#Master Mind!Iris

[captainkirkk]

✩ WEEKLY FIC ROUND-UP ✩

All the fics I’ve read and really enjoyed in the past week-ish. Reminder: This list features any and all ratings and themes. Please look at tags and warnings on ao3 before reading.

Merlin

The Walls of Camelot by spqr

"Camelot will fall tomorrow,” Arthur says, on the first day of the eighth month of the siege.

DC

IRIS Log #1548 by deadchannelradio

Disclaimer From Your Friendly Neighborhood Oracle:

The following is a transcript of Patrol Communications Audio written by state of the art transcription technology, IRIS (Interpretation of Recorded Intelligence Software). IRIS was created to provide easily searchable records, automatically, and eliminate the need to transcribe each patrol audio log manually. That being said, IRIS is still experimental, and may not always be entirely accurate. - (01:25) Red Hood: (Mild static) (Out of breath, slurred) You motherfuckers. Put some fuckin-

(01:25) Batman: (Shaking) Red Hood-

(01:25) Red Hood: Shut up. Put some fucking respect. On my name. Start fucking copying me. I just got thrown fucking. Um. 40 feet. Into a fucking uh. What's it. Ditch. I'm still fucking conscious.

(01:25) Batman: Red Hood, do not move, we're en route-

(01:25) Red Hood: What'll I win if I stand up.

(01:25) Batman: (Loud) Do not stand up.

we shall be free; we shall find peace by mediant

Clark has accepted what it means to be Lex's prisoner - the pain of the Green, the experiments, the hands on it. The long years buried in its containment cell, let out only to act as Lex's weapon, as Lex's tool. It had fought back at first, but years have ground it down and away to almost nothing.

Then Lex hands it a baby. And Clark realizes that while it may have hurt humans, and lied about what it is, and it may deserve to be locked away - Kon deserves to be free.

Untamed

The Absolutely True Story of the Yiling Patriarch: A Manifesto in Many Parts by aubreyli (+ podfic)

Wei Wuxian’s hand jolts, spilling a drop of wine onto the tabletop. “Love?” he croaks, then clears his throat and tries again. “Lan Zh— uh, Hanguang-jun, in love?”

“Have you not heard the story?” the other young woman asks, looking pitying. “You must, it is a truly heartrending tale of star-crossed romance and mutual pining — go to any storyhouse in town, everyone has been requesting a reading of this book.”

“There’s a book?” Wei Wuxian says blankly.

-- In which the junior disciples (namely, Lan Jingyi, Ouyang Zizhen, and a reluctant Lan Sizhui) turn to RPF in an attempt to rehabilitate Wei Wuxian's reputation so that he and Hanguang-jun can get together and get married and live happily ever after. It's... surprisingly effective.

Clone Wars

patron saint by spqr (+ podfic)

Funerary practices? Master Ti writes back. I’m not sure what you mean, Master Kenobi. Used biomass is the property of Kamino and thus is recycled into the cloning process.

So that’s how the revolution begins—with dead brothers, but not the way you might expect.

Miraculous Ladybug

drowning (in plain sight) by buggachat

Everybody had expected Monarch's defeat to be a moment of triumph. Nobody had expected Gabriel Agreste, unmasked and mind frayed from continual abuse of the miraculous, crying out to all who would listen and making Paris certain of one thing:

His son, Adrien Agreste, is one of his sentimonsters.

And now he's missing.

Nobody can find him— not even the superheroes, and not even his closest friends. But Marinette, Nino, and Alya aren't ones to give up so easily. They'll find him, no matter what it takes.

(But, geez, would it kill Chat Noir to lend a hand?)

#happy saturday!! #i hope everything is having a better weekend than me #i'm sick :(( #my posts #weekly fic round up #fic recs #merlin recs #untamed recs #dc recs #sw recs #ml recs

[honeydewsblue]

april 2005

prelude ; second & first impressions

gojo satoru has the skies and ocean in his eyes—the heavens and the earth. the light and clouds and seas, everything and the void, they all show themselves in the celestite carved and polished to make up his iris. he has that impossible hue the gods mixed themselves with sanctity and their creation. nothing less for their little god. nothing more in fear that he will reach too close. you hear he’s getting real close to it, though—to godhood.

a god amongst men, and he’s only fifteen.

that is your second-hand impression of him.

your first-hand impression: he is a fucking dick, and whatever religious symbolism the color of his eyes hold means jack shit to you. they’re all too complicated and controversial on their own, anyway.

he is a god, he is holy, he is responsible (ha!). that’s what white and blue say he is.

when he walks into class on the first day, well over 45 minutes late and acting like he owns the whole damn school, you know you’ve both been lied to and given a plain, distasteful truth. he is not holy, but he’s the closest thing to a god on earth. if his ego is anything to go by.

it takes all of 5 minutes for a fight to break out between him and the only other special grade in class. you share a look with ieiri, who’s already pulled her phone out.

geto suguru and gojo satoru are both given detention for the rest of the day.

the next day, he barely regards you. you hear him get scolded by geto, something about his manners, and you subtly scoot away in case of emergency. to your surprise, all you hear is a scoff and in place of a brawl, there is banter. the scolding doesn’t do much. he doesn’t deign to apologize to you. you could care less—he doesn’t owe you any attention.

it’s when he calls you weak during a mission that ticks you off.

the next couple of weeks go like that. he ignores you and only acknowledges you to dig at your strength. you think he forgets you exist at any other time; out of sight out of mind. so much for having all encompassing eyes.

to you, he is arrogant, and he is egotistical, and he is god-awful.

being a god amongst men must do that to a person. when you are truly, undeniably above all others, it’s almost reasonable to be all those things: egotistical, arrogant, and god-awful. it’s all he’d known.

his title—young master, the boy-god, the strongest, et cetera, ad nauseam—demands the worship of his subordinates without him having to say a word. worship feeds into ego, and he’s been worshipped since the day he was born.

people have hated him since the day he was born, too. they’ve wanted to knock him right off the stairs of heaven he was born climbing up. bounties and assassination attempts have been tacked on his head ever since the world tipped on it’s axis.

gojo satoru has it all, silver spoon fed to him and served on a shining silver platter. there are people hungry for his head to drop clean onto it with a matching silver blade.

godhood doesn’t mix well with man. people are not meant to be as benevolent, as selfless as their deities are. they aren’t capable of it. that’s why they pray.

it’s all bull. gojo is the closest thing to a god and the farthest thing from a man. he is a teenage boy.

#𐙚 ˖ ◜ ꒰ glimpses of life ꒱ #jjk gojo #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #satoru gojo x reader #my writing ණ⃛(ᵒ͈̑ᴗ̂ᵒ͈̑ )

[gallifreyanhotfive]

Random Doctor Who Facts You Might Not Know, Part 12

A Class Two Intervention refers to the violation of Gallifreyan law resulting from a Time Lord setting themselves up as the God of another culture. The penalty for such an act is vaporization.

The Eighth Doctor has described his blood as "yummy" on several occasions.

The Fifth Doctor, Tegan, Nyssa, and Adric once watched a play depicting how the First Doctor and Susan saved the planet Lemaria from the Megrati. The Fifth noticed that the actor playing the First was actually the Twelfth Doctor and then watched the Twelfth bluff the Megrati, thus preventing a second invasion.

After breaking her vortex manipulator and being it, a Time Agent in training named Keira Sanstrom tracked the Twelfth Doctor down to St. Luke's, dismantled Nardole, and kidnapped him to get her back to the planet Calandra.

Sarah Jane Smith caught the Black Death in London 1666.

The Fourth Doctor's body was once taken over by Rascla, and to defeat Rascla, he took over Sarah's mind. A brutal psychic battle ensued.

One time when the Fifth Doctor, Tegan, Nyssa, and Adric went grocery shopping, the Master trapped them in the store by turning it into a maze, but they were able to find their way out by marking their trail with frozen peas.

The Tenth Doctor claimed that he had never flown a hot air balloon before when he flew one in 1851. However, this is not the case as the Fifth Doctor has also done so, but because of the many times he had lost his memories since that day, he likely does not remember it.

The Eighth Doctor has a purple Volkswagen Beetle.

The Daleks celebrate "Extermination Day" every other day of their calendar.

The Sixth Doctor once briefly considered swapping his signature outfit for a Santa Claus suit.

While guarding the Pandorica, Rory faced off several times against Merlin, who was himself trying to get the Pandorica and had poisoned Lancelot, funded all sorts of plots, and cast spells on Camelot to do so. Unbeknownst to Rory, Merlin is an alias that the Doctor used.

The Doctor's real name is 38 syllables long and incredibly difficult for a human to pronounce.

Due to extensive manipulation of the Doctor’s biodata, all origin stories are paradoxically equally true.

It's thought to be impossible to lie under the Time Winds, so it is thus often used during interrogations on Gallifrey.

In the far future, an incarnation of the Doctor is the tyrannical supreme leader of the universe called the Emperor.

The Doctor has traveled with Iris Wildthyme before, essentially as her companion.

The Master remembers the Rock Monsters to be "orange scrotum monsters.

Part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25, 26, 27, 28

#doctor who #dr who #dw #classic who #new who #eighth doctor #fifth doctor #first doctor #big finish doctor who #big finish audios #big finish #dw eu #doctor who eu #doctor who expanded universe #the master #iris wildthyme #rory williams #merlin #sixth doctor #tenth doctor #tegan jovanka #nyssa #adric #twelfth doctor #nardole #fourth doctor #sarah jane smith #nyssa of traken #adric of alzarius #daleks

[relicsongmel]

Thinking about Iris' very open disdain for spirit channeling and how it seemingly contradicts many other elements of her character.

Let me explain—Iris prior to the end of BttT is a woman who only knows facades, covering up the truth, and only presenting herself exactly as she wants others to see her. We see this over and over again throughout the course of the story: she hides her real identity while dating Phoenix, she does damage control for Dahlia and Godot to help them avoid blame for their crimes, and she is extremely selective about which information she chooses to disclose to specific people depending on whatever role she finds herself playing in that moment (daughter, girlfriend, accomplice, etc). Her demeanor as a whole is also rather meek and unassuming, and she's shown to be exceptionally kind; she expresses favorable opinions on most everyone she meets, even those continuously treated poorly by other characters (like Larry) or those that have objectively done reprehensible things (like Dahlia).

All of this stands in stark contrast to her saying in no uncertain terms that she hates spirit channeling:

This stands out to me because it is one of very few things that Iris is completely forthright honest about in the early portion of this case. After spending all day avoiding Phoenix and now carefully dodging his questions towards her in hopes of preventing the truth of her deception from coming out (all of this while actively avoiding her responsibilities at the Inner Temple because of Larry's "blackmail" letter which also threatened to expose her "secret"), why is this the one bit of truth she chooses to divulge here? Or rather: why is this the one thing she seemingly cannot lie about?

Obviously the answer lies in Iris' past and the permanent damage that was done to her and her family due to the politics of the Fey clan, with the Kurain Channeling Technique at the root, and the DL-6 incident as the event that brought everything to ruin. Iris bore witness to her mother Morgan losing the title of Master of Kurain due to her inferior powers and the despair that caused her, then three years later saw her aunt Misty who, despite purportedly being so much better than her mother, made a mistake while channeling that led to an innocent man's conviction, disgracing the Fey name and causing her to flee the village in shame. With this in mind, it makes sense that Iris would feel so strongly about spiritual powers doing more harm than good; after all, she has firsthand experience of the damage that can be done to the women that have it.

But what of the women that don't have it—namely, Iris herself? What happens to a spirit medium, born of the Fey bloodline, daughter of the then-master of her channeling school, when she's shown to not have any spiritual powers? I'm of the opinion that Iris' hatred is not only a product of what she's seen happen to her mother and aunt, but also very closely tied to what is, essentially, her earliest failure in life—after all, what good is a medium who can't channel? Fey women are raised to believe that their worth is linked to how well they can perform the service of their clan, which is the same reason why Maya beats herself up for failing to channel Mia in Turnabout Goodbyes and Pearl does the same with Dahlia later in this case. In a sense, Iris' hatred of spirit channeling is an externalization of her own self-hatred—unlike Dahlia, who mainly copes by lashing out and seeking revenge on those who wrong her, Iris is far too gentle and loving to lay blame on any one person. But all that repressed guilt and anger still has to go somewhere—and it manifests through this one small crack in her otherwise flawless facade. The one thing she cannot bring herself to find beauty in no matter how much she tries. The one thing that should have given her purpose but didn't—leaving her no choice but to mold herself beyond recognition over and over into roles that aren't truly her own, but at the very least give her meaning where she was denied it before.

And knowing her? She probably hates that flaw more than anything.

#ace attorney #pwaa #ace attorney trials and tribulations #aa #iris hawthorne #iris fey #iris of hazakura temple #phoenix wright #dahlia hawthorne #morgan fey #misty fey #aa3 spoilers #meta #my meta #i still have a BIT more to say about iris choosing to stay at hazakura temple in spite of this hatred #and what that says about her. but that'll have to wait for another day bc this post is already quite long #guys i love iris soooo much did you know that #local woman going feral over sister iris ace attorney for the 261478th time. more at 11

[dragonqueenofice]

A Cloth Flower

Word Count: 630

Summary: Flowers discarded as soon as they bloom, yet love blossoms brighter still (Or, you try and fail to make a bouquet for a budding crush)

notes: i love men who are just a little fucked up

     A red spider lily, born of crimson cloth and wire sits upon your desk. Your hands work to add more petals, forming the flower into the form oh so recognizable. “How many am I gonna need?” You ponder, glancing up and rewinding back the tutorial that’s been playing for around three hours now, and stuck on the same spot for half that time. You weave the next petal into its spot, doubt seeding into your mind as the flower forms alongside. “Does he even like spider lilies?” You ponder, cutting the cloth for another petal as the guide speaks that this is the last step. “He's always haunted by death, why would he want more reminders?”

     So you scrap it, tossing the flower aside like the past three hours meant nothing. The vibrant red lily resting atop the scraps of cloth and projects abandoned as soon as started like a king atop his throne. You feel no remorse, not sparing a glance for the poor flower’s descent as your eyes are on the monitor ahead, fingers typing flowers that mean life and looking through results. 

—

     A peach blossom, born of pastel cloth and wire sits upon your desk. Your hands work to add the last petal to the small flower, forming it into the third of the to-be bouquet. You glance up to the monitor and groan, despising the song that started but not having the energy to change it. Your hands insert in the next petal, your mind not noticing the size of the blossom growing one petal too large as doubt seeds in yet again, “wouldn't he hate a flower about life more?” your mind whispers, hands lowering the flower onto the table with little revere. Knuckles clack against the wood as your thumbs press down on the petals, bending them out of shape, “Haunted by death, yes, but infected with life… What if he hates it? What if he hates me?”

     So you toss them, blossoms fluttering down and resting beside the lily atop scraps of their own, yet another projected abandoned and yet another wasted night. One hand threads fingers through your hair as the other types, painfully slow, flowers that mean love.

—

     “Could you go fetch our dear creative?” Kafka’s honey-sweet voice rings through Blade’s head as his shoes clack against the floor, coming to a stop at your door. He clicks the master key Kafka lent him to your door, pondering for only a second why the Hunters have such high tech doors as it opens. He steps in and the lights come on, illuminating your sleeping form slumped over the desk and the scraps of cloth sprawled around the wood. The cloth, an iris purple in hue is formed into an approximation of a petal, it seems you passed out mid-work. Blade steps towards the desk, stopping beside the chair as his eye is caught by the vibrant flowers left discarded in the trash. He reaches out, curious to feel the silken cloth of the creations you labored over, but his arm disturbs the chair and startles you awake.

     You make eye contact, Blade’s piercing gaze stuck on your eyes as you freeze up like a startled fawn. “...Why are you in my room?” You finally break the deafening silence with whispered words.

     “Kafka wanted you.” He holds out a gloved hand to help you stand, Kafka’s warning to “play nice” echoing in his head as you stand, reluctantly pressing your palm to his for support. Blade doesn’t question that strange feeling that clenches around his heart, seeing your hand clasped over his, and he doesn’t question the arm he offers you for support against your back when you walk. He’s playing nice, a blade doesn’t feel after all.

#dragon queen writes #honkai star rail #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #hsr #hsr blade #blade hsr #blade x reader #hsr blade x reader #blade hsr x reader #wow Dragon writing for not genshin #it's a moment in history

[sluggishslugcrimes]

Closed Mind au

Wally, a clown son: do you hate my kind, sir? Did a clown hurt you so bad as a child you have to take it out on a fellow silly little guy?

Bruce: I don't hate clowns.

Wally, looks at Dick:

Dick, shakes his head: he's lying.

Wally, sighs softly: adults normally do, just stop beating my uncle into a pulp and hurt my auntie; uncle Joke was just at the bank to get a loan! A business loan!! You broke an ex and reformed villain's legs for nothing because he was getting a business loan for a clown store!

Bruce: I said I was sorry! You're ten, you just don't understand it yet. *To Dick* and you shouldn't have told him our identities.

Wally: I think I understand breaking a person's legs for nothing is wrong!

Dick: B, we came from the same circus, I tell him everything duh.

Wally:I'm calling Mama (Iris) and auntie Pam. Mr. Pennyworth, can I call my Mama and auntie?

Alfred: of course young master Wallace, this way.

Dick, smiling big: oooo you're in trouble now, B!

Bruce, scoff: please, I'm not scared.

Wally, in the next room: FEAR HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH IT, SIR!

Baby Jason: ‘hats goin’ on?

Dick: B messed up big time little wing.

Baby Jason: ooooo yous in t’ouble!

Bruce: you corrupted him.

Dick: I saved him, I don't need two of you running around hurting people for no reason.

#wally west #dick grayson #bruce wayne #jason todd #alfred pennyworth #closed Mind au #wally was a son of a clown and so the gay clowns adopted him once again #joker is actually just a silly little guy who is just besties with Harley #they just did silly crimes at most traumatic but mostly it just silly bank robberies and stuff #also maybe the death of rudy but that's not able to be proven #mama iris and pam set that man straight #Dick and wally live by circus code #they got loyalty like no other #lie detector meta! Dick #birdflash #batfam #big brother dick saving his sibs from being Bruce

[hxney-lemcn]

The Show Goes On — Berial (AFK Journey) x gn! reader

summery: you find yourself in the clutches of a jester who just wanted to have some fun. (un)fortunately for you, you seemed to have peaked his interest.

tw: uhhh Berial straight up kidnaps reader 💀 (this is not a yandere thing tho. Just crazy people shit). mentions of death/dying.

a/n: Berial simps have some food. Idk what possessed me when I wrote this but enjoy.

wc: 2.5k

Master List

The moon shone brightly over the town, casting dark shadows around every corner. Lights dimly lit up the main streets, guiding you on your way home. You had decided to cut through an alley,  something that you typically did to cut your travel short. Yet, as soon as you stepped foot into the dark alley only being lit up by the moon, you heard bells chime behind you. You paused, heart accelerating.

There were rumors of a Hypogen monster that lurked in the shadows. That if you heard bells to not look behind you or you would be doomed. How the screams of its victims were silenced before they could even let out a peep. You thought they were tales parents told to keep their kids from sneaking out at night, but at the moment it felt all too real. Taking in a deep breath, you tried to regain your composure, it was a silly rumor, but the way your hair stood on end had you stay cautious. 

You continued walking, trying to ignore the giggles that now accompanied the jingles. Your head twitched, instinct begging you to just take a peak at what was making noise, but you forced your head to stay forward. Your pace grew faster, as the end of the alley came into view. Every fiber in your bones told you you’d be safer in the light (silly humans always thought that). 

Just as you were about to step foot out of the alley, relief briefly flowed through you, only for that hope to be snatched just as quickly. Dark glove clad hands tugged you back by your shoulders, that giggling voice now right next to your ear. You couldn’t stop the shriek that tore from your lips as an inky dark face came into view. It donned a jagged grin, you could barely comprehend what you were currently witnessing. It had no lips, its jagged mouth reminding you of a jack-o-lantern, except jack-o-lanterns were meant to ward off evil. It seemed to lack any eyes, as there were no pupils or iris’, just pure white that was tinted purple. 

Its giggles turned into full blown laughter as it continued to drag you back into the inky blackness. You struggled, unsure what it wanted with you, but clearly it was nothing good. Your stomach dropped when you were suddenly picked up and were flying. You ceased your struggling, suddenly very aware that the hypogean could easily drop you to your demise. That seemed to amuse it all the more as its impossibly wide grin widened. 

Then, like it hadn’t just kidnapped you, set you down on your now wobbly legs. You placed your weight on a nearby wall, slowly taking in your surroundings. It wasn’t Esperia, that was for sure, which made your blood run cold. The two of you were in an area that you could only describe to look like a void. Dark, purple tinted clouds curled in the distance, the only ground being the weird estate like structure you were currently in. It hurt your mind wondering just how this place existed, and the hypogean seemed all too pleased by your expression. 

“You are tonight's winner!” The being exclaimed in a flourish. It twirled before falling into a dramatic bow, but instead of just taking off its hat, it took off its entire head. You blinked, bewildered as its eyes blinked up at you. It paused, as if waiting for you to clap, and you couldn’t hold the laughter that flew past your lips in surprise. The entire situation was absurd, and if you didn’t laugh you might actually cry. 

Your reactions seemed to make the entity even more jolly as it swiftly put its head on backwards. Only to twist it into the correct position, causing you to chuckle once more. It seemed to thrive on your ‘enjoyment’ (you didn’t find much joy in this situation) as it was more enthusiastic than before. 

“I knew you would be an interesting human,” It preened, every movement exaggerated as if to entertain. “As tonight’s winner, your prize is to witness a show put on by the great Berial himself!” The bells on his uniform chimed gently as he floated up, arms wide open along with his wings. 

You watched with caution, unsure of what was to become of you. Just what did Hypogeans find entertaining? Didn’t they enjoy the anguish of people? Spilling blood and finding joy in tears? It clearly found joy in your fear earlier, but strangely he seemed to enjoy your amusement as well. What would happen to you after the ‘show’? Is that when he would dispose of you? Perhaps you were the last act, to be messed with until you could no longer cry nor bleed.

“Now take a seat and let the show begin!” Berial (you assumed) exclaimed, whisking you away into a room that held a stage. One lone seat laid before it, and the jester gently pushed you into it. 

Every act had you on the edge of your seat. He would take a classic magician trick and have some dark twist. It took out a magician's wand, and with a flourish, it turned into a bouquet. You hadn’t seen magicians before, your only exposure being that from books, so it was all new to you. You merely worked at a tavern, hence why you were walking home so late in the first place. So at first, when he presented you the bouquet, you had forgotten for a split second that this was a hypogean you were dealing with, stranded in the middle of the definition of nowhere. Hesitantly you reached for the bouquet, the flowers were breathtakingly beautiful, and when your fingers wrapped around the base, bugs started to crawl out of the flowers. You screamed out of surprise, dropping the flowers and pushing yourself as far as you could into the surprisingly comfortable chair. 

Berial’s laugh rang out above you as you tried to steady your breathing. Once again it found your fear hilarious, and you halfheartedly glared. He laughed so hard his head rolled off his head, and you watched as it rolled past you, descending into an inky shadow. Its glowing eyes seemed to be seared into your eyelids as you swore you could still see the glow after you blinked. Your attention turned back to Berial’s body as it furiously patted where it’s head once hovered (you noticed it never fully connected with the rest of his body). 

You watched curiously as his hat appeared in one of his hands. He reached into his hat, pulling out miscellaneous items. Your amusement grew as the items grew to be more ridiculous. You lost it when it pulled out a gleamtail, the squirrel-like animal looking around confused, your gentle laugh filling the silence. That seemed to be the goal of that act, as he finally pulled his own head out of his hat, plopping both back where they belonged. He bowed again, and this time you did clap, a small grin tugging at your lips. The longer you watched, the more comfortable you became, and the less scary the entity before you seemed. Its acts grew more and more ridiculous, with a scare or two in between. 

Yet every show must come to an end. Berial was bowing once again after cutting a shadow creature in half and pretended to have lost its lower half. You clapped, finding yourself enjoying the company of such a strange being, only for the curtains to finally close. The show had been going on for so long that you forgot that there was going to be an end. You felt yourself tense once more, unsure what was going to happen next. Was this it? Were you going to die? He had all his fun and now it was time to get rid of you. You anxiously stayed in your seat, eyes scanning your surroundings. The grandiose room was dark, the lights that lit up the stage were gone and it was hard for you to see much of anything. 

“Boo!” Berial popped out suddenly in front of you. You flinched back, his long nose nearly poking your own. His glowing eyes and mouth were the only thing lighting up your surroundings. Giggling lightly, it pulled away, the rest of his body blending in with the darkness. 

“You are such a fun human,” It giggled, hands holding its face in what seemed to be fake adoration. “I’m tempted to keep you around.” This seemed to be your way out. Even if you actually had fun, you didn’t want to stick around for too long. Hopefully you could convince him to let you go.

“W-wouldn’t it be more fun to bring me back to Esperia?” You asked, feeling a bit intimidated with his eyes solely on you. “To try and catch me off guard?”

“My, and you’re so smart for a human,” Berial clapped. “Hide and seek does sound fun.” Before you could fully comprehend what he just said, you picked you up from your seat again. He flew you both back where you came, and you had to squint as the sun shone overhead. 

…

That was how you found yourself with a Hypogean popping out at you when you’d least suspect it. It was weird, as you thought he’d lose interest in you the second he was gone, but he continued to surprise you. Sometimes as you’d walk to work you’d feel like something was watching you from the shadows, and now you had a reason to worry. 

Yet it never seemed like Berial actually meant you any harm. Its giggles trailed after you warmly, its scares becoming more playful than scary, sometimes it would even sweep you into an impromptu dance to a song only it could hear. You found yourself looking forward to your next meeting, eyes trailing to the shadows, watching for any hint of a disturbance within. 

Your coworkers had started to avoid you when they could. The sound of bells that used to be associated with the night had now started to be associated with you. Quickly you found yourself to be ostracized, people whispering about you just out of hearing range. You started to feel comforted in the jesters presence. He never failed to cheer you up (or scare you), and he found himself spending more time with you as well.

Typically Berial found people boring. They always reacted the same. Scream, cry, plead for their life. That wasn’t fun. And although his perception of fun was a bit…morbid, he couldn’t help but find you interesting. He hadn’t met anyone who actually laughed at his jokes, who didn’t scream when he tipped not just his hat but his entire head. You were a strange and fascinating human, and Berial found himself wanting to spend more and more time with you, seeing if he could make you pull an expression he hasn’t seen before. 

He found himself growing fond of you, something he didn’t think he could even feel! How strange you were for pulling these feelings out of him. It wanted more, its hunger insatiable, wanting to explore those odd feelings. The way it felt warm and fluttery at your laugh, or how its nonexistent heart jumped at any contact with you. Oh, and the way your eyes lit up when it would imitate you, and how silly you were when you would play back. No one had ever tried to entertain the entertainer before! 

That was how you found yourself in your current situation. The jester weighed you down as it laid its head in your lap. It made you slightly curious if you could pluck his head up just as he can to himself, but you felt it might be a bit rude if you tried (or maybe he’d like that, it was hard to tell). Instead, you found yourself brushing your fingers through his hair, his top hat resting on top of your own head. He seemed to preen under your touch, his jagged smile as wide as ever, he looked like the cat that got the cream. His tail had wrapped around your waist, and you were slightly curious why he seemed to be so affectionate. He was already odd for a Hypogean, but this was just adding to it. 

“Is something the matter?” You asked, fingers trailing down to his dark skin. You half expected your hands to ghost through him as his skin seemed to blend in with the shadows. 

“Never been better,” It said with a content sigh. You felt yourself heat up at the implication. Was it really so happy to be in your presence? Receiving your affection? You felt even warmer when it nuzzled its face closer to your hands. “What do you humans call this feeling again? Love?” You spluttered, flabbergasted at what just transpired. Love? Is it serious? Can a Hypogean even love? And a human no less. 

“H-huh?” You asked, eyes wide as you stared down at it. 

Suddenly, he broke out laughing and you felt your heart clench, “I’ve never seen you look like that before! Oh the hilarity!” Of course he doesn’t love you, he’s messing with you. He’s trying to get a rise out of you. And suddenly you found yourself wanting to leave. No longer did he seem warm like you had thought, but instead the cold monster he truly was. You shuffled, trying to push him off of you, but he stayed firm in his place. For someone so bouncy and light looking, he really could be heavy when he wanted. 

“Now now,” Berial continued to giggle lightly. “No need for the dramatics. Do I seem like someone who’d tell such jokes?” You only raised an eyebrow and he broke out in laughter once again. “Ah I suppose you have a point, dear. But truely, I would not joke about such things with you.” You wearily watched him as he sat up and turned to fully face you. Lifting up his hands, he gently grabbed your cheeks and squished them, causing you to send him a lighthearted glare.

“You are a strange human indeed,” He muttered, and a strange seriousness filled his tone. “What do you say, human. Do you feel the same?” Once again you felt your guard rise, unsure if this was another of his jokes or if he genuinely meant what he said. Although his smile seemed permanently imprinted into his features, the ends of his mouth looked softer, smaller. 

“Maybe,” You muttered to the best of your ability as his hands continued to squish his cheeks, your eyes couldn’t seem to look away no matter how hard you tried. 

“Then I must turn that maybe into definitely!” Berial exclaimed, jumping up with a flourish. 

“How are you going to do that?” You asked wearily. 

“It wouldn’t be a surprise if I told you.” And with that, he disappeared with a wink.

Just what have you gotten yourself into?

#afk journey x reader #afk arena x reader #berial afk journey x reader #afk journey berial x reader #berial x reader #afk journey #afk arena #berial afk journey #afk journey berial #berial #x reader

[hwaightme]

Panacea

OUT NOW: Panacea

song used in teaser: de selby (part 1) by hozier

🌊pairing: poet!seonghwa x doctor!gn!reader 🌊genre: fluff, slice of life, slow burn, healing, strangers to lovers, comfort 🌊summary: what do a poet who lost his inspiration and a cosmetic surgeon who lost their empathy have in common? when you make an escape from the city to a memory-filled cottage on the edge of the world, you meet park seonghwa, a poet who, after growing fatigued of shallow critique and unwanted attention, is on a search for true beauty. you, a surgeon who cannot bear to hear nor assess another patient , abhor its twisted definitions. as the seasons change, storms abate and your paths entangle, you discover a new, unparalleled kind of beauty. 🌊wordcount: estimated around 30k 🌊warnings/tags: semi-edited, ??? attempts at sijo (forgive me), discussion of beauty standards, mention of surgery/clinics, weather imagery, dreams/nightmares, discussion of life and death (jokes relating to death), talk of side character death, urban/rural comparisons, isolation, burnout, philosophy, judgement of media, seaside, cliffs, dialogue + inner thoughts, perspective switching, falling in love, loving another's mind, talk of what is 'real' beauty, food, eating, cooking, implied anxiety, implied impulsive thoughts, sneak into home 🌊author's note: happy birthday, seonghwa. thank you for all you inspire me to do, and for teaching me how to find the sun even in a rainstorm. sincere and diligent, you are the spring, the renaissance, the glimmering light. wishing for you and for atiny alike to have a cherished panacea and a love brighter than the stars.

teaser (1.3k):

...Mid-spin, just as you were finished with making the filling and were in the process of lining a baking tin with some of the pastry, the front door creaked open, revealing the figure that you had spotted outside of your window, walking alongside the beginnings of what would be a cliff’s edge. You stood still, holding the pie tin, feeling the grooves of its edges, balancing the dough that was still wrapped in clingfilm right in the middle, as though if you were to not move this man would not see you. Heart quickening to a nauseating pace, the intense scrutiny that you were receiving made you want to collapse behind the counter. Before this moment, you had convinced yourself that you had fully adopted a devil may care attitude, and that you were ready for whoever you would encounter, having prepared the humble abode for a you-style reception and to assert who truly was deserving of ownership of this property. But something about this enigmatic persona who, just like you, remained unmoving, echoed the seastorms. A roaring of the waves was contained in his orbs, so dark due to the light being behind the man’s back that you could barely detect the transition from pupil to iris. A nose worthy of being depicted in renaissance paintings, in fact, if you had to pinpoint one way to describe the stranger, is that he reminded you of subjects that graced the walls of art galleries, selected by masters to be immortalised in the artists’ name. Nameless, much like he was to you in this present moment. His lips, ever so slightly parted as if he had been on the verge of saying something to you, only for the aim to fall short of execution, voice drowning in doubt or disgust. The corners of the man’s mouth were gently downturned - not unpleasantly so, but rather giving him an aura of intimidation that intrigued you. Shadows on his face suggested to you that he was unshaven, though, you had to admit that it was not too bad of a look. In fact, an interesting edge of ruggedness that balanced with his longer locks gave the man a new form of allure, and in turn, forced you to keep your eyes on him despite feeling inklings of terror. The scene reminded you of a faceoff between two territorial wolves - whose domain was this? Only time and a match of resolve would tell.

He was the first to break eye contact, sighing and moving to take off his shoes and trench coat. You remained still - a hostile animal that was expecting aggression at any moment. The man was silent, unphased by your ‘out of the blue’ appearance at least outwardly, and you were not certain whether his lack of reaction was something to be taken with gratitude or suspicion. As you inspected his motions, how he stretched out his arm to hang the trench coat on the rack that was hammered to the wall, with the right nail ever so slightly lower than the left, how he ran a hand through his hair, casting shadows over what hinted at months of fatigue. Not quite pallid, but definitely tired skin, holding times of discomfort, sleeplessness. Dark circles under those deep, pensive orbs, cheeks that were somewhere between sunken and youthful. The man stood before you in a white shirt, the colour a last cry to some form of purity and hope. You could guess why he was at the cottage, since it was not too challenging to see your own reflection in the corners of his soul, much like you could sense that he was reading you. He reminded you of an angel who was tired of praying, barely capable of carrying his body. Pressed down by the story that had been written for him, he was likely here for an escape, to drown out the sounds of whatever he was running from. Perhaps you should be friendly, and welcome this lost soul. After all, he could be unaware of where he is nor of what unspoken rules exist around here. The least you could do is make him feel at home-

“You made a mess,” and just like that, all desire to be amiable flew out of the window and into the sea. His curt comment was like a burning cold scalpel, words too familiar to be neutral and well-received. 

Before you could respond, the man was well on his way to the bathroom, and judging by the slam of the door, he was not very pleased to see the rearrangements you had made. No comments followed, however, and instead, the pause was filled by the sound of running water, followed by a muffled mumbling when following a couple of rattles, the pressure inevitably dropped and there was barely a trickle. You shook your head, amused by how this man had been living in this property without the basic knowhow. Clearly, he was one of the many cityfolk who wanted to try his luck while on holiday. Exotic stay to talk about with his glamorous friends, you bet. For him to explain how ‘the bucolic was not even as appealing as literature made it out to be’. Standard. Faceless. You would forget him in no time, especially since he would probably leave before it got less fun and more mundane to stay out in the wilderness. That pretty face should not know harshness. With a huff, you set the tin down onto the counter and set the oven to preheat. With swift, irritated movements, you took to lining the metal with the dough, and in no time shifted to ladling the filling inside, halting to watch the last of the fruity cinnamon remnants dribble from the bowl down to join the rest of the sweet and sour promise.

The man returned when you were in the process of lacing strings of dough together to structure a coherent design. With an embarrassing surgical precision, you focused on the patterns - culinary sutures, almost horrified by the technique that you could not prevent from channelling itself through your body, to your very fingertips especially now that there was an audience. If he wanted to give you a stern talking to, it had quickly dissipated and mid-stride, the stranger was observing you as though you were carrying out a sacred ritual. The spotlight was on you as you demonstrated how to put the flesh back together. Piecing the skin bit by bit so as to ensure minimal scarring, careful now, people come to you to make themselves feel beautiful after all. String by string, the pie was looking more like itself, a recipe book photograph, something worthy of immortalising as the model step before baking. A beeping confirmed that the patient was relaxed, steady, with a perfect heart rate - good, all the readings were steady, now all you needed was to make the final - you felt for the tray finding empty space. Did someone misplace the tools? Panic shot into your nervous system and with a jolt you pushed yourself away from the table, only to find yourself gazing, startled, at someone who you had begun to assume was an intern. The guest, or cohabitant? An eyebrow raised, the ghost of a smirk on his lips as he took in your state. You clicked your tongue, finally putting two and two together and grabbing the timer behind you, purposefully taking your time so that you would not have to look at your newfound personification of madness for longer than necessary. So much for an introduction; the figure who was still a mystery to you slinked back into the shadows, with only the click of the office door serving as a confirmation that he was real. You rubbed your temples, the distant thrumming of a headache resembling a thunder that crawled over the horizon. Demonstratively, you sprinkled some flour onto a previously clean spot on the wooden countertop, only to automatically reach for the towel and drop the action again. No, it was time to bake. You needed to bake. You needed to make this place feel like home for the next couple of months, even if this peculiar character was going to be sharing it...

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#cromernet #hm/announcements #hm/panacea #seonghwa x reader #seonghwa fluff #ateez fluff #ateez x reader

[deliciousangelfestival]

Secret Sorrows || 2 -B.Barnes

Summary: Former special ops, Bucky, seeks solace in a cold refuge to escape his past. However, his haunted history catches up, unraveling mysteries that persist relentlessly.

Warning: Domestic Violence. But Bucky will save the day.

Series Masterlist

Thank you to anyone who gave a like, reblog, and left a comment. It motivated me to write more. 

Main Masterlist || support: Ko-fi

Bucky found himself in the role of Ethan's bodyguard after being hired. The following day, Y/N and Ethan shared a meal during breakfast, with Bucky standing guard alongside others. The surreal realization of Iris having a twin still lingered in Bucky's mind.

Amidst the routine, Ethan's ongoing grief manifested in his lack of appetite. A dropped spoon into his cereal soup signaled his distress, and he expressed, "I want to see grandma."

In her characteristically cold manner, Y/N replied, "She's coming. With grandfather."

Ethan's greeting turned into a nervous, almost startled, "Hii," as he spotted his grandfather approaching.

Bucky observed the sudden fear in the young boy and quietly inquired of a colleague, "What's wrong?"

The fellow bodyguard, Peter, responded hushedly, "The young master's grandfather from the mother's side, Jeremy Aston. He's strict."

Jeremy Aston. The name sent a shiver down Bucky's spine. He knew this person is the reason why Iris abruptly left the academy and never returned. 

Bucky, seeking more information, asked Peter, "Where are the grandparents from the father's side?"

Peter replied, "Ethan's other grandfather is still in jail."

Peter added, "Miss Y/N became the legal guardian after the lawyer read the will of Ethan's father two days ago. The entire Van Alen family was furious because that means Miss Y/N now holds the reins as the CEO in the Van Alen business until Ethan comes of age." 

Bucky remarked, "Wow, the lives of rich people are different."

Suddenly, an announcement echoed, "Mr. and Mrs. Aston have arrived."

Ethan whispered with a trembling voice, "Grandpa is here too?" Then he looked at Bucky. Bucky recognized the expression, reminiscent of the fear he saw in Ethan's eyes in the Antarctic.

What made this kid afraid?

The door opened, revealing two elderly figures.

Jeremy Aston is an old-fashioned man known for his strict adherence to rules. Iris rarely spoke about her father, but when she did, Bucky could sense her fear.

Ethan, displaying a mix of excitement and apprehension, quickly abandoned his chair and ran to the older woman. "Grandma."

June Aston leaned down, enveloping her grandson in a warm hug. "My baby," she exclaimed.

The room buzzed with restrained tension as Jeremy observed the scene. Bucky, still on guard, couldn't help but wonder about the secrets concealed beneath the wealthy facade of the Van Alen and Aston family.

Jeremy brushed Ethan's hair, saying, "A big boy like you shouldn't cry."

Ethan replied with a tremor, "Yes, grandpa," seeking refuge in his grandma's arms.

"Y/N, come here," Jeremy ordered.

Y/N clenched her fists, and as she approached Jeremy, suddenly she felt her cheeks sting.

'SLAP'

The crisp sound of the slap echoed in the room. Pretending not to see, everyone turned their gaze away except for Bucky. He witnessed Y/N being slapped and falling to the ground.

How could a father do this to his daughter?

Ethan hid his face, and June looked away, her expression holding back tears. It became clear why Ethan sounded scared when his grandfather's name was mentioned.

Y/N remained silent, fixing her outfit as she stood up. Jeremy, angered, questioned, "How could my grandson get kidnapped, and it made into the news? You didn't do enough!"

Maintaining her composure, Y/N calmly responded, "It's my mistake. I won't let that happen again."

In a fit of rage, Jeremy pointed his finger at her forehead, pushing her head multiple times. "You better! Ethan is the heir for both families!"

The repeated pushes threatened to make her fall again, the earlier slap still stinging in her left ear. Suddenly, she felt her forehead no longer under attack and her back being supported.

It turned out Bucky was holding her back and had grabbed Jeremy's hand. Bucky asserted, "That's enough. She's an adult, not a kid."

Stunned, everyone remained silent. No one dared to challenge Jeremy, and even he was taken aback, exclaiming, "How dare you!!!"

Jeremy sensed a strange familiarity in the man before him, though he couldn't fathom knowing someone so rude. Pulling his hand away, he dismissed Bucky's touch as if it were contamination.

"Who are you?!" Jeremy demanded.

Safely behind Bucky, Y/N felt a sense of protection, like a formidable wall shielding her from a monstrous presence.

Bucky met Jeremy's gaze and calmly asserted, "I'm a bodyguard hired by Van Alen. My duty is to protect. Miss Y/N became the legal guardian, which means she's part of the Van Alen family."

Jeremy scoffed, disdain evident. "Who even wants to hire a rogue like you?"

A surprising voice interjected, "Me."

Both Jeremy and June were taken aback as Ethan stepped forward. Liberating himself from June's arms, he ran to stand behind Bucky.

Looking up at his aunt, Ethan noticed her reddened cheeks and a trace of blood on her lips. His aunt might be stern, but she was only strict. The absolute terror lay in his grandfather, scarier than any monster he'd read about in books.

With a determined look, Ethan tugged at the fabric of Bucky's pants, prompting him to bend down. Meeting the little kid's earnest gaze, Bucky felt his eyes welling up, a silent testament to the emotions stirred by Ethan's innocent yet profound words.

"My aunt didn't do anything wrong!!!" Ethan declared with a touch of defiance. "She kept me safe even though she always works and works. She never angry and yelled at me! But why does Grandpa always bully Aunt Y/N?"

Jeremy, caught off guard, never anticipated such a candid revelation from his grandson. His brows furrowed in confusion and disbelief while his hands clenched into fists.

"Wha-? I did that because your aunt did something wrong," Jeremy stammered, attempting to justify his actions.

Bucky, now standing tall, maintained a steady gaze on Jeremy. A steely resolve flickered in his eyes, accentuating the intensity of his emotions. The clenching of his jaw and the subtle tightening of his fists revealed the simmering anger beneath the surface.

"You made my boss cry," Bucky retorted, his voice carrying an undertone of reproach. Crossing his arms in defiance, he added, "You have 5 minutes to leave this place."

Fueled with anger, Jeremy pointed an accusatory finger at Bucky, "You!!!"

In response, Bucky swiftly intercepted, breaking Jeremy's pointing finger with a swift, assertive motion.

"You seem like a bully," Bucky declared his body language exuding strength and disdain.

Jeremy, frustrated and defeated, let out a primal scream, "Arrghh!!"

The room filled with Jeremy's frustrated scream, a primal roar of indignation. Meanwhile, Y/N, now composed and in control, directed her assistant with a commanding yet restrained tone, "Send my father to the hospital."

The assistant, responding promptly, acknowledged, "Yes, ma'am."

With these actions and reactions, the chaos that had erupted moments ago began to subside. Bucky's assertiveness had not only shifted the power dynamics but also brought a semblance of justice.

Y/N's relieved sigh carried a weight of exhaustion as her eyes met Ethan's. The unspoken understanding between them lingered in the air, a testament to their shared burden.

Ethan, adopting a defensive posture, declared, "This doesn't mean we're friends," before turning away and leaving Y/N behind. His uncertain addition, "Yet," hung in the air, leaving a trace of vulnerability in his wake.

Y/N couldn't help but scoff at the theatrics of her nephew's departure. However, beneath the surface, a storm of emotions raged within her.

Sensing her turmoil, Bucky approached and gently guided her to sit down. With a swift command, he arranged for a first aid kit, his concern etched across his face.

"I'm fine," Y/N insisted, but Bucky's stern response halted her protests. 

"No, you're not. You just lost your sister, and your father hit you. That's not okay."

Y/N sighed, her words revealing the deep wounds of a lifetime. "That's how I live as an unwanted child."

Bucky flinched at her words, echoing Iris's similar sentiment haunting him. Memories resurfaced of a time when he and Iris skipped class, seeking solace under a tree. Iris, lying on his arm, had confessed, "In my family, I'm the unwanted child."

As Bucky thought about the parallels between Iris and Y/N, the mystery surrounding Y/N deepened. The shared tattoo and the mirrored expressions of sorrow all added layers to the enigma Y/N.

The atmosphere, thick with angst and uncertainty, hung over them. Bucky couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to Y/N's story than met the eye. The question lingered in his mind like an unsolved puzzle: 'Who are you, Y/N?'

Author Note :

Hey friends,

If you've been enjoying the content, I've set up a Ko-fi account. Your support through tips would mean the world and help me keep creating. Only if you feel like it!

Here's the link: Ko-fi

Thanks a bunch for being fabulous followers!

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#bucky x reader #bucky barnes au #james bucky buchanan barnes #buckybarnes #james bucky barnes #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes #bodyguard au #bodyguard!bucky #bucky fanfic #marvel x reader #james buchanan barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes imagine #bucky #the winter soldier #winter soldier

[a1tie]

𝙎𝙢𝙖𝙡𝙡 𝙨𝙘𝙚𝙣𝙖𝙧𝙞𝙤 - 𝙎𝙖𝙣𝙚𝙢𝙞 𝙭 𝙂𝙉!𝙍𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧

scenario- You find yourself in Sanemi’s arms and oh my god he is so close…

word count- 1.3k

(AN: Im hella open for constructive criticism! Im thinking of making this into a pt. 2, where we do a time skip and get a little deeper into their relationship. Let me know what you guys think! ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა )

༶•┈┈┈┈┈┈୨♡୧┈┈┈┈┈•༶

“No way!” 

You sit on the porch of the Butterfly Mansion as you converse with your friend. You both start to laugh in hysterics. You have been in the Corps for a year and your comrade for 8 months. Even though it hasn’t been long since you guys have met, you both get along as if y’all have been friends since the womb. You just told her a story of a recent mission you went on with Zenitsu and a few other members and how constantly fearful he was. You resisted laughing every time he yelped at the slightest noise, even if it was just the creases of your uniform brushing against itself. Once you two finished having your moment, she gasped and smiled widely. 

“You know, I heard that Master Shinazugawa has a brother in the Corps.” She gossiped randomly. You cock your head to the side and give her a concerned face. “Is that so?” You ask for confirmation. She nods rapidly. “Yeah, but, like, Master Shinazugawa says he doesn’t have a brother..so I find it weird. Say, didn’t you claim you had a crush on Mas-”

“NowwhendidyouhearmesaythatIhaveneversaidsuchathingin mylifedontstartspreadingrumorsaboutmebecauseyouknowgoodandwellthatidontlikehimlikethat.” 

You were clearly in denial. Your friend couldn’t help but smile maliciously. “Oh, come on, don’t deny the ways you feel!” She nudges you. You look in front of you, deep in thought.

.          .         .

About 2 months ago, you could recall going on a short mission with him. You heard many things about the white-haired male, none of them positive. You kept yourself strolling behind him and stayed quiet to avoid getting struck upside your head for saying the wrong things. It was you, him and 2 other members. You stared at the ground for most of the time until you feel air brush against your neck. You turn around, hand on the handle of your sword as you stand your guard. Once you detected that it might have just been the wind, you turned back and took a breath. However, instead of finding yourself looking at the vast forest and the group of slayers in front of you, a shadow towers over you. Bright white eyes without an iris somehow pierce your soul. It was a demon, standing in front of you and ready to kill. Then, a flicker of the reflection of the moon on the demon’s weapon shines in your peripheral right near your neck. 

This is it. You would die any second right now, you might as well close your eyes and hope for the best.

That was until you felt a huge gust of wind rush past you and something making contact with your skin as if cradling you. You thought for a second that you might be in heaven, but you opened your eyes to see arms lifting your back and legs. You look up and find Sanemi holding you against his chest, and his eyes were set on you. It wasn’t just the way he was looking at you though. It was the way he was so cradling you so close that you can feel his faint breath on your cheek. His face gave no expression as he lifted his head in the direction of the figure. Suddenly, Sanemi drops you onto the ground without remorse and instantly beheads the demon. Sure, it seemed like he only came to save you because it was his job, but you admired him so deeply from that one action that you had no choice but to look up to him. 

Seeing him in the Mansions and across the field of the Corps after the incident didn’t help either, as eventually, your mind became more scrambled until all you could think about was him.  About week later, You trotted into your best friend's room and closed the door, locking it. She turns around and smiles.

“Hey! What’s going o-”

“Do you remember that mission I want on with Master Shinazugawa?”

“Ye-”

“Sobasicallyhesavedmefrombeingdecapitatedbyademonbuthewascarryingmebridalstyleandohmygodhewassoclosetomeandiliterallycannotstopthinkingabouthim.” You say, jumbling your words and speaking so rapidly your friend could only just sit and smile.

“....Yes.”

.          .         .

“Oh, I guess I still do…” You say, responding to your friend's statement and putting your hands up to your face and pinching the bridge of your nose. Your friend gives you a pat on the back. “You should talk to him more.” She says. Just that sentence makes you flinch. You felt like just saying hi to him could cause him to drag your face across the dirt. You give your friend a blank stare. 

“Have you lost your mind?”

She laughs. “What!? I mean, I’m sure he’s a nice guy if you get to know him. Maybe he’s misunderstood!” She shrugs.

She does have a good point. You remember overhearing two kakushi conversing about Sanemi’s backstory one day. Something about his mother turning into a demon and killing his siblings. Maybe Genya is his sibling, after all. Poor baby. You sigh and get up from the porch. “Well I got to get goi-” You start to turn to walk away, but as you lift your leg to pivot, your friend quickly swoops her foot under you, sweeping your grounded leg off of the wooden floor. You feel yourself falling, being caught off guard. She has never done this before. Does she hate you? Is she jealous? Will this turn into a love scandal? Are you gonna die? Thoughts fill your mind as air rushes against your back, bringing you down…down….

“Oh my fucking god.”

You feel rough hands grab your waist, bringing your drop to a halt. You look up to see Sanemi looking at you. Again. Your eyes go wide as you stare into his eyes, wondering what a coincidence it is that he shows up right as you were leaving from a conversation about him. It makes you flustered as blood rushes to your cheeks. Again, you find yourself insanely close to his face. Almost instantly, you’re lifted back to stable ground. You see Sanemi walk past you. “Stop falling. I’m not helping you next time.” He scoffs as he takes his leave. Your vision prolongs itself on Sanemi, taking in every lock of white hair on the back of his head, his arms covered in scars, big and without a doubt tight. Your friend snickers at you, and you shoot her a grimaced stare. “Oh, God! You looked so in love, I can’t!” You kept staring at her as she held her stomach in hysterics. You kiss your teeth, swearing to get her back when the time comes. 

After a few moments of recollecting, she gets up and plants her arm on your shoulder. “Goodness, you are so helpless. Also, I could’ve sworn he was looking you up and down as he was walking past you, oh my God and the fact that he remembers when you fell!…..I bet you wanna to-’

“Will you SHUT UP?” You turn and take your leave, overwhelmingly angry and flustered. She waves at you from behind. “We will talk later, Mrs. Shina-’

“NO!” You run faster.

༶•┈┈┈┈┈┈୨♡୧┈┈┈┈┈•༶

~ Mwah!

….why does he make my coochie tingly EHEHEHEHHHAHAHAHEHHEHHEEHEHE-

#kimetsu no yaiba #kny #demon slayer #kny x reader #sanemi x reader #sanemi x you #sanemi shinazugawa #shinazugawasanemi #demon slayer fanfic #fanfic #kny fanfic #kny fandom #fanfiction #kny scenarios #scenarios #sanemi imagines

[reddbuster]

The Hawthorne sisters make me so insane because they're so interesting and have so so much potential but the way they're written (Especially Dahlia) encourages the audience not to look below the surface.

(long ass ramble-y analysis below and cw for mentions of the shitbag that is Terry Fawles. btw)

Remember that the Hawthornes are also Feys. They spent their early childhood raised by Morgan, a notoriously horrible parent, in a society where they were essentially viewed as disappointments. To their own mother, they were nothing but a waste of space. Dead weight born to drag her own name through the mud. Not to mention the fact that they were identical twins. Morgan probably barely treated them like people, let alone as her daughters. And then, when Misty took her role as the Master of Kurain, she shipped them off to the same father that didn't hesitate to leave the family behind.

And then, unsurprisingly, he decided that he didn't need them either. Even having left behind everything they'd ever known, The Hawthorne twins could never escape the curse of being unwanted. And so he shipped one off to Hazakura, and, reluctantly, took the other into his home. Their entire childhoods were just comprised of being left behind, again and again and again, and then, finally, being ripped away from the only person who'd ever understood them. And then their paths diverge.

Iris is alone. She's left at a temple in the mountains with a stranger. After a childhood of the twins likely being treated as a single, undesirable unit, (And with Dahlia probably being the more outspoken and therefore more noticed sister) Iris probably wouldn't have much sense of who she is. And she's been brought back into the world of the Kurain channeling technique, where she already knows she is useless. All she knows about herself is that nobody wants her. But Bikini is different. Over the years, they become a sort of family. And Iris has her issues, of course, but at least she has a place where she's needed, wanted, loved.

And then there's Dahlia. She's left in much the same state as Iris, except she doesn't get that same experience of finally belonging. She grows up as the awkward stepdaughter that nobody really wants around. But at least, if she can finish growing up in this household without losing her mind, she'll finally have the freedom to build her own life.

She's just starting high school. She gets a tutor to help her with math. Everything is normal. And then it turns out her tutor, a adult man twice her size, is attracted to her. This grown ass man starts dating her, a traumatized and vulnerable 14 year old girl. Somehow, Dahlia gets a hold of poison (what the fuck were her parents doing!!!!!!) and finds a way out, a way to get rid of her abuser. But Valerie, a) Dahlia's older sister and b) a police officer, who has a responsibility twice over to protect this girl, encourages her to stay in this relationship so she can get a share of her father's money.

The plot is Dahlia's last chance to get out of this. The others see an opportunity for a profit, but for Dahlia it's so much more than that. She can use this to escape, from her family and from Fawles. If she can just wait out the plan, she can eventually start fresh, with money and a new identity, away from her past. And she asks her sister to help. Because, of course, Iris is just like her! Iris must be alone and desperate too, so surely she will understand. Meanwhile, Iris is scared. She loves her sister, but Iris has finally found a family. She belongs somewhere. And now her sister wants her to help commit a crime? What Dahlia wants could put everything Iris has gained in jeopardy. When she decides not to assist in the plan, Dahlia feels doubly betrayed. Not only is Iris not helping, but it seems like she's moved on from her sister. Iris has everything Dahlia wants. A safe home. A mother. A place in life. And Dahlia is alone, just like she's always been. At this point, she may not even have a sister.

Dahlia commits her first murder because she is abused, desperate and scared. And every subsequent crime is fueled by these same emotions. Dahlia is not a genius or an evil mastermind. She's a girl who is scared and angry and bitter and at this point she's too far gone to start over. She kills Valerie, the sister who used her. Fawles dies on the stand. She poisons the defense of her abuser. She is scared. She's left behind a trail of evidence. She's practically running away from her own shadow at this point. The only asset she thinks she has left is her looks. She probably doesn't think twice about using Doug Swallow, because what has life taught her so far but that any man who wants her cannot be trusted? Doug and Phoenix are collateral damage. She doesn't see humanity in them.

When she is convicted in Phoenix's trial, he has failed at what she sees as his only asset. To her he isn't a person who loved her, because the only man who's ever claimed to love her before is Terry Fawles, and look how that turned out. It's not like she was actually there to get to know him. In this long waiting game that is her life, he's just the piece that didn't stay put. She couldn't predict him, and that fact leads to her downfall. And maybe there's no point anyway. Maybe her whole life was a downfall of sorts. Maybe Dahlia knows she doesn't have a future. But she keeps going because what else is she going to do, this broken, miserable girl fueled only by hurt. In the end, all Dahlia Hawthorne's life amounts to is 2 dead men and a murdered sister. Those were all people from her past. But now, the ones who ruined her, Phoenix, Mia Fey, her own sister who she loved and who betrayed her, they're the ones who get to live what was supposed to be her future. And then she dies with that knowledge that her entire life was nothing more than a bump on the road on someone else's path to happiness. No wonder she was bitter. No wonder she wanted them dead. She's like the living embodiment of everything that's wrong with her family.

And then Iris has to live with that knowledge! And it's not like she did something wrong. Of course she didn't. She saved an innocent man from being murdered. But her choices hurt someone she loved anyway, because that's what it means to be a Fey.

Yeah so anyway I'm normal

#ace attorney #dahlia hawthorne #iris hawthorne #iris ace attorney #dahlia ace attorney #aa #morgan fey #mia fey #phoenix wright ace attorney #aa trilogy #trials and tribulations #fey girls tag #I didnt proofread this so it might be incomprehensible idk

[film-in-my-soul]

Ice Ice Baby | 584 | collectivision

Summary: It’s 1990, Ice Ice Baby is on the radio and Ice can’t catch a fucking break.

Bathing In Our Love | 888 | CaptainStilinski

Summary: The bath water is warm and soothing to the muscles, the bath salts clouding the water and sending a nice tingle along Pete's skin. There's soft music playing from the record player in the bedroom, low notes drifting through the open bathroom door. By far the best part of this quiet night in though, is the man leaning back into Pete's chest.

Getting Naked | 900 | thecarlysutra / @icemankazansky

Summary: Maverick has a little "truth or strip" game in mind for him and Iceman. At least one of them should have known they were too competitive to play nice.

Occupied | 1,006 | thecarlysutra / @icemankazansky

Summary: “Come on, Iceman," Maverick said. "Haven’t you ever wanted to join the mile high club?” “You think I’ve never had sex in an airplane? I’m a pilot.” “You’re the world’s most uptight pilot, and if you’ve ever so much as brushed your hard on by accident while in the cockpit, I’ll give you every nickel in my bank account right now.”

Just Can't Replace Me | 1,231 | toucanpie

Summary: It's still pretty new, this thing where Maverick comes home to him.

Debrief | 1,232 | thedevilchicken

Summary: They've been back at Top Gun for eighteen months. Mav's been staring at Ice in the locker room for every single one of them.

Please see below for more recommendations!

bad-good ideas | 1,244 | andthentheybow / @andthentheybow

Summary: “Fancy meeting you here,” is the first thing the Maverick says when Tom wakes up. It is automatically a bad start to his day- anything involving the Maverick would constitute a bad start to his day. “Likewise,” Tom replies. He doesn’t even know where ‘here’ is, until the events of the previous day- has it even been a day?- come rushing back to him. Ron said the supervillain MIG was preparing to strike, and Tom just goes where Ron tells him to. Now, however, he’s going to have to have a long talk with his best friend about double checking his intel.

can i have what i can't touch (it's the anticipation) | 1,295 | ropememory

Summary: “What are you wearing?” Maverick asks, and Ice can’t suppress his eyeroll, the only time tonight he’s thankful he’s alone, that Maverick’s on the other side of the country and can’t comment on it, can’t goad him into doing something ill-advised.

I'll Wear Out the Words I Love You | 1,511 | Saturn / @icemav86

Summary: Two milestones in a decades-long love story

Shaping Up, Breaking Down | 1,543 | m_madeleine / @m-madeleine

Summary: Maverick has never known his limits. Not up in the air. And not in bed, either.

i’ll carry you up the stairs | 1,576 | andthentheybow / @andthentheybow

Summary: Ice feels that, as Maverick’s emergency contact, he should be used to the amount of calls he gets about his best friend and the man he’s secretly in love with. Just because he’s used to it doesn’t make him feel any better.

Patterns | 1,640 | DeeEffGee

Summary: Maverick and Iceman have a pattern, and it doesn't involve talking.

Bloom | 1,740 | ecarlysutra / @icemankazansky

Summary: Iceman Kazansky is born with chronic Hanahaki Disease. Any time he represses a feeling or hides a secret, he has symptoms. He probably needs therapy, but instead he gets flowers.

phases of the moon | 1,752 | dangerousinlove / @gohoubi

Summary: Maverick and Iceman become accustomed to the latter’s monthly transformations.

you're the closest to heaven that I’ll ever be | 1,961 | encyclopediabitch_jpeg

Summary: “Say it then,” The faintest smile, a tiny glimmer in an iris while Maverick grew bolder. “Damn you, Pete Mitchell,” “Say it,” “Fuck you,”

let's pretend (we've never been apart) | 2,043 | ropememory

Summary: Thomas Kazansky lays etched over Maverick’s heart, inside the circle of metal, and Maverick can only hope Ice feels the absence of the ring on his finger as much as Maverick feels the absence of Ice next to him.

(if only for today) i am unafraid | 2,127 | dalearden / @dale-arden

Summary: People have told him they love him before. A lot of girls, a couple of guys. Though it was never like when Ice said it. He’d played along, sometimes, just because he was that much of a screw up or because he needed to keep things going for whatever reason, but it had never made him feel anything before.

Where The Miles Are Marked In The Blood And Gold | 2,170 | Disastrous_Canasta / @disastrouscanasta

Summary: It looked normal. But so had his throat. His throat which had had a tumour. A cancerous tumour. So he kept staring at his elbow. Adjusting the angle, checking to make sure it seemed fine.

now I wake up by your side | 2,566 | quantumoddity / @mollymauk-teafleak

Summary: It's September 20th 2011 and Pete 'Maverick' Mitchell has something to tell the world. At three in the morning. Through a megaphone.

Ship to Shore | 2,829 | thecarlysutra / @icemankazansky

Summary: Maverick has been teaching at TOPGUN for about ten weeks when he gets a postcard. Things kind of go off after that.

love that doesn't have a place to rest | 3,375 | quantumoddity / @mollymauk-teafleak

Summary: Maverick is trying to adjust to the life of a Top Gun instructor, a life without Goose, a life spent trying to forget about Tom Kazansky. Who he's absolutely, definitely in love with. And who he's absolutely, definitely not allowed to be in love with. So he's lying awake at night, trying to convince himself to sleep and just push these thoughts away. Because it's not like Iceman's thinking about him, right?

Ever Higher | 3,468 | astolat / @astolat

Summary: Maybe he wouldn’t have thought of it on his own, but soon as he’d heard about it—well, it was fucking obvious, wasn’t it? There was no other way to keep climbing.

blood in the water | 3,735 | dangerousinlove / @gohoubi

Summary: After his cancer, Iceman finds out that going back to normal is harder than he thought.

come the same colors | 3,874 | susiecarter / @susiecarter

Summary: Maverick felt like shit. He wasn't going to make a production out of it.

wingspan | 3,896 | aelibia / @topgunreacts

Summary: Iceman is in love. Maverick is oblivious. And the only thing in the world that can bring them together is locked up in a bathroom.

and gamble for the sun | 3,954 | susiecarter / @susiecarter

Summary: It's like this: Maverick and the Iceman make bets, sometimes.

(I Love You) A Bushel and A Pallet | 4,083 | boasamishipper / @boasamishipper

Summary: "Only you, Mitchell," Ice says, "could possibly manage to get a concussion in a fucking Costco."

When the Rest of Heaven Was Blue | 7,244 | finistra

Summary: There exists, on VHS cassettes distributed through P.O. boxes, a BDSM flick in which Maverick doms a submissive Iceman. They meet at Top Gun a few weeks after filming.

A Shared Cup | 7,287 | susiecarter / @susiecarter

Summary: It was only a training exercise. It was only supposed to be a training exercise.

You're Gonna Be The One That Saves Me | 7,968 | orphan_account

Summary: Of all the inane things Maverick’s done—of all of the rules he’s broken, and all of the ways he’s risked his neck—falling for Iceman is both the most ludicrous and the most expected.

Tell Me Again | 8,805 | aelibia / @topgunreacts

Summary: Ice is a werewolf. Maverick is a hunter. They make it work.

on second approach | 9,540 | Addison R (beyond_belief) / @alakeeffectgirl

Summary: Pete Mitchell is the president of a successful aviation company, a job inherited from his father. When threats start to roll in, the board hires Tom Kazansky as his bodyguard.

Last Flight to Fairbanks | 18,806 | aelibia / @topgunreacts

Summary: Ice stumbled. A nearby tree kept him from being knocked prone, but the motion was enough to let a small amount of snow into his hiking boots. Soon the snow became water, and a future note in some pathologist’s autopsy notes: severe hypothermia, frostbite in the toes and feet. But he couldn’t stop yet. Maverick was still out there—here—somewhere, in the swirling mass of white on white on black bark. And he couldn’t lie down. Ice knew what happened to people who stopped to rest in the middle of a blizzard. They sat down, just for a moment, just until they caught their breath, and first sleep came, and then death. He had to keep going.

Dreams of Impact | 19,891 | thecarlysutra / @icemankazansky

Summary: Maverick's trip in Darkstar takes him further than he ever imagined possible.

Kings of the Air | 24,903 | FabulaRasa / @fabula-unica

Summary: Fighting and fucking: two things he did extraordinarily well. How could he have known what the effect would be when you combined the two?

When and Where | 25,210 | twowritehands

Summary: A world where people are given, through reoccurring dreams, 1 to 5 details of their soulbond. The face, the place, the day, the time, or the name. Average is 2 clues. Unlucky bastards get only 1. Lucky people get 3 or 4. No one gets all 5. Maverick is one lucky unlucky bastard. Even though it is his only clue, he knows exactly where he will bond with his soulmate: Charlie's house. But, as it turned out, Charlie wasn't the One at all. Now, heartbroken, Maverick wishes he didn't know that That House is The Place. Because Iceman just moved into it.

Master Reclist · Personal Masterlist · Blog Nav.

#icemav #iceman/maverick #icemav reclist #reclist #top gun reclist #fanfic reclist

[pastrydragon]

What do the rogues smell like? ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

I know you probably asked this as a joke but I thought deeply about it anyway so here you go!

Riddler:

Lemon and lavender soaps.

Edward's dad was a hoarder and so Edward has a thing about his space being clean.

when he got his first apartment he kept it obsessively clean and as a side effect of this the place always smelled like the lemon and lavender cleaning products he'd scrubbed the place with.

And since this was the first place Edward ever felt safe, he ended up associating those scents with safety.

So all his soap and cleaning products to this day are either lemon or lavender scented, so he inevitably ends up with a near permanent air freshener like scent.

Scarecrow:

Pumpkin pie now but used to smell like chemicals.

Harley got him a basket of pumpkin spice everything as a gift for his birthday one year after he developed a toxin variation that was particularly pungent and he wasn't gonna waste perfectly good hygiene products!

And he has a genuine love for pumpkin taste so he keeps cans of it around to put in his pancakes every morning.

So yeah, The Master Of Halloween smells like thanksgiving.

You can still smell the chemicals if you get close though.

Mad hatter:

“Iris Poudre” by Frederic Malle, he doesn’t care that it’s a women’s perfume, he wants to smell like a sexy flower garden and everyone else can mind their own business.

Under the perfume he smells like whatever tea he drank that day and possibly like whatever sugary treat he baked to go with it.

Unless he's been in his lab all day, then he smells like metals and plastic.

And once in a blue moon when he needs to do some intense testing, cool ranch Doritos.

Except he never brings food down there with him so how....?

Mr. Freeze:

His condition causes him to have a permanent fresh snow smell which he was pleasantly surprised by.

Like the other scientists on this list carries a kind of "laboratory smell" with him.

His suit smells... weird. Like you can smell that a person was there but there's no sweat smell and its honestly a little off-putting. Luckily he cleans it very regularly.

He used to wear “Angel’s share” by Killian because Nora has good taste and wasn’t gonna let her husband smell like detergent and nothing else.

He'll start wearing it again when she wakes up.

Penguin:

“Tobacco Vanille” by Tom Ford mainly. The man wants to ooze class.

He also wears it because he always has a cigar after his lunch and dinner so he needs to wear something he knows won't clash scents with his Arturo's.

And if you're thinking that smell is strong, that's on purpose.

Oswald has a small group of birds in his atrium that he cares for personally out of affection, and because of that if you get right up close to him you’ll smell bird cage. Not great.

He might also smell like seafood after meals but not really in a bad way, more in a "Well fuck, now I'm craving Red Lobster!" way.

TwoFace:

“REPLICA jazz club” Because before he was Twoface he was a snazzy lawyer who wanted to smell like how big band music sounds.

There's also the medicine he puts on his acid burns which smells exactly how you’d expect it to.

The two mixing together isn't unpleasant but it is a bit confusing to get a whiff of if you don't know who it's coming from.

It smells kinda like an expensive hospital room.

He might also smell like Bloody Mary's if he's had a bad day.

Harley:

“Tutti Fruity Candy” by Bath and bodyworks

Unless she’s going to one of Oswald’s fancy parties, Then she wears “Into The Night”…. Also by bath and bodyworks.

She also smells a bit like bubblegum.

She smells like how a slumber party feels I think.

Just smells like fun!

Catwomen:

Has accumulated an impressive collection of expensive perfumes as gifts from various gentleman friends over the years and uses them almost at random so literally no one knows until she shows up.

She also smells a bit like cats.

Poison Ivy:

ROSES

Like a very aggressive rose smell.

Like you aren’t allowed to wear rose scented perfume in Gotham because it makes people try to evacuate the area.

Ivy could smell like any flower she wanted of course.

But who doesn't love roses?

Bane:

Harley strikes again and got him Dr. Squach products because he's Mr. manly man and she thought it was funny.

He shares John's "waste nothing" philosophy and used all of it, then bought more because he liked it.

His favorite scent is alpine sage but he changes it up sometimes.

He also smells like 24 hour fitness, because obviously.

He might also smell like peanut butter protein shakes.

Bookworm:

Musty dusty book smell.

He smells like a socially awkward moth eaten carpet.

He smells like an old arm chair with a cat sitting in it.

He smells like cocoa butter because he is an ashy bitch who needs to be moisturized.

Please buy him some cologne.

Killer Croc:

Waylon's home may be in the sewer but his home also happens to be beachfront property, so he smells like ocean mainly.

With all his free time between heists and such, Waylon often takes on elaborate cooking projects with a focus on BBQ and smoking meat. Which means he smells like a plethora of kitchen spices, smoke and herbs.

Maybe it's the alligator skin, maybe it's the jackets he wears, but he always smells a little like leather.

So the entire effect is "Bar and grill by the ocean with those really nice leather booths"

Please make him into a cologne.

Music Meister:

He avoids scented products to avoid irritating his respiratory system in any way.

So He just smells like a clean human.

Possibly lemon and honey from trying to soothe those vocal cords with weak tea.

Joker:

Is also a basic bath and bodyworks bitch, he wears “Among The Clouds”. 

He does class it to the roof for formal events though and switches to "English Promenade 19" By Krigler.

If you catch him without any scent on he smells slightly acidic and some other rogues would describe him as smelling "sickly". He's not physically sick as his doctors can attest, in fact his chemical bath raised the PH across his body so he can't even get most diseases anymore.

Because of this he can tend to overdue it on the scent to hide the sickly and chemical smells.

Like Jervis, Joker often smells like his baking projects. (Except the project is almost exclusively some sort of pie.)

#pastry writes #headcanon #batman villains #batman #gotham rogues #batman rogues #edward nygma #riddler #scarecrow #Johnathan crane #jervis tetch #mad hatter #mr freeze #victor fries #nora fries #penguin #oswald cobblepot #twoface #harvey dent #harley quinn #harleen quinzel #catwomen #selina kyle #poison ivy #pamela isley #bane #bookworm #Killer croc #waylon jones #music meister

[gallifreyanhotfive]

Random Doctor Who Facts You Might Not Know, Part 50: 50 Facts for 50 Parts

How the hell did I get to part 50?!?!?! This is insanity.

The Eleventh Doctor once got hit with an electromagnetic pulse that left him needing to rebuild his mind, during which time he lived as Mr. Foreman. Valarie would sell her cybernetic enhancements to Mr. Foreman in exchange for money and the chance to check on the TARDIS, often telling him stories about the Doctor as she did so. Mr. Foreman used so many of her enhancements that she lost herself. (Audio: Curiosity Shop)

The Fifth Doctor has been tied up in strappado before. (Audio: The Church and the Crown)

The Ninth Doctor has lost or forgotten the ability to play the spoons. (Audio: Station to Station)

Aspirin is fatal to Time Lords. (Novel: The Left-Handed Hummingbird; Burning Heart; Audio: The Condemned)

The Brigadier lost his virginity as a Second Lieutenant when he was 21 years old. (Novel: Deadly Reunion)

The Thirteenth Doctor has introduced herself as "Sarah Jane Smith" before. (Short story: Mission of the KaaDok)

The Third Doctor was able to sense that he was near the end of his life before being irradiated. (Audio: The Children of the Future)

Mozart got cloned in the future many times because they were inspired by his creativity. This made one clone travel to the past to make Mozart immortal with the intention of draining him of that creativity, which would make sure those clones were never made. The Sixth Doctor traveled to Mozart's deathbed to convince him not to trust the clone, and Mozart eventually dies very confused by what was going on. (Audio: My Own Private Wolfgang)

Ace once tried to use the Seventh Doctor's "look me in the eye, pull the trigger" manipulation tactics, but because she's not a hypnotist or psychic like him, she ends up shot anyway. (Audio: The Fearmonger)

Hannah Bartholomew stowed away on the TARDIS, looking for an adventure. She ended up being instrumental in saving the day on the God-King's Tomb Ship and joined Nyssa and the Fifth Doctor more officially. (Audio: Tomb Ship)

Iris Wildthyme has her own version of the Valeyard called Bianca. She rebuilt her TARDIS as a nightclub and tried to steal Iris's regenerations. (Audio: The Wormery)

The Thirteenth Doctor and the Master, locked together in a psychic link, once talked about their issues. They talked about their pasts, but the Master refused to tell her about the "mystery" he was keeping from her. (Short story: The Doctor vs the Master)

After being irradiated, the Third Doctor wandered the time vortex for an entire decade, his body breaking down the entire time. It got to a point where he could not reach the console and was left drifting until the TARDIS finally landed herself. (Novel/Audio: Love and War)

The Thirteenth Doctor once tried to celebrate Yaz's birthday with a tea party in Boston, 1773. (Comic: The Forest Bride)

The Eighth Doctor was separated into his three different sides once. One side was sensible. The other was quite bouncy and excitable, and it was a wonder he didn't get killed while being distracted by something. The third side was incredibly nasty and could be quite violent without the other two sides there to balance him out. (Audio: Caerdroia)

The Fifth Doctor is so good with a bow and arrow that he could shoot an arrow with a piece of parchment attached to it through a window in a tower and snuff out the flame of the candle he was aiming at. (Audio: Son of the Dragon)

The Ninth Doctor once invited a woman named Adriana to travel with him in the TARDIS, only for her to almost immediately die. (Audio: The Bleeding Heart)

When taking into account the battered appearance of his TARDIS console, the Second Doctor realized that the Time Lords had been sending him on missions for a long time, using him as a pawn. Unfortunately, every time he realized this, they erased his memory. (Short story: Save Yourself)

The Twelfth Doctor recalled pulling the Sword from the Stone, becoming King of England for a day, and then abdicating to King Arthur. (Novel: Silhouette)

The Eleventh Doctor used the alias Jean Valjean to infiltrate Alcatraz. (Comic: Escape into Alcatrax)

The Toymaker once turned the Eighth Doctor into a ventriloquist's doll, and he was unable to move or speak unless Charley was holding him. When he did speak, he would shout and protest desperately against the situation. (Audio: Solitaire)

About six hours after the events of The Tomb of the Cybermen, Captain Hopper and his crew ran into the Fifth Doctor, Tegan, and Nyssa, and Hopper was killed by two cyber-converted crewmembers. (Audio: Secrets of Telos)

The Third Doctor became a British citizen at some point. (Audio: The Doll of Death)

After leaving the Eighth Doctor, Zagreus became Perfection, who was a huge flirt towards the Doctor. (Audio: The Next Life)

William Shakespeare once spiked the Fifth Doctor's drink with ginger, leading to the predictable drunken effects. (Audio: The Kingmaker)

The Thirteenth Doctor also really likes ginger nuts, garibaldis, and fig rolls and gets them from the biscuit dispenser in her TARDIS. (Comic: The Forest Bride)

The Sixth Doctor considers Braxiatel condescending and doesn't really like him, but he still trusts him. (Audio: The 100 Days of the Doctor)

When the Fifth Doctor was stabbed in the chest, he was able to survive due to his characteristic heart anatomy, but he was still out for the count for a while. (Audio: Son of the Dragon)

The Sixth Doctor had been known to play with swivel chairs, even going "wheeeee!" while gliding around in them. (Audio: The Sandman)

The Ninth Doctor used his sonic screwdriver to seal the Compassionate away in the rift. He also rigged the sonic to explode. However, this sonic screwdriver was the model commonly used by the War Doctor, not the one from the first series of nuwho. (Audio: The Bleeding Heart)

The Twelfth Doctor thought he might regenerate when he was infected with the Venusian flu, but he also worried that the flu would take such a toll on him that he wouldn't be able to regenerate. (Audio: The Lost Flame)

Kwundaar looks so terrifying that the Doctor screamed after merely looking at him. (Audio: Primeval)

Erimem - a companion of the Fifth Doctor - brought her cat Antranak on board the TARDIS, whom the Doctor despised. There were several reasons for this, including that the Doctor was occasionally unable to set the controls because Antranak was lying on top of them. (Audio: The Church and the Crown)

C'rizz's father almost drowned him once as punishment for deviating from the Church of the Foundation. (Audio: The Next Life)

The Twelfth Doctor's sonic sunglasses have a Telepathic Emergency Beacon, which allows him to take control of another person's body. (Short story: My Dad, The Doctor)

There was a murderer in a place called the Needle, which should be impossible since everyone there has a chip inside of them stopping them from being violent. This killer traveled from person to person, something referred to as "redlining." The Seventh Doctor immediately redlined after being chipped. This whole situation began because a time traveller came to the needle, and the time travel mechanism was organic and a part of her, which made the computer go mad. The Doctor was drawn there and was sensitive to redlining due to his time sensitive nature and his biology. (Audio: Red)

Simon and Joanne, two characters in Lant Land, thought that Tegan and Turlough's names were unbelievable and proposed they change them to Yvonne and Derek. (Audio: Lant Land)

The Eleventh Doctor once gave the name Colonel Lethbridge-Stewart as a pseudonym. (Novel: Shroud of Sorrow)

Gemma, one of the Eighth Doctor’s companions, has called him Dad before, but the Doctor preferred to be called a cool uncle. (Audio: Terror Firma)

Turlough hates the cold and will complain if put in it. (Audio: Singularity)

The Sixth Doctor and Evelyn once thought they had accidentally cockblocked Julius Caesar's parents on the night of his conception. This meant that instead a baby girl named Julia was born, which Evelyn thought would be a brilliant chance to revolutionize the world. She kept trying to stop the Doctor from convincing Julius Caesar Sr. and Aurelia from hooking up at the proper time. Eventually, the two realize that 101 BC is before 100 BC and that they were doing this for no reason at all. (Audio: 100 BC)

The Spriggan was an alternate universe version of the Doctor, who terrorized a planet and used their youth to power his TARDIS. He even created an new Leela, but she fought him to protect the Tenth Doctor and threw him into the vortex. (Audio: Splinters)

The Galyari are a species of 8-foot tall reptiles that had extraordinary eyesight. Because of their exceptional vision, they found the Sixth Doctor to be literally painful to look at because of his coat. They were afraid of him and called him "the Sandman." (Audio: The Sandman)

The Tenth Doctor referred to the Seventh as the mysterious and manipulative type, the sort of rebellious phase someone goes through when they turn 1000 years old. (Novel: Legends of Camelot)

Joshua Douglas was a companion of the Third Doctor but stopped traveling with him after a disagreement. He was later killed while with the Fourth Doctor and Leela. (Audio: The Catalyst)

Mandy Litherland was incredibly fond of and sweet on the Ninth Doctor. After traveling to the past, she kissed the Doctor. The Doctor almost invited her to travel with him but didn't because he knew she probably wouldn't accept. (Audio: Auld Lang Syne)

Sometimes, when the Sixth Doctor is distressed and going off the deep end of his emotions, he has been known to break down in Evelyn's presence and cuddle with her. (Audio: Arrangements for War)

The Veil left the Twelfth Doctor a spade made of duralinum and a dwarf star alloy, which would have been strong enough to break the azbantium wall. The Doctor was wary of it, assuming it was a trap, and he used his fists on the wall instead. (Short story: The Veil)

Missy once saved the life of a young girl whose sister had asked her for help. She had stopped to rescue the child stuck high up while being chased by an assassin, without further witness, and without reward. The Doctor does not know of this. (Audio: The Chaos Cascade)

A young version of the Fifth Doctor post-Four to Doomsday once got displaced in time. Experiencing time slippage, he swapped places with his future selves and learned that Adric had died far too early. Eventually, he ended up in the body of an Auton duplicate the Master had made of the Doctor. He eventually faded away and died as the time slippage unraveled his past and his memories to an extent where he was running on his most basic desire: to save Adric. He had been convinced that if he was put back in his own time he could save him, and for that reason, the older Fifth Doctor refused to return him. (Audio: The Auton Infinity)

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#doctor who #dw #dr who #classic who #new who #big finish #big finish doctor who #big finish audios #dw eu #doctor who eu #doctor who expanded universe #eighth doctor #fifth doctor #seventh doctor #sixth doctor #eleventh doctor #thirteenth doctor #twelfth doctor #ninth doctor #third doctor #second doctor #ace mcshane #tegan jovanka #missy doctor who #missy #tenth doctor #turlough #vislor turlough #nyssa #charley pollard

[riksie94]

Embers of the Night

It’s been so long since I’ve actually published any sort of FanFiction, so I’m not expecting this to be perfect by any means. I actually have plenty more ideas but this is a start. This was also be on AO3 once I figure out the nuances of it all…

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/51871330

Summary: A loving, tender moment as Tav/Iris puts Rolan’s fears of parenthood to rest.

Notes: Rolan/Named Tav, Soft!Rolan, Pregnancy.

Another day of teaching, another night of grading papers.

In the dimly lit room, Rolan sat hunched over a cluttered desk, immersed in the quiet solitude of night. The pale glow of the flickering candlelight cast shadows as he diligently scored the assignments, yet his distant gaze suggested a mind preoccupied with thoughts beyond the task at hand. The only sounds in the room were the scratching quill on parchment, occasionally punctuated by the shuffle of papers. As the archmage glanced out the window, unspoken thoughts lingered, creating an atmosphere tinged with diligence and distraction. It was difficult for him to remain still as he twitched in his seat, one leg anxiously bouncing in place. Eyelids drooped as a subtle yawn escaped him, highlighting the lines on his face from the weariness of sleepless nights.

Focused on the battle of fighting sleep and finishing his work, the wizard remained oblivious to the subtle rustle of covers and soft footsteps on the wooden floor. The gentle tap on his shoulder startled him and as he turned, his suddenly alert, amber-colored eyes met a pair of drowsy yet concerned azure ones. The familiarity in her gaze eased him, allowing him to relax once more.

Many knew her as the Heroine of Baldur’s Gate: a woman who defeated the Absolute, took down the Chosen Trio, and ended the threat of the Netherbrain. In public, her warm smile and graceful demeanor portrayed a compassionate soul, always ready to lend a hand and radiating benevolence. Yet, her boundless kindness found its boundary when they reunited at Sorcerer’s Sundries and the truth behind the bruises on his face unfolded. A shiver ran down his spine as he remembered: her smile widened, eyes shut, nostrils flared with a deep breath, and fists clenched tightly at her sides. Soon after, with the aid of her party and himself, they swiftly took down Lorroaken, and Rolan became the new master of Ramazith’s Tower.

However, there was more to her than meets the eye. Underneath the friendly exterior was a woman willing to learn and show her worth. Someone who expected too much out of herself, much like himself. No matter how he was toward her, she always exercised patience and kindness in their interactions.

Iris.

In his eyes, she was the love of his life – a radiant ray of sunshine, his favorite heroine. She not only saved him but also his siblings on multiple occasions. Without her, he wouldn't hold the esteemed title of the current Archmage of Ramazith’s Tower, a fact that filled him with eternal gratitude. Their relationship blossomed shortly after the Elder Brain was destroyed.

Cautiously, the tiefling eased the elf onto his lap, tail encircling her thigh. "You should be asleep," Rolan softly scolded, securing his arm around her waist to the best of his ability. Simultaneously, his other hand tenderly sifted through her loose, wavy black hair – a soothing motion intended to coax her into slumber, for she shouldn't stay awake on his account. With an exhausted sigh, he inquired, "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," the druid murmured, nestling against his chest and finding solace beneath his chin. Tired eyes blinked, tempted by the allure of returning to sleep, the calming hand on her scalp enticing her. Yet, beneath the surface calm, worry lingered in her heart. "I sleep more than enough these days, Rolan. You, on the other hand, have been at this for days," Iris replied as she frowned, absentmindedly toying with the material of his sleep shirt. It was her anxious habit, a silent signal of her concern, and the fact that it was about him swelled his heart – the altruism he loved but that sometimes caused him grief when she would endanger herself in the hopes of helping others. "What's on your mind?"

The hand in her hair transitioned to gently grasp her fingers, offering a firm yet reassuring squeeze. Simultaneously, the arm around her waist descended to her abdomen, now rounded with their child. His child. Their child. She freed one of her hands, placing it atop his, her thumb tracing gentle circles—an invitation for him to share and a plea for openness.

Amid Iris' challenging pregnancy marked by severe morning sickness, leaving her perpetually dehydrated and fatigued, Rolan was mindful not to burden her further. He shifted his focus from his concerns to ensuring her well-being. "It's nothing, my dear. You needn't concern yourself over me," he assured, accompanied by a soft kiss to the crown of her head intended to ease her worries. A flutter where their hands connected served as a reminder of the life they had brought into existence.

Discovering she was expecting eight months ago was nothing short of a shock. While the idea of having children had casually surfaced in discussions throughout their relationship, they hadn't actively pursued it—though there were occasional instances he’d bent her over his desk or taken her against a bookcase in a bout of jealously, carelessly forgoing a protection spell. He knew she wanted a family someday, as did he.

When he reflected on it, he acknowledged that his initial reaction to her revelation wasn't one of his finest moments.

“Honey, I’m pregnant.”

“That’s nice, dear.”

Rolan immersed himself in the study of one of the magical artifacts from Lorroaken's labors, one among the numerous in the collection. Despite taking charge of Sorcerer's Sundries a few years ago, he had only explored half of Lorroaken’s extensive collection, carefully concealed from public view.

Iris’ blank stare lingered for a few moments before the weight of the news finally settled in. As realization dawned, he turned to her, eyes widening in surprise. The world seemed to pause as he gazed at her, a mixture of bewilderment and joy playing on his face. After a moment, the wizard couldn't contain his excitement and asked, "Are you certain?"

With eagerness, the high elf nodded, a bright grin on her face. Beneath the cheerful exterior, tears streamed down, and her body trembled with emotion. "A healer confirmed it this morning," she shared, her voice quavering. Soon after, her arms enveloped him, and she buried her face in his chest.

His arms suspended in midair, he was momentarily surprised by the sudden affection, though her displays of love were typically routine. "Is everything alright, my dear?" he inquired, arms eventually encircled her back, one hand rhythmically rubbing in a soothing pattern. 

A subtle sniffle escaped her as she gazed up at him, her smile watery and her eyes filled with tears. "I'm fine," she replied, chuckling. "It's just... a lot for me to take in now. I feel like this hasn’t sunken in yet.” 

"I understand," he affirmed with a nod, "but in any circumstance, I'll stand beside you every step of the way." Cupping her chin, he gently tilted her head for a soft, minty kiss—a taste of the herbs she had consumed that morning—before delivering small pecks all over her face, causing them both to break down in fits of giggles. His tail eagerly swished behind him. “I did say through sickness and in health, did I not?” He teased, genuinely smiling at her giggle. 

"Surprised I stuck around after all we've been through?"

Feigning exaggeration, he sighed. "Dealing with your antics is a challenge. You've given me near-heart attacks." His arms tenderly caressed her hips.

She laughed wholeheartedly, relishing his theatrics. "You love me for it," she teased, wrapping her arms around his neck, legs around his waist. Playfully, she added, "What would you do without me?" Rolan responded with a love nip to her neck, causing her to squeal.

Chuckling, he supported her on the kitchen counter, hands caging her in. "I meant it—I'll be with you through all of this," his gaze dropping to her flat stomach, one hand cautiously lifting to gingerly rest on it.

With a light smile, she nudged his chin to meet her eyes and put her other hand on his. "I know. There's no one else I'd want to start this journey with."

"Rolan?" As he immersed himself in the echoes of the past, her touch on the right side of his face a gentle anchor. He leaned into the caress, reminiscent of the time she healed him after battling the shadow creatures. The memory of her skin against his still made his face flush with a vivid hue.

He recognized the discerning gaze she cast upon him, piercing through his facade. A deep sigh escaped his lips. "Fine, fine... I'm concerned about our child."

“Is this about that comment the healer made? Because she said everything else is normal-“

“No, no, it’s not that.” He shook his head,  loosening more strands of hair from his disheveled ponytail. It was a small concern in his mind, one that was overshadowed by another. “There’s still so much to do, so much to plan for.”

She shifted in his lap, leveraging the advantage of her smaller than average baby bump. Straddling him, her hands grasped his shoulders for stability. His hands moved to her hips, tail subtly wagging. “One day at a time," she interrupted, emphasizing each word with a series of kisses across his face, concluding with a lingering one on his lips, prompting his tail to wrap around her waist as best it could. 

Despite being together for two years, the gesture still made his face flush. “What if I’m a bad father?” He asked, eyes shamefully looking to the side, “What if I can’t protect them? Gods, I couldn’t even save Cal and Lia from Moonrise, let alone defeat some shadow creatures—“

Her hands gently cradled his face. "What if you're not? Rolan, I believe you'll be a great father to this little one." She placed his hand on her belly, smiling. "Our past led us here, and we face this journey together. Mistakes may happen, but we'll love them, provide them a home. We're a team; you’re not alone. We'll succeed where our parents failed, ensure them a life of happiness and health." Tears streamed down her cheeks as she envisioned a brighter future.

He carefully wiped the tears from her face with his thumb, looking at her with a softened gaze. Much like himself, Iris was also abandoned by her parents at a young age. Her difficult past was a sensitive topic for her still, years later. In the quiet embrace of the night, Rolan absorbed the warmth of her presence, tightening his hold around her. "You're right," he admitted, a mixture of vulnerability and determination in his eyes. "One day at a time."

With a gentle smile, Iris continued, "We'll face whatever comes our way together. You won't be alone, and I have no doubt you'll be an amazing father." Her fingers intertwined with his on her belly.

Feeling the weight of her trust, Rolan's doubts began to ebb away. He tenderly kissed her forehead. "Thank you, Iris. I needed that." 

She grinned. "Glad I could be of assistance.” With some assistance from Rolan and the desk, she stood up. “Now, how about returning to bed? I miss my strong, charming wizard."

A smirk graced his face. "I suppose I've done enough work for the night."

She guided him to his feet with a gentle pull. "And could you read to me? Pretty please?"

He furrowed his brow as she requested another reading. "Another bad dream?" Iris haunted by recurring nightmares since defeating the Elder Brain, found them more persistent during her pregnancy.

Shamefully, she averted her gaze and nervously rubbed the back of her neck. "Yeah," she admitted, meekly.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Her silent shake of the head was the answer. He sighed, knowing she usually preferred to keep things to herself. Concerning as it was, now wasn’t the time to bring it up. "Yes, of course I can."

She pulled back the covers and settled underneath. "Thank you, truly." 

Slipping under the covers, he joined her, and she nestled into his chest again. Retrieving the book from the side table, he opened it to the bookmarked page.

As they lingered in each other’s soothing presence, Rolan felt a newfound sense of calm settled over him. The night continued, now with a shared resolve to face the future hand in hand.

Peace reigned until the following morning, when they discovered Iris had been in active labor for half the night, nearly causing Rolan to lose his mind.

#bg3 rolan #rolan #rolan bg3 #rolan x reader #rolan x tav #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #tav x rolan

[dpr-stay]

Lovefool | Diluc x Reader

Hehehhehe Diluc Angst (tbh not that I really need to do much) also not edited!!

WC:1k

“If you could go anywhere in the world, where?” You asked curiously, staring into Diluc’s eyes. The young master closed them for a second, thinking, before he opened them to respond.

“I’m not sure.” His voice was a sort of cold you were used to, inner walls remaining strong even though you’d burst your way through most of his outer fortifications. You kept looking at his eyes, half hidden behind his bangs whenever he’d duck his head, the red iris’s shining whenever the light caught on them.

“All I know is that I’d leave if I could.” His words, like usual, were straight to the point. You furrowed your eyebrows at their heavy connotations. He sighed at your expression, sinking further into his seat. His hands came to rest on the table, not fidgeting but slowly intertwining.

You didn’t let yourself become distracted, instead gesturing for him to continue and explain his statement. He paused for a moment, glancing down to seemingly contemplate his words.

“I don’t want to stay here. I want to be able to travel. I want to continue my fathers legacy, but I don’t want to be confined by it.” He said, his fingers flexing where they held each other.

You took a minute to process his words, the, by Diluc’s standards, word vomit needing a few moments to sink into your mind. You inhaled tightly through your nose.

He wanted to leave. He wanted to explore. You could understand that. He had to feel trapped. He’d spent his years stuck in the winery, stuck in the Knights of Favonius, stuck in the grief of losing his father.

You looked up at him, the man he’d become. Turned from the kid you’d first met under the careful eye of your mother who worked as a maid in the winery, to the teenager who decided to pledge himself to the knights, and now the man who felt trapped.

No, he said ‘confined’. You thought back the times you’d spend by his side, wondering if he felt confined back then.

Back when you’d blow dandelions together, when you’d taken work in the Good Hunter to be closer to him during his training, to now when you sat across from him, trying to read his emotions.

You felt a weight settle across your shoulders, dread slowly creeping into you as you surveyed his behaviour. He had been tense when he’d asked you to meet him here, never stuttering but hesitating which was very unusual.

He looked back at you.

“I think…” He started, averting his gaze, before continuing with more fervor.

“I need to leave.” He said, his hands flattening down on the table, his throat bobbing as he talked, his eyes set and resolute.

Need. He said he needed to leave. Like he needed air to breathe, he needed to leave.

You don’t think you’ve ever heard Diluc say that he needed something. Maybe once when you were still children, but the young man opposite you hadn’t needed anything in a long time.

He’d never needed parties, or presents, and you realised, with a heavy heart, he’d certainly never needed you.

But he needed to leave.

You swallowed, nodding slowly. He gazed at you, trying to read your face, but you let a reliable shield of passivity role over you. He looked at you as though asking for permission, a questioning lilt in his eyes.

“You need to leave?” You asked, voice not cracking but blocked by your throat. He nodded, an air of finality about his movement.

“Have you already made plans?” You asked, before realising how stupid it was. Of course Diluc had made plans, he was always prepared, he was just here to say goodbye.

Regardless, he nodded. You tried to swallow, sincerely you tried. You refused to let yourself falter. The silence hung in the air for a second before you spoke up.

“Diluc.” you said, the man still gazing at you with eyes you began to fear you could no longer read.

“If there was anything in the world that could make you stay, what would it be?” Sure it may come across pathetic, probably because it was, but you wanted to know. Was there any possible way you could not lose him?

He closed his eyes, his habit that you’d already picked up suddenly seeming more alien, before he shook his head slightly. He didn’t open his eyes to see the way yours faltered and darkened.

Perhaps it was foolish to hope. You’d known that at some point Diluc would snap, or something. You’d known that something would change. But you’d never imagine that he’d run away.

It felt as though a rug had been pulled out from under your feet, any and all cliche that describes feeling betrayed. A kick-in-the-gut, like a knife to your back, trust shattered like broken glass.

You tried to mask your heartbreak, but you knew that if he looked at you he would be able to tell. You didn’t know if you could consider it merciful when he stood up without looking at you, placing a few mora on the table and pushing his chair in.

“Diluc.” You said quietly. He paused in his movements. You mustered your courage. You knew the answer to the question you were about to ask, but you had to make sure. You needed to know, just in the slightest case.

“If I asked you to stay, would you?” You uttered. You watched his gloved hands tighten on the chair, the moment seeming to stretch for hours. You didn’t look up from his hands, but you saw his jaw clench from your peripheral.

He opened his mouth, looking at the floor, before closing it.

“I’m glad I got to see you before I left.” He turned and walked away. You watched him retreat, feeling as though someone had taken a picaxe and hacked through your back. You immediately looked down at the drink in front of you, trying to pretend the tears in your eyes was the condensation on the glass.

You had your answer.

#genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #diluc ragnivindr x reader #diluc oneshot #diluc x reader #diluc x you #diluc ragnvindr #Genshin impact oneshot