not to be taken lightly.

Leader of those who live in StarClan, OleanderPaw has let the thrill of spiritual power go to his head a bit. Each time FallenStar visits, he grows more 'holy' in appearance, followed by stars and a glow that most of the other dead do not have. His scent is hidden beneath the flowers growing from his pelt, and he become more eloquent and stiff with each passing day- to be frank, he was very different from the brother FallenStar remembers. She figures that was just what happened, though, as a spirit ages; while he may look rather young, he grows older still.

----

What power does StarClan have over living cats?

"Oh, a good question. I myself have found that I can effect many little things that the living see and touch- though it takes a great deal of energy. When I gave FallenStar her nine lives, I was dormant for many moons after, unable to protect those who walked the earth. While we may not need to eat or sleep, we StarClan cats are powered by... an energy. Perhaps it is belief?"

What was it like, being the first StarClan cat?

"It felt like a betrayal of sort, at first. Throughout my short life, I had been promised a rich afterlife, full of loved ones and an endless paradise. When I awoke, I was alone, in the dark. I built our paradise. I shaped it from the energy I found within my spirit. I am glad to have company now, my sisters kin, though there are times where I fell that emptiness once more. I built this place, yes, but... it has left a part of me hollow."

What about the StarClan of the past?

"I do not know what became of the cats that ruled the StarClan of our ancestors. I do not know if it was destroyed, as the living had been destroyed. I do not doubt there are other afterlives, though; after all, if I could do it, so can any cat who has been remembered and cherished."

Do you dictate the future of PoppyClan?

"Oh, no, goodness no. While I may have dominion over this plane, I cannot influence the actions of the living, outside of the way any cat may influence another. I cannot change the outcome of the seasons, though I find through intense emotion, I can effect the atmosphere of this territory. When I mourn, the clouds grow heavy with rain. When I am angered, the sky is dark and the moon is hidden. When I rejoice, the poppies of the land bloom more quickly. My influence seems to end there; though, the more I try, the more I learn. Recently, I've found the dreams of my Clan's cat's are just out of reach, drifting closer every night. The more who die and come to StarClan, the more I've found I'm able to do. I cant help but be curious...

Back to the question at hand. I know much more than I could have known as a living cat, but I do not know the future. I cannot predict what is coming, though I have my hunches and instincts, as a cat who has lived a long time would. When spirits come to rest here, I am blessed and burdened with their memories; their lives, their deaths. I am a collective of their stories, and at times, I fear I will forget my own, as short as it was.

What's that shadowy place?

"Oh, pay no mind to that. That's just a little project of mine, though I don't think I will finish it. There is no need to worry. I have it contained. It is empty."

#Happy 200 followers! #clangen #clangen challenge #clangen: poppyclan #my art! #warrior cats #clan generator #clangen oc #clan gen oc #wc #warriors

[coconutcordiale]

CONGRATULATIONS ON 500 FOLLOWERS!!!

"Who did this to you?" from bingo with Rooster please I BEG.

Much love 😘

in the summer silence

pairing- rooster x pilot!reader

warnings- 18+ minors dni, allusions to smut, sub rooster, dom reader, unintentional marks, crying, orgasm denial, semi public teasing, it's probably dangerous to tease a pilot within an inch of his life minutes before he flies a multi-million dollar plane but since y'all likely don't have access to f/a-18s i'm sure it's fine, calling bradley lieutenant, established relationship but safewords not explicitly stated

length- 0.5k

an- thank you!!!!!! this is probably not what you had in mind so i'm sorry if it's not your thing :/ it got away from me real fast....i don't really understand how my brain works when it comes to these prompts.

i blame ava (@greenorangevioletgrass) cause she's right we don't talk about subby rooster enough and i had lots of thoughts about bradley grabbing his girls wrist way too tight after this fic of hers

title from mama's gun - glass animals

“Who did this to you?”

You’re so caught off guard that it takes you an extra second to catch the concern in Hangman’s tone, the wary way he’s eyeing the mark on your wrist.

“Uh,” you say, eloquent as ever. You pull the sleeve of your flight suit back down as if the damage isn’t already done.

/

“Baby,” Bradley’s begging now. “Please, I need to come.”

You smirk. “Don’t know if you deserve to.”

The vein throbbing in his neck and wet spot forming where his cock strains against his flight suit only inspire you to prolong his torture. You move to get off him, intent on teasing him just a little more when he grabs your wrist, pulling you back down on his lap.

“Please baby,” he whispers. You look down to see tears forming beneath his lashes. “Need you.”

Irritation flickers across your face as you meet his pleading dark eyes. You raise an eyebrow, ice cold, trying not to betray how much you love when he gets shaky and desperate like this.

“Now I know you don’t deserve to.”

The fingers encircling your wrist tighten at your words, just shy of painful, as he drops his head back to stare at the ceiling, sucking in air raggedly.

Your other hand goes to his jaw, forcing his attention back on you and leveling him with an unimpressed look.

“Touching me without permission, Lieutenant? Really? You know better than that.”

He drops your arm like he’s been burned, both hands immediately moving to white-knuckle the chair he’s perched on.

“I’m sorry, ma’am,” he whimpers. “I didn’t mean—I’ll be good I promise I—”

“No,” you answer, the word slicing sharply through thick air in the abandoned classroom. “Tried to rush me and now you have to wait until after training.”

Rooster whines, high and strained from the back of his throat, and you bite your lip to hold back a smile as tears roll down his cheeks.

“Honestly, Bradley.” You admonish, rolling your eyes even though your insides are liquifying. “Get it together, we have to be on the tarmac in ten minutes.”

/

You try. You swear on everything that is holy that you try not to look at Rooster. You attempt to look anywhere, literally anywhere, else.

Despite your efforts, your eyes slide to him, only to find him looking right back at you.

“Oh man,” Hangman chuckles. “Y’all are screwed.”

You just barely resist pointing a finger at him, getting in his face. “I will shove that damn toothpick in your eye if you so much as think about telling my dad.”

The blonde coughs, shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot.

“Think about telling me what?” Mav asks from behind you. You didn’t even hear him come in, the sneaky fucker.

Your gaze shifts to Rooster again, but his eyes are still glassy, mouth red from his lips being bitten, and you’re quickly realizing he’s going to be of absolutely no help here.

You sigh. “Dammit.”

#ava don't feel like you have to read this!!! just tagged you bc i owe you credit for my sub rooster thots #rooster top gun #bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster x you #rooster imagine #bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw imagines #rooster x reader #rooster smut #rooster drabble #bradley bradshaw x you #bradley bradshaw smut #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw fic #bradley rooster bradshaw x you #rooster bradshaw #rooster blurb

[frownyalfred]

hi! i am also a fellow writer and i wanted to ask for some advice. i hope i’m not making you uncomfortable, feel free to ignore this ask!

i’ve been going through a bit of a rough patch. school has been hectic and i haven’t been able to read and write as much since i’m so burnt out from acads and it makes me feel a bit bad because i feel like i’m getting… dumber? like i find myself forgetting words more often and having a harder time expressing myself when i’m normally pretty eloquent.

i’m a bit afraid i’m losing my touch since my sense of pride and confidence has always relied pretty heavily in ability with words. have you experienced something like this? if so, do you have any advice?

thank you! and also, you are a wonderful writer and i hope life is treating you well.

Hi anon <3 I'm sorry things have been rough. I totally understand where you're coming from about this. I was diagnosed with an autoimmune disorder after getting COVID a little while back, and I've genuinely felt some days that I am dumber, like you said.

The reality is, stress, illness, even being hungover can all influence how we gauge and use our own mental capacity. I like to think of what you described as more as a really severe form of writer's block -- the words are there in your head, but they're blocked by something. What's coming out is just not what you intended.

But that doesn't mean that the words are gone! It means you're going through something right now, and your brain is one of the first places that reflects that.

I think it's very easy to fall into a self-sustaining cycle where you believe you're worse, you get worse, and then you feel like you'll never get better. The reality is, we have ups and downs. Some days are good, some are terrible. Sometimes the words flow, and then they're gone the next day.

Be kind to yourself, anon. Take a look at your work and ask yourself if you genuinely believe it's worse -- or do you just feel worse about it? Are you comparing yourself to others, or to your past self? Because your past self wasn't dealing with all of this! Of course they would create something that looks or feels different.

If nothing else, know that I'm right there with you. Some days my brain feels goldfish-like and I can't write. Some days I'm so exhausted I want to cry. But it's okay to take a break and come back later. Eventually -- when the mind and body feel safe and rested -- the words will come again. I promise.

#asks #anon #personal #writing #writing tips

[paper-lilypie]

Hi hello hi could you give some writing tips/advice? (If it's not too much to ask of course ^_^) Especially with multi chaptered story planning? I'm in awe of your skills I'd love to learn how you do it :O

ooooh sure Monnie :)

uh I’m not really the best at planning multi-chaptered junk. I try my best lol, so I can only offer what works for me, somewhat.

Advice? Umm

Write down any idea you get IMMEDIATELY. You think you’ll remember later. You won’t. Get that Notes app out and WRITE. You have no idea how many times I’ve had to do this while walking to class, grocery shopping or hanging out with family. (If you’re driving, try to associate your idea with a key word, then don’t forget the key word. When you bring it up again, you should be able to remember your earlier thoughts.)

Jot down plot beats aka What You Want to Happen. I like to write down the things I’d love to see happen in the story before any kind of planning. For example, I always knew I wanted Y/N to find Sun and Moon at the junkyard. It was the first thing i ever wrote down, and I wrote the story around that. :) The list doesn’t have to be eloquent, it just has to be readable and easy to understand so you know what to interpret later.

Outlines aren’t supposed to be pretty and neat. They’re there to help put things in a cohesive narrative. The order of events, if you will. If your outline is simply:

- Wake up

- Meet friends at bus station.

- Cute new guy at school.

- Partners in project. Shock!! Chapter Ends.

Then that’s fine. It’s supposed to serve you and you alone. The rest will come when writing your draft.

Feel free to change your story anytime you want. It guarantees a final story you’re most satisfied with. I’m currently on CCRT’s fifth outline. There’s some stuff I’m good with and others I KNOW i want to go back to and re-workshop. Don’t stress, that’s the fun of it: getting to ask “but what if…?” Again and again until you’re happy with the results. Your readers will appreciate it tenfold. As an example, here’s the outline for Chapter Three: (you’ll see some details crossed out or that didn’t make it in)

The published result is much more detailed, right? Feel free to prepare as messy as you want. I promise y’all the first outline looked NOTHING like this sbshshs

Write at your pace. The world can wait. Writing the story is a treat you gift yourself and allow others to enjoy. Don’t let anything deprave you of the joy of the meticulous process. If they can’t wait, they’ll learn to or walk away, and in the end, who’s really losing here?

Go crazy, go stupid, go batshit. WRITE WHATEVER THE FUCK YOU WANT!! SELF INDULGE!! ITS YOUR STORY!! AT YOUR PACE!! IN YOUR STYLE!! YOUR WAY!! OWN IT AND LET GO!!

and yeah these are the things I can think off the top of my head lol. repeating these in my head like a mantra help.

Multi-chaptered stories may seem too Big or Ambitious to tackle and it can intimidate sometimes. Take it one step at a time. You’ll get to where you want eventually. Enjoy it.

ending this a bit abruptly but uh

Hope this helped? Feel free to ask for anything else!

#uhhh tada! #writing advice #ask lily

[red-israfel]

Fake Date

Dorlene WIP | 683 words

By the end of practise, thoughts of her traitorous best friend had left her mind. She had completely forgotten the burning in her chest when she'd seen him sucking face with his boyfriend, too preoccupied with washing the sweat and dirt off her body. The intense training James had them doing leading up to the Slytherin match had helped clear her mind and provide a much-needed distraction.

It's not until she's walking back into the empty Gryffindor change rooms in no hurry to get to the hall for dinner, and Dorcas fucking Meadowes is standing fully dressed by the door waiting for her and says something so out of this realm that it comes back to smack her in the face. Marlene isn't entirely sure she didn't get a concussion during quidditch training.

"Lily convinced me to go along with your moronic Gryffindor plan. I told her yes, but I thought I should tell you to your face."

Marlene, ever eloquent, still standing in the middle of the quidditch girls locker rooms, simply responds, "Huh?"

Dorcas frowns at her like she's something disgusting caught on the bottom of her shiny black boots and clarifies, "As of right now, until the end of Black's party this weekend, we are officially dating."

Oh.

Oh.

It all clicks into place; puzzle pieces flipped and snapped into place, the border of her landscape jigsaw is complete. Lily running off after promising to fix it without sharing her method after making Marlene profusely promise to keep an open mind. Marlene had seen her sitting next to Regulus that evening in the library; Regulus, who is best friends with—

"No." She shakes her head in disbelief.

Lily was too smart to come up with such a stupid idea, and Dorcas was too uncaring to go along with it. Slytherins were self-serving; Dorcas got nothing out of this. She'd probably complain that, if anything, Marlene would taint her 'reputation.'

"What did Lily promise you?"

"We have a deal, and it's none of your business. Though I'm sure I could have argued for such advantages, you're no doubt thinking of right now." Dorcas' nose crinkled and her bottom lip twitched, so briefly she would have missed it if she blinked. Presently, she's forgotten how to blink. And breathe. And think.

"Fuck," she whispers, dragging the word out and groaning at the ceiling.

"So you don't want a date to Black's party?" Dorcas asks, more focused on her nails than Marlene's current meltdown.

"Yeah, a date. Not you!" Marlene flings her hands vaguely in the Slytherin's direction.

She slams open her locker, and Dorcas actually laughs at her. "I can see why the ladies avoid you; your charm is quite aggressive."

"Says the slimy snake." Marlene spits back.

"At least I don't have my friends convincing girls to fake-date me."

"Why would you need anyone to—'

Marlene wouldn't consider herself very observational off the quidditch field; it's not often that her awareness spreads further than her little Gryffindor bubble. But on the field, her eyes see everything. A good beater can read the people around them, both their team and the opposition. Spotting their tells is her job.

She watches the way Dorcas doesn't quite meet her eyes, staring just past her ear, not quite at her face. The tightening pull of her lips and the way her left forefinger taps one, two, three times every few seconds against her right hand pulse point. Marlene pieces her together and laughs.

"Don't." Dorcas grumbles.

"Merlin's balls!" Marlene laughs as she stalks up into Dorcas' personal space. "Why does the Dorcas Meadowes need a fake girlfriend?"

"It's a fake date."

"Tom-ay-to, tom-ah-to." Marlene waves her off, poking a finger into her chest. "Don't change the subject."

"Shouldn't you get some clothes on," she says glancing down at the towel wrapped around Marlene's chest. "Or do you like walking around starkers like a toddler?"

"Why?" Marlene asks. "Flustered, Meadowes?"

"Over you, McKinnon?" Dorcas' gaze rakes over Marlene's body like a physical touch. "Not a chance."

Marlene smirks, leaning in and whispering right into the Slytherin's ear. "Liar."

#dorlene #dorcas meadowes #marlene mckinnon #dorcas x marlene #marauders era girls #marauders girls #marlene x dorcas #marlene mckinnon x dorcas meadows #dorcas my beloved #dorlene fic #marauders #wolfstar #lily evans #regulus black #lily evans and regulus black friendship

[strangersteddierthings]

for the fanfic ask game: E (for "Steve is sad, Eddie's accidentally-on-purpose a jerk, and the misunderstanding gets solved(?)" ficlet), U, and V?

V: If you could write the sequel (or prequel) to any fic out there not written by yourself, which would you choose?

I've been wracking my brain for like 20 minutes, so I'm going to say I can't think of any. Just know that I'll be lying awake tonight thinking about all the fics I would like to write sequel/prequels to.

U: Share three of your favourite fic writers and why you like them so much.

@aidaronan because I just enjoy her writing. I have several of her works bookmarked on Ao3, whereas I usually only have 1 or 2 from one author. And forever ago I had an ask about my fav fics, and this one of hers was on that list, and it still is. I still go back and read it not quite religiously, but it's close.

@steddierthings Originally I just followed because I was like 'teehee "matching" URLs' in my head but then Sad Steddie Scenario had me hooked and now I have to read everything posted.

And even tho there's dozens more I want to at, I'll end with @afewproblems. She's got great takes and I just devour everything she posts.

Not really eloquent here but I dunno what else to say. I like what I like.

E: If you wrote a sequel to Steve's sad, Eddie's an (accidentally on-purpose) jerk, and the miscommunication gets solved?, what would it be about?

It would be set a few weeks later, with Eddie being almost overbearingly sweet to Steve, and Steve finally having the time to gather his words and thoughts and they would talk it out. Steve would want to know why Eddie thought they weren't in a relationship, and Eddie would explain himself, and then they'd have to have a frank conversation about assumptions, and end with a promise to talk to each other about doubts they're having, especially about their relationship.

#mira-jadeamethyst #ask games #lore drop

[dangerously-human]

I was tagged by @alyss-mainwarning for a song shuffle game (I always enjoy these!). Putting in a separate post instead of reblogging because I'm old-fashioned, and I think it's just easier to navigate.

rules: shuffle your “on repeat” playlist and post the first 10 tracks, then tag 10 people

I think we're probably not surprised at this point that it's pretty much all stuff off Ghostbustin' With the Buds, right?

Fairlies - Grian Chatten: Contribution from @womaninwinter's sickos playlist and it's a great THB sound from LW's self-denial POV, especially "Do you miss the days before hope knocked on your door? But you went and fell in love, and into love you fell, and it made you feel unwell, oh well" (Ah. Ow.)

House a Habit - We Are the Guests: I can't remember whose playlist I got this off of, but wow, VERY Lucy leaving vibes, especially the way the narration goes back and forth between the man and woman singing in the second verse. But seriously, this is just painfully on the nose, with lines like "I don't know if I should stay or should I go, he told me this house would always be our home… Everyone tells me to just stay the same, but it's not like that, no it's not like that, oh, tell me someone's out there listening to me 'cause I wanna know that like I wanna know you, oh, stay with me… Everyone tells me you're fine, don't be in love, let's make this house a habit… Oh please don't imagine a life without me, at least not yet, this house is a habit and it's lovely to live in it… This head is a hospital, someone please tend to it" (!!!)

Waking Up - We the Kingdom: I've talked about this one before multiple times, the victorious declaration of returning from the Other Side ("I am alive in the land of the living") as well as something that captures my own healing after the depression years.

Summerland - half•alive: Captures the temporary elation of the warmer months in a way I think vibes well with how Lucy describes that season for the Portland Row trio, the way it's the cycle of it all that even makes it meaningful, and the hope of it all in the ups and downs! "Whatever ain't golden now will only come back around." I'm particularly attached to this for the unseen summer between TCS and TEG. (Also this has been stuck in my head for at least the last week.)

Hot Tea - half•alive: Freaking cute Locklyle vibes! Especially fitting considering all the waxing eloquent about the comforts of good hot tea in these books. "Hold you in my hands like hot tea, knowing I'm safe 'cause you want me," the adopted feral cat energy, it's perfect.

Tip Toes - half•alive: Okay well, I guess this answers the question of what artist is most represented in my L&Co playlist. 😆 (They're actually in second place for that distinction, it's just that I'm also new to their music and so least likely to skip.) This song is SO Lockwood coded, especially the way his desire to make his family name immortal can blur the lines into pride, even the misplaced sacrificial nature and the way he needs to frequently reassess his priorities as a leader. "I'm on my tiptoes, trying to see past my ego, reaching for something more than this feeling of being important, leaving my hear behind is bleeding, but still my pride is screaming, my future will listen to me, will I always know this divide, living most of this war inside, take the ghost of me with the tide to die and release my heart to come alive" - like!!!

Dancing in the Minefields - Andrew Peterson: Used very recently for fanfic title purposes (That's What the Promise Is For), this one just screams Locklyle, married young and facing life's challenges together and helping each other remember the light in the world when the dark closes in. Literally could quote the entire thing for them and struggled not to when I posted the fic, so to choose something I didn't put there, can we just all shriek about that third verse/bridge, especially "So there's nothing left to fear, so I'll walk with you in the shadowlands till the shadows disappear, 'cause he promised not to leave us and his promises are true, so in the face of all this chaos, baby I can dance with you," together?

still feel - half•alive: At any given time having exclamation point variety thoughts about these lyrics, especially as applied to Lockwood, or Kipps, or tbh just broadly across this series. "To realize the hand of life is reaching out, to rid me of my pride I call allegiance to myself… Oh I am not a slave, can't be contained, so pick me from the dark and pull me from the grave, 'cause I still feel alive, when it's hopeless, I start to notice, oh, and I still feel alive" I AM FEELING THINGS!!

Out of the Dark - Tritonal, EMME: I've had this one on repeat while driving a lot lately, it's a great sound, and also a very fun Locklyle song post-THB. Obviously "I know you're scared of diving deep, afraid of what's just out of reach… Sometimes the weight's too much to carry, when it gets heavy, feels like everything's falling apart, so unsteady, you'll be the light to get out of the dark" is delightful imagery for our beloved burdened ghostbusting duo, but also the dual meaning of "There's an end in sight, just hold on tight, you'll make it to the other side" is chef's kiss, they're going to make it to their hash-it-out conversation on the Other Side in TCS and also make it to the other side of the dark in terms of emotional context and setting. Obsessed.

Twenty Something - Nightly: I've already said a few times this is my best inspiration for writing introspective angst lately, used for a Fringe WIP in addition to being on repeat for the writing of Living With the Ghost of You, especially the Lockwood POV chapter. The lyrics are only right at a slant but the vibe is perfect.

I just did one of these so I'm not going to tag anyone this round, but if you happen across this and want to join in, please do say I tagged you!

#personal #lockwood & co

[spaceratprodigy]

Let's hear about that Pride & Prejudice AU bestie 💖🧡

Anyone that's known me for a long time knows that no matter what, I will find a way to make a Pride & Prejudice AU with OCs 😤

This particular iteration is my favorite tho! This time around we have crafted a P&P AU focused on Faith and Rhea ( @captastra ) meeting and falling in love with Max and Felix 👀

I have admittedly been very slow getting around to it, but it has genuinely been one of the biggest things I have been wanting to work on for months. But, you know how it is, not having the time to dedicate to this project was a big factor and it's probably gonna be even longer until I get to it now that I'm moving out and have to get a new desk and set up my workspace.

And, truthfully, I am very very excited about this one and I really want to take my time and put the love into it!! It is 100% absolutely one of the highest things on my to-do list and it's never stopped rotating in my brain.

ANYWAY ON TO WHAT I HAVE PLANNED

Sooooo, I have 4 small illustrations so far that I really want to make :]

Nothing super massive and extravagant right now, just a set I haven't been able to get out of my mind regarding different interactions!

The more fleshed out concepts I have are for a Faith and Rhea interaction and a Max and Felix interaction. Both separate but meant to mirror each other!

For Faith and Rhea I was thinking about them late at night, soft lighting, maybe they're laying in bed together, but they're very excitedly talking about the lads they met and how dashing they are and what the interactions they had with them were like and whether or not some feelings had been sparked, etc etc.

For Max and Felix, the conversation is the same but about the gals! I have a vague idea of the setting I want to draw them in, but I haven't fully decided yet. I really like the idea of Felix head over heels for Rhea and asking Max for advice on how to approach her again. I feel like he just really doesn't want to mess this one up 🥺 I also like the idea of Felix pestering Max on his thoughts about Faith, and Max being very avoidant, not wanting to answer, but also not being able to hide that people noticed he couldn't take his eyes off of her 😌💅

The other two drawings I want to make are obviously some lil Faith/Max and Rhea/Felix illustrations 💖💕 but I haven't fully decided what I want to go with for those! I have a few ideas, but those I really want to discuss and plan out privately 🤭 definitely super excited to work on those!!

And let's be honest.. I kind of want to make even more with P&P AU, but small steps lmao don't want to overwhelm myself. It's always gonna be there to come back to! No promises that I'll dabble in trying to write out some things more eloquently, it's just so much easier for me to express my ideas through visuals! Plus I just really love drawing romance things 😩

There's so many interactions we can explore! But even more exciting! I want to explore different outfits for them because I mean c'mon they are all going to look SO darling!

I think I said so in private but I'm still bouncing back and forth between wanting a strict period setting or if I wanna be loosey goosey and incorporate some space themes to the designs and environments. Both just sound so very fun to me to get to work with.

Okay maybe I should stop now because I think I will just want to keep rambling about P&P AU things 😭

Anywayssss 💅 go show @captastra some love!! So wonderful, delightful, creative, and an absolutely brilliant writer 💖💕

Thank you for letting me incorporate Rhea and Felix into this AU, you already know how excited I am to bring them to life 🥰

#long post #sorry I just really really love p&p au and it's been on the back burner for so long now 😭 #faith and max #rhea and felix #💖💕💖💕

[ninjahiccups]

The Songbird of Asgard

Chapter 12: Effort

AO3 Masterlist Word Count: 12.2k Warnings: Suggested adult themes, but nothing explicit; language

Okay, I know it's been a while, but it's because I'm releasing three chapters at once! I'll be posting the chapters with a day between them on tumblr to avoid spamming, but they'll all be up on AO3 if you can't wait :)

And I'm terrible at saying it, but thank you to everyone who leaves notes and comments on this. I read all of them, but I never know what to say. I appreciate every single one, and the fact that people are enjoying this. Thank you so much! <3

When Eivor awoke she thought he truly had duped her.

Heimdall had returned to his cabin very late last night, as he predicted. Even so he immediately set his attention on her, to make up for the time they lost as promised. They were up speaking about all manner of things for hours, Heimdall being noticeably more tame than he ever had, pausing and hesitating so often that Eivor had to resort to completing actions as a means to give consent. Even a simple reach for her hand made him stutter long enough for her to close the distance for him. He wanted to spend the entire night with her, he said, but Eivor insisted they sleep. Neither of them had gotten good rest in a while thanks to their separation, and he had just spent a stressful day catching up on his duties. Even gods needed rest after so much exhaustion.

The morning came. Heimdall had promised things would be different, and yet Eivor found herself alone when she opened her eyes. Her hand went to the abandoned space next to her, feeling how cold it was. He'd left a long while ago.

Despair. Then she sat up, hugging her knees. A deep breath, a sigh. She couldn't jump to conclusions already, to give up before they even got started. Doubt, however, was still difficult to dismiss, pulling her lips into a frown so severe that her cheeks hurt, all while a longing look was cast to his side of the bed. That was when she caught sight of something on Heimdall's neat pillow next to her, placed perfectly and deliberately in the center of the surface. Puzzled, she reached down and realized it was a square of parchment, adorned with neat, eloquent handwriting that she immediately recognized.

Good morning, my love.

I thought it best to let you sleep in. You were the one who was so adamant about getting enough rest, after all.

I look forward to seeing you.

-H.

A hand covered her mouth as joyful tears dripped down her cheeks, feeling her chest tighten in pleasant shock. Of course he wouldn't have the guts to sign his full name, she thought to herself. She threw the sheets off to stow this card away somewhere special, never wanting to let such a beautiful and, frankly, in-character message be lost and forgotten. She stopped mid stride when a notepad on Heimdall's nightstand caught her eye. Never had it been placed there before, making her curious. Upon flipping the top page over she found several other cards hidden underneath, all of them containing half completed messages. Some of them were torn in half, others having every rune furiously crossed out, serving as evidence of his frustration. 

Not only did he want her to know he had thought about her, he even took the time to craft the right words to do so.

Eivor shook her head. How long had he stood there, wondering how to leave without making her feel forgotten? How long had he stared at her, thinking about what he could say before settling on a combination of sincerity and their mutual sarcasm? How many times had he kissed her cheek and tucked her loose hair behind her ear even though she wouldn't feel it? 

What a serious but silly man he was.

It wasn't perfect, but he was trying. And that was enough.

So many disapproved of their reunion, Sif especially, even if the elder goddess did resign to Eivor's decision quickly. What none of the naysayers saw was that Hemdall really did try, maybe even too hard at times. On some occasions it was even surprising to see just how determined he was to keep his word. 

Some aspects were more subtle. When they ran into each other during the day he was less eager, but still just as attentive. Instead of dragging Eivor away to satisfy whatever itch he needed her to scratch, he would simply approach her and speak to her like they used to, maybe give her a light kiss on the cheek if no one was looking — something he had never done before. There was so much more he wanted to do, she could see it in his face, the clench of his controlled jaw, yet he still wore his usual smirk and initiated the same taunts they always exchanged. It felt so much like the early days, when just time together was all they needed to be content.

Even so, Heimdall was far too dedicated to perfection to feel like that was enough. No, he couldn't just revert to the past; he had to build upon it. What else could he do to be better?

Gifts, he decided. And a bit too heavy handed at that. 

He was rather blatant about it, sometimes practicing it daily. Jewelry, like earrings that matched the cuff she gave him, gold bangles and bracelets decorated by jewels, far too many things for her to ever wear at once. Still, he felt compelled to give her anything that he found pretty. When she told him she had nowhere to put any of these trinkets, he responded by finding her a jewelry box — which had given her a good laugh. Heimdall pivoted to clothing sometimes, maybe even a few plants for her to keep in his cabin. He would have given her books if she still didn't have so many of his to read.

Eivor was pleased to find that he didn't rely solely on the materialistic, forming a habit of giving some sign that he thought of her before leaving in the morning. A few times it was one of his aforementioned gifts, other times a piece of fruit or sweet bread, which felt special considering he had to return from the lodge before starting his work. More often than not it was another note, not unlike his first. He had no idea that she kept every single one, loving them so much that she almost regretted getting better at waking up early enough to see him off a few times a week.

Communication in general was an area he sought to improve. When she did little things around his cabin that she'd always done, such as dusting, making his bed, things of the like, he actually said something about it. Not criticism, but praise. Well, it was vaguely kind, but for Heimdall that was close enough. It was something as discreet as "my collection appears quite lustrous, it seems," or "an organized wardrobe, one of my favorite things to see." No direct thanks or compliments, merely acknowledgement. And that was already a leap from his nitpicky nagging. Of course, he still did have some complaints here and there, but an amount that was normal for him. He was still Heimdall, after all.

Though these adjustments would have been enough to start, his most astounding shift was in the actions he displayed during those romantic moments that no other saw. Gone were the impatient nips, the aggressive kisses, the groping and teasing. No more waiting for her to warn him that he was pushing beyond her comfort zone or asking him to pull back. In fact, Eivor even felt that he might have toned his physical affection down a bit too much. He began being so gentle, rarely doing more than holding her hand or placing small kisses on her lips, barely even touching her at times, like he was afraid she would break if he applied more than an ounce of pressure. It took about a week of missing his usual passion before she realized that he wasn't playing it far too safe, but was allowing her to control how far he went. Heimdall would invite her in, informing her with these subtle touches that he wanted her in his arms, then wait for her to decide just how much she wanted to give. They were in the lodge on the day she figured it out. All the servants had left to do their other chores, giving Heimdall a moment to reach for her and brush a hand across her cheek, smiling softly while he just looked at her. Eivor's eyes widened when she noticed that he was waiting, then threw her arms around him in joy.

What Eivor was not aware of was exactly how difficult it all was. Heimdall was a master of never showing an iota of weakness. As such he never revealed just how awful and demanding it was to mediate the struggle between his desire and his heart every single waking moment he spent with her. Standing before her in the lodge, he felt his hand twitch, meaning to move upward and seize her by the waist to pull her in for a deep kiss. Then he'd pause, clenching his fist before gathering his wits. He was in control. He was better than his impulses. And to prove that he would relax his hand, merely sweeping it over her cheek while swallowing the mounting impatience within. For her, he would wait.

Despite the level of control he managed to maintain, it got painful at times. Standing next to her at the top of the wall, he wanted so badly to reach over and put his hand across her back and hold her waist, but he would always stop. Sure, he could have just used his foresight to see how she felt, but that wasn't enough. Not anymore. He didn't want to squander every one of their sweet, secure moments by letting in all the sensations he could feel from all directions. If he brought her any discomfort, he would see it with his own eyes. He could get by without his foresight. If anyone could, it was him, and he owed her that effort.

In time, however, that required effort seemed to fade, surprisingly. He almost…enjoyed the work that he put towards their relationship, liked letting her control the pace and come to him rather than taking everything he wanted. To know that she would want him just as often as he wanted her gave a level of fulfillment that he didn't even know of. But now that he did he wasn't sure how long he could hold back his delight. Eivor's hand dragging his to her waist, reminding him that she had no problem with his touch, feeling her snuggle close to him while he was trying to decide how much was too much, listening to her say that she wanted him next to her — it was all so sublime yet made him so much more aware of the building need he was reigning in constantly. How was he supposed to be mindful of what she wanted if his thoughts were consumed by the ocean of want churning within? Where did he channel that energy?

One day he found the answer. 

Heimdall returned home a little early, solely because he wanted to see her, waltzing into his bedroom to find Eivor sitting in the alcove. The waning sunlight highlighted her form so beautifully, accentuated every tuft of her styled hair, every gentle curve of her limbs as they grasped the book she read. In the moment all he could do was stare, idly leaning on the archway with a dreamy smile replacing all the fatigue and annoyance that had accumulated throughout the day. That urge to rush over and claim her returned, but he silenced it. Somehow this image before him was far more tempting.

Then she finally looked up, grinning at him. "Yes?"

For a second his mind was blank. Then he opened his mouth to say at least a greeting, but it was shut again, no words ever getting through. All he could manage was shaking his head. He needed to do something, had to release this love somehow. 

"You know, you're welcome to join me. This is your home."

Heimdall chuckled, rolling his eyes before taking her suggestion. Slowly, measuring every movement and monitoring every reaction he could see, he reached the alcove. With her seated in the middle and her back to one side, legs hanging over the edge, he chose to take the place behind her. Carefully, like he was handling the fabric of the realms, he wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her into his chest. Eivor sighed, leaning back into him. It was so lovely.

That's when he realized how familiar this was. He remembered. He used to do this often, just sit there and feel the peace her presence brought him, never looking for any more than that simple moment. After abstaining from it for so long he had forgotten how enjoyable it was. How happy he was with something so small. He missed this.

Acting on distant muscle memory, he reached up and released her hair from the clip, burying his nose into her radiant locks and taking in her scent, her aura, all the emotion that had him frolicking in the clouds. He wasn't looking for any outlet for all this feeling. He just ruminated in it.

That was it. That's what he was missing. He was so convinced that there was no way everything he felt could be contained, that every emotion required some sort of outlet, that he failed to recognize that he once expressed his love just like this — before he knew it was love. There was no reason to escalate it, no need to convert all of this passion into touches. This could make him just as happy as any physical action would. This made him feel just as loved, and let him release his love.

How had he forgotten the times when this was enough? How had he forgotten that this would always be enough?

For a few weeks he had been so distant, so on edge and alert, when all he had to do was feel. Just feel, and let go, and there would be nothing more he had to do to express the emotions bursting from him, no need to wonder if he was doing too much. It was that simple.

All this effort he had been investing wasn't effort at all. He just didn't know that it wasn't — no, he didn't know that such a small amount of effort could be so rewarding. 

No more. No more overcompensating, no more making this so hard. All he had to do was love, and that was it.

Eivor had no idea that he changed that evening, thinking nothing of the heartfelt "I love you" he whispered in that moment. She would only learn after it began to manifest.

The gifts mostly stopped. Now that he didn't feel compelled to give something at certain intervals, nothing felt worthy of a token for his Songbird. No jewelry was lustrous enough, no clothing fine enough, no plant fragrant enough. Instead of impulse he relied on memory and attention — two things he excelled at. Any little scrap of information that could be tucked away for later was scarfed down and stored for the perfect opportunity. 

The first was a book. Heimdall brought up the book she had just finished reading from his collection, asking for her thoughts. When she explained that it reminded her of a story she missed, he inquired further. Apparently she had lost a novel some time ago while in Alfheim, a rare copy that was one of the few left from an elven author. She expressed how much she missed it. He was determined to find it.

It took over a week of sleuthing and demanding answers from anyone with knowledge on the author and their work in both Asgard and Alfheim, but finally he found it. 

Unlike all his previous gifts, he felt…giddy. He was excited for her to have this, so ecstatic to see her glee. He presented the book to her, her bright eyes lighting up and gasping as soon as she recognized it. Eivor squealed and hopped in place, exclaiming just how incredible of a gift it was, saying that no one had ever done something so nice for her. Her arms flew around his neck as she jumped at him with enough height that he had to catch her before she dragged them both to the ground, chuckling as he gently set her back on the floor. The words of gratitude engulfed him, giggled and danced across his heart. There was no urge to take any more. He reveled in her happiness, could feel it even without his second sight, and that sensation was so much more potent by comparison. That was enough. That embrace was all he needed to feel whole and satisfied.

The second instance came when her flimsy wooden hair clip broke. Unsurprising, since it was only intended to be a temporary replacement after her first one broke months ago, during their final search for Odin's relic. Once the metal spring snapped Eivor sighed, lamenting that she had yet to pick out a new one. Heimdal nearly slapped himself for not thinking to do so himself sooner. He truly was an absolute moron before his recent revelation. 

Nothing in Gladsheim's market was good enough, nothing fit Eivor's taste or her beauty. Heimdall could almost picture the perfect accessory, but it was just barely out of his mind's grasp. So he had one custom made. Then that one wasn't satisfactory, prompting him to condemn it and demand another. And another. And three more until the jeweler, exhausted and quite terrified after so many missteps, finally produced something that made him say to himself, Yes, that's the one. Silver, which was a contrast to his usual preference for gold, but this shade would bring out the color of her hair. The swirling patterns forming the body were elegant and organic, feeling almost Vanir in nature, but still unique enough to match her. Purple gems, small and tasteful, were sprinkled across, and when seen from a short distance they formed the shape of a bird. She would adore this, he knew it.

He chose a different approach this time. Like he had been doing for some time, he left the clip in a box on his pillow when he left that morning, his heart nearly stopping when she stirred as he was heading out the door. Thankfully she was too drowsy to notice that anything was amiss, accepting his kiss before dozing off again. 

This presented an entirely new level of excitement. He kept his eyes open, waiting for her to appear and see the elation in her expression when she found him. He was practically bouncing on his feet all morning as he waited. Outside of Gulltoppr’s pen, just as he was about to mount his beast, was when Heimdall was nearly tackled, his foresight being the only thing keeping him from being launched into the dirt. Eivor was nearly swinging from him as she hugged him, exclaiming frantically, "Thank you, thank you! I love it, thank you!"

Heimdall, after regaining his composure, laughed while he pulled her into him. "I'm assuming it's to your liking? I honestly can't tell."

Eivor backed away to lightly scold, "Yes, Heimdall, I came all this way just to tell you I hate it." Unable to say more, she grabbed his face with both hands and pulled him down into an open mouthed kiss. It was enough of a spectacle that when she hugged him again he had to glare at the bystanders to get them to cease their staring. Eivor none the wiser, he pointed out, "Well, if you did like it wouldn't you be wearing it?" 

Referring to her loose hair, Eivor backed away and replied, "I wanted you to do it."

It was impossible to repress the grin from blooming on Heimdall's face as she handed him the accessory and turned around. Sending one last glower to the few onlookers who were too daft to get the first warning, he gathered up her hair into the loose bun she always wore, pinching it into place with the new clip. "Hmmm…it seems your suitor has excellent taste," he teased.

Eivor only shook her head and buried herself in his torso again. She mumbled into his shoulder, "You're so sweet…"

Caught in the moment, still enjoying the feeling of love for what it was, he replied without hesitation. And he replied in a way that he, up until this point, would have to coach himself into spitting out.

"Anything for my Songbird."

It took all of Eivor’s self control not to kiss him again.

It began to feel like a dream that had overtaken their waking lives. Heimdall had returned to his tactile ways, though this time he was rather subdued. He resumed touching her whenever he could, discarding the diffidence and distance that he resorted to, but his hands remained in innocent places. No longer did he wonder when it was too much because he didn't feel the need to be so intense. All of that passion was poured into every caress of her hand, every kiss on her hair. He didn't push for more because anything was enough, and with every simple touch being enough he could put all of his attention into it. He even surprised himself when he was standing next to her at the top of the wall. Out of nowhere he took her hand and lifted it to his lips, planting a firm kiss on her knuckles. It was just as satisfying as taking the skin of her neck between his teeth or feeling her hips in his hands. Actually…it was more satisfying. Eivor could sense it too, the unabashed love spreading from him and staining her heart in the best way. These changes that came between such meaningful gifts made the bigger, more extravagant expressions so much more.

Communication habits were edited further. His disguised praise evolved. From, "The bed looks especially comfortable tonight," to, "I see you've been taking good care of me," all the way to, "You're making this cabin into a wonderful home" while hugging her from behind and kissing her shoulder. Sure, those words weren't direct, still shrouded by that "language" Eivor always hounded him about, but they were clear enough that there was no second guessing her value. 

Those notes that he left in the mornings, once so stiff and formal, transformed into tiny love letters, appearing almost every morning.

Good morning, Songbird,

I'll be out of the realm today, so you'll have to manage without me until tonight. Do try to survive.

-H.

The next week:

My beloved,

It seems you were up too late reading again. Not to worry, I still kissed you goodbye with all the love in my heart. Free of charge, for you.

I love you.

-H

Until they all were:

Morning, my dearest love,

A raven pulled me away earlier than usual today. My sincerest apologies, I do wish I was there to greet you. I'll be looking for you until I can kiss you good morning. Don't keep me waiting too long.

Forever yours,

-Heimdall

Despite how regular they were becoming, each and every one meant the world to Eivor, and they all went to her growing collection of stored notes. She wasn't sure exactly how he would feel about such "incriminating" letters floating around, keeping them tucked away and out of sight. It was her secret stash that she would go through when he had to be away for longer than usual.

Such a dramatic change. Just like that, it felt as magical as it did the night they shared their first kiss, just as fresh and pure. It felt like falling in love over and over again. And all Heimdall had to do was feel this love instead of exploding with it, putting in just the tiniest bit of work to make that possible. Hel, it didn't even feel like work because he wanted to do it, just like he wanted to protect Asgard for Odin. Keeping his promise to her was just as natural as keeping his promise to protect the realm. He took pride in what he did for Eivor, was more than happy to provide her with anything she could ever want to be happy. And she was eager to repay him with songs and kisses and all the time he wanted to spend with her. 

Neither of them had ever felt so in love. So full of life.

After a few months of this, the irony revealed itself. Their roles switched; the one who was content becoming the one who wanted more.

With that, the next phase of Odin's plan could begin. 

The door to the All-Father's study swung open slowly, meekly. Even though Odin responded to the knock by inviting Eivor in, she was still cautious, mindful that she was entering a sacred space. "You needed to see me, All-Father?"

Odin was browsing one of the bookshelves in the back of the room, taking one thick volume from the shelf before returning to his desk. "Yes, just for a moment. Don't worry, this will be quick and painless." He busied himself with organizing the documents on his desk, tucking some papers under others before looking up at her. "So, how have things been lately? The Einherjar giving you any trouble? Or the armory?"

With Eivor's unique magic Odin had given her duties relating to enhancing weapons and putting protective spells over Einherjar before they trained to prevent severe injury. To say the least, it was rather boring and mundane. That couldn't be the reason she was summoned. "No trouble at all, not yet. Unless…I'm doing something wrong?"

Odin chuckled, sitting at his desk with his hands folded together. "No, I have no complaints, just wanted to ask." He paused, something in his gaze becoming calculating. "Though, there is something I've noticed. You and Heimdall are…pretty close now, aren't you?"

Eivor felt the blush creep up her neck and to her face. Odin was always so warm and charming, it was easy to forget that he really did live up to his reputation of being all-knowing. "Oh, um, well…yes, I suppose you could say that."

"And you two are happy, yes?"

"We are."

The light mood fell when Odin grew serious, looking almost cold. The All-Father leaned against the backrest in a way that felt imposing as he replied, "I can certainly see that." Eivor flinched as a shiver ran down her spine, but she couldn't pin down exactly what made her so fearful. These were simple questions, nothing too probing or judgmental, no sign of anger or disappointment. It was just…the air about him. His very aura suddenly felt unsettling. 

Before Eivor could inquire about this shift, Odin seemed to lift their spirits without a hitch, like nothing ever happened. "There isn't exactly a problem per se, I just want to point out that Heimdall has been distracted at times. Considering he is the protector of the realm and Gladsheim's first line of defense, that's not something I can ignore for too long."

A blink. Then two. "I'm not sure what you're trying to say."

One more laugh. "Nothing much. I just want you to know that Heimdall is very important around here, and although you two are happy, I still need him first."

Oh. Odin just…wanted to make sure she wasn't taking Heimdall away from his work? Well, that made her feel foolish. Had Odin ever given her a reason to think he wasn't going to be fair and reasonable? No, she was just overreacting. "I'm sorry! I didn't realize that we were having such an impact on the realm."

"No need to apologize, there's been no major disruptions for some time, I'm just communicating before there's a real problem. You can calm down, my dear." The goddess sighed in relief, thoughts preventing her from formulating a response. Odin didn't ask for one, continuing on, "That's all I needed, you really aren't in any trouble. So if you don't need anything from me you're free to go."

Since she had nothing more to say, Eivor merely bid him farewell with a bow. 

Odin sat there, thinking. No suspicion. Perfect. Everything was progressing as he expected.

Outside of the office, Eivor attempted to decipher the cause of such a meeting. She and Heimdall hadn't been doing anything more than usual as of late, making this friendly reminder seem a bit too out of the blue to make sense. Then again…it had been established just how observant Odin was. He may have noticed that certain…feelings were changing with her. Perhaps his summons was justified in that regard.

Heimdall had kept up all the sweet gestures and patience he developed. The notes, the gentle touches, the thoughtful words and gifts, it was like he had finally met his full potential in terms of romance. After experiencing it for some time, she found that she began to understand where he was coming from before their disagreement…

It started one night some time ago, when the weather was a bit warmer than usual throughout the day and night. Eivor was reading in Heimdall's bed, finishing the last few pages of a book while Heimdall was changing in his washroom. She heard his footsteps just as she closed the book, holding it out as she asked without looking his way, "Could you be a dear and put this away, Dall?" 

The watchman scoffed while snatching the book. "Why of course, m'lady. I do look like a lowly servant, don't I?"

A smirk appeared and a retort was rising until he walked past her, leaving her awestruck. Due to the heat Heimdall had decided to forego a shirt for the night, which was rare. The last time she had seen his bare torso she'd had a typical reaction, but this time…something was different. Her eyes raked over his form as he wandered over to the alcove to place the book back where it belonged. The subtle dips and bumps across his back, the cute moles and freckles adorning his skin, the strength and confidence in his posture, the lean muscles in his arm as it rose and flexed — wait, flexed? 

"I can practically feel you staring," Heimdall teased, looking far too pleased with himself as he tightened his arm a bit more, sliding the book in place as he did so.

Eivor finally ripped her eyes away and crossed her arms like a sulking child. "You don't have to show off."

All she got in return was a chuckle as he blew out the candles, climbing over the bed to plant a sweet kiss on her temple. "There's no need to hide it, darling." Of course he would relish in the attention.

She had to close her eyes before she was settled in to make sure she wouldn't ogle at his chest while she curled into it. Then they woke up the next morning, and she was surprised to find that she had stirred just moments after Heimdall. He was sitting on the edge of the bed with his back to her, taking a minute to stretch. Bare skin and freckles was the first thing Eivor saw and it nearly made her groan. That same excitement, the same…temptation to touch him bubbled up again. He was right there, so close, and still unkempt and drowsy. A state only she had seen him in. The slight turning of his head indicated he knew she was awake. Shaking off a yawn, Eivor scooted closer to him, reaching out to put a hand on his tricep. "Morning," she rasped, stuck on the forms across his shoulder. She wasn't sure if he was paying enough attention to know how she was feeling.

"You're up early. What an accomplishment."

As usual, he had to ruin the moment with sarcasm that made her roll her eyes. "And you're not dressed yet. Look at how slow you are."

Heimdall looked over his shoulder at her, smirking. "I have a feeling you don't really care."

Shrug. "Maybe not…" Her self control seemed to wane as she sat up and shifted closer. She stayed right behind him, both hands gently landing on his back, making him sigh. His eyelids fell while her fingers moved along his back, heartbeat quickening despite how calm he felt. Then she sidled up even closer, her hands wrapping around to feel his front, chest and cheek against his back. Slim fingers slid across his pecs, her breath blowing onto his spine. It made him tense and clench the furs in his fists, jaw tightening as that very familiar aching need rose in him. How he wanted to return the favor, kiss along her neck and drag his hands down —

One of her nails grazed across his ribcage as she pulled one hand towards his side, taking them both off guard when he let out a small grunt in response.

He had to stop himself. One hand flew from bed to take her hers and hold it in place. Eivor winced at how tightly he gripped her fingers, unaware that he was holding back his own daydreaming. It was far too overwhelming, this desire washing over him, for him to read her and see what she wanted during this exchange. The wiser choice, as far as he could see at the time, was to withdraw rather than take his chances guessing. Carefully, Heimdall raised her hand to his lips as he shakily mumbled, "I'm afraid now isn't a good time." A tender kiss was placed on her wrist. Then he lost himself for just a second, leaning in to let his teeth gnaw at the thin flesh. His clouded mind failed to pick up on the mounting anticipation coming from Eivor. This was the only time she didn't want him to slow down. With his control back, he added, "I do have matters to attend to."

As much as Eivor wanted to shout that she couldn't care less for his duties at the time, she relented, her forehead resting against his back. Unsure of whether it was to distract Heimdall or herself, Eivor pouted, "You don't actually like me, do you?"

Heimdall sighed in annoyance. But revenge would come after he slowly turned to meet her gaze, leaning in to kiss her sweetly before pulling away with a snarky smile. "No, I don't."

Eivor yanked herself away to roll back onto her side with a grumble, facing the opposite way. "You can go now," she harrumphed, not at all liking the mocking laughter she received. Then Heimdall circled around to reach the washroom, his hand landing on her bent knee as he passed, just to satisfy that suppressed need while he still could. It made her smile. 

She thought it would be a one time thing. Proof of the opposite came as the heat wave continued, the same feelings arising with each night Heimdall slept underdressed. It was this tension, this impatience — restlessness, even — that she hadn't experienced before. But she wanted more.

With that longing for Heimdall's more passionate side Eivor let little bits of it back into their relationship. On one occasion, Eivor was sent to Svartalfheim, tasked with using her magic to reinforce metals that would be forged into weapons for the Einherjar — a job she hated, feeling like the dwarves were afraid of everything and everyone, but she tried to show them kindness in any way she could. It was a larger job than she expected, carrying on late into the night. So late that, much to their mutual disappointment, Eivor would not be back until after Heimdall usually retired. She opted to stay in her own cabin so he could sleep. He was always so easy to wake up.

Both she and Heimdall failed to realize what kind of effect it would have after spending almost every night together for ages. The scion remained in bed for hours, tossing and turning until he gave up and resorted to glaring at the roof. Eventually he couldn't take it anymore, not after he was certain Eivor had returned. Without a second thought or grabbing any of his gear — including Gjallarhorn — Heimdall marched out of his home and whistled for Gulltoppr, taking the beast to Eivor's residence and letting himself in. As expected, he found her asleep in her own bed. Quietly, and far more relieved than he ever wanted to admit, Heimdall slipped in behind her, immediately thrusting his nose into her hair and wrapping an arm around her waist. He couldn't remember the last time he fell asleep so fast. So fast that he didn't even stay awake long enough to catch Eivor stirring and turning her head to see him, smiling once she caught a glimpse of his visage.

Her bed was so much smaller than his, and they were reminded of it in the morning. For once, Eivor woke up before Heimdall. Amused, she carefully rolled over to face him, finding his eyes open by the time she was settled. "Miss me?" She asked cheekily, sweeping a finger across his jawline.

"Don't push it."

Eivor giggled, finding it so funny that he was too embarrassed to even consider addressing it. Feeling like she had the upper hand, and flooded with love after such a sweet display of yearning, she moved even closer to him, voice dropping low. "Well, if I can't push that, then…" To Heimdall's shock, he felt her leg rise and settle over his hips. The exact same position she was once too uneasy to withstand. "How about this?"

The impish smirk and teasing gleam in her eyes made him tremble, hiding it behind a chuckle. "Well, that—" A break in his statement when her hand took his and placed it on her thigh. Licking his dry lips, he managed to mumble, "I have no objections." A laugh and a kiss was his reward, as well as several minutes of staying just like that, enjoying the moment. It was impossible for Eivor not to snicker when he realized he had nothing to wear or even Gjallarhorn with him, graciously taking Gulltoppr to retrieve them for him. The watchman would never be seen underprepared, after all.

In time she began to miss his rougher kisses, his teeth on her bottom lip and hands drifting down her waist. It became so unbearable that she was the one to track him down to let it all out, asking him for a moment in private to do just that. He obliged, and was even surprised when she would swipe her tongue across his lip, smirking as he drew her closer. That urge to yank her closer and practically devour her came back with a vengeance, this time much more demanding now that it was given and not taken. It was astonishing, actually, how much harder it was to keep those desires to himself when he knew she was willing to give him what he wanted, to know that she wanted it too. Unfortunately it was him that had to end these moments, hoping to avoid rushing her into things she wasn't ready for, much to both of their frustration. That didn't prevent him from counting down the minutes to their next meeting, however. And even when it was abundantly clear that Heimdall was trying to step away before he went too far, he always took a moment to give a heartfelt goodbye before letting her go. He'd taken to the habit of taking her hand and kissing her knuckles with a charming smile before that familiar smirk returned.

With so much more confidence Eivor became more bold, more comfortable with taking charge of what she wanted. Creativity struck her, thoughts wandering to things she wanted to do that he hadn't done — or in this case, couldn't. 

It was a lazy evening, the sun still letting in some light while Eivor hummed and played her lyre at Heimdall's desk and the watchman sat in the chair in the corner, reading. He was smiling, relaxed, clearly listening while he read, yet Eivor still felt like he wasn't paying enough attention to her. The lyre was set on the table, careful not to disturb the neatly organized papers on it, and Eivor stood, crossing her arms playfully. "You really are just sitting all the way over there, hm? It's almost like you're ignoring me."

Without looking up, Heimdall replied snobbishly, "I am fond of this spot."

Eivor let out a hum, allowing impulse to take control as she stepped over to him and pushed the hand holding the book to the side. He looked up, then his eyes widened as she sat across his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck with a sneaky grin and a sultry look in her gaze. Without thinking Heimdall put one hand on her knee as she taunted, "How do you like it now?"

Throat dry, spine tingling, palms sweating, Heimdall swallowed the thick lump in his throat. "Well…this chair is made for only one."

The goddess threw her head to the side with an exasperated sigh before turning back to him and laughing, "I hate you."

She got no response other than a chuckle before they leaned in for a deep kiss. They pulled each other closer, hands drifting to and caressing whatever they could reach. The book slipped from Heimdall's fingers, abandoned on the floor like an egg falling from a nest — precious, but left behind in favor of what was left. He wasn't able to hold himself back, so pleased and delighted by this newfound teasing in her. It was a wonder he was even surprised. Fiery, sassy, and daring, of course she would find a new way to drive him mad. The thought did…things to him. Things he couldn't keep behind bars. Especially when her mouth found his jawline and tugged on the skin with her teeth. He was powerless to object, his hands wandering from knee to hip and from the loose strands of hair to her lower back before he could stop himself. And once he started it was too delicious to stop.

As always, there was a point that Eivor wasn't willing to breach, still uncertain. She pulled away, leaving them both panting with their foreheads pressed together. In no time she pulled him in to rest her cheek on top of his head, bringing his nose into her neck while she started to sing. Just like that, all the tension melted, even though it was the good kind, and Heimdall felt himself give in to the intimacy he had grown to adore so much. So much happiness, and he didn't even know he could have it this way until she gave him another chance. 

Then the subject suddenly changed, as if they weren't in what some would consider a "compromising" position. What Heimdall loved about that moment was how seamless it was, how it was so comfortable that she thought nothing of it anymore. "Dall? Do you think you could sing to me now?"

If he wasn't so relaxed he would have groaned and rolled his eyes. This wasn't the first time she had asked, and he was certain it wouldn't be last, regardless of his answer. "I still choose to leave that to you."

Eivor pulled back, giving him her most convincing pout and whining, "Why not? You might be good at it."

"Oh, I'm sure I would be." The arrogance of his reply ruined her exaggerated pout and turned it into an annoyed frown. "But it's not at all a good use of my time."

"Are you saying that my singing is a waste of time then?"

"It isn't for you, but for me it's frivolous."

An eye roll was her response. "You don't always have to do something useful or productive. You could just do it for fun. I'll teach you!"

"The answer is still no." Despite the stern tone he felt himself smiling warmly.

She finally gave up the fight, sighing as she lowered her cheek onto his head again. "I'll change your mind someday."

In most situations he would have insisted that she never would. This time he was too lost in thought, feeling her comfort, her enjoyment of the moment, her willingness to stay like this. It was confirmation. He was no longer causing her stress by doing something so intimate, giving her no reason to second guess his intent. These tender times had become as natural as holding hands, and she wanted to have more of them with him. And that, contrary to what he would have said months ago, felt better than any touch or kiss he could ever have.

Gods, he loved her so. And she was equally enamored with him.

So much passionate affection boils over eventually, and it did once Heimdall's magnum opus of gifts came to be.

It came from unpredictable circumstances. On an average day Eivor chose to play her flute in the lodge, only the occasional servant passing by at that time of day. She was trapped in the melodies, the brief audiences lost to her as all her focus went to the sweet tune. Only one thing managed to catch her attention, and that was the lumbering thumps coming from the lower level of the lodge.

Green eyes opened as Thor made his way into the main room, looking as glum as he always does after he speaks with Odin. The giant stopped just in front of her, seeming slightly less inebriated than usual. "Hey, Birdie."

"Hey, Big Guy. Need something?"

"Nah, there's just somethin' I gotta ask," Thor slurred, crossing his arms. His seriousness made Eivor retrieve her thin leather bag from the tabletop and place the flute back inside, pulling on the string to seal it before setting it on the bench beside her. There was a brief pause, then Thor harshly spat out, making no attempt to hide his suspicions, "How's he been treatin' ya?" Eivor almost laughed. Sif must have vented to him many times now if even he felt compelled to take a moment to check on her.

Eivor stood, her neck hurting from looking up at Thor. "He's doing quite well, actually. I have no complaints, honestly."

The giant god harrumphed. "Well, if that changes, you know who to ask for." 

"And you'd do something about it even if you can't hit Heimdall?"

"My boys will find a way." The new voice belonged to Sif, who made her way into the room with Magni at her side, the young god's lip bloodied. He and Modi must have been going at it again. "I doubt even he can take all of my brutes at once."

Eivor couldn't hold back a chuckle this time. "And do these 'brutes' appreciate your nickname for them? Thor, Magni?"

The god of thunder only grunted while Magni defended,"I won't say in front of my mother," making the two goddesses laugh. So focused on the conversation, they all failed to notice the figure coming from the stairs, sneaking over to the group. 

A warcry rang from behind the Aesir, Modi sprinting from the stairway to tackle his brother. Thor seized Eivor wrist and pulled her away as Magni stepped aside and tripped his brother, the younger god slipping and slamming into the table. She saw his backside land directly on the leather bag she left on the bench. Before Thor could even open his mouth to scold his sons Eivor gasped, "My flute!"

Modi, dazed from the blow, had little reaction. "Huh?"

"Modi, up! Move!" Sif ordered, scaring her son into full consciousness. 

"The fuck are you two doing?" Thor barked as Eivor hurried to the bag. 

"Me? I didn't do nothin'," Magni protested. 

Despite the small bit of hope Eivor held, she knew her flute was destroyed as soon as she picked up the bag, hearing the bone shards rustling inside. "No…"

"It's just a flute," Sif consoled softly. "It's replaceable."

"It was my father's…"

Sif's bright blue eyes landed on the young pair. "This is what happens when you two act so carelessly!"

Such an insult did nothing to intimidate the young gods compared to the fury in their father's voice as he growled, "You fucking idiots! Can't you do anything with some finesse?" The irony of such a statement coming from a drunk wasn't lost on anyone, but it couldn't be noted before he added, "Do I need to beat the sense into you two again?!"

Sif was just as menacing, even as she went to her friend's side and put an arm around her shoulders. The fear from Thor's sons was so palpable that Eivor had to look up at them, needing no time to deduce just how terrified they were of the very real threats from their own parents. "No," she intervened, setting her grief aside to minimize their punishment. "It's my fault. I shouldn't have left something so valuable and fragile lying around."

"I disagree," Sif added stubbornly.

"Really, it wasn't their fault. It's okay."

The devastation was still present in her voice in spite of her efforts to hide it. With a sigh and a vow to lecture her sons later, Sif pulled Eivor towards the door as she shot Thor a demanding look. "There must be a tradesman in the market who can repair it. Let's see what they say."

Once the two were away, Thor glared at his two sons, only faltering when Huginn flew in with an exaggerated squawk, ordering him to take care of their business. The god of thunder growled, "I'd beat your asses when I get back…" he stepped to the raven, soon swept up by black feathers, "but I know Heimdall will do worse." 

With their father gone, Magni slapped the back of his brother's head, knowing that was exactly what was going to happen.

Eivor knew it as well. Which was why, after it was made clear that her flute could not be repaired, she decided she would not tell Heimdall, maybe even find a replacement before he notices and come up with a cover story.

And that worked. For a week, until Thor stormed up to Heimdall in a drunken rage asking why the watchman hadn't beaten his sons yet. Eivor didn’t even want to know what the pair looked like after she heard about Heimdall's revenge.

Once the Sons of Thunder were thoroughly thrashed, Heimdall wasted no time seeking to undo the damage — without telling Eivor, knowing she wouldn't ask him to try to match the value of her father's flute. Which he was certainly going to do anyway.

He recalled a specific artisan in Gladsheim, well known for his mastery of crafting all manner of tools, from weapons to decorations to jewelry, and instruments were included in his repertoire. If his memory served (which it always did), even some of his own spare gauntlets and belts had been made by this craftsman, and if Heimdall found his work adequate enough to accept, then it could potentially be enough for Eivor. When the scion tracked down the shop and went inside, he heard rummaging from behind the workbench, clearing his throat impatiently when he was not immediately welcomed. An old man with round glasses shot up, clapping his hands together to brush dust off of his gloves as he gave a crotchety, "Heh? Who's that now?" The older man, who was apparently half dwarf, barely came to Heimdall's shoulder, but he had no issue matching the god's disrespectful sneer. His dark stubble was sprinkled with gray spots and his nearly bald head matched, synergizing with the wrinkles around his eyes to sell his age and experience. The lack of decorum also gave away how long ago he had abandoned formality. "Are you really gonna walk into my shop with a look like that?"

It was so tempting to teach him a lesson, but Heimdall refrained. Mostly. "Are you really going to give me a reason to stab you?"

"Look here, whenever a god walks into my shop — All-Father's orders or not — they don't just wander in. They come here for my work, so we both know you ain't doin' nothin' to me."

Heimdall had to hold back a sigh. This felt too much like dealing with one of the Huldra brothers for his taste. "Kerr, was it? If you're somehow capable of living up to your reputation then you can make quality instruments."

Kerr placed his hands on his bench and fixed Heimdall with a cynical look. "Yeah, yeah. Truth be told, they're one of my favorite kinds of jobs. What are ya in the market for?"

"A flute."

"Ah, for your goddess girlfriend, I bet."

"That's not your place to say, mutt." Heimdall could feel the smugness coming from Kerr after his snappy retort. 

"Ohhhh, mutt, he calls me. Well, if you live up to your reputation, you're gonna be picky. So if you want a top notch flute, you better drop the attitude."

Admittedly it was rather impressive that Kerr was so unaffected by his insults or his demeanor, even if it was exceptionally annoying and inconvenient.

"I'm assumin' you want it to be pretty. You got a design in mind?"

Heimdall rolled his eyes. "Isn't that your job?"

"I gotta have a starting point, ya know. You have an idea for color, motif, material?"

"Still your job."

Nearly slamming his hands down on the table, Kerr proposed harshly, "Alright then, watchman, how bout this; you're a mind reader. How about I think something, you tell me how it is?"

"That might be the most decently intelligent thing you've said yet." 

For far longer than Kerr anticipated, it became a long string of silence followed by disapproval.

"No, that's hideous."

"Horrendous. Try again. With effort this time"

"What a sorry excuse of an artisan you are."

Kerr proved to have surprisingly thick skin, not even blinking when Heimdall would shut down one image after another. This method was intended to be the fastest way to work with Heimdall, yet an hour later he was still unimpressed and losing patience.

Then they had a breakthrough.

The design Kerr had in mind made Heimdall pause. It felt right. Delicate, yet striking, and integrating designs that were similar to the Vanir engravings on Eivor's lost flute. 

"...It's an improvement."

Kerr slapped his knee with a guffaw and shouted, "Now we're gettin' somewhere!"

Minute changes from then on. Altering the color, the engraving placement, precious stones accents …it was so close. But not right just yet.

Heimdall sighed in frustration after a vague flaw just wouldn't disappear. "Do you truly have no unique materials? What good are your ideas if they aren't feasible?" With an obvious groan, Kerr dug out a metal box full of shards of metal, stones, glass, all manner of shiny baubles to add. Yet none of them felt right. "Still nothing. That can't be all you have."

Kerr grumbled something under his breath that Heimdall didn't care enough to listen to. Then something caught his eye as Kerr rested a hand on the table while he reached underneath to dig through more samples. He had a jewel of some sort at the back of his gloves, used to fasten them closely to his arm. "What's that?"

"Huh? What now?"

"That," Heimdall growled, pointing to the clip in question.

"Oh, this? This here's labradorite."

"Labradorite…I've never heard of it," Heimdall commented while Kerr searched for something in a drawer. He honestly would have thought the craftsman was making it up if he couldn't see the truth so easily.

"It's a rare material. That's why." Two palm sized pebbles were placed on the tabletop, the stones mostly dark grey other than where the light shined on it, revealing streaks of blue and green on one and purple and gold on the other. "It's from Alfheim, a crystal in between regular, crummy stone and Twilight Stone. Y'see, Twilight Stones form when the Light of Alfheim binds to stone and crystallizes. Labradorite has the same process, but with limited exposure to the Light, making the colors more muted and varied and having less shine."

Heimdall picked up one of the smooth rocks and turned it, admiring the waves of color flashing across the surface, not unlike the lights in the sky that are seen in winter. There was just one detail that left him on the fence. "The color is inconsistent in these. Can they contain only one color?"

"Depends on —"

"Purple." 

"Yeah, they can come in purple varieties, just harder to find."

A brief pause as Heimdall inspected the stone. It was so much like Eivor. So humble and smooth on the outside, but with a beauty and light that could only be seen from within. The place of origin was fitting as well. A lovely jewel hidden among the filthy sands, just like her. If there was a hint of this instead of those strips of gold…

"This will do. But only in purple."

Kerr shrugged. "Sure. It'll be costly."

"Do you think I care?"

"Nope, but I wasn't thinkin' about you. The elves aren't fond of giving it up. It takes some time to negotiate and get it over to Asgard."

Not ideal, but better than settling for subpar. "How long?"

“Well, it usually takes about a month to reach an agreement.”

Nevermind.

“I’m not waiting that long. That’s unreasonable,” Heimdall lectured, irritated that his goal was just barely out of reach.

Kerr threw up his hands and chuckled, “Well, waddaya want me to do? Unless you go there and get it yourself, that's what you’re gonna get.”

“Consider it done.”

“Wha'?”

Heimdall turned on his heel and was on his way to Alfheim before Kerr could process that he was gone. True to his word, he returned with a good handful of the stones he needed, demanding that he receive the highest quality product in a timely manner. 

In the end he wished he had given a strict deadline. After a few days he was already tingling with anticipation. About a week later he was told the flute was ready, along with a matching case for it. To his shock, Heimdall had no complaints, no minor blemishes he wanted fixed. It was perfect. Perfect enough for Eivor.

That perfection ended up weighing on him, like he couldn't hand something so special over at any time. It had to be the perfect moment. The perfect moment for the perfect gift for the perfect person. Anything less was unacceptable to him.

Another week had gone by when the opportunity came. Eivor came to his cabin in the evening, agitated and exhausted. She went straight to Heimdall's place on the bed as he was reading and plopped down next to him, half laying on top of him with her face in his shoulder and arm over his stomach. "I'm not a pillow."

"Shut up," came her muffled groan.

Chuckling, Heimdall put the book down and placed a hand on the back of her head, taking the clip out of her hair to free it. "Care to talk about your day with the Einherjar?"

Tilting her head to look at him, Eivor whined, "You don't have to rub it in."

"It's merely a question. So touchy." Eivor ignored him, prompting him to press, "So, what'll it take to end your sour mood?"

Eivor's face lit up, making his heart skip a beat. "Will you come with me up to the wall?"

"At this hour?"

"Please? We don't go there as often anymore. I miss looking at the stars with you."

Heimdall's gut tied itself in a knot, and not because he agreed with her. Instinct told him that this was the time. Giving her a dramatic sigh and dragging his hand to his face, he whistled for Gulltoppr to wait outside the front door.

"Thank you, Dollface!" Said with an exaggerated sweetness to match his feigned reluctance.

She squealed when leaned down and kissed her ear. "Go on, I'll join you in a moment." Eivor, now full of energy, leapt up and headed for the door, flowing hair drifting behind her and cooing at Gulltoppr as she went outside. Heimdall, on the other hand, dashed to his wardrobe, opening a drawer that he asked Eivor to avoid and finding the gift he was so eager to give stashed inside. A part of him hesitated. Was this the right time? Did he wait? Would he ruin it if this wasn't the perfect moment?

He cut himself off when he heard Eivor call for him. Without taking more time to second guess, he tucked the long wooden box into the back of his belt. Eivor was too absorbed in the lovely ride on Gulltoppr to notice how tense Heimdall had gotten, nor did she when she leaned against him on their way up the lift. He only began to relax when they were at the top. Eivor wrapped her hands around his upper arms and rested her head against his shoulder, letting him lead her to wherever he chose to take them. It wasn’t a conscious choice at all, not a single thought making him do it, but he ended up stopping in one very particular spot. A spot that had never felt the same since that night.

It only took a few minutes for Eivor to bring it up. “So…any reason you stopped here?”

“Not particularly.”

Eivor rolled her eyes at the bored reply, harboring no doubt that he was pretending not to notice. “Really?” A pause while he shrugged, then she leaned closer to his face. “Not at all because it’s been almost two winters since we kissed here? Hm?”

Heimdall wasn’t fond of the mischief in her tone, and he had no intention of letting her get away with it. “Why would I bother with remembering that?”

“Hmm…you’re right. You did make it pretty forgettable, didn’t you?”

All he could do was smile. He could do nothing to stop her from turning it around on him, ever true to that sharp tongue that he adored. Never had she disappointed him with a mundane reply, a half-hearted joke, or polite agreement just to earn his favor. Always so genuine, so pure, so engaging. So flawless.

The subject was dropped immediately. “I have something for you,” he whispered, unable to contain himself any longer. 

Taken aback by such an unexpected reaction, Eivor released him with a furrowed brow, letting him reach back and retrieve the long wooden box from his belt. “What is this, Dall?”

“A good way to find out is to open it.” Another eye roll from her. “Go on,” he urged gently, his impatience overflowing.

It was so rare to see Heimdall this excited, it almost made her nervous as she unclasped the metal clips and lifted the lid. At the sight she gasped, frozen in place. “Oh, Heimdall…” was all she could force out, staring too intently at the absolutely gorgeous flute nestled into the cushioned interior. The body was white, smooth and polished like it was made of fine marble. Near the mouth piece the gold weaving patterns of vines and leaves trickled into elaborate circular formations that wrapped around to the back, reappearing at the bottom holes and dwindling into a single line. The tapering gold line was complemented by feathers painted in beautiful colors that gradually grew more sparse as they reached the base. Two bands adorned it, one at the top between the mouthpiece and the other under the last hole, the gold patterns overlapping them. Those bands were lined with more gold, and within those borders was a break in the light tones with nearly black stones, ones that she recognized as labradorite. A rare variety of them as well, the gleaming colors almost exclusively shades of violet. There was no way the elves would have given them up so soon, so how he got it was beyond her. It was without a doubt the most beautiful instrument — one of the most beautiful things — that she’d ever seen. And Heimdall was giving it to her solely because she was down a flute. Her hands floated above the box, hesitant to even touch something so incredible, as if it would be tarnished by her fingers. 

Heimdall lifted the box a little higher and teased, “It’s not just for show.”

Eivor shook her head at his smirk, gingerly picking up the fine flute as carefully as possible. After turning it around to admire the patterns in their entirety she lifted it to her mouth, playing a portion of one of her favorite songs, totally enveloped in the richness of the sound it made. Not only was it gorgeous, it was also a quality instrument, much better than the old bone flute that she had. 

With that thought Eivor lowered the flute, a part of her still missing the memento she had from her father, though she tried not to look disappointed. Heimdall must have been paying close attention to every part of her and sensed that longing. “I see it doesn’t hold the same value,” he began, giving her a look to stop her when she tried to reassure him that she loved it, “but I hope it at least comes close.”

Tears were welling up in Eivor’s eyes, feeling every bit of emotion and dedication in his voice. This was no small matter to him. He put so much thought into this, went to any length to ensure it was one of the finest things she would ever own. All because he cared about her and couldn't live without her music. Heart swelling so much that it felt like it would burst, Eivor calmly placed the flute back into the box and closed the lid, slowly taking it from his hands and putting it on the boulder next to them as Heimdall watched, bemused. He felt it before he could stop it, only able to catch her as she flew at him and gave him a deep kiss with her arms around his neck, leaving him a warm, bubbly mess on the inside and a clumsy recipient on the outside. 

It was so much. 

Heimdall was such a prick, and pompous, and rude, and somehow shortsighted despite his abilities, but none of that outweighed this side of him. The one that would have gone to the ends of the earth to make her happy, that would put thought and energy into making her feel secure, loved, and wanted. The one that encouraged her to be herself, and in turn listened to her when she wanted him to grow beside her. It was still baffling how a man that she despised so vehemently upon their meeting managed to not only care this much, but also change his ways to prove it. He was so much more than she ever expected him to be, and was eternally grateful that he was willing to show her that. That he wanted to be hers just as much as she wanted to be his.

She wanted so much of him. His touches along her waist, the softness of his lips on hers, the love radiating from his very being. Somehow, for the first time, this wasn't enough.

More. She needed more to satisfy this hunger for him, to express all of the love that she had in her. To feel him closer, take all of his warmth, feel every bit of him, everything. Her mouth seemed to act beyond her control as it attempted to acquiesce the growing need within, her teeth clamping down on his bottom lip, making him gasp. He returned the gesture by securing his hands on her hips and gripping them like his life depended on it. He was holding back, she knew he was. But not this time. She didn’t want him to hold back anymore. Her hands wound into the hair at the base of his cranium, tangling into the knots and loose strands to give them a tug. His reaction was instant, his tongue darting out to taste her as his self control slowly faltered. The rigorous response knocked the wind out of him, the intensity of her tongue against his sending electricity through his veins and setting him on fire from the inside out. Momentarily he pulled back, trying to collect himself before he pushed her too far, his mind too muddled to get a clear read on her current state. That was exactly why she was able to release her frustration by pushing him until his back hit the huge brick behind him, allowing her to press her body flush against him before her mouth locked on to his once more. The tiny grunt he let out was embarrassing.

“Is this familiar too?” She asked against his lips.

This time he wouldn’t try to deny it. Yes, they had done this before. Only on the night of their first kiss he was the one pushing her against the wall. Now he was on the receiving end, and it was divine.

Still, he was hesitant. He made a promise, and he was a man of his word — even if it meant giving up one of the most euphoric sensations he had ever felt. He turned his head to the side to catch his breath, his spine tingling when Eivor’s mouth went straight to his jaw and kissed along it, tongue occasionally giving his stubble a lick. Eyes glued shut, Heimdall forced himself to calm down, already feeling the effects of the heated exchange. It was then that Eivor lost patience with him and demanded, “Look at me.” He did as she asked, panting as she did nothing but stare into his eyes. She wanted him to see for himself what she had to say. After a moment of recentering, he was able to take a stable look into her thoughts. 

I want you.

His eyes were wider than dinner plates and his breathing stopped as he heard it, staring at her for several more moments to be absolutely certain his foresight wasn’t playing tricks on him. The first word in his mind was "finally," feeling all of his desires that had been suppressed march back to the forefront at the warhorn calling them to battle. Then he felt anger, hating how he was so eager to give in to the very thing that almost chased her away. He wouldn’t make the same mistake. Never again. Barely able to catch his breath, he managed to get out, “I…I didn’t do any of this to…” He couldn’t finish, hating the suggestion that this was all for his own gain, like he would break his word as soon as he got something out of her.

All the worry faded when she smiled warmly at him. As irritating as it was that he was holding back right when she wanted him the most, her heart recognized the sweet gesture. He wanted this so badly, it was clear as day and had been for a very, very long time. Yet when the opportunity was right in front of him, when it would be so easy to get it in the heat of the moment, he was still more concerned about her. He would only do this if she would have no regrets. “I know,” she breathed, still staring deeply into those glowing eyes to ensure he would know she was being truthful. "But that's why I want it."

Heimdall, ecstatic but wary, still gave her another moment to cool off and think before confirming, “Are you sure?”

Having little patience left, Eivor yanked him down by his neck to bring their noses together. “You tell me,” she dared.

There it was. Her desire, wanton need, all wrapped up in a box of certainty and confidence. She was ready. And the realization that the lust he had felt for her was now equally matched boiled his blood in the most delicious way. She wanted him, fully and completely. The feeling of being loved so deeply, being wanted…

“Well,” he exhaled, tucking her long hair behind her ear. But of course, he couldn't give away just how enthusiastic he was. Grinning devilishly, he teased, “I wonder what you would do if I decided to change my mind now.”

“You better not,” Eivor growled with a matching smile, slowly leaning up to kiss him again.

This was it. Finally, he wouldn’t try to keep himself at bay. Eivor was so overwhelmed by the insane desire that her hand wandered to his front and tucked underneath his tunic and under armor, needing to feel his skin right away. She almost snapped at him when he seized her hand, stopping her and pulling away, until he whispered, “Not here.” 

She got the message, nodding as his breath became even more strained. He pushed off the wall and tried to drag her back to the lift, stopping only because she grabbed her new flute from the stone before they dashed off.

The raven watched, intrigued. 

This was more heated than expected…but still compliant.

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

As a fair warning, next chapter will be NSFW. It'll have no critical events that you need to know, so if that's not your thing you can totally skip it :)

#songbird of asgard #heimdall #god of war #heimdall x reader #heimdall gow #heimdall x oc #god of war heimdall #gow heimdall #the songbird of asgard

[new-lorien-artist]

hey there, not to provide interaction for a post i’m sure you wanted people to interact w/ — feel free to ignore if this is the case.

as a fic writer who fears dying from health problems or from my parents maybe killing me if they find out i’m queer (it’s a bit of an irrational fear but also not,,, anyways), i feel you w/ that post. not completely, but a lot.

first off — something that may help ease your anxieties about people online knowing what’s happened to you. ao3 has something called ‘next of kin’ that you can set up with a close friend if you happen to die. ao3 will give them access to your account in that case (don’t ask me how they determine if you’re dead or not — they do have a process, i just can’t remember it rn). i have a friend of mine on ao3 who’s set up as my next of kin. if she doesn’t hear from me in a long long time, because we talk often, she’ll email ao3 and ask them for this access to my account. i don’t want any of my works altered. i just want her to add a little note that says smth like ‘hey, check out the writer’s profile’ in the endnotes of all my fics, and i want her to put a short message in that ao3 profile that says something about the fact that i am dead now, but i loved my time in fandom, and the people i met through it.

maybe you can set this up too, if you want to. it eased some of my anxieties about being gone and no one online knowing — my tumblr friends do have my ao3, and check it sometimes, so i know they’d eventually find out. it’s not perfect but it’s helped me.

also as someone who also writes in fandoms that don’t get much traction i also know what you mean by that, kind of. it’s hard. you love creating but also feel responsibility for like, being the one to create. and it’s a weird place to be in but one that doesn’t an easy fix. i deal with it by spending time offline, but that’s only made me ignore the problem, not deal with it head on. i wish i could offer better advice but i can say that while i do love your blog, i care for your well-being more than anything you could ever create. and i know that internalising this sorta thing can be hard sometimes, and that’s fine — i’m just leaving it here.

as for the real life stuff, like schoolwork and graduation, i unfortunately don’t have much experience with that and so can’t offer much in the way of that. if you have support networks offline you’ll probably already be using them, you probably do all you can offline to try and stay happy. it sounds like you’re in a lot of pain — in many ways — and i guess i’d just say to, if you haven’t already though you probably have, try to alleviate as much of it as you can whilst still living the life you want. if you’re not sure what you want, although you may be, try and think of it. it can be horrifically hard when in pain, i know.

i don’t know. advice varies widely on the experiences of the giver and the circumstances of the receiver, so there is a good chance that most of this will not be what you need to hear. and i do apologise for that; i’m not trying to be a douche, i promise, and i’m not trying to make assumptions about you and i’m not usually the kind of person to into someone’s inbox unsolicited and talk about this.

i just know how awful it is to be in pain, physically and mentally, and i just wanted to say that i hope it gets better for you, i hope you’re able to move through the world as best as you can. pain is so unspeakably terrible. not knowing, or regret, is too. i know. i’m sending you a virtual… thing of… the things you like (i’m not someone w/ a lot of eloquent words). want the best for you bc you are a person ofc, but also because you’ve made my day brighter so many a time with the words or pictures you put out into the world.

i hope that you’re doing okay, or will be, is what i’m trying to say, i guess. :)

This was sent a while ago and I apologize for the late reply, but first off I'm really thankful for the kind words and the advice. I kept this in my inbox reading over again and again, and I hope this response feels just because this ask means a lot and I'm so so grateful for your words. It's definitely easing me a bit. I don't mind it at all that you sent this

I do have an AO3 though it's mostly used to bookmark some of my favorite fics (many that I've yet to give my proper due in comments to). It's nice that the site has that feature, so what I can do is translate some of my works and WIPs into fanfic and put those there, and possibly the next of kin feature may be of use

I have a lot more illustrative works than written that are in the plans, which I think I'll just put into a Google Drive or something and share that, so any other artists in the fandom can take a look at them and draw them out. A ton of the ideas I have are very conceptual and abstract (they deal with a lot of headcanons, interpretations from the books, and relationships between the characters the way I see them), and I'm not sure how much of them will translate to others to get the idea across, so I'm working on gathering as much reference material and notes as I can if it's really important. I'm not about about credit, but I think just tagging this blog when using an incomplete WIP will suffice

As for the responsibility for a fandom stuff, I came to a conclusion a few years ago to just enjoy the fandom while it lasts and be more celebratory of the people I'm surrounded by and being able to share a mutual love for the piece of media that brought us together in the first place. My opinion then was that fandom, however small it is, shouldn't be a burden even though it weighed my heart to see something that has given so much to me feel like it was crumbling away. Rather, the friends you make, the days spent creating and enjoying and arguing and dreaming with people you look forward to talk to every day, even if you might be miles apart and will never see face to face, they're central to fandom and are what make creative works so much more amazing and beautiful and loving. I made so so many friends in the fandom from rps to group chats to discord servers, and even some irl, and have let them know on multiple occasions how much they matter to me, and have learned how much they cared about me as well, and that eased my heart at the time. If I had all the time in the world, I would reread their fanfics over and over and look over the small details they knitted into the stories and tell them how much I love their works, and how happy I am to have met them

Note this was my opinion a few years ago, and a lot has changed (many of the same people I used to talk to, I haven't seen since, both irl and online, and these days I don't know most people in the fandom anymore and have very little time to socialize), I ran the whole 13yearsoflorien celebration in hopes to make a community revival and for people to make friends here (which was an incredibly draining process but im thankful it's been done and that @/thedumpsterwizard could help me with it) and ofc my offline life is very tied up with school, so things have been a bit harrowing lately. Needless to say, I think the opinion I formed years ago still rings true, and I'd like to reconsider those words again. I don't know if those same words are helpful to you, but I hope the burden you feel on fandom creativity eases.

Again, I'm so so thankful for this ask, I apologize if I've made you worry about sending this ask whether it had unsolicited advice or felt rude. I appreciate you reaching out, and though it's true advice may vary wildly between the sender and receiver, I think for this I'm sending my gratitude that a lot of this felt helpful and touching, and for your kindness as well. I'm sending my deepest condolences for your situation and health fears, and the physical and mental and emotional strain it all puts on you. I'm glad you take the offline time to ease yourself, and that you have a friend you speak to frequently and who you trust with your work. I know I spent a greater part of this message responding to your words, but I hope what I say here eases you as well, and I reach out in hopes you find this answer and find some relief from it. I wish for the both of us to see better and kinder days and that we will make it through all this soon, and that our fears will stay just fears and won't get the better of us. And that our health will be good too

Please take care, and thank you again for this message

#you ask i answer #ernest talks #i hope this reply finds you well anon #thank you and i wish well to you too <3

[dcvilgrams]

❝I'm Not Human❞

featuring: Barbatos & my m!MC (Xhura Kusumoto) [he/him] written by: @houselamentation & myself rating: general (w/ language)

notes: i was initially going to convert this into an actual story-prose format but some of the nuances got a little lost along the way so i've decided to keep it as it is for the sake of the quality this is an excerpt from The Disaster Duo Chronicles' Second Arc: Our Endless Summer & details the events of when Barbatos revealed to Xhura that their pact allowed Xhura to turn himself into a demon [summarized here]

Xhura is written by me obviously; & Barbatos is fantastically written by Lia

BARBATOS

"Xhura, Xhura." Barbatos hates when force is necessary but has to pull Xhura's hands away from his hair— as gently as possible but quickly too, before more damage can be done. He holds on to both of them longer than necessary and implores him to listen, to understand,

"Sit down, please. I promised I would help you adapt. I promised that it would be possible for you to thrive in this world. I mean that."

—

XHURA

Xhura stumbles and falls back into his seat because he doesn’t know what else to do. Because Barbatos’ voice is as soothing as always and grounds him like nothing else but…

“You… you said…”

He said it…

“You said I’m not… it’s not all in my head…?”

Because that’s been his biggest worry. All the things they told him in the Human Realm were coming true. He was losing it. It was all in his head. He was being entertained to be made complacent.

Say it again.

“I’m not human.”

—

BARBATOS

"You are not human," Barbatos confirms. Xhura has drawn that conclusion on his own. It's possible he only needs a little more prompting and comfort every step of the way in order to piece the rest together. It is worth a try. Barbatos will help regardless.

He returns to his own seat and refills their teacups. "It is not in your head, Xhura. You were born a human and until very recently, you were a human." He pauses, not to make Xhura worry but to recognize that everything will change as soon as his next point is realized.

"In much the same way that Lucifer was once an angel."

—

XHURA

Much in the same way…

Xhura sniffles, but feels the words rip themselves from his throat as unbidden as they were the night he spoke them.

”’They faded from brilliant white to obsidian the whole time you…’”

The whole time he…

When he…

When they all…

”’What did it feel like… to…’”

“I fell.” That’s not possible. “How did I… I’m not… but I…” Frightened, confused eyes flicker up to Barbatos’ emerald gaze.

“How. Please tell me how.”

—

BARBATOS

Nodding graciously, Barbatos tries to put a previously unimaginable concept into the right words. "Don't think of it exactly like Lucifer's fall," he advises. "He was cast out, banished from the Celestial Realm. You— essentially, Xhura, you banished yourself, or tried to. You don't belong to the Human Realm anymore— you wanted, you needed to be a part of this one so badly you…"

He shakes his head. There is no making sense of this, only deciding what to do next. "You should not be able to but you are making it happen. It may be due to a part of my power I did not intend to give you and there is also the fact that a human needs a soul and some certainty in the life they lead."

All of this on top of the fact Xhura is still learning to control his access to Barbatos' power, to cope with what is left of his soul… it is not an enviable time in the former-human's life. But beginning to accept and understand it remains the first and most important step.

—

XHURA

“I’m manifesting… unimaginable demonic bullshit on myself. I’m literally faking it until I make it.”

To put it in as eloquent simple terms as possible. Maybe it’s their shared bond but he gets what Barbatos is saying even though he’s really not saying all that much. He just… gets it.

“…The angel blood Ayla and I share. Our connection to Lilith. Whatever part of me… that was… chose to… do what my brothers did?”

My brothers. It’s his first time saying it aloud to someone not in the family. Yet he doesn’t do it as a conscious thought, nor does he consider changing his phrasing. It’s right.

It really is.

—

BARBATOS

In the [equally tense] kitchen, Barbatos nods. He still hopes Xhura can find this truth mostly on his own, supported but not led to anything before he's ready for it but that point deserves acknowledgment.

"Lucifer and the others fell when they realized what they were willing to sacrifice for Lilith's safety and autonomy, perhaps that they would all do the same for each other. And you fell when you accepted the truth of what was most important to you— the home, the love, and life you wanted, and what you'd be willing to give up to achieve and keep it."

—

XHURA

Now that he’s sort of not really calming down from his panic, Xhura reaches for his hip for comfort. Can’t help the way he thinks what if I could give him a similar mark, my version of a pact…

“So what happens now? Or going forward? Any of it?”

—

BARBATOS

"Going forward…" Barbatos nods to himself and then to indicate Xhura's teacup. It should still be warm enough and the relaxing properties certainly won't hurt him now.

"I can tell you now that I am seeing you and your future more clearly than I was earlier. My part in helping you is still in teaching you more about the power and how to use it— it bears repeating that you are accessing more of it than I ever believed possible —and keeping your knowledge in check.

“We can continue regular checkups once you're back in school to make sure the horns are not hurting you and to see how you are adapting emotionally. It's been a long day for you Xhura. My offer for tea is good for tomorrow as well but I suggest you get some sleep in the meantime."

—

XHURA

Xhura holds up a finger. “Pardon my French… but can we back the fuck up a few steps?” He says it comically, almost cheerily.

“Why would the horns hurt me? They’re clips.”

—

BARBATOS

"I see." Barbatos does not retract statements even when they are misunderstood or shared a bit too early. If the fallen-human is feeling any sensations of attachment where the clips are placed, he is not ready to accept or admit it.

This time, at least, it is simple enough to validate Xhura's concern. "Prolonged exposure. If you're wearing them in the same place daily, it'll take getting used to and there might be a little pain." Maybe he'll explain the truth later.

#obey me #obey me mc #obey me barbatos #obey me fic #my mc: xhura kusumoto #barbatos #; my writing #houselamentation #the disaster duo chronicles #;; uhmmmm hey lia hope this is okay to share i was just feelin it y'know #;; lia's barbatos is literally such surrogate father vibes i stg #;; & yeah i cut out the conversation diavolo & lucifer were having parallel to this one #;; sorry not sorry #;; does this count as fic if its in rp format i sure hope it does #; tddc rp

[authorautumnbanks]

How To Tame A Sorcerer (69)

Series Master list

Megumi tries not to look at Shippo, dressed in the shortest skirt he has ever seen. The top, if it could really be called that, shows off Shippo's midriff. It's a little chilly for such attire, but as Shippo so eloquently put it, "Hoes, don't get cold."

He doesn't know if he wants to barf, claw his eyes out, or abort the mission and tell Maki to figure it out on her own.

He didn't sign up for this…trauma.

"Kagome-san would never wear that," he mumbles, approaching the entrance to the Zenin estate. Did Kagome-san know Shippo would pretend to be her dressed in such revealing clothing?

"I bet Mama wears something like this for Dad all the time." Shippo stands up on his toes and sticks his butt out. "She probably hit him with the come and get it. No wonder she's knocked up."

"I'm gonna barf."

"Good. That's good. Keep that energy. It'll make it more believable." Shippo runs his hands together, but the sinister smile is so many levels of wrong on Kagome-san's face that Megumi is getting whiplash.

That's not Kagome-san. That's Shippo. Maybe if he repeats it over and over in his mind, he won't feel like a teenager discovering his parents have sex.

Oh Kami.

He's definitely gonna puke.

"Ooh Zenin-san!" Shippo calls sweetly, flipping his black hair back before toying with the edge of his white skirt.

Virgin white. That's what Shippo told him before they left Sesshomaru-sama's estate. Megumi swallows the bile and grits his teeth.

Virgin white.

Why is that stuck in his head?

"It's about time ya learned how to address me with the proper respect," Naoya says, leering at Shippo's legs.

How far is Shippo going to take this? The fox glides over to Naoya like a trained dancer and runs his hands down Naoya's chest.

"I was such a fool before," Shippo sighs. "I thought Satoru was the strongest, but I was wrong. Can you forgive me?" Shippo's hand trails down.

Naoya blinks and then grins. He reaches down and grabs a handful of Shippo's butt, squeezing it like he wants to take a piece of it with him.

Megumi looks up at the sky. It's rather nice out, all things considering. "Where are Maki and Mai?" He asks, still looking up at the clear skies. Today feels like it should have been an overcast day. Grey. Depressed. Kind of like how he is feeling right now, having to watch this scene play out.

When Gojo-sensei gets out of that box, he is going to beat his ass himself and put him back for having to suffer through this.

"In the pits." Naoya sneers at him. "What's with the face, Megumi-kun?"

"Bothers me to see Kagome-san pressing up on you. Thought you were loyal to Gojo-sensei?"

Shippo sighs. "Oh Megumi-kun, you do not understand. A woman can only do so much. Satoru promised to take care of me. Said I never had anything to worry about. But that's not true." Shippo bats his eyelashes at Naoya. "What I need is a real man. A real sorcerer to put me in my place."

Shippo leans in closer and slides his hands, so they rest on Naoya's shoulders. "You're that man, right? Can you put me in my place?"

"Wanna hear ya say it," Naoya breathes, focused so intently on Shippo, that someone could attack Naoya right now and he wouldn't notice.

"Under you." Shippo giggles.

He can't do this any longer. Megumi storms away. The image is seared into his brain.

"Men like Naoya think with their dicks," is what Shippo said to him before they left. "Doesn't matter what Mama did in the past. A little flattery and a wink is enough to have Naoya crawling on his knees."

He didn't want to believe Shippo was right… but he glances back and wishes he hadn't.

Where the hell are the pits? Anything is better than that cursed scene behind him. He presses his lips into a firm line at the sight of Jinichi-san. The tall, muscular Zenin with the wild hair that he refuses to call uncle.

"Where are the pits?" Megumi cracks his neck, barely reacting when Buyo Jr. and the cat shikigami jump out from his shadow and land on his shoulders.

"Interesting shikigami, you got there. They don't look like a part of the ten shadows technique."

"Because they aren't." Megumi keeps his face blank. The air is off. Though he figured this was a trap before he arrived. They must not like the idea of him being clan leader. "Where are the pits? I'm here for Maki and Mai."

"Heard ya tryin' to let Gojo out the box." Jinichi-san places his hand over his sword. He moves closer. Jinichi-san's breath is sour. Like rotten grapes mixed with sake.

So that's their angle. Buyo Jr. hisses. The cat shikigami jumps down and transforms into its more humanoid form. It waves a hand and Jinichi-san goes flying into a building.

Well…okay then? Still doesn't solve the issue of where the pits are.

"Buyo, can you smell Maki?"

"Meow." Buyo Jr. fluffs up his fur and jumps down, transforming into his bigger form. Is it just Megumi or was there a bit of attitude in that meow? He shrugs and pulls out a sword. Jinichi-san will come after them, but he needs to find Maki and Mai first. Something isn't adding up. Why would either of them try to kill the other?

Buyo leads them into a building and down the hall. The stench of blood is strong. The hairs on his arms rise. There's a lot of curse activity here. Is that what the pits are? He gnaws on the inside of his cheek. He'll thank Gojo-sensei first for preventing the sale of him all those years ago and then he'll kick his ass.

Megumi kicks open the door. The metallic smell smacks him in the face. He nearly doubles over. Curses surround Maki and Mai. They lie there in the middle of the floor, barely moving. The only thing keeping the curses at bay is Miroku-san.

Shit.

There are too many curses to count. Even if they are weak, the sheer number of them is a problem.

"You too, Miroku-san?"

"It's nothing personal, Megumi-kun," Miroku-san croaks. "You know the rules. You know the consequence of trying to free Gojo Satoru."

"Let them go," he replies, gripping his sword. He has the high ground, but Miroku-san is strong. Has to be to keep all those curses at bay.

Buyo Jr. snaps his teeth at Miroku-san, his tails twitch with agitation. The cat shikigami shifts, ears pinned back.

Miroku-san tilts his head to the side, staring down the cat shikigami. There's a tenseness to his shoulders. "I'll make you a deal. Pick one to save."

"I'm not choosing between them." He steps forward, but Buyo Jr. steps in front of him. "There's a sorcerer out there planning a culling game and you want to fight?"

"So, you won't choose?" Miroku-san sighs. "How boring." He snaps his fingers, and the curses descend. Maki groans, struggling to get up, but Miroku-san kicks her in the side, pushing her closer to Mai.

Shit. He doesn't need this. He needs to be focused on the culling games. On rescuing Tsumiki. Not dealing with a clan quarrel.

He summons rabbit escape. The bunnies rush forward with Buyo Jr. aiding them against the curses. Miroku-san flashes out of sight and backhands him.

Shit.

Shit.

Shit.

Where the hell is Shippo?

Miroku-san's arm changes, mutates, and turns into a sword. He rolls to the side and blocks. Where the hell did this strength come from? Or has he always been this strong? Miroku-san's face changes, his body gets bigger, the energy becomes more visceral. Darker.

This is a demon. Is this Naraku? He resembles the sketch Gojo-sensei drafted.

"Impressive. But not enough," Naraku coos. His red eyes are more vibrant than the bloodstains on the floor. Arms, like spider legs, sprout out of his back. They itch closer.

He can't die here.

He pushes back, pushing everything he has into it. Naraku skids back and then dodges an attack from the cat shikigami. Something wet trickles down his face. Blood. Megumi wipes it away with the back of his hand.

Boom!

Jinichi-san bursts into the room. His eyes wild. Scratches adorn his body like decorations. "Oh Megumi-kun!" he shouts, stalking towards him and then frowning. "Who the hell are you?"

Naraku rolls his eyes. "You had one job." His spider-like limbs stab Jinichi-san in the chest, spearing him like a kabob. He pulls him in closer. The limb bubbles and Megumi's eyes widen in horror.

Is he eating him?

He needs to get to Shippo, now. "Buyo!" Megumi runs, slicing away at the limbs that try to grab a hold of him. The cat shikigami holds out its hands, keeping the curses at bay, while Buyo Jr. and the rabbits follow him with Maki and Mai. Megumi pumps his legs to go faster. No one told him there was a demon here!

If that is Naraku, then that's the same demon that wiped out the Gojo clan.

He runs until he's out of the building. Where is Shippo? Now would be a great time for the fox to show up.

"Megumi-kun," Jinichi-san gurgles from behind him. Naraku's low, deep chuckle sears into Megumi's psyche.

Naraku is toying with him.

"No point in running. Even if I don't get to you. There's no way you can fight off all these curses."

Megumi presses his lips together. More curses surround him. No, these are demons. A bead of sweat drips down his brow. Demons in front of him, curses behind him. The rabbits separate and attack the demons, trying to fend them off.

"Just go," Maki says, wheezing. Her glasses are cracked. The burns on her face appear more angry than when she got them.

"I'm not leaving you."

The ground rumbles. His eyes widen as something pierces Mai through the gut. Her screams are so pain filled, he wants to cover his ears. Wait, why isn't going after him? He blinks. A bubble?

The cat shikigami growls, trying to flap its wings, but the wings are small. Buyo Jr. knocks the cat shikigami from behind and it lands on his back.

What are they doing?

There's a bright light and some demons combust.

"Oh, I know you aren't having fun without me," Shippo quips, dragging Naoya behind him. "Naraku? What a sight for sore eyes. Why I haven't seen you in centuries. Whatcha doing here?"

"Who are you? The fox?"

"Does it matter?"

Megumi's eyes dart between the two. Mai isn't breathing. Maki struggles to claw her way to Mai.

Naraku shrugs. He turns to the side and grabs a hold of the curses remaining.

No, he isn't eating them. He's absorbing them.

And Shippo looks not at all concerned. Why isn't he concerned?

"Shippo," Megumi says, but the fox ignores him, still dragging Naoya behind him. Megumi blinks. There's blood concentrated around Naoya's groin and his mouth…. Oh, he's going to barf. His throat constricts. His eyes water.

That's fucking sick.

"Still chasing the bottom feeders, are you?" Shippo shakes his head. "You know, for someone so strong, you always run away from a fight." The illusion fades and Shippo stands there with his tail swishing behind him.

Naraku's jaw clenches. "Seems your mouth has grown bigger than your strength." He lashes out. Shippo throws Naoya in front of him, using him as a shield.

Megumi snaps out of his stupor and rushes over to Maki and Mai. "Is she breathing?" he asks, while pressing his fingers to Mai's throat, searching for a pulse. Arrows rain from above, but they hit the bubble and dissipate.

"She's gone," Maki says, but her voice is distant. "Even after she tried to kill me, I didn't—" Her voice breaks.

"Did she attack you or was it Naraku?" He jerks his head toward Naraku and Shippo.

…Is that a spinner?

Megumi sucks in a breath. He needs Shippo to take this seriously.

"Sesshomaru-sama has a sword. We can take her to him."

Maki shakes her head. "She took everything. The little curse energy I had. She took it with her." She stands and tosses her broken glasses. "One of us was always fated to die."

"But Sesshomaru-sama can bring her back."

But Maki isn't listening to him. A sword appears in her hands. Mai's body fades away like the bodies of those demons. She is just gone. No ashes. No bones. Nothing. Megumi stands, tries to keep Maki in the bubble with him, but she's fast. Much faster than before.

"Wait!"

She ignores him, charging after Shippo and Naraku. There's no discernment with her blade. She attacks both. An arrow hits her in the shoulder.

Shit. Shit. Shit. What the hell is she doing? Has she lost it?

Megumi beats against the bubble. "Let me out."

The cat shikigami shakes its head.

Seriously!

He snarls, cursing the shikigami and Buyo Jr. He doesn't need protecting. He can fight too. The ground shakes again and the thing that attacked Mai emerges. In its mouth is Obi-san, or what is left of him.

"Maki! That's Shippo. He's on our side!"

Maki rips the arrow out of her shoulder. She turns her head, barely acknowledging him. "He's like the other. Choose."

Choose?

Megumi grits his teeth. He really doesn't have time for this.

****

A/N: Sheesh this chapter was harder to write, but action scenes are a weak point for me. Might have to give Megumi another gacha shikigami egg for his trauma. Next update will be either A Thousand Days or Wish I Could. I've started on both, so expect an update sometime next week provided I don't get sick.

Stay healthy! Stay Warm. If you have to get out, take your time because you only make bad decisions when you are in a rush. take your vitamins and try to get as much rest as possible.

Here is a snippet below of the fox story I'm working on, if ya interested:

So this is how it ends.

The ground slips away and I'm falling. My hands shoot out to the sides of me. Shit. There's nothing to grab a hold to. Nothing to slow me down.

There is nothing but pitch black darkness until I'm falling towards the light.

Oh fuck no, please don't tell me I'm falling to hell or somewhere awful. My eyes squeeze shut.

Don't die. Don't die. Don't die. I chant over and over.

Crash.

Ow. My butt hurts like a motherfucker. Wait. Why is the ground moving…again. The ground moves. My heart thrashes in my chest.

This isn't the ground.

I gulp. This thing, whatever it is, has horns. Sharp. Looks like they can impale me like a sheet of tissue paper.

"Hey there, big guy. Nice guy?"

It lets out a shriek that pierces my eardrums something fierce. It shakes and I'm falling over. My hands grapple, but its skin is so smooth that I topple over like water.

I'm gonna die. Here lies Megan: she had no family, no friends. She leaves behind an ex boyfriend that cursed her name and took every penny she saved. And she was a dumbass for falling through that hole.

My side aches, but I can't lie here. The thing, whatever it is with its big horns, smooth as rubber body, and a snout, so long it resembles an ant eater. Which fitting. This thing is massive and I'm clearly an ant in this scenario.

Get up! Run! Blood pumps through my legs, howling with every strain. Don't look back.

Crap.

It's so close that one trip and I'll be a goner for sure.

Why couldn't it be like an herbivore? Those fangs are massive.

Crap. Double crap. The tree branches scrape at my clothes. The vegetation is all wrong. It's not green, not really, but almost so dark that it may as well be black.

I pump my legs faster. Come on! Need to find shelter. Somewhere to hide. Can't die here. I'm a fighter.

Never back down.

Crash.

Oh, fuck me sideways, what was that?

"Human?" The voice questions.

I shiver. Whoever this guy is, his voice is like sin on wheels. The creature screeches and I need to get up. Keep running.

"Stop. What is a human doing here?" He grabs my arm and I jerk back.

Oh?

His eyes are purple. Like an amethyst. His hair is as pitch black as the trees…and are those dog ears?

"What the hell…" I try to jerk my arm back, but his grip is so tight it's like trying to break free from a snake's grip. "Let go, dog boy!"

"Dog?" He sniffs, his large ears twitch and then swirl towards the direction of that thing. "I am a fox."

"I. Don't. Care. Let me go."

Crappp, it's here. I squeeze my eyes shut. Maybe if I don't look, it won't hurt. Warm air blows across the back of my neck.

This is it.

I would have fared better against those wanna be thugs.

"What are you doing?"

"Trying not to think about the pain. Be quiet."

"Perhaps I should feed you to the klarvak."

#gojo satoru x kagome #gojo x kagome #crossover pairings #jujutsu kaisen x inuyasha #kagome higurashi #inuyasha fanfiction #gojo satoru fanfic #gojo satoru #inuyasha x jujutsu kaisen #how to tame a sorcerer

[sonderkore]

✉ extraordinary attorney woo | ep 16 final thoughts feelings, friends, and fulfillment

proud of you, attorney woo!

feelings

my heart is so full 😭🐳

their breakup literally took a toll on me. i wasn't kidding when i said i get way too emotionally attached to kdramas, and i actually couldn't eat properly just thinking about them not being together. (this is also the same reason why i'm never watching 2521)

the reconciliation scene was so sweet and so full of sincerity and RAW HONESTY AND PATIENCE!

"an unrequited love for a cat"

this man can't express what he truly feels for the life of him. he's eloquent when it comes to other things, conversation just flows when you talk to him, and he's ready to jump and explain discussions to youngwoo. but when it comes to his feelings, he gets all jumbled up. thanks to everyone who pointed that out, i just fell in love with him more.

he's cheesy. he's a puppy who is very much in love. he practices what he wants to say so he it comes out right, even though all he can come up with is "i like you."

this confession shows us that.

there was communication on his part, keeping his honesty that although there will be times that he'll feel lonely, she makes him a million times happier just by being with her and caring for her. she's not a burden.

commitment was made obvious, the love subtle but very present. and that, to me, is more than enough of a promise.

and she loves him so very much. the look in her eyes as he says all that, the relief? (oh my god, park eunbin)

"cats love their owners/humans too"

I SCREAMED SO LOUD

cats make people lonely sometimes but they're loyal and cuddly and love their humans that care for them and love them, too.

she used that to correct him and also to confess to him, and it's perfect! she runs but looks back at him and smiles, and we all fell head over heels in love for her (AGAIN) 🥺

this finale proved to us even more that they work as a couple. they're right for each other and they both give each other strength. junho took inspiration from youngwoo to be brave and tell her how he feels. junho will step up to help her when needed (needed that energy in ep15 but i digress). youngwoo knows that junho is her partner, someone who she can ask to stay and listen in on whatever news this mysterious man wants to tell her. youngwoo is now reassured that junho is happy with her and wants to be with her no matter what, and youngwoo reassures him back that she is with him, too.

that she loves him!!!

ending it with the two of them by the revolving doors, although this time junho waits for her instead of the other way around, was an ending worth the pain they and we all endured in the past eps. 🥺 my beautiful parents are happy and that's more than enough!!

although i don't know if the writer wrote this series with a 2nd season in mind, there are still many things to explore in this relationship. like junho's life, meeting the parents (both of them), and a few more hiccups, maybe?

and marriage. moving in together?

an ocean-themed wedding.

marriage?

giv me it.

ps.

i'm glad he's back

he never left?

they made him leave her to deal with the reporters in ep 15 for angst. i'm still mad. it makes me want to think lee junho in ep 15 is a figment of our nightmares. he does not exist in this canon, nope.

(there's a fix it fic on ao3 about it tho, so!! it's fine)

and he made up for it anyway :D

in the end, he got the girl and he's happy. <3 he's living his best life right now, frankly.

friends

i miss you already, hanbadaz!!!

they all had satisfying endings that, again, isn't fully complete so there's more room to further delve into them in a possible season 2, but they were all happy at the end and that's all i could ask for.

but i want to take this time to talk about minwoo for a sec.

he's... changed. sort of. and i want to say it's all for love because if it weren't for suyeon telling him to be a fool for his colleague, i fully believe he wouldn't have gone to tae sumi to tell her he's giving up on getting youngwoo fired.

he still helped and encouraged tae sumi to make it happen, given that he told tae sumi that youngwoo's vulnerable at the time and would willingly go if she told her to. (very VERY untrue) but i'm sort of glad he did that, looking at it in a character standpoint. it makes sense for him, tactician kwon minwoo, to do that.

it also makes sense that he tries to befriend youngwoo after, in that scene where he tried to cheer her on.

no. nice try, tho.

when he told tae sumi that youngwoo broke up with someone, and when tae sumi looked taken aback that she was in a relationship (your daughter's an attractive woman, maam), minwoo was like yes? and? i was shocked??? idk i read it as him getting confused why she wouldn't think that was possible, and that earned him points. then again, her reaction was exactly like his upon finding out about junwoo the first time...

*sighs*

but, again, it makes sense.

that's his redemption arc in a nutshell - barely there but it makes absolute sense for his character not to completely change his ways. should it have been made a wee bit earlier? yeah. pushing him into the "good guy for love" agenda in the last 5 eps is meh.

suyeon's arc was completed when she finally fell for a guy that wouldn't hurt her (assuming) and would change for her (he's trying) and one that actually likes her back. i'm glad they left it open-ended between them. kissing scenes are reserved for junwoo only!

geurami is and will be forever by youngwoo's side, and the look of pride on her face in her last scene made me cry. she's always been happy and carefree and youngwoo's #1 fan (maybe #2 because junho) and she will remain the same always.

and minsik. he finally has a few new regulars in his pub!! THAT'S MORE THAN WHAT HE NEEDS! i'm glad they didn't make minsik and geurami a couple, because it was never implied. they have a funny platonic boss/employee relationship from the beginning and it stayed that way. (but if they open up season 2 with yearning between them, i'm on board!!)

and atty jung, who is recovering and got his wife back! will he stay in hanbada? i honestly didn't catch it 😭 he winked but?? youngwoo's reaction was how i felt like sir?? wdym??? as long as he's happy and taken care of, and that he keeps his promise to his wife that he'll go easier this time around for his health, then i'm glad.

*sobs*

i'm going to miss them very much. 😔

fulfillment

i had to pause for a sec, like junho pacing in front of youngwoo's house, to try and find the right words to express how i feel and how much i love woo young woo.

if i had to find one word to describe how i feel about her, it will also be a sense of fulfillment.

(am i crying? you'll never know, won't you?)

youngwoo just makes you love her without any real effort coming from her. she's beautiful, kind, hardworking, playful, adorable, and thoughtful.

she compared herself to a narwhal lost in the midst of beluga whales that hinder her from being who she is, but she believes her life is still valuable and beautiful - because it is! it's so fulfilling (!!!) to hear her say that after everything that we saw her go through.

going from the shy rookie attorney who had first day jitters and hesitated giving her opening statement on her first real trial to becoming more and more confident, in her zone, and ultimately renewing her contract at hanbada as a full-time attorney is an amazing arc. she's living her best life! she works at a job she loves in a line of work that she's passionate about, she has an amazing support system, and she has a boyfriend who loves her.

hearing her say that she loves working at hanbada made me feel warm inside. she didn't quit and found some place else where she could defend the good like atty ryu jaesook, and that's alright. that reassurance that she wants to stay put and is enjoying her work is more than enough.

i'd say her journey from ep 1 to ep 16 isn't smooth sailing, but then we got an ending that eases all our worries and reassures us that from then on, youngwoo will be more than okay. 💙

the line that really sent me a breath of fresh air was, non-verbatim, "my mom wasn't around growing up, so why should i go to the states for her?"

and that was that, the boston plot done in a single sentence. the mother plot extended to the brother plot, and i would watch 10 hours of sangyeon and youngwoo interacting tbh.

it's fine that nobody else found out about her mom, because like she said, it doesn't matter. she wasn't around when she grew up, so why bring that up now?

i can't fault tae sumi too much, given that she was forced to have the baby. but then she had to be selfish and treat both her daughter and son the same way (as in, putting herself and her position first before her child's needs and wants). so. i'm conflicted. but it's fine. she got what she deserved in the end.

youngwoo has grown so much over the course of this series, and i'm so glad to have met her and spend this time with her as i watched the show. (i'll be rewatching over and over again)

this post isn't about what i learned as a neurotypical, but i'm glad that this show exists and that i delved into the fandom and read through a lot of takes, thoughts, translations, and things in general about autism spectrum disorder. i'll strive to be a junho, geurami, and atty jung in a world full of minwoos and atty jangs.

whale hug!!!

attorney woo youngwoo, i whale love you always <3

ps. season 2 is possible, but not set in stone. i read some news that no official offers have been made to eunbin about it and her management only found out that a season 2 might be happening is through the news as well, so. let's all wait for now <3

#extraordinary attorney woo #woo young woo #lee jun ho #park eunbin #kang taeoh #lia.txt #this took DAYS because every time i tried to write the youngwoo section i start crying #i'm going to miss her so much #i really am so glad that i got to go on her journey #again this is why i cant watch kdramas #i get way too attached #and then it's stuck with me for months #i'm barely over our beloved summer #and i'm falling FAST for kang tae oh IM DOWN BAD OKAY #i will live on the eaw ao3 tag for now

[scruffyplayssonic]

Is ArchieSonic actually an 80's/90's cartoon? (teaser)

So it's been awhile since I posted any original content of my own on here. But today a user in a Discord server I'm in posted this tweet thread:

twitter dot com/DrawnCoyote/status/1588272387312611329?s=20&t=6LALetoq7tYSDZ-agGgf_Q

And so on for the rest of the thread. So yeah, I feel like there's a lot of truth there. Another user commented that he felt a lot of that stuff had happened in the Archie Sonic the Hedgehog comics, so I went through the list one by one, yay-ing or nay-ing them with the examples that I could think of off the top of my head. I did consider doing something more indepth with pictures and issue numbers and actual research, but I didn't really have the time for it. However my friend Radrey said he'd like to see that, so consider this a tease. Definitely not tonight, and maybe not tomorrow, but I'm definitely going to do this. :)

Radrey also suggested I could do my own review series, which is something I'm less sure about. Like, there are some great blogs out there already like @thankskenpenders and @robotnikholmescomicblog - heck, Robotnik Holmes even does video reviews over on YouTube now in addition to his Tumblr blog! Is there anything I could say that they haven't already covered, and probably much more eloquently than I could? But Radrey just had to go and plant that idea in my head, and now I've started thinking about how I would do such a thing. This is just like when @thatpersonrightbehindyou suggested I do a Professor Oak Challenge and while I initially said I could never do that, I soon found the idea stuck in my head. You can check out how that went here if you're curious.

So yeah, no promises that I'll pull the trigger on a full review series, but it is something I'm definitely thinking about now (damn you, Radrey. xD) But the comparison to the 65 episodes of your typical 80's/90's cartoon? That'll be coming soon. :)

#archiesonic syndicated