#are similar ENOUGH that they kind of skate by ignoring the differences or not knowing about them

[tgammsideblog]

Parallels between Scratch and Pete in the episode ¨Dance Dad Revolution¨

Dance Dad Revolution is an episode that involves Pete and Scratch becoming influencers (with Scratch being less literal) by using dance as a way to get people's attention. While the motives to start dancing as a way to influence people differ, the episode puts the two plots in parallels with each other, highlighting character traits the two characters have in common and how they react when they get a taste of being popular and having power over others.

In this post i'm going to discuss the characteristics Scratch and Pete share in common and how they develop through the episode. Let's start:

On first point both characters share similar backgrounds of being over and pushed around by other people. Both were mocked constanly and made fun by people in their social environment.

For Pete, he grew with his older twin siblings,Billy and Jilly, who would usually mock him, tease him, put him down and humiliate him. This made Pete develop certain low stem and it implied that is part of where his constant anxiety and nervousness comes from.

In the flashback from Ice Princess, Billy was shown making fun of Pete when he fails in his ice skating routine and crashes. In the episode ¨Twin Trouble¨ explores Pete's relationship with his twin siblings when they come to visit the Mcgees. Pete spends a good part of the episode regressing to his young self instead of the more confident person he is in the present. He starts wearing clothes like he used to back when he lived with his siblings and using his Boston accent.

When he sees Darryl imitating the twin siblings, Pete snaps and finally stands up for himself. He calls out his siblings behaviour, telling them that he is an adult now and will not put up with their behaviour any longer. The episode ends with the twins admitting that that the way they treated Pete was wrong and implying that will respect him from now on.

As for Scratch, his case is more serious since he was constanly controlled and abused by the Ghost Council, who were his bosses in season 1. They would usually make fun of Scratch or threatening him with sending him to the Flow of Failed Phantoms. Many ghosts would treat Scratch poorly due to his low social status and not being a ¨popular ghost¨. Scratch would often be ignored, insulted and pushed around by ghosts who were in the elite class, seeing him as inferior. Scratch had to hide his friendship with Molly and the rest of the Mcgees as well, since ghosts being friends with humans was seen as ¨unnatural¨. If a ghost was found out to be friendly with a human, they would be sent to the Flow of Failed Phantoms.

Most of Scratch's arc in season 1 is about him opening up to others and making connections. He starts off as distant and closed off, only with time to warm up to the Mcgees. Around half of season 1 he starts to consider the Mcgees his family. Later Scratch befriends Libby and Geoff and he is seen hanging out with them in some episodes.

Over time Scratch opens up to Molly about how he is treated by the Ghost Council in the Ghost World, like how he can be sent to the Flow if he isn't considered scary enough. In ¨A Very Hungry Ghost¨ he tells Molly that the Ghost Council can't know that he is friends with Molly because that would mean be taken away from her forever.

It is in the season 1 finale ¨Molly vs The Ghost World¨ that Scratch stands up for himself and tells the Ghost Council that he doesn't care about what they think of him. He fully admits that Molly is her friend, expressing how she is right about being kind and helping others. After Molly destroys the Chairman using her joy powers, Scratch and Molly return safely to the human world, not having to worry about the Ghost Council bothering them anymore.

So both Scratch and Pete were used to being mocked and pushed around by others for years. For Pete is when he lived with his twin siblings and for Scratch when the Chairman was the ruler of the Ghost World (and some hints that this happened when he was human too).

In ¨Dance Dad Revolution¨ it involves both of them finding themselves in position that they are listened to and they are respected. And, because they aren't used to that, they let the fame go up in their heads.

For Pete's plot, which is the A plot, it starts with Pete trying to get the mayor's attention to explain why plastic bags are bad for the enviroment and they should be banned from Brighton. The mayor ignores Pete's presentation, being distracted with the clipclop app. (A clear parody of tiktok).

Then Pete decides to try to get people's attention by using social media. Molly explains to him that he can try making a short video with him dancing to get his message across. Pete tries Molly's suggestion, the video becomes viral quickly and soon the plastic bags get banned from Brighton.

For around the first half of the episode Pete continues to make dance videos to reach out to other people and bring up certain issue. This works for multiple things. The problem is that Pete begins to change his goal of making videos to spread awareness and instead it turns into how many likes he can get. The sequence song potrays pretty well how he starts losing focus from what was his first goal and he becomes this snobby influencer persona that only cares about his popularity.

Molly sees that her father needs an intervention to realize how he has let social media turn him into someone inconsiderate and self-centered. She asks Pete to sit in chair in the living room with the rest of the Mcgees and shows him a clic clok video they and other Brightonians made for him. In the video is about them dancing while they talked about how Pete has gone to far and they missed how he used to be. After finishing watching the video Pete realizes his mistake and asks Molly to take control of his social media account. He admits that he became addicted to his influencer persona, showing how it can transform people.

For the B plot of the episode, it is about Scratch doing his chairman duties. An important part of this season deals with him having to deal with the responsibilities that comes from being ruler of the Ghost World. Something that he wants to avoid in every possible way and is scared of doing to some extent.

Once he hears from Darryl that people would do ¨anything¨ if one dances, Scratch decides to come up with a dance to make other ghosts clean the club that is filled with ectoplasm. Many ghosts do Scratch's chairman chores, thinking it just a fun ¨dance¨ when in reality is Scratch taking advantage of his position to make others do his duties for him.

Eventually the ghosts get tired of doing Scratch dance and want something new. They see Geoff and Jeff doing a dance that spread ectoplasm all around the room. Scratch asks them to stop before he realizes that it is too late, the whole room is filled with ectoplasm splattered everywhere and Scratch realizes that he has to clean all the mess all over again.

Both plots drive a lesson about how people who aren't used to having power or influence can let that get the worst of them and turn them into different people. In Pete's case it is about someone who deviates themselves from their original goal to help their community to chase views. In Scratch's plot, is abusing that power and avoiding his responsibilities, something that comes to bite him back at the end.

This episode shows well these parallels between Scratch and Pete, the reason of why they act the way they do and how they have to face the consequences of that behaviour at the end.

#the ghost and molly mcgee #tgamm #scratch mcgee #pete mcgee #tgamm season 2 #dance dad revolution #tgamm analysis

[wellnoe]

what are the big issues with scott/jean in your opinion? i’m not very familiar with them and only know the broad strokes of their relationship

if youre asking this in the context of my post about them being dysfunctional, i think the biggest issue that they have is that they are kind of bad at communicating. even after acknowledging this problem (and working at it. which they do.), they still have to very consciously try to communicate well. scott is reticent and tends to withdraw more the more upset/uncomfortable he feels, meanwhile jean tends to fall back on her telepathy to engage with complicated situations (or deal with scott being withdrawn). i like this, btw, i think its fun. theyre clearly able to overcome this, as they do in x-factor, but it is a persistent...snag? i guess? in their relationship.

i think pretty much all their other possible and canon issues are tied to that one big one. also, i really hope this ask was about issues in the problems sense and not in the numbered comics sense, bc i realized it could be about halfway through writing this and now i dont know.

#i do think scott and jean having a fraught relationship post search for cyclops makes sense #like thats the exact kind of shit that would mess with scott and that he wouldnt want to talk about #i just kind of hate where a lot of stuff went from there lol #also my answer here makes it sound like i think scott is the cause of a lot of problems and i DO want to emphasize #they are both pretty bad at talking to eachother #but also yeah jean is kind of better adjusted #and at least some of the time she lashes out shes actually just starting an argument #about some stuff they do actually need to address #so its not perfect communication i guess but its something #also also also as part of the communication thing i think that a lot of their philosophies about violence and murder and x-men #are similar ENOUGH that they kind of skate by ignoring the differences or not knowing about them #but when they DO get confronted with these differences I think its very fun and we should do more of those #further adventures of cyclops and phoenix i love some stuff about youuuuuu #w.ask #anon #also thank you for asking this! #i had fun thinking of them and problems

[ecoamerica]

Watch the American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 now: https://youtu.be/bWiW4Rp8vF0?feature=shared

The American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 broadcast recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by active climate leaders. Watch to find out which finalist received the $50,000 grand prize! Hosted by Vanessa Hauc and featuring Bill McKibben and Katharine Hayhoe!

#ACLA24 #ACLA24Leaders #youtube #youtube video #climate leaders #climate solutions #climate action #climate and environment #climate #climate change #climate and health #climate blog #climate justice #climate news #weather and climate #environmental news #environment #environmental awareness #environment and health #environmental #environmental issues #environmental justice #environment protection #environmental health #Youtube

[pucksnsticksnhockeyboys]

all my focus on you

summary: all of your focus is on Jake, and yet you can’t see that he loves you.

warnings: mentions of injury

word count: 3.2k

note from the writer: this is the first thing I've posted in months and I really like how it turned out. let me know what you think! also I didn’t edit it so sorry ahead of time.

“Who’s Tuna?”

You had heard the nickname tossed around a lot. At least, you were pretty sure it was a nickname. You were new to the world of hockey, having only really paid attention to the sport in the past few months as a result of your roommate, Jess, dating professional player Brock Boeser. Through him, you had met Elias, Quinn, Thatcher, Troy, and a whole assortment of others. But, Tuna still remained a mystery to you. Apparently, he was going to be joining your group out to the bar that night.

“You’ll like him.” Brock declared, giving you the same response he always did whenever you asked, while Elias’ smile turned the special kind of mischievous that only he could ever pull off. You didn’t have the chance to question how he could have been so certain, because Jess called your name and insisted that you start getting ready to go.

You’d never, not once in a million years, admit it that Brock was right.

You did like ‘Tuna’. A lot more than you probably should have. He was fun and outgoing from the moment Brock introduced you to him at the bar. Your heart stopped in your chest when you realized that Tuna was Jake Virtanen, your secret hockey crush. When Jess started seeing Brock, she showed you the entire Canucks roster. Jake’s piercing blue eyes struck out to you from the moment you saw his picture, but other than a ‘oh he’s cute’ and a mental note of his name and number, you kept quiet.

Now, he was standing before you, handing extended for you to shake with a dazzling smile that nearly made you forget your own name.

“I’m Jake.” He said brightly, and you offered your own smile in return as you slipped your hand into his meekly. Your face warmed at his touch, and if you possessed the ability to look away from Jake, you would have seen the shit-eating grin Brock wore. But you couldn’t, and instead you saw the way Jake’s gaze stayed on you, his own cheeks turning red. “What’re you drinking? I’m buying tonight.”

And thus, an amazing friendship grew. Which, for whatever reason, Brock seemed to loathe.

He was insistent that there was something more between you and Jake, which you vehemently denied, and each time your cheeks would burn brightly. It wasn’t as if you didn’t want anything more with Jake, in the few months that you had gotten to know him, he had become one of your closest friends and the person you told everything too.

And your secret hockey crush turned into full blown feelings. Most of your time was spent with him, even if you felt nothing but butterflies in your stomach whenever he was near. Only a few short months after meeting him, you couldn’t imagine your life without him. He was a constant presence in your life, as sure as you were that the sun would rise, you knew that Jake would be there for you.

With a schedule as crazy as a professional athlete’s, you jumped on any opportunity to spend time with Jake and any of the guys on the team, who all quickly became good friends of yours, along with their partners. Currently, you were at a diner, getting a quick lunch with Jake, Petey, and Brock, the two blondes sharing a side of the booth opposite of you.

Jake was in the middle of animatedly telling a story, and you watched with your undivided attention. Well, nearly undivided, since he had swung an arm around your shoulders shortly after sitting down and the simple contact had your heart beating like crazy. Petey had sent you no less than three shit-eating grins, and Brock was openly chuckling at how flustered you were. You were just thankful Jake was as oblivious as he was.

“You’re coming to the game tonight, right?” Jake asked, jostling you with the arm that was around his shouler to get your attention as soon as he finished his story. You nodded, taking a sip of your drink to cover up the fact that you had been openly staring at him as he spoke. “Perfect. Alright, I’ve got to run. I’m supposed to meet with my nutritionist.”

There was a chorus of ‘goodbyes’ as he tossed some cash on the table, enough to cover both his bill and yours, since he always insisted on paying for you. Before he could slide out of the booth, though, he pressed a quick kiss to your temple, an innocent act that had your heart doing cartwheels. You avoided Petey and Brock’s gazes, trying to will the heat in your cheeks away. It was only when the bell chimed on the door signalling that Jake had left, did someone speak up.

“Oh, come on!” Brock groaned, and you shot him a curious look. He ignored you, turning to face Elias, who was grinning in amusement. “I’m just going to tell her. It’s painful at this point.”

“Tell me what?” You question, nerves seeping into you, watching Elias shrug and grin wider. Instantly, your mind thought about the worst, like someone was getting traded or something similar, but nothing could have prepared you for what Brock said next.

“Jake is in love with you.”

“What? No, he’s not.” You spluttered, eyes wide and cheeks warm. Brock rolled his eyes at you, a scoff leaving his lips as if he thought his teammate’s apparent affection was obvious.

“He talks about you all the time.” Petey offered, and you fell silent. Elias wasn’t one to mess around with something like that. Sure, he made sly comments that had you laughing everytime, but this was different.

“He thinks you could never like him back, so we have to listen to him complain about it.” Brock’s tone was serious, but you could hear the subtle chirp. You pursed your lips, dropping your focus onto your plate to avoid meeting either of their gazes.

“You guys are ridiculous.” You settled on saying, though just because you dropped the conversation, it didn’t mean that you stopped thinking about it.

Even hours later as you were walking through the doors of the arena, you were still thinking about it. Though, you were quickly distracted as Jess led you through the crowd to find your seats and watch warm-ups.

Despite your inner turmoil, the Virtanen jersey felt right on your shoulders, now a regular part of your wardrobe. When Jake had found out that you had no idea about hockey, he had bought you the number eighteen Canucks sweater, along with tickets to just about every home game, claiming you were his good luck charm. When he gave you his jersey, he stated that it was to make your hockey experience complete—thought now you weren’t so sure.

Brock’s words from earlier in the day were still bouncing in your head. You had a hard time believing they were true, but then you thought over nearly every interaction you had with Jake. They all had a common theme—Jake was always looking at you with a softness to his eyes that you had, at the time, chaked up to his friendliness. Now, thinking back, you recognized the look. It was the same look you gave him.

A look of utter adoration and total love.

You settled into your seat to watch the game with a wide smile on your face, borderline giddy with the conclusion you had come to. You decided that after the game, when you would be going back to Jake’s for a movie night and a sleepover, a tradition that had been established after celebrating a win too hard one night and you spent the night at his place, and at the following brunch it was decided his guest room would be yours after any home games. Though, if you played your cards right, you wouldn’t be sleeping in the guest room.

Your happiness only lasted until halfway through the first period, and quickly dread formed in the pit of your stomach. The game was back and forth, neither team able to keep possession of the puck for very long. Petey scored first, and you cheered loudly, but clamped your mouth shut when a player on the opposite team—you couldn’t see a name on his jersey, and even so, you didn’t pay attention to any hockey team outside of Vancouver—started shoving Jake. Of course, Jake was running his mouth and shoving back, and it was only when a ref skated between the two players did you let out a breath of relief you hadn’t realized you were holding.

Apparently, Jake pissed off the other team a lot more than you originally thought.

You would have sworn he was being targeted. Everytime he was on the ice, it seemed, that an opposing player would check him into the boards. He wad getting hit hard from all angles, he got tripped twice but only drew a penalty on one—and if you screamed bullshit! at the ref, then who would have blamed you—and got into a fight late in the second after an opposing player shoved into Thatcher.

It was the third period when things really went awry.

It was the final minutes of the period, Vancouver up by one, thanks to Bo’s goal at the end of the second. The Canucks were fighting to hold on, maybe score an extra point to cement their victory, while the other team was getting desperate. And they were playing dirty, too.

You didn’t really register the gasp that fell from your lips as some unknown opponent slammed Jake into the boards, head on, with clear intent to injure him. You did remember jumping to your feet, as if that would make everything better.

Jess, who you hadn’t really acknowledged was sitting next to you in your stress, gripped your arm tightly. You watched in horror as Jake stayed down, hands holding his head as the athletic trainer jogged across the ice with the assistance of Troy Stetcher. You couldn’t tear your gaze away from Jake, but if you could, you would have seen Brock looking worriedly from his injured teammate to where he knew you were in the stands.

It felt like years later when Jake finally stood, and while leaning heavily on his trainer and Troy, he went down the tunnel. You sat down stifly into your seat, leg bouncing in nerves and fingers tapping an unknown pattern as you anxiously waited for the game to be over so you could check on Jake.

Five minute major, game misconduct.

Good, you thought, but you kept your mouth clamped shut as nausea swirl in your stomach. Distantly, you heard Jess say that the opposing player was most likely going to get fined for his actions. You knew hockey was a hard hitting sport, but that was terrible. You had seen Jake hurt before, blocked shots, highsticks, and the sorts—but not once had it taken him that long to get back up.

You couldn’t focus on the rest of the game, you were pretty sure that at some point Quinn had scored, but eventually Jess was leading you down to the tunnel where had to meet the other players. Holly, Bo’s wife, had tried to assure you that Jake would be fine the moment she saw you.

“He’s got a thick skull.” She tried to lighten the mood, but all you could muster was a weak smile and a laugh that sounded forced and foriegn to even your own ears. You listened to the other wives and girlfriends of players chatter about who knows what—certainly not you, you were staring at the door you knew the boys emerged from—for minutes. The girls knew you, how you were always around Jake, acting like a couple but not once taking that extra step, so they knew how stressed you were, waiting for the verdict.

Elias was the first one to exit the room, heading straight to you with a tiny, reassuring, smile on his face. Your arms were crossed tightly across your body, an indicator of just how uncomfortable you were in the moment.

“He’s fine. He’ll be out in a few minutes.” He told you quietly. Though it helped calmed you slightly, you couldn’t get the imagine of him laying on the ice out of your head. You nodded your head in thanks, before he patted your shoulder comfortingly and departed. Quinn was next out, shooting you a pitiful smile. Tanev, Toffoli, and Edler all came out before finally, the brunette you had been waiting for emerged with Brock at his side.

He looked terrible, his tie was loose around his neck, hair a mess from the quick post-game shower he had just taken. His shoulders were slumped, and he looked so tired that your heart clenched in your chest.

“How are you?” You asked quietly once he stopped before you. Jess and Brock left to give you some privacy, but you didn’t notice in the slightest. Your focus was on Jake—like it always was.

“A little beat up, nothing I can’t handle.” He waved off his injured like it was nothing. You pouted for a moment, knowing he was playing down the severity of it. He seemed to sense your disbelief, because he wrapped his arms around your shoulders and pulled you into his chest. You sank into the embrace, reciprocating the hug with a deep sigh.

“Don’t you ever do that to me again.” You threatened into the fabric of his suit, wrapping your arms tiger around his middle. He chuckled lowly, holding you just as tight in return. Your heart was thundering in your chest, your stomach a lightning storm of nerves.

“I’ll try not to.” He assured you quietly, dropping a kiss to top of your head. You thought back to your decision before the game, how you were going to confront both his feelings and yours, and decided that it could wait just a little bit longer.

“Come on, let’s get you home.” You mumbled, pulling away sightly. He nodded and you, and you were pleasantly surprised as he slipped his hand into yours, threading your fingers together, as you headed in the direction of his car.

You insisted on driving, and Jake only protested slightly. The ride was quiet, and you could tell something was bothering him, but chose to stay quiet and let him come to you when he was ready. Or at least until you got back to his home. Instead, you listened to his music play softly from the car as you weaved through the streets of Vancouver, taking the familiar path to Jake’s place.

When you finally arrived, he slipped into his bedroom to change into something more comfortable, and you made yourself comfortable on his couch. When he returned, he was in a Canucks hoodie and pair of grey sweats, and instead of sitting next to you on the couch, he laid across it so his head was in your lap. Instantly, your hand threaded though his hair and you scratched at his scalp, something you knew he loved. His eyes fluttered shut at the action, and he hummed contentedly.

“You scared me tonight.” You said softly after a moment. You tried to will away the tears that welled up in your eyes, remembering how it felt to see him laying on the ice, injured. It tore you in two, you had never felt more sick to your stomach at a sight than you did when he was down.

“I know.” He sighed queitly in response. Not trusting yourself to keep your voice steady, you chose not to respond right away. He reached a hand up, grabbing yours out of his hair and pressing a kiss to your palm, before threading your fingers through his and resting it on his chest.

And then, you couldn’t stop the words from tumbling past your lips—

“I love you too much to see you get hurt like that.” You hated how your voice cracked, and most of all you hated how you confessed your feelings. You wanted to do so during a happy moment, one shared with smiles and he’d tell you he felt the same, but no, you were holding back tears on his couch as he tensed, your words registering.

“What?” He questioned, sitting up abruptly. You would have thought that you had screwed everything up, if it weren’t for the near-death grip he had on your hand. Still, you couldn’t meet his gaze, and instead focused on the coffee table. Gently, with his free hand, he cupped your jaw, turning so you were facing him. It was then that you realized that you were crying, silent tear tracks running down your cheeks that he brushed away carefully as he studied your face intently. “What did you just say?”

“I love you.” You choked out, voice tight. “And I’m new to the hockey thing, so I’m not used to seeing hits like that and I—”

Your ramblings were cut short as Jake surged forward, connecting your lips to his. It took you a moment to react, but your free hand eventually moved to the back of his neck, your other still gripped in yours. The kiss wasn’t heated, but loaded with so much passion and emotion it made your head swirl. Months of casual flirting and innocent touches built to this moment, and you would be lying if you said you were aware of how long you actually were pressed against him.

Eventually, he did pull back, a wide and dopey grin on his face. You smiled just as brightly, the hand on the back of his neck toying slightly with the strands of hair there. Chasing your lips for a few quick pecks that your readily complied with.

“I love you, too.” He hummed, seemingly unable to tear his focus from you. You didn’t mind, not one bit, considering he had you attention from the moment you had met.

“I know.” You grinned, watching as his brows pull together in confusion, a silent question and urge for you to elaborate. With a giggle, you explained. “Brock told me.”

“Of course he did.” Jake groaned, tipping his head back. You chuckled at his dramatics, looking at him with the same fond look you always did. Only this time, you didn’t have to worry about him finding out. Your hand moved from behind his head to his jaw, thumb brushing across his cheekbone. You smiled as he brought his attenton back to you, and you leaned forward to press a quick kiss to the tip of his nose. “You know, he’s been trying to set me up with you this entire time.”

“Yeah, he told me that I’d like you the night we met. He and Petey were planning this.” You explained, watching as he lifted your joined hands and kissed the back of yours, a barking laugh leaving him as you finished your sentence.

“Was he right?” He asked cheekily, swinging an arm around your shoulders and pulling you into his chest so he could cuddle you. You admired him with a soft smile, watching as he grabbed the remote on the couch beside him to put on a movie. Never in a millions years would you admit that Brock was right, but you with the way Jake was smiling, you decided to make an acception.

“Definitely.”

#jake virtanen #Jake Virtanen x reader #Jake Virtanen imagine #Jake Virtanen imagines #hockey imagine #hockey x reader #NHL imagine #NHL x reader #vancouver canucks #Vancouver canucks x reader #Vancouver Canucks imagine

[kiame-sama]

Hello again lovies~ We have some more story with our favorite yandere DILF!

This is how our aggressive Yandere behaved during the third pregnancy and seeing what Killua looks like for the first time. Starting with initial conception to a bit of domestic time after birth.

As we begin with 'the making of' that indicates a good moment of +18 viewers.

WARNINGS ⚠: dub-con Lemon, cute mothering moments, hormone fluctuation, SUPER CUTE (sickeningly cute) MOMENTS, intense descriptions during birth, birthing complications, domestic moments.

~~~~~~~~

It was a cold November evening, and for once you really wished your husband was present. You curled your lip at the thought of being married to the man who held you captive, but after fifteen years it became less of a concern. If anything, you were more concerned for your two sons and how little you got to see them. You were able to spend so little time with either of them and often fretted about their well-being.

The only thing that kept you going were the far and few between visits you were able to have with them. You loved your sons and would do anything for them.

But for now, you had to figure out the best way to stay warm at night since Silva had been oddly absent for a couple of days. He had done so in the past but this time he seemed to be taking longer than usual. He refused to leave you alone at any given time, so his absence was rather unsettling.

Silva actually always kept your 'cell'  cold in the evenings as it encouraged you to be more accepting of his advances. He was basically a space-heater and- though it pains you to admit- he was extremely comfortable to curl up with. But when he was absent it was punishingly cold, and it wouldn't take long for you to break out the extra blankets.

On some occasions, you would even drag your blankets to your corner since it tended to be a little bit warmer than the reset of your cell. But for now, the blankets were warming and shielded you from the cold that flowed through your room.

You were in the mental state of somewhere between awake and asleep when you heard him. The door to your cell had made an awful noise as it closed, giving the usually stealthy assassin away. You couldn't help but feel too tired to rouse yourself in response to his presence as he entered the room.

You made a small and sleepy noise when the bed dipped down as he joined you, easily sliding beneath the blankets and reaching out to you. The moment his warm hand came in contact with your cold skin, you were pressing against him. The heat that rolled off of his body was a tempting trap that you happily snuggled into, letting the warmth seep in.

He was so damn warm and comfortable pressed against you. You wanted nothing more than to just bask in that warmth and drift off into nothing when you felt his hands slowly pushing up your shirt.

Why is it always like this? Why does he always feel the need to be inside of you every time he returns?

You should be used to it by now, given the fact it has been near 15 years since you had first been taken. Still you couldn't seem to find a routine. Regardless of that fact, he was fairly consistent with what he wanted from you.

You whined when his warm hand came up to cup your breast, the feeling oddly pleasurable to your sleep fogged mind. You barely registered the feeling of your clothes being tugged off and the cold that nipped at your skin from beyond the blanket.

"No..."

Your sleepy rejection went unheard or unnoticed by the man above you, his lips descending to your neck. You felt the faint pressure of his hips against your own paired with the bites and licks on your neck. It didn't take long for his fingers to find their way to your throbbing sex, teasing and rubbing at your entrance.

You mewled and moved your hips with his strokes, tired eyes closing. It seemed he had no patience for foreplay or much else beyond stuffing himself into your heat as you felt him lift your leg over his hip. He let out low noises of pleasure as he let his hot cock slide through your folds. Your toes curled and you let out faint moans, pushing against his chest weakly.

"Don't... I don't want.."

"Shh... Just keep your eyes closed and go to sleep."

You felt surprisingly soft lips press against your own as he slowly slid into you, the faint shot of pain rousing your mind just a bit as he bottomed out and settled. You could barely force your eyes to open as he began languidly thrusting into you, the sleepy haze in your mind heightening the feeling. You tried to force yourself to wake, but you couldn't help but let yourself get dragged deeper into sleep.

The rhythmic thrusting pulling you deeper into your haze, the low noises of moans in your ears having a near musical tone. His deep voice having such a husky hitch to it, hearing his growls and huffs as he pumped himself into you.

"My sweet wife... Just rest and let me take care of you. Be vulnerable and relax for me."

The comfortable warmth coming from his heated body against yours soothed your tense muscles, letting his firm body massage yours. The soft melody of sounds and rhythms soothing you and putting you to sleep.

~~~~~~~~

It seemed over the last month that Silva had grown rather fond of taking you in your sleep. Often you would wake just enough to feel your pleasure break over you or to feel him thrusting away into you. You were getting sick of his callous disregard for your opinion or want by fucking you while you were asleep.

Or perhaps you were just sick.

You lay on the tile floor, blanket wrapped around your exhausted figure. Somewhere in your mind you couldn't help but hope you just had the flu or something similar, but you knew that wasn't the case. You felt similar to how you did when you were pregnant with your two sons, and somewhere in your mind, you knew you were pregnant once again.

At least now Silva would leave you alone, right?

You figured you could test that theory later and get in a quick nap, but the tell-tale sound of the door opening dashed those thoughts.

"... Unwell again?"

He kneeled next to you, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear and examined your pale face. It was as if you were experiencing a gentle touch far more willingly than you usually would, as you pressed your cheek into his hand. There was a quiet moment before he recoiled in shock.

You could barely hear his voice and only manged to pick up on a few words.

"Impossible. How could it already have unique nen so early?"

You were half tempted to question what he was talking about before you were picked up. You cried and whimpered at the loss of comfort, but Silva ignored your complaints and carried you to the large couch. You started to feel uncomfortable and warm as you lay on the plush surface, listening for Silva.

As you began to wonder if he had left without you knowing, a cool breeze began to steadily skate over your skin. The soft hum of a quiet motor reached your ears and you realized what it was. Silva must have set up a fan for you to keep your temperature down but still allow you to lay in comfort on the couch instead of the floor.

You don't know how long you lay in blissed out silence before an old and familiar voice reached your ears.

"Again? You two just breed like rabbits, don't you?"

"There's something different about this one."

"What do you mean?"

"Look at her nen."

"... How does it already have nen? It barely even has a heart-beat, it shouldn't have nen so early."

"It is different from the other two."

"This one should be monitored closely throughout the pregnancy as it grows-"

"I don't want it."

"Silva-"

"I have two sons already. I don't need another heir. I want it out of her now."

"Have you spoken with her about it?"

"I don't need to-"

It was then you decided to speak up, irritated with the back and forth jabbering. Your body, your baby, your rules.

"I'm keeping my baby. Just try and take it from me."

"(Y/n). You've already almost lost your life during delivery twice now. Do you want to chance it-"

"Just. Try. And. Take. It."

"(Y/n), stop being stubborn about this. Clearly this one is different from the other two. I don't want to risk your life again just for-"

"My womb. My baby. My decision. Not your's. Don't like it? Wear a condom for once or stop fucking me every day."

A sharp and familiar laugh split through the tension in the room, Zeno practically grinning ear-to-ear.

"Certainly have more bite to you than you did when you first got here. Figured out he won't kill you even if you snap at him? Silva, It seems your wife has spoken."

You could tell Silva was irritated with you by his clenched jaw and deep frown, but you also knew that he wouldn't punish you due to you being pregnant. It was not only a reprieve from sex, but a reprieve from his irritation.

Certainly you were going to be pleased with the months of rest from his insatiable sex-drive.

~~~~3 months in~~~~

As he had during your past pregnancies, Silva took to obsessively holding you on his lap and having you checked with every twitch or grimace.

Oddly enough, it seemed you were reacting very differently to this pregnancy than you had your other two. You couldn't help but cuddle and snuggle up with Silva any chance you got, much to his satisfaction. You became almost manic when left alone for more than ten minutes, entering into a constant state of worry. You felt the obsessive need to stockpile food as if you were worried you wouldn't be fed, even though Silva was dutifully getting your meals.

It seemed to be that you were only able to calm down from this state when he held you in his arms. Thus you rarely let him leave. When he would go to get up, you would just cling tighter to him and even shake in panic at the idea of him leaving.

It was a good thing that he refused to take contracts while you were pregnant, because leaving you alone was not an option. Not one he was willing to consider, anyway.

You still felt the usual exhaustion and unease as you did with your other pregnancies, but this was a different kind of unease. You were less concerned about how Silva would react to his new child, and more concerned about the child themselves. Something made you obsessively worry about losing your child during the pregnancy.

You knew it was likely nothing, but something just made you upset about it all. You had no concern of Silva taking your baby away- due to learning his lesson the first time- but that didn't alleviate your mind. All you could do was try to stay calm and just wait.

Somehow it soothed you that even though Silva did not want the child, he still took the time to listen to your fears and worries. He usually would assure you and tell you things will be fine and nothing bad is going to happen.

He is quite gentle with you while you're pregnant given your fragile condition. He also would not be able to withstand or tolerate your mourning should you lose the child. He would make sure the child lived just to keep you from falling into that kind of sorrow again.

His concern for your wellbeing is why he wanted to get rid of the child before you knew of its existence. He had done so in the past and managed to convince you that you were just sick when the signs began to appear. You never even knew what he had done and never realized why you had only been pregnant twice in 15 years even though he ensured to have sex with you every day.

He wanted to growl when he heard your tired voice say you wanted to keep it while he talked with his father. Well, he knew it was going to happen eventually. He could only get away with it for so long before you learned of it and desired to keep the child.

Now that you were aware of it, he would go through Hell just to keep you comfortable. He still had a bad feeling about this one though.

~~~~6 Months~~~~

You hummed softly as you ran your fingers through Silva's hair, still sniffling lightly and slowly getting your breathing under control.

You had begun having terrible nightmares and would wake up just screaming and wailing in agony. You were unusually difficult to console after waking. You never really did remember your nightmares, but you knew well enough that it was better you forgot them, given your sheer panic upon waking.

You knew Silva was still displeased with the pregnancy, but he said anything you wanted to hear to help soothe you. The first night you woke him with your thrashing and wailing, he was in a frazzled and panicked state. He couldn't figure out why you were screaming or what was wrong and being so powerless was infuriating to him.

Now he had taken to sleeping rarely and only resting for a few hours each night so he could keep an eye on you. But even with him at the ready to wake you the moment you seemed uncomfortable, there were still nights like this. Painful sobs and gasps wracking through your body as you clung to him.

Gone were the days of trying to shield your stomach from him in fear. Now you held tightly to him and pressed as close as your body would allow, stomach directly between the two of you. It was unreasonably soothing to you to hold onto him and just listen to him speak.

Weren't you supposed to hate him?

Regardless of how you felt in the past and how it felt like a betrayal now, you were not about to try to distance yourself from him. Not when his presence alone was so soothing to you in your distressed state.

His warm hands massaged your tense muscles. His soft hair was soothing between your fingers. His deep voice settling your frantic heartbeat. His firm body making you feel protected. Everything about him was what you desperately needed, and he couldn't be more thrilled.

He disliked seeing you upset, but he adored how cuddly you had become and how aggressively you clung to him. His only wish is that you continue your cuddling behavior even after the pregnancy is over.

~~~~8 months~~~~ (extra warning)

Something's not right. Something's wrong. Something's wrong. Something's wrong.

You knew it the moment you woke up, panicked and holding your stomach in agony. It was the middle of the day and Silva had stepped out not too long before you woke from your nap.

You knew something was wrong and you just screamed. Your body was filled with agony as you held your stomach, somewhere in your mind realizing that you were likely going to have to do this alone. You could barely move and the blood that coated your legs sent you into a frenzy of terror.

Pain was something you had experienced, this was something else all together. Somewhere in your mind you knew the child wouldn't be able to be born in a normal delivery. So, you did what you had to in order to save your baby.

Silva didn't keep knives around the room in order to ensure you couldn't hurt yourself, but he recently left a simple small knife on the counter before you fell asleep. It wasn't ideal, but it would damn-well have to do.

Thankfully, you had a vague idea of what to do, given the different medical books you had read over the years. You didn't feel much pain, adrenaline fueling your actions and steadying your hand. You were going to save your baby no matter what.

What felt like hours passed as you worked, propped up slightly against the couch. You knew you had done it when you heard that nasally snorting cry only newborns could make. The few things you remembered before finally passing out was a shock of white hair and piercing blue eyes cuddled up to your chest.

~~~~~~~~

Silva's brain still refused to process the events that followed when he returned to his wife's side.

He was unprepared for the snorting cries of his newborn infant and the horrific amount of blood that had no doubt come from his wife. She had been so pale with no color on her lips or face. The skin around her eyes were dark like pits and her chest barely moved.

He sat motionless with that image burned in his mind as doctors worked to save his only love. Why? Why had she done something so drastic? She should have just waited for him instead of going off the deep end.

He felt hate burning in his chest, not only for the infant but hate towards himself. He should have been there. How could he leave for so long like that? Just assuming she would still be sleeping by the time he got back. He shouldn't have left. If he had been there, none of this would have happened.

His father- as per usual- was the one who held and comforted the snorting and crying creature in his arms, refusing to allow Silva anywhere near. He knew what Silva would do to the infant if he was let near, and he wasn't about to let that happen. Not with how much potential and familial traits the infant already had.

The familial white hair and blue eyes of the Zoldyck family made the child's potential quite clear. Not to mention the overwhelming amount of nen the infant had despite being just born. The child had the nen of an adult and was likely only going to become stronger from there.

This child was the ideal Zoldyck. Zeno knew it, and Maha knew it. Silva didn't care. If he had his way that disgusting parasite would be dead by now.

He immediately stood the moment the door opened, the doctor's next words would dictate his actions from there.

"She's stable."

Almost as if his heart had been released from a vice, relief flooded his body at the news.

"It... Is a miracle she survived."

"How soon will she recover? That infant isn't worth her life to me."

"Well, there's something to that actually. Had she not done what she did, she would have died. We found that there was a complication with her dilation and that the infant was actually stuck inside of her. Had it remained that way, even for such a short amount of time, both would have died."

Now that was interesting. Silva knew that she had been worried from the very beginning even though countless checks said she would be fine. Had she known from the start of the pregnancy that something like this was going to happen? Had she been right to be concerned from the start?

Maha spoke up, now interested in the odd events that took place.

"So she was right to do what she had done to herself? She was correct in her actions?"

"Yes. Had she not done it, there would have been no saving her by the time we got to her. She is very fortunate, self performed c-sections always end in the mother passing away. This is likely a once in a million years kind of event."

Silva didn't care about their jabbering, he wanted to see his wife. He didn't stay to listen to them talk and instead immediately entered the room where she was being held.

It pained him more than words could describe to see her with so many marks and machines attached to her. But she was alive. He could work with that. Had she died, he would have... Well, no need to talk in hypotheticals.

~~~~~~~~

It had taken Illumi a moment to come to terms with the wiggling, snorting thing in his arms. This was what his mother almost died for? This pink squishy thing?

It was fascinating to him that this was why he almost lost his sweet mother. He had agreed long ago to keep an eye on any younger siblings he may have, but he would make note to watch this one closely. There had to be a reason his mom had gone through such lengths to keep this infant. He would be damned before all of her pain and suffering went to waste.

"What do you think of your little brother, Illumi?"

His mother's soft voice brought him back to the present. She was still bed-bound, but she wanted to be there when Illumi first met little Killua. He was pleased just to be able to be with her even if it meant he had to take care of the small infant in his arms.

His father stood, leaning against one of the walls and watching closely should anything happen. The similarities between them did not go unnoticed though.

"He looks like father."

"Yes... He does look a lot like your father."

Illumi knew he would never let anything happen to his little brother. He wouldn't let his mother down like that. Not with the amount of trust she's put in him.

He would ensure this child would never take on an opponent he was uncertain of defeating. He would make his mother proud of him and just how well he is taking care of his siblings.

He just hoped she wouldn't die over something like another kid. She was his mom and he didn't want her to ever be sad or to have her die any time soon.

If it meant he had to control and micro-manage his little siblings, he would.

#x reader #lemon #yandere #female reader #yandere x reader #hxh #fem reader #reader insert #silva #dub con #dubcon #non con #yandere silva x reader #yandere silva

[marjansmarwani]

all the difference in the world 

2.7k || ao3

Carlos and his partner Mya respond to the hostage situation call. --- A 2x05 coda (a.k.a if the writers won’t give Carlos scenes, I will.)

This was mostly written out of spite. Mostly beta’d by @officereyes, but any errors in the part I added after are on me and me alone. 

---------

“I’m just saying, I can’t believe you didn’t invite me to the roller derby.” 

“I’m sorry, I had no idea it would be your thing,” Carlos shot back defensively. 

His partner turned to look at him for the briefest of moments with an entirely unimpressed expression, “It’s badass women on roller skates, Reyes. What exactly about that sounds like ‘not my thing’?” 

Carlos rolled his eyes. “I’ll be sure to invite you next time, Esquilin,” he promised, “as long as you don’t mind hanging out with TK’s crew.” 

“I think the badass women on roller skates can balance out the company of firefighters,” she quipped, shooting Carlos a grin, “probably.” 

He rolled his eyes again, but his retort was interrupted when their radio sounded from the dashboard, “Be advised, all units: Code 3 at 235 Heyward St, unit 3F. Hostage situation, suspect is armed and dangerous.” 

Carlos shot Mya a look and she nodded, flipping on the lights and sirens as she took the next left, bringing them closer to the emergency in progress. 

“Dispatch, this is 363-H-20, responding. ETA 8 minutes,” he announced into the radio before replacing it on the dashboard, a grim set to his mouth as he stared out the window at the houses they sped by. 

“I hate domestic calls,” Mya eventually said into the silence and Carlos nodded grimly. They had both seen calls like this end badly, and he knew they were both desperately hoping to never have to see that again. “Where did they say she was?” 

“Third floor.” He glanced at his partner to see her biting her lip as she considered, “Why?” 

“I’m just trying to figure out how we can possibly get up there without tipping him off. Dispatch said he was armed, we don’t want him spooked. That’s not going to end well for anyone, especially not her.” 

Carlos nodded, trying to focus on the problem rather than the possible disastrous outcomes. He and Mya had responded to a similar call almost two years ago now and that one had not ended happily. It was one of his experiences on the force that had affected him most and one he still thought about from time to time, especially on bad days. But it was also an experience that didn’t help them now. If they wanted to make sure that didn’t happen again he needed to focus on the now. 

Which was all well and good, but he didn’t know they were supposed to get a victim out of a third-floor apartment before they breached without anyone getting caught in a crossfire. They didn’t have the time, resources, or training to scale the building to approach that way. The only way in was the stairs and the door. 

He looked over at Mya who met his gaze with an equally frustrated expression. Clearly, she had not come up with any brilliant ideas either. He sighed and leaned back in his seat. It’s not that he thought he and Mya were incapable of coming up with creative solutions. But after spending so much time about the 126 he had a new standard for “creative,” and honestly he could use some of that insanity he witnessed on a regular basis right now. 

“We just need a way to get her out,” Mya said eventually as they drew closer to their destination, “once she is safe we can handle the guy. I just don’t want to risk her getting caught in a possible crossfire.” 

Carlos nodded and opened his mouth to ask his partner if she had any brilliant ideas to make that happen when he froze, a half-formed thought popping into his head. Without saying a word to Mya he reached for the radio again, switching it on to call dispatch: “Dispatch, are there any available fire units in the area of the Code 3?” 

“The 226 is in the vicinity and available.” 

Carlos glanced over at Mya, who had pulled her eyes off the road long enough to give him a baffled look. He smiled at her before he spoke into the radio again, “Dispatch, can they respond to the address in question and deploy the rescue cushion?” 

He saw the dawning realization on his partner’s face as he waited. She beamed at him even as the voice of the dispatch supervisor sounded over the radio, “Affirmative, 363-H-20. The 226 is en route and will have the rescue cushion deployed in time for your ETA.” 

“10-4 dispatch, we’re about 4 minutes out now.” 

He replaced the radio and turned to look at his partner, who shot him a knowing grin, “Only someone who has spent a little too much time around firefighters could come up with an idea as crazy as that.” 

He scoffed at her, “Crazy enough that it might just work, you mean.” 

She shook her head, still grinning, and Carlos sighed and leaned back in his seat, grin fading. “I hope it does work,” he admitted more somberly. “I don’t want this to be a repeat of…” 

“There’s no point in thinking like that,” Mya interrupted sharply, “that was a long time ago. And there’s no saying this is going to turn out the same way. Not if we have any say in it. We’re already in better shape than we were then. We’re not going to make the same mistakes.”

Carlos nodded tightly and they continued their ride in silence. He knew Mya was right and that they had prepared in every possible way. They had done all they could, but there were still so many variables. There always were. Working with people in crisis was never an exact science and there was always a chance that nothing went according to plan. 

They arrived at the scene and Carlos was out of the vehicle before Mya had even brought it to a complete stop, rushing over to the team unfurling the rescue cushion. The captain looked up as Carlos approached, “We’re just about ready to give the go-ahead,” he called, “we’re all set on our end!”

Carlos nodded gratefully and turned on his heel, meeting Mya’s eyes and jerking his head towards the building. She followed without question, waving for the other officers who had just arrived to follow them. They headed up the stairs as quickly and quietly as possible and Carlos did his best to avoid the creeping feeling of dread. He knew they had done everything they could, but that didn’t stop the fear that it might somehow still end in tragedy.

They had just approached the last flight of stairs when the scream ripped through the air. They froze as one, all waiting to hear the outcome. Carlos was nearly toppled by the relief of hearing the voices of the firefighters drifting up, assuring her that she was safe now. He could feel Mya’s hand on his arm and glanced over his shoulder to give her a quick smile. The victim was safe. From here, it was all simple. 

He gave a nod to the other officers gathered behind him and they resumed their journey upwards, entering the hallway and barreling through the door. The man spun to face them from the railing, a look of shock covering his features. Carlos held his gaze as he ordered him to put his hands up, and he saw the moment he made a decision. Dispatch had mentioned that this was his third strike; he knew there was no happy ending in this for him. 

He lunged for the gun in the same moment that Carlos thrust himself fully into the room, grabbing him before he could achieve his goal, stopping his hands mere millimeters from the gun. He could feel the collective sigh of relief from his fellow officers, as well as his partner’s gaze on the back of his neck. He ignored it, for the moment, as he wrestled the man’s arms behind his back, slapping the cuffs on him as he read him his rights. He stood then, pulling the suspect up with him as Mya stepped further into the room. She glanced over at the two officers behind them before addressing the pair: “We’ll take this loser down and get him to the station, can you two do a quick sweep and make sure all’s good here?” 

They nodded and Mya gave them a quick thanks before taking the suspect from Carlos and guiding him towards the stairs. Carlos gave his own thanks to the other two officers and quickly followed. He could tell his partner had something on her mind, but he also knew she wouldn’t say anything about it until they had the suspect safely secured in the back of their squad car. They descended the stairs in silence before eventually exiting the building back into the parking lot where the 226 was in the process of packing up the rescue cushion and the victim was getting checked out by the paramedics. 

Upon seeing his ex their cuffed suspect made to lunge in her direction but Carlos stepped between them, blocking his line of sight and staring down at him coldly, “Don’t even think about it.” 

He deflated and Mya scoffed as she pulled him in the direction of the squad car, opening the door and guiding him inside without a word. Once the door was closed behind him she turned to face Carlos, eyebrows raised and an unimpressed look on her face, “You wanna talk about what happened up there?” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, we got the guy.” 

“Yes, we did. After you threw yourself in between him and his gun and our guns too, I might add.”

“Mya…” he began, but she held up her hand to stop him. 

“I’m not trying to scold you, Carlos, especially because I can’t say I wouldn’t have done the same thing. I’m just asking you to be a little bit more careful, okay? We take enough risks as it is, you really don’t need to go out of your way to create more. I kind of like you as a partner so I would appreciate it if you could manage to not get yourself shot if you don’t mind.” 

“Aw, you do care.” 

“I will deny that in a court of law,” she countered without missing a beat. 

He grinned at her and she sighed before shaking her head and walking back around to the driver’s side. “Just remember I’m not going to be the one to tell your boyfriend you got yourself shot,” she called over her shoulder, “so maybe avoid that if at all possible.” 

He chuckled, but her words also ignited a hint of anxiety in his chest. He had followed his instincts and he didn’t regret it, but now that the adrenaline was gone and he had the advantage of hindsight he could see how badly that could have gone. But he also knew that dwelling on it would accomplish nothing. He had spent a career trusting his instincts and he knew that was the best way to approach this. He knew that trusting himself was the best chance he had. 

That didn’t lessen the risks and the fact that he had so much more to lose now than he ever had before.  

As he opened the passenger door he glanced across the scene to see the woman sitting in the back of the ambulance, talking to another officer who was taking her statement. Her expression of relief was evident even from this distance, and Carlos smiled. This reality was better than any of the anxieties running through his head and he would focus on that. Today had been a win. They didn’t always get those, Carlos knew that all too well. They had to take the successes they could get, and savor those. Focusing on what-ifs never helped anybody. 

Today they had won and the would-be victim had her life back. Today they had managed to get the ex before the worst had happened and that made all the difference in the world. 

--------

Carlos looked up as his front door swung open, a smile spreading across his face when he saw his boyfriend and Paul crossing the threshold. TK met his eyes and matched his smile as he crossed the room towards him, “Hey, babe.” 

Carlos met him at the edge of the counter, pulling him into a kiss that lingered. When they finally pulled apart, he grinned at TK, “Hey yourself.” He looked over TK’s shoulder to Paul, “Hi Paul.” 

“What, no kiss for me Reyes?” 

Carlos rolled his eyes fondly as TK chuckled, setting the grocery bags he had brought on the counter to start unloading them. Carlos grabbed some of the groceries from him, stealing another quick kiss in the process before he glanced between the two firefighters, “No Mateo and Marjan tonight?”

“They’ll be here,” Paul explained, “they’re just handling a situation right now.” 

Carlos raised an eyebrow, “That sounds like a story.” 

“It is,” TK confirmed as he put the last of the groceries into the fridge, closing it behind him, “and we’ll tell you as soon as you tell me what you might know about the 226 having to deploy a rescue cushion under a third-floor balcony at the request of APD.” 

Carlos smiled sheepishly, “You heard about that, huh?” 

“Austin’s a small town, Carlos,” TK reminded him with a sly grin, “and the fire department is even smaller. There’s not much I don’t hear about.”

Carlos looked past TK to Paul who raised an eyebrow, settling onto the couch to watch them, “We’ll tell you ours after you tell us yours.”

Carlos made a face at him before turning back to meet TK’s expectant gaze, “It was nothing major. There was a hostage situation in a third-floor apartment and we just needed to make sure that she was safely out of the line of fire before we went to take down the guy.” 

TK moved closer to him, wrapping his arms around Carlos as he peered up into his eyes, “It sounds pretty major to me. Your idea probably saved her life, Carlos. She’s safe because of you.” 

Carlos shrugged self-consciously, “I wouldn’t say that. Grace did most of the work, figuring it all out and keeping her on the line.”

TK shook his head and removed one of his hands from Carlos’s waist to turn his face so their gazes met, “Grace is brilliant and certainly deserves a lot of credit, but you had a hand in it too babe, don’t sell yourself short.” 

Carlos studied TK’s eyes. They were sincere and full of love; so much it nearly overwhelmed him. His boyfriend meant every word he had said, and he was not about to let Carlos get away with arguing. The amount of faith TK had in him staggered him sometimes. He let himself smile and gave TK a nod. At his nod TK smiled wider, leaning in for another kiss before stepping away. 

Paul chuckled from the couch, “I’ve gotta hand it to you Carlos, that was pretty crafty. It definitely worked but it was also a little crazy. Almost like something a certain someone else I know might have tried.” 

Both Carlos and Paul’s gazes turned to TK, who looked at them indignantly, “What?” he demanded, but Paul just laughed. 

“I think he might be rubbing off on you,” he informed Carlos with a raised eyebrow. 

Carlos huffed a laugh in return but reached out an arm to wind around TK’s shoulders and pull him closer, placing a kiss on the inside of his neck. “Maybe,” he admitted, “but who’s to say that’s a bad thing?” 

Paul rolled his eyes and TK smiled smugly, twisting in Carlos’s grasp to face him, leaning forward to give him another kiss. When he pulled away his expression grew more serious as he studied Carlos’s expression intently. 

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked, “I know how you feel about domestic calls.” 

Carlos pulled him closer again, placing a light kiss on the top of his head, “I’m okay,” he assured him with a certainty that almost surprised him, “really.” 

TK grinned at him and Carlos smiled back, looking up and meeting Paul’s gaze as well and giving him a reassuring nod. Of course he was fine; he had everything he could possibly ever need right here in his arms. He was fine because despite it all today had been a good day, but he also because knew that even if it hadn’t been, he had a second family now and they would catch him should he fall.

#911 lone star #911 lone star fic #carlos reyes #tarlos #tarlos fic #911ls season 2 #my writing #userkimmy #userjilly #usermaximus #userac #userbones #tuserpaige

[fumikomiyasaki]

Kingdom Hearts OC Taiyo Bio

Name: Taiyo (jap.Sun)

Hair and Eyes: Darkish pink, Dark Blue eyes, always a bedhead

Personality: daydreaming and sleeps a lot, optimistic, in heart a good person and a good fighter, just doesn't have the social skills you could say, plays the Hero for the people at her village, but is actually very nervous fighting the heartless, can't ignore others in Need

Keyblades:

All inspired on the 4 gods: Byakko, Suzaku, Seiryu and Genbu,

Ultimate blade is a fusion and based on Kohryu,

Seiryu: Her neutral Keyblade (Silent Dragon)

Transformation: Great Sword-Dragon Canon, Ice powers

Suzaku: Stronger Magic (Phoenix Embrace)

Transformation: Phoenix blades-Phoenix Guns Fire powers

Byakko: Stronger Attack (Tigers Fang)

Transformation: Claws and skates Lightning powers

Genbu: Stronger Defense (Turtle Shell)

Transformation: Shield with Earth powers

Kohryu: Ultimate Key and fusion out of all 4

Transformation: Floating Keys

Each Keyblade helps her fuse into a drive form.

Phoenix Form is a offensive form kinda like Valor form.

Dragon Form is a magic form like Wisdom.

Monochrome form is like Master form so a good mix.

Taiyos Anti-Form is more based on darkside, would be pretty slow and more defensive.

( hard to hit anything though as well)

And her Last form is similar to Soras final form. (Probably gonna Update that Design because I am unhappy.)

Backstory:

Taiyo lived around the time of the Dandelions and Foretellers, but at age 6 given the Keybalde war drawing near, she and some of her other friends who learned in the Unions with potential of weilding a keyblade one day got put into a deep sleep in a chamber to wake up years later as new keyblade weilders.

Taiyo is found in the ruins of a world called Windmill Fountain.

She was discovered, but she did not wake up from her slumber. A young couple, that had the inability to have kids took her in and researched ways of waking her up. One way was to communicate with the dream world. Inside of the big fountain of Windmill Fountain they used artifacts to contact the dream world and a nightmare called Somnia appeared to help Taiyo to wake up.

It worked, the problem was now she had the inability to sleep. She was awake all the time and her energy slowly drained.

Somnia was more of a problem than a help. With a second contact to the dream world, they found Echo, the dream eater version of Somnia and from then on, Taiyo could sleep and wake up like a normal person.

However that was not enough for her, she lost her memories of where she came from and what happened, so she started to practise fighting with Weapons to protect the town from wild monsters in her world. One day as she tried to search for a missing boy in town she awokened her keyblade during an attack from the heartless. (Around KH2 when she was 18)

Taiyo had a hard time having contact with other people and talking to them, aside from her parents,which is why Taiyo is socially awkward. (I mean she spend most of her time in a watch tower with not much contact aside the ones she did save, who were kind to her, which is why she is kinda optimistic) Inside she does believe that she can break free from her sleep curse one day and live without her Dream Eaters. So she decided to travel around to find a cure against it. And so she made her way to different worlds to find her purpose and cure.She travels in an airship from world to world.

Nobody version: Xyoita (Don’t even know if I use this one in the story tbh)

Would be more confident in talking,pessimistic but less interested in anything and anyone.

Has the same sleep troubles, but has compared to Taiyo a hard time balancing it, so she stays longer awake.

"What a pain, same dull life everyday... But somebody has got to keep these idiots alive."

Some facts:

-Has a deep Connection to the Sleeping worlds

-does not have much memory from her Union time but she was a Vulpes, Her friend Kumo was in Anguis, which I do soon, and her other friend Tsuki was in Leopardus

-Her Nobody has gloves that shoot ropes as weapons

-Her Dream eater and Nobody protect her, If one of them gets defeated and not revived, Taiyo will Fall asleep within a certain amount of time

Her companions during her Journey:

Cecil Harvey: Final Fantasy 4, Protector of the group

Penelo: Final Fantasy 12, Heal and Magic of the group

#khoc #kingdom hearts oc #kingdom hearts #kh #Keyblade #reality of illusion #slumber of rememberance #Taiyo #final fantasy 4 #final fantasy 12 #penelo #cecil harvey #fan character #kh fan character

[joshslater]

Weeding Out

Similar stories and bonus material on my Patreon.

- Hey, I said I was sorry. You know I'm just pretending. - It still hurts. - No one hit you today. - That's not what I meant. - Don't be like that. You know why I have to do it. - Yea... No... Why do you have to do it? You're just scared they'll treat you like shit. - I'd... Fuck, I need to go to practice. We can talk later. Your place? - Yeah, I guess.

As soon as Ethan was out of earshot, Theo hit his school locker hard and thought "Fuck" really loudly. He too was late for practice, but not the kind where young males like Ethan run and compete and cooperate and sweat together on the field outside the school buildings. His practice was in the music room with the woodwind section of the school orchestra playing bassoon, or fagott as Ethan's teammates heckled him with.

It had all been so promising at the start. One evening when he was playing with Fred and they were talking shit on discord he had mentioned that he was at least bisexual. And if Fred knew, he had to be the one to tell Emma, so he did that first chance he could get, but that was it. He didn't want any coming out announcement or anything. No one ever came out straight, so why would he need any ceremony to declare his orientation. Besides, he wasn't sure what he was. Somehow this started the low-intensity rumor mill going, saying that he was gay. Perhaps it wasn't any of them starting the rumor somehow, but just a case of synchronicity. Doesn't really matter as nothing much came of it, except for some of the dudes in the football team started to bother him. Things like stopping him and asking him to punch one of them in their abs, and then of course returning the favor by punching Theo back. Nothing that ever truly physically hurt him, nothing that made him want to expose himself by talking to any of the teachers, but things that would cause trouble and delays nonetheless.

After about a month one of the jocks, Ethan, who he shared Chemistry and Physics with asked him if it was true about him being gay. Theo started with a defensive "I don't know", and as they talked all the way from school to halfway home, where their ways parted, it was clear they were at least both attracted to each other. To Theo this was a double win. Not only was Ethan hot, and had always been an OK guy as far as he knew, but the thought of a Nerd and a Jock couple was hot to him. Not that he really saw himself as a nerd. He considered himself pretty normal. But then he guessed Ethan probably saw himself as pretty normal, and probably saw Theo as a nerd.

They started meeting up at each other's houses, getting to know each other. They had spent hours in his room listening to classical music, and hours in Ethan's house watching ESPN. While Ethan was upfront about enjoying hiking, it took a month until he confessed to enjoying bird watching, and that was the real reason for the hikes. To Theo it just made him even cuter. They had been making out on more than one occasion but never taken the step to actually have sex. Theo felt that Ethan really wanted to go there. He on the other hand didn't want to do that until Ethan fessed up to liking him publicly. Outside of their respective rooms he wouldn't even touch Theo.

But then there was the bullying. It didn't stop just because he kissed their running back regularly. He even joined in sometimes, throwing his bag up a tree on one occasion. Though he did tell the guys to be gentle at one time. "Who would make my homework otherwise?"

Damn him! Theo wished he still had a locker to hit, but he was almost at the music room. He had bought the special weed the day after Ethan had said that, and then promptly decided to never think about it again. It would be wrong to use it. But they couldn't go on like this.

Music practice went lousy. He played the right notes, in the right order, at the right time, but his phrasing was way off. Playing more forcefully than written, often veering into staccato, his mind on the small box in his socks drawer. It was on his mind all the way home, and it was on his mind when Ethan pressed the doorbell.

They had been seeing each other long enough that Ethan could tell something was up. Theo looked tense, nervous even. Was this about the shit he was on about earlier? No, he was upset then, so he would be still upset now if he hadn't dropped that. This was something else going on. The reason became clear once he'd dropped his gear, and they reached Theo's room. He could see the spliff and the lighter on the desk. He himself had tried weed once before, at summer camp. Jace had brought some with him that he'd gotten from his elder brother. They were quite a few that shared it, so no one got very much, but he'd felt something. He was sure of it.

- Hey, I didn't expect this from you. Where did you get it? - You've tried it before, right? - Yeah, at camp.

Theo looked uncertain. Ethan suddenly knew he's role. Theo needed someone to guide him to his first blunt. He took charge and told Theo to lie down. The bed being too small for both of them, unless they did what Theo had been wanting them to do, they moved the pillows to the floor. Once Theo was lying down Ethan lit the blunt as he'd seen Jace do, and drew the first taste. He dared drawing the smoke deeper into his lungs than he had dared at camp. He lied down next to Theo, handed over the joint, and instructed him what to do. Time turned irrelevant, and walking back home he couldn't quite remember anything that happened after that. Had Theo's parents come home from work before he left? He couldn't recall.

It was still in the middle of the night when Ethan woke up, freezing, clammy, and as nauseated as he'd ever been. He jumped out of bed and ran to the bathroom, just in time to empty his stomach into the toilet bowl. He had sweat beads on his forehead, all his muscles ached, and he could feel that weird feeling in the jaw, where the muscles relax to prepare for another vomit. He had barely thought the thought when another convulsion expelled more stomach contents. He rinsed his mouth, drank a few mugs of tap water, and made it all the way back to the bed when he felt he needed to go back to the bathroom for more.

That's where his mother found him sleeping a few hours later, head in the bowl. Once led back to his bed, a sick day was a quick decision, though he insisted she could still go to work. He knew how to heat soup, not that he was hungry. He was asleep again before she was out of the room.

He checked his phone clock as he woke up. It was only barely lunch, but the fever had passed and he felt much better. In fact, he felt completely restored, better than ever, except for a craving he didn't recognize. He jumped out of bed, lost his balance, but managed to catch the corner of the desk with his hands before he crashed into it. He put on some loose-fitting clothes. He thought he knew what the craving was, and headed out.

Theo made another attempt to step out of bed. If this was how bad it got for him, he could only imagine what Ethan had been going through. It was hard to stay focused, but he could tell it was working. He could feel himself being different somehow. As he held up his arm he could see changes when looking for them, but it took effort. Was it because the changes were so subtle or was it that his mind had changed so much that his new self didn't acknowledge the changes? He just hoped Ethan was affected according to plan, but saw no reason why he wouldn't. If anything he had been a more enthusiastic smoker than him, and so far everything had happened as promised. This last part of the plan was a bit of guesswork though. There would be an insatiable urge to fall into the stereotype, but he thought he knew Ethan good enough to work out what he would do.

As Theo got dressed he could feel how his body was different. It didn't look that different once he got clothes on, but before that there was a marked difference. His muscles were more defined, tighter in a way, and if he lifted his T-shirt there was a faint outline of a six-pack, something he had never had before. He didn't really care one way or the other though. As he passed through the kitchen there was a note on the countertop with instructions for how to heat lasagna. He wasn't hungry although the kitchen clock showed it was almost lunchtime, but he could feel another pull. There was a low hum of wanting to smoke another blunt. There really only was one place for someone like him to get it.

Ignoring the lasagna he instead went out the door, grabbed his bike, and started to ride towards the concrete plant up north. There's a weird feeling to be in a place at the wrong time. Just riding alongside the deserted houses in the middle of the day, when he was supposed to be in school somehow felt wrong. Then it felt right. He recognized this as some of the last reverberations of the magic from yesterday. He didn't know if it was actually magic, but somehow magic felt safer or cleaner than admitting having drugged Ethan and himself.

Some twenty minutes later he could hear the clacking and rolling sound coming from the park. The concrete plant had donated the skate park as a PR stunt they hoped would drive their sales of swimming pools. Making one smooth, curved concrete installation is basically the same as the other. Theo didn't really have a plan B in case he wouldn't find Ethan here, perhaps another side effect, but plan A turned out a success. There, next to the half-pipe section, Ethan was getting instructions from some older skater on how to make a drop.

Theo froze in shock at what he saw. Ethan wore the same clothes as yesterday, but everything else was different. His otherwise tight cropped hair was now inches of shaggy mess framing his much leaner looking face. He had definitely lost a lot of muscles, as the T-shirt that yesterday had shown off his chest and shoulders now hanged baggy as the rest of his clothes. While Theo had gained some muscles and lost some fat, Ethan had brutally been forced down to a similar build. Theo felt sick again, but in a worse way than this morning. It had been theoretical then, and a bit exciting, but looking at Ethan now he couldn't fathom them being friends, let alone together if he told the truth. That this was all his fault.

Ethan noticed Theo watching him from afar and lit up with a big smile. "Hey, watch this!" he shouted and did a shaky drop down the ramp, and continued to skate in a curve towards Theo. Much too fast and with too much force he slammed into Theo with a hug and a forceful kiss, while the skateboard continued further a bit until it hit a concrete step.

- Sorry, did I hurt you? What are you doing here? - What are you doing here yourself? - I had this crazy need for weed and though I should check out here. Matt there said he only deals to skaters, so I told him to show me. - You shouldn't... You don't know what you are dealing with. - And you do? You just had your first blunt. - You've only had two. That's not what I'm talking about. I am the

Theo didn't get the chance to say more as Ethan again kissed him on the mouth. Theo felt lost. On one hand he desperately wanted to come clean, to tell Ethan that all of this, their bodies, their reckless behavior, was because of the weed from yesterday. On the other hand he had never been hornier in his life. He wanted nothing more than for Ethan to continue what he was doing. He let his tongue quickly slip into Ethan's mouth.  Ethan was quick to respond the same way, and soon it was more of an oral version of thumb wars than actual kissing. Or perhaps the best kissing ever.

- No, Ethan you must hear me out. This is important. - This is important too. - Are you aware of any changes in your body since yesterday. - Duh! Just look at this arm. I'm fucking track and field material now. - You sound pretty chill about it. - Isn't that how your magic weed is supposed to work? - My... you knew? - Just a guess, now that I see you changed too. I was that big of an ass, was I? - I didn't mean... - Relax, I'm not mad. I think this can be kind of cool. Is it permanent? - Should last about a month, and then slowly turn back over a month or two. Kinda. - I have one demand. - Demand? - We are having sex today.

This time it was Theo who kissed Ethan.

[willexrights]

A jatp voltron au, because I hate myself apparently

Reggie is the pilot of the blue lion, like Lance, for obvious reasons. They're honestly kind of similar in terms of character, I'm genuinely shocked. I don't think Reggie is as cocky, but he's totally sentimental enough to be homesick on an alien ship thousands of light years away from earth, like Lance is at the start

Keith is pilot of the red lion, a lion that is said to be difficult to master and has a temper, also it "only chooses a pilot that relies more on instinct than skill alone" which tbh does sound a little like Luke. He's the only character in jatp that we've seen legitimately be angry as well. He's not as much of a loner tho,,,

It should be worth noting right here that I'm not really connecting Voltron characters with jatp characters, because they're too different to properly fit together. I'm just telling you who would pilot which lion. Allura and Coran are decided based mainly on personality tho

Also this is only for seasons 1 and 2 in Voltron, because, you know, everything kinda gets flipped on its head in s3

Okay so Julie would obviously pilot the black lion. She's the main character of the show and everyone in the band accepts her as the new frontman pretty easily. (Luke only complained once but I dont think he actually minded giving the lead singer position away) She would 100% be the best person to lead Voltron. Also !! the red lion is the second in command to the leader, and Luke is right there beside Julie helping her write the songs and everything, so it fits!!

The green lion is very adventurous, and requires someone with a daring mind to operate it. I believe this is Mr Willie "I sneak into museums and skate in Justin Beibers pool" Williamson. Also, like Pidge, I think Willie would be a really big tech nerd

The yellow lion is to be piloted with someone who has a big heart and is kind. Alex "I cried in a room for 25 years" Mercer, this you? Also Hunk is anxious and very sarcastic, he reminds me so much of Alex.

Flynn will not be ignored, dont worry 😤. She's Allura!! Poc solidarity, babey!! Flynn is absolutely a kick-ass princess who'd rather go out and fight in the lions than stay behind and pilot the castle

Coran gives me a bit of trouble. His character is so unique and wildly unlike any jatp character that idk who would be him. My best choices are Ray or Trevor/Bobby. Probably Ray?

Caleb is Zarkon. Need i say more?

Unfortunately there aren't any other important characters to assign to Nick and Carrie :( if anyone has any they can think of, feel free to add on!!

I haven't actually watched voltron since it ended in 2018, so this is all based on 5 minutes of research about the lions and my memory of how they worked, so don't crucify me if I'm wrong JFKSJ I don't care enough to watch all that again.

#julie and the phantoms #jatp #julie molina #alex mercer #willie wilbur williamson #luke patterson #reggie peters #caleb covington #ray molina #flynn nolastname #voltron #vld #jatp au #julie and the phantoms au #voltron au #netflixwewantjatp2

[vinylhazza]

“that was embarrassing” and “it’s not funny”

I'm not sure if this was on the smut prompt list but this was so cute so I'm posting anyway. hope you like it! 

it was the last and final time you would ever go rollerskating with Grayson for as long as you lived.

not only had you made an ass out of yourself in front of all of his friends with jokes you were certain they would understand but most certainly didn’t, but you had just fallen so hard onto the slick wooden rink that you currently sat on a hard, cold bench watching the others twirling and spinning around to the music with a makeshift ice-pack pressed against your forehead (if you can call the cold cup that holds your Pepsi an ice-pack). something was better than nothing.

it was the hardest fall you’ve had since you could remember, the stars swirling behind your eyelids with every blink making it more than clear to you that you might even have a concussion. all you wanted was sleep. sleep and silence.

Grayson hadn’t been able to swing himself around fast enough to break your fall let alone stop the laughter ringing in your ears as soon as your knees bowed, the sound of you body hitting the ground fresh in your mind still. a harsh pang to your forehead was the one thing that still made you cringe from your place off the rink. it was mortifying to watch a girl no older than seven laughing at you as she wizzed by with ease, some ridiculous 2000′s pop song blaring over the speakers.

“it wasn’t that bad” Grayson had tried consoling you over and over in your ear as you made your way back to the side of the rink- trying your best to ignore the hoots and howls of his friends. he flipped them to bird with a scowl, but it didn't seem to make much difference as Collin raced by with a sly “nice one Peterson!”

“that was embarrassing,” you’d grumbled. you tried to ignore the sympathetic look he’d given you, only confirming that it was in fact” embarrassing.

warning off the tears moistening your eyes without your consent was harder than you’d thought. but falling in front of children and friends, and then crying about it was just not something you wanted to be a part of.

that had been thirty minutes ago. thirty minutes of miserable spinning and nausea. of course it was probably your own fault for pushing yourself out of you small box and trying something different for once. an ode to your clumsiness. you hated physical activity- no matter what aid the wheels could have given you and even if you had been holding Graysons hand for most of the night.

that part hadn’t been as challenging: clinging onto your boyfriends arm and laughing at your legs sliding across the floor similar to that of a baby deer with skates. there really wasn’t any difference, but he made your blush form from one of embarrassment, to flattery with every minute that passed.

all was well until he left you to fend for yourself, something that you were still trying to keep to yourself. yes you were hurt, but no you didn't need to take it out on him out of anger.

Grayson sat beside you still, an arm wrapped across your chest while you both leaned back against the white cinderblock wall behind you both. glancing up at the wooden shoe cubby made your stomach roll, prompting a bemused chuckle from the now yawning man holding you loosely against him.

“it’s not funny,” you grumble, shooting him a glare that wasted far too much energy, shuffling down to get closer to his warmth that always provided the most comfort when you weren’t feeling so good.

he merely looked down quickly with a shake of his head, lips pressed together to hide the grin, “of course it’s not. I was just laughing at Max still trying to seduce Trina. he just doesn't learn.”

nice save.

you looked out onto the rink lit up with flashing lights of every color, wondering what time it had to be and if the smaller than average establishment would be closing soon. you spot a wobbly looking Max across the way, trying (and slightly failing) to skate backwards next to Trina who now wore an annoyed scowl. if you were in better shape and a much better mood, you would say to hell with sitting on the bench hurt and save your mutual friend from the annoyance of the boy that just couldn’t take the hint. you would have thought after two years of failed attempts he would give it up and move on.

with a side eye at Grayson you know he must be thinking the same, but chose not to say anything further. that was a talk for another time. you make a mental note to have Grayson talk to max soon about his constant pestering to the poor girl that wanted nothing more than to “live her free life freely” as she had said so many times. you’re sure it’s just her nice way of saying no, but knew she was truly a free spirit and being tied down by someone as high maintenance as max wouldn't be the best idea.

but tonight, all your mind could think to long for was home. your big fuzzy blanket, Graysons flannel pj pants you’d claimed as your own, the oversized Harvard sweater your sister got for you as a gag gift for Christmas two years ago after getting your denial letter in the mail, Graysons hands rubbing the stress knots out of your shoulders, and a hot bath. you presumed you deserved a resting night after throwing yourself so far out of the box and then getting hurt from it.

the best thing about Grayson? he read you like a book.

“you ready to head out? I'll tell the boys I'll text them later, or do you want to try again?”

“I think trying again might not be the best idea,” you croak, removing the cup and revealing the goose egg bump on your forehead. you want to smack him when he cringes, but instead give him a small smile.

“yeah, killer, I think you’ve had enough,” he grins, leaning forward to press his lips on yours once, twice, then three times before he finally gets up to say his farewells to his friends, stretching as he does so.

you watch silently while he made his way around to everyone he could find, stopping next to Max to whisper something in his ear. when he pulled back, max looked ashamed, something that shouldn’t have given you as much pleasure as it did. serves him right for not listening.

-

“I'm proud of you for trying something new,” he mumbles once the both of you climb into his car, your water-down Pepsi long gone, the heat blasting to warm up your chilled fingertips.

you want to ignore him, not being one for praise or pity, but also thankful that he noticed your attempt at trying to have fun in more ways than just burying your head in a book. you know it made him happy to see you trying for him, and for that you would give him a real smile. one of content instead of anguish.

“I'm proud of you for finally having some fun,” you rebuttal, giving him the best ‘I'm okay’ smile that you could through the throbbing in your temples.  

his widened eyes and mock horror expression had you laughing harder than your headache agreed to, and you choke on that same laughter only a moment later.

“what exactly are you implying daisy?” he grumbled, turning the wheel to the right and backing out of the parking spot he squeezed himself into.

daisy. the best nickname anyone had ever given you.

“that you needed a break.”

“breaks are for the weak.”

“I think you mean smart gray,” you grab his hand without thinking, raising it to your lips with a soft glance over at the streetlight bouncing across the hazel of his irises, “you needed some friend time. Even if i ruined it with my stupid legs that don’t work and equally stupid jokes.”

“and you know what I think?”

“something dumb probably-” you fire before thinking, a joke of course. the pout he wore after was too hard to resist, your thumb finds his bottom lip without thinking to smooth them back with a fond smile.

“funny,” he smirked, “but I was going to say that you’re brave. You were very brave in letting people see you as you are and as you’ll always be, even if some of them didn’t get your jokes or loved you as much as i do.”

He said it softly, in a way that softened you to your core and sent a chill straight down your spine despite the hot air blasting from the vents. You fought the urge to curl in on yourself at the compliment, still not used to hearing such kind words even after all the time that you’ve been dating grayson who does nothing but compliment you and give you words of endearment. It was different, and sometimes scary.

“Hm i think you need some sleep,” is all you can bring yourself to say without sounding like a sappy hallmark card. You wanted to say more, something better than a witty remark - but could only allow yourself a small dose of something you’re not entirely sure how to handle. But you did know that you loved the way he looked over at you, noticing the high pitch of your voice and the way your hand seemed to squeeze his tighter. With a sigh of defeat he averts his eyes back to the orange tinted asphalt ahead, shaking his head with that same sheepish smile.  

“I’ve never been more awake.”

The silence that followed was serene. Something you both understood to be easy. You’ve never had easy.

For a moment you weren't the embarrassing girlfriend of a man much too kind for you.

For a moment you believed that something good might happen to people like you.

For a moment all the world was a warm car in winter, black ice car freshener, a frank sinatra song turned all the way down on three, and a thumb rubbing a pattern across your knuckles.

For a moment the world was good and it didn’t matter that the headache was full force, the streetlights too bright to your sensitive eyes, the car seeming to move in slow motion while the city whirred past your window.

For a moment all there was was eyes full of something other than amusement, something deeper, richer than you’d ever seen before.

For a moment you allowed your heart to thump out of rhythm in your chest, your head to fall against the headrest, your eyes to shut, and the rubbing of his thumb to lull you to sleep.

#asks #gray!concepts #grayson!concepts

[bumblesimagines]

The Other Swan

Request: Yes or No

You stared out at the water, earphones in as you watched the waves. You and your father, Charlie, were heading back to the port after spending some time together. Originally, it was supposed to be you, Bella, and Charlie but Bella decided to spend time with her boyfriend rather than her family. Of course, she would. After meeting Edward, Bella was a different person. She practically worshipped him, and if you were totally honest, your relationship with Bella was basically nonexistent, even if you were half-siblings, (having different mothers but the same father), you barely talk or spend time together. You sighed, standing up as the boat slowed down and eventually stopped. You greeted the fishermen, getting on the dock and watching your father. 

“Think Bella’s going to join us next time?” Charlie asked, getting his fishing gear. You rolled your eyes. You loved your father but he always talked about Bella. Bella this, Bella that; Bella would like this, Bella would like that;  and to be honest, it was quite annoying.

“Bet Eddy Boy would just pull her away for some dumb baseball game or hiking trip.” You said bitterly, helping him with the gear. Charlie sighed. You two headed back to the car, putting the gear inside and going to your seats. 

“What should we have for dinner?” Charlie asked, starting the car and looking at you with a little smirk on his face.

“Food.” You said with a grin. Charlie shook his head, chuckling. 

“I was thinking... pizza,” Charlie said. You nodded, going on your phone and changing the playlist. 

“You think Bella would like that?” He asked softly.

“If she doesn’t, she can cook her own food.” You replied with a huff, a bit coldly. Charlie sighed, hand patting your knee and looking at you with something quite similar to pity in his eyes; you couldn’t place it.

“Maybe you two should have a brother-sister bonding day,” Charlie said. You scoffed and looked at him as if he had grown two heads.

“Why? So Jake or Edward could crash it?” You shook your head, shifting your gaze out the window. 

“I’d prefer her with Jake. Edward gives me the creeps.” He said with a frown on his face, ignoring your clear discomfort.

“I’d prefer her in Arizona.” You mumbled still looking at the window.

“(Y/N)...” He said, almost as like this word, your name, was enough to call you out for something that you did.

“What? All she cares about is Edward! She’s obsessed! She needs a hobby.” You huffed, crossing your arms. Charlie pulled into the neighborhood.

“And all you ever cared about is her.” You added quietly. Charlie frowned.

“You know that’s not true, (Y/N).” Charlie said, not denying the accusation.

“It is fucking true, dad. You’re always comparing me to her! You’ve always cared about her more! I bet you always wished that it were me that went away instead of her.” You opened the car door, slamming it shut and heading up the porch. You grabbed your skateboard, ignoring your father’s protests. Bella’s dump of a truck pulled up. 

“There she is! Go and embrace your favorite fucking child! Let the one you wished was never born walk away!” You shouted, walking backward down the sidewalk. Bella frowned as she got out of her truck, looking quite confused and maybe annoyed. 

“What’s going on?” She asked, glancing between you and your father. You turned around, jogging away. You slid your skateboard down the pavement before hopping on. You turned up the Yungblud song, ignoring the world around you. You skated all the way to the La Push beach, slowing down and picking up your skateboard, heading onto the sand. You found your spot behind some rocks and sat down, bringing your knees up to your chest. You ignored the messages from Bella, Charlie and eventually Jacob. What seemed like a few minutes were actually a couple of hours. You stood up, dusting off your pants and stretching your back, trying to fix your posture. 

“Do you know how worried I’ve been?” Some voice asked, making you cringe, you knew this voice too well and didn’t really want to see the owner in that moment.

“Oh, please, Jacob. We both know that you were only ‘worried’ because Bella texted you.” You replied, choosing to not look at him as you stuffed your headphones into your pocket.

“I care about you both.” You rolled your eyes, finally looking him in the eye and damn. You hadn’t seen him in forever so the new look kind of surprised you, and well, you must admit, he looked quite good even without his long hair.

“Who do you care about more? If we were in a situation where you had to save one or the other, who would it be? Me or Bella?” You asked, already knowing the answer to the question.

“You, always you.” Your brows raised at how quick the words tumbled out of his mouth but you brushed it off.

“Right.” You said, not quite believing his words and then glanced at the darkening sky.

“Let me take you home,” Jacob said. You weren’t gonna protest. It would be pitch dark by the time you entered Forks and you wanted to get home in one piece. Even if you hated his motorcycle. You nodded, following him to the parking lot. You got on the bike, right behind him, the skateboard creating a tiny wall between you and Jacob as you sat on the bike. The ride felt tense and part of you wanted to let go,  jump off and just run to your house. Once you were safely back in Charlie’s house, you got off the bike, throwing open the front door and heading upstairs. 

“(Y/N)? (Y/N)!” Charlie stood up from the coffee table, following you but stopping at the bottom of the stairs. 

“(Y/N), we need to talk!” He called, getting the slam of your bedroom door as a response. You sighed, rubbing your forehead after tossing your phone on the bed. You took off your hoodie and grabbed your sleepwear off the bed, grabbing your towel and opening the door. Bella stood there, fist up, about to knock.

“Uh, (Y/N)! I-” You brushed past her, entering the bathroom and closing the door. You locked the door, turning on the shower and waiting for the water to grow warm. You sighed softly, hopping into the shower after getting rid of your clothes. As you showered, you had a moment to think. Were you being dramatic? A little bit. Did you have a good reason? Kind of. Years of feeling like the second option and when Bella comes back, she sticks around for a few days then fucks off to spend all her time with the creep from school? It made no sense. You finished showering and dried off, sliding on your pants and shirt before focusing on drying your hair. You opened the bathroom door and went straight to your room, shutting the door with your foot. You collapsed onto the bed, rolling onto your back. You grabbed your phone, plugging it in before pulling the covers up and falling asleep. 

You awoke to knocking on your bedroom door. You groggily peered at the clock, blinking a few times so your eyes could focus on the neon green numbers. 10 in the morning. You yawned, sitting up.

“(Y/N), uh… I’m gonna be at work most of the day but if you, uh, need anything just call, text, or stop by the station, okay? I love you and stay safe! Keep your phone on.” Charlie said. 

“Okay.” You replied after a few minutes, hearing Charlie’s footsteps head down the stairs. You sighed, getting out of bed and standing. You stretched, hearing a few cracks before leaving your room and heading into the bathroom. After using the toilet and brushing your teeth, you went downstairs and got some eggs and bacon for breakfast. You sat at the table, lifting one of the bacon strips up to your lips as you watched Charlie’s car reverse and drive off. You could hear the toilet flush upstairs before hearing the sound of footsteps going down the stairs. Bella entered the kitchen, grabbing a plate and sitting down across from you.

“Morning.” She said while putting some food on her plate.

“Mhm.” Was your response, not really paying attention to her.

You and Bella ate in silence until Bella sighed.

“Yesterday, you were gone for six hours. You made dad so worried. You can’t run off after an argument-” She began to talk, almost like she had any right to tell you that type of stuff.

“That’s fucking ironic coming from you, Bella. Didn’t you have an argument with Edward and decided to fuck off to Arizona?”

“I had a reason-” She started answer, but you didn’t want to hear her excuses, knowing that she would probably lie.

“A reason?! You left because of a boy!” You scoffed. “At least I didn’t decide to go to a different fucking state.” 

“You could’ve texted us! Replied or called and told us you were okay! Dad was ready to go to the station and report you as missing!” Bella began to raise her voice. You pressed your lips into a thin line, eyes drifting over to the window. 

“It was selfish-” She said until you cut her in the middle of the phrase.

“Selfish?! I’m seventeen, Bella! I have the right to go on walks to calm down! You probably don’t even know what the disagreement was about.” You scoffed, eyes narrowing as you looked back at her.

“I know it had something to do with me.” She answered while looking directly at your face.

“Yeah, it did. Charlie was excited to spend time you, his daughter, and then you decide to cancel family time to spend it with your dumbass boyfriend, do you know how crushed he was? You don’t spend any time with us! Charlie was excited for the first time in years since your mother left with you when he heard you were coming back. Don’t you get it?! You’re wanted, Bella! You were expected, you weren’t an accident like me!” Bella blinked, staring at you almost looking like a puppy who was yelled at, but you didn’t care, if she wanted to hear what was the argument about, then she would hear it.

“You’re always so fucking down because of Edward that you don’t realize how much dad loves you! And your fucking mother loves you too! She calls you all the time. You’re the one who takes everything for granted. You’re the selfish one! But blame me. Like everyone does. Everyone in this fucking town knows I’m the Sherrif’s son who was an accident and who’s mother never wanted him. I never got a call, a text, a letter, or gift from my mom, Bella! You… You have a mother who cares, friends who love you, dad would die for you, Jake would probably too and you’re willing to lose all of them for Edward? Some guy? There’s millions of other guys in the world who could and would act as weird as him and they wouldn’t keep you from your family and friends. They wouldn’t randomly leave and dump you in the woods! You’re the one who makes Charlie worry all the fucking time cause everytime you come home from hanging out with him, you’re hurt!” You took a deep breath, finishing your breakfast and standing to go to the sink in the kitchen. Bella stayed silent, watching as you washed your plate and headed upstairs.

“Jesus…” You breathed out, grabbing a hoodie and ripped jeans. You slipped them on, grabbing your socks and shoes. You grabbed your skateboard, going down the stairs. Then, you opened the front door, going down the steps. A car pulled up and Edward got out of it. You greeted him with an eye roll.

“How have you-” He started saying with his typical and fake smile, looking almost in pain.

“Fuck off, Dickward.” You barked at him, pulling your hood over your head. You went down the sidewalk, needing to clear your thoughts. You sighed, heading into town and nodding to some people you knew. Your phone vibrated and you looked at the contact, seeing Leah’s name. You blinked. Leah hadn’t been answering your calls and texts in weeks. You let it go, considering her father had passed and everything.

“I’m going to a bonfire tonight, wanna come? Please?”

“Okay. How have you been?” You asked. Leah sighed.

“I-... God, I’ve missed you.” She let out a laugh. Everyone thought that Leah was this mean bitch but she was actually the only person you truly trusted. She acted like a big sister and listened to your problems. There were times where you’d slip up and call her ‘sis’ and call Sue ‘mom’ but they both found it endearing. 

“I missed you too, where the hell did you run off to?” You asked. 

“I promise I’ll explain everything later, okay? Come to the bonfir-”

“(Y/N)!” You chuckled, hearing Seth’s voice.

“Come to the bonfire, I wanna show you this new magic trick!” You laughed.

“Okay, okay, I will. But it better be good.”

“It is!” You said goodbye to both of them, your mood lifted and a smile on your face. Spending some time with your friends wouldn’t hurt, right?

#x reader #x y/n #x you #twilight #twilight x reader #twilight x male! reader #twilight x y/n #twilight x you #charlie swan x you #charlie swan x male reader #charlie swan x reader #charlie swan #charlie swan x son! reader #bella swan x reader #bella swan #bella swan x you #bella swan x y/n #bella swan x male reader #bella swan x brother reader #jacob black x you #jacob black x male reader #jacob x reader #jacob black #jacob black x y/n #jacob black x reader

[tomodachimeter]

Answering old asks

m(__)m

That is all.

Emojis aside, I really am so very sorry it’s taken me so long to get around to responding to messages since the manga ended, I’ve been extremely busy in my personal life so it was kind of all I could do to cope with the manga ending during that time too, haha. As of now even the last volume and fanbook are already out, but I’ll leave a few comments on the messages I’ve been sent as they were. I’m also grouping together messages that are more of readers’ own comments rather than questions for me and responding all at once, so please forgive me if I couldn’t get around to responding individually!

“My heart pains to seeing the end ahahhhhh ashiya and abeno parted waysI really really really hope for something to come next. it kinda feels sad for meabt this ending”

“Honestly I like the ending but I didn’t like how the author left out information about abeno’s background. For instance, what happen to his parents?, where did he come from?, how did he come meeting Ao?,etc. I really wanted to see all of that, including how ashiya told his mom and sister about sakaes death. Other then that, I REALLY LOVE THE PROPOSAL!!! What is with shouen manga/anime with these different type of propsals like, “I’ll skate infinity with you”, “ I will die so you won’t be alone”,etc. Like COME ON!!! I also want to see a adult ashiya and abeno 🙏.”

I feel the same, I love the ending in its own way but I also expected so much more and I wanted to see more of their adventures. So I respect sensei’s decision but that just means it’s a free-for-all in terms of headcanons after!!

“Now that the manga has ended, I really wish the anime hadn't screwed up with the season 2 ending, so we could have gotten a continuation... I really miss animated Fuzzy running around, Ashiya's screaming and Abeno's "Hah?" (´꒳`)♡”

I wonder what they’d do for a season 3 if it ever came to pass. There are a few ways they could go about it like kind of just continuing down the manga, or they could ignore what they animated at the end of s2 and then keep going (Ao no Exorcist style), or I don’t even know, honestly. No matter how dissatisfied I am with how they do anime, I’d still watch it though. :U

“Wow I can't believe it took me so long to realize this! Recently, I noticed that the dynamic between Hanae-Sakae-Aoi-Abeno and the plot revolving around them is very similar to what happens in the manga Switch (Kai-his dad-Hal's dad-Hal). The relationship between Kai and Hal is similar to Hanae and Abeno's. Kai's dad died and this is related to Hal's dad, who has survived thanks to the death of his friend (Kai's dad). Plus Kai manifests what seems to be his dad's personality when he's in danger.”

“So much tears! I really don't want this to end, but I knew it was too good to be true. Though, the way the way the manga ended felt like a new beginning. Hanae made a promise/vow to Itsuki that he will return, no matter how long it takes, so he hopes Itsuki will wait for him. Also, that picture of Sakae and Aoi on the counter makes me hope that Hanae and his family (plus Sakae in heaven) has peace now. I felt like crying more. Thank you for everything and I hope to see you again!”

“ok rip Abeno's past... rip yellow eyes... rip this cliffhanger ending...“

“Suddenly I see that anon ask about OPs and EDs and partings & separations in a new light... darn. (╯°Д °)╯╧╧”

Fittingly enough, Sensei mentioned in the fanbook that Mononokean has always been a story about meetings and partings too, but still...! More...!!!

“I think this ending is very fitting. Ashiya was never truly part of the youkai world, he was always taking one step in only to step out soon after, and going back and forth between loving youkai and being afraid of them. Ashiya's state of employment has always had a "temporary" feeling to it, including, for example, the fact that he never changed his clothes, and his Mononokean-crest clothes were "borrowed". UItimately, Ashiya didn't seem like he could dedicate his life to youkai, unlike Abeno. (continuing from my previous ask about "Ashiya not being part of the youkai world") It wasn't only Ashiya's feelings on the matter that kept him away from the world of youkai. Abeno contributed greatly to this, as he constantly tried to keep Ashiya away from the Underworld, from danger, from knowing too much, and from youkai themselves, even though Ashiya was technically his employee. If Abeno had tried, even a little, to pull Ashiya into his world, Ashiya would have responded to him, I'm sure. (another "Ashiya not being part of the youkai world" ask) The fact Abeno actively blocked Ashiya from his world was the greatest reason why Ashiya didn't feel like he belonged there. But he still felt connected to Abeno, at least. Rather than dedicate his life to youkai, Ashiya seemed like he might dedicate it to Abeno. Yet this feeling was also met with a wall. By the time Abeno realized how precious it was, having someone who saw the same things as him by his side, it was already too late. (last ask in the series "Ashiya not being part of the youkai world") Ironically, the Mononokean and most other youkai were more open and willing to welcome Ashiya into their world. Still, if and when Ashiya can see youkai again, I hope Abeno will have realized the opportunity he'd wasted. When these two reunite, I hope Abeno won't push Ashiya away again. That's all. I wanted to share these thoughts with you. Please let me know your opinion on the matter. Thank you for reading! :)”

I think you’re right on point with the themes you’ve pointed out and I believe that’s what Sensei was going for too, but it doesn’t change the fact that it’s terribly lonely for them to be separated from each other. ___(:3 At least we’re left with a (high) possibility of them getting back together (heh) and even moreso with the fanbook extra content too, so here’s to their continued adventures.

“I am not sure if you are familiar with this anime/manga/light novel series “No. 6” because the end of the Mononokean manga series appears similar to the end of the former in terms of the bond between the two male leads if you get what I mean.”

I know of it and it’s something I’ve always meant to get around to watching, but I have not seen it yet!

“Nooo, I can't believe it's over! 😭 But you know, ever since FNM's ending was announced, I've been looking for something to fill the void this precious story would inevitably leave in my heart, and then someone said "Watch Natsume Yuujinchou, the themes are similar and it's heartwarming". So I started it and, oh boy, I've been screaming at every episode because I'm not used to people openly showing their affection! 😂 So much hugging, hand-holding, head-patting... I'm melting!! (send help pls)”

“Hello Spring! We've reached the end of this wonderful journey, it seems. It's time for a new start. Thank you so much for everything you've done for this fandom, it wouldn't have been the same without you! Seriously, thank you, from the bottom of my heart! 😌 (PS: I forgot to mention, I opened this blog on my old old laptop, with its 1280x720 resolution, and the "ON YOUR OWN, BUT NOT ALONE" strip was right there covering Ashiya's and Abeno's faces, I had such a good laugh! I'm sorry I laughed!!)”

“This ending was really beautiful and yet sad. The promise made me hope but.. it's still so angst that maybe it will take years to hanae be able to see yokais again. I wonder if wazawa-sensei is okay, like, usually when a manga is ending they advertise previously, but the news was so suddenly that made me worry about sensei's health status. I also don't think that the publisher canceled the manga. So, I still don't know if this sudden ending was planned or not.”

Haha when I first made that tumblr theme, I kind of liked the effect that the strip had in covering Ashiya and Abeno’s faces somehow, but it always moves around depending on resolution lol.

In the afterword of the last volume and the fanbook, Sensei touched lightly on their various reasons for ending the manga (which I plan to cover eventually... when I have time...) and while I don’t think we’ll ever know fully, I got the impression that sensei personally seems in good health and even expressed that they would like to make another manga in the future, so as readers and fans we don’t need to worry too much.

“The manga ended well but we are left with unanswered questions : What is Abeno's past ? / Are golden eyes and hair special ? / What about Aoi's face ? / What really happened the day Aoi came back injured ? At this time she wasn't infected but Sakae died trying to save her (something is wrong with the plot) ?! / What about Fuzzy gender and his "human form" ?”

I will just say we got answers to some of those questions in the fanbook, and some we did not. :Y Please hold on for fanbook info!

Hey there. I’ve just read through the last chapter of the Mononokean. What a story. There are still a few questions that left me wondering: (1) What is the origin of the Mononokean itself?, (2) What is the origin of the Influence that flows within specific characters of the story?, (3) If Aoi was able to provide young Ashiya with a part of Sakae’s “Influence,” could it be done again?, & (4) If Ashiya could still see Fuzzy, what do you think this means for his potential abilities?

1. We were told in the first fanbook that the Mononokean was originally a well-loved tea ceremony room, and as we know in the Mononokean universe (also generally a concept in Japanese culture/religion, you can looked up the term “tsukumogami”), things that are used/loved sometimes end up gaining a sentience of their own, and if I remember right that’s how the Mononokean came to be too. (it’s been a while since I’ve reread the first fanbook so if I’m wrong please do correct me). As for any other specifics, we only know that Aoi and Abeno have been the first and second masters respectively, I’m pretty sure.

2. This was answered in the fanbook, which I’d like to summarize eventually! But Influence seems to be a natural power that develops in babies who have been in close contact with yokai before they were born, and golden hair and eyes are also a sign of that.

3. The partial Sakae Influence (lol wording) that Aoi gave to Ashiya as a baby was what Ashiya returned to Aoi to save them. I suppose since they’ve already done it before it’s technically possible, but that’d defeat the whole purpose of what they tried to do already haha.

4. I think it’s as Abeno theorizes, that Ashiya always did have a bit of ability to sense yokai on his own as well!

“I was looking for more FnM content and found out about your fanfictions on Ao3, so I read them all and oh my Lord! They were *so* good!! And I was very surprised and very glad to find out you ship Ashiya x Abeno, I'm especially happy because you ship them in that order, since I was so sure everybody would be shipping them in reverse order! Thank you so much for sharing your works!! (≧▽≦) ♡”

Thank you for your kind comments, I’m always so happy to hear someone loves my fic! I do love writing them even though I haven’t done it for a while and I have so many ideas and WIPs that I’ve still never gotten around to completely, but I swear I will do them someday... While I do think the reverse order is more popular in general, there’s a decent AshiItsu (the Japanese term for the ship haha) fandom thriving on Twitter!

Again thank you so much everyone! Look forward to fanbook info I’d like to get around to posting about soon!

#fukigen na mononokean #the morose mononokean #ask

[lostonehero]

T

Tw for slight body horror reference to self harm and parts are inspired by cave troll series

The news was soul crushing to the pair. They didn't know going back with giratina, they didn't know that the legend would do something. Now they got the news there dna is changing, and Guzma now thinks when it's done they won't remeber who they were. Cyrus hated to admit it but it had merit to the idea. He was curled into himself watching his admins go into panic mode trying to figure this situation out.

He got up trying to calm himself as he robotically headed back to his room not realize Guzma was following him. He was shaking when he got inside before he could start crying he felt two strong arms wrap around him. He just started to cry clinging onto the familiar scent of honey and moss. "I-." His words died on his tongue as Guzma shush him.

"We will get through this together." Guzma's voice was strained but strong. They were both leaning on each other for comfort and strength.

The words between them died as they just filled the silence with comfort in each other.

......

A few days go by the news finally sunk in, and it was like a silence between them that broke as they continued to lean on each other for comfort.

"So what kind of pokemon do you think you'll become." Guzma asked breaking the silence. "I hope I become a bug type."

"Of course you do, bug man." Cyrus sighs no real malice in his tone. "I don't know."

"Maybe you'll be your cleffa Cy."

"Maybe you'll be your bug Guzma."

"That would be great my partner woukd have me as a brother."

Cyrus sighs and a faint smile creeps on his face. "I can be a friend to my pokemon as well."

"I'm glad we are in agreement."

.....

"Get off of my trainer."

The soft hiss and malice of the voice made Guzma think of Cyrus, but Cyrus was asleep wrapped around him. They were just friends and just needed to comfort each other.

"Leave weird man don't need you" another hiss from the strange voice.

Guzma still not really registering who or what said that. "Mmh sleeping leave us be."

This silenced the voice for a second. "Understand me?"

"Mmh yeah sleep." Guzma yawns pulling Cyrus closer.

"No away from my trainer." The voice now louder.

Cyrus stirred awake. "Stop talking, you make a better furnace then a companion."

Guzma chuckles falling back asleep

"Trainer no get away from strange man."

Cyrus yawns "he's warm " and curls back to sleep.

The voice seems to pout and climbs onto the bed and lays next to Cyrus annoyance dripping off them.

......

Cyrus was the first to come too realizing his Wevile was released amd curled next to him. This was odd his pokemon knew to stay in there balls till he released them. He reached out and pet the small pokemon with a soft smile. "This better not become a habit of yours Comet."

"Protect my trainer"

Cyrus blinked and looked behind at Guzma who was still fast asleep, then returns his gaze to his own pokemon. "What?"

"I protect you "

"Right..." Cyrus rubs his temples realizing this must be an effect of him slowly loosing his humanity. He can now understand his pokemon. It wasn't a bad thing he just didn't know how to feel about this.

Wevile sat up looking at Cyrus. "Need to protect from that strange man."

Cyrus actually smiled and pet his pokemon again. "Let the strange man be"

His wevile looked up and nodded its been awhile since he saw his trainer smile like that. Maybe the stranger wasn't that bad after all.

.....

Guzma couldn't stop looking at his wrists, his old scars were still there but now he had matching open wounds on his wrists. He knew this was from his body changing, and it hurt so much yet he couldn't do anything but keep it covered. Cyrus didn't help much he was dealing with something similar on his head his hair had streaks of red from the blood. It just hurt so much.

"It hasn't been two weeks yet. Why does this have to happen in stages?" Guzma gave a frustrated huff then a soft oof when his pokemon Goli picked him up amd hugged him.

"Ok now Guzma nobody hurt my Guzma."

Guzma sighs and gives a soft smile. "Buddy you know I'm not there anymore I'm just in a little pain right now."

"Got to fix and protect Guzma."

He chuckles and was let down. "Alright alright I'm ok now Guli I'm ok."

Cyrus watched this curiosity now filling his mind. He wondered why Guzma pokemon was so protective like it knew how to calm down Guzma in an instant. How did it know?

"What ya lookin at space man?"

Cyrus rolled his eyes "you what else am I to distract myself from this pain."

Guzma let out another laugh. "Man Cy you always know how to lighten the mood."

Cyrus frowns not realizing that was a joke he said, but a red tint brushed across his cheeks as he saw Guzma give that smile at him. In that moment he felt no pain but only a warm feeling in his chest.

The next day....

"Are you going to keep poking your protruding spurs?" Cyrus huffed ignoring the new weight on his head.

"I have spurs on my arm like a heracross." Guzma's eyes sparkled. "I am becoming bug man"

Cyrus rubs his temples annoyed and sighs. "I'm so glad you're enjoying our impending doom."

"You've got matching horns with your cleffa, you should be happy, your hair hides most of it anyway."

"Thats not the point Guzma, I'm afraid of loosing you." He immeditally regretted the words that came out of his mouth in his panic. Emotions were never his strong suit yet he still let them get the best of him. He quickly sputtered. "I mean you're the first good thing and i..."

Guzma's face was bright red. "Ya really mean that Cy? I mean I like you too ok." He huffs amd leans in and pulls Cyrus into a kiss. Pulling away just as fast. "You could of stopped me if I crossed a.... line."

Guzma looked at Cyrus who had stars in his eyes. "That is not enough evidence for me I require another to deem it appropriate." This time he goes in for a kiss and pulls away red faced. "Inconclusive I belive we need to try again."

Guzma laughed and pulled the smaller man into a tight hug. "I love you too Cy, and you don't have to make everything so sciencey having emotions is ok."

Cyrus hugged him back like his life depended on it. "I fear now that I have something to loose I don't want our time to be up."

"Neither do I Cy, but I'm glad our fleeting time is spent together." Guzma smiles even though he can feel his own tears fall down his face.

........

"This is a awful idea Cyrus, and I can't belive I'm saying that." Guzma can barely hold his balance in the ice skates he was wearing.

"I used to ice skate a lot growing up when I was with my grandfather, I wish to make a new memory doing it with you." Cyrus explains trying to push the taller man onto the ice.

"You're lucky I'm not as cold as before atleast this weird dna thing is helping me adapt to the cold Cy." He looked back to see Cyrus huff amd go onto the ice himself, he had to admit that houndoom tail did fit him, and became a great excuse to look at his ass.

Cyrus was amazing on the ice and Guzma just wanted to get closer but as soon as he got on the ice he went face first into the cold floor. This caused Cyrus to start laughing which was the first time the taller man heard him laugh it was like the best music he ever heard.

"You really are bad at this, I guess destruction in human form only works in sneakers." Cyrus smiles continuing to skate.

Guzma smiles pushing himself up to just sit on the ice and watch him go. He wasn't angry for the first time after failing he was happy. Cyrus really did help him with his emotions.

......

It was getting closer to the final day and they weren't ready. Both felt as if they had no energy to do anything, and yet both have been eating like crazy. There pokemon have been showing so much concern they've been treating the two like they are baby pokemon that need help with everything, even Cyrus's little cleffa has been getting concerned.

Guzma stared up at the ceiling "your admins have been driving me...." he yawns cutting off the sentence, and he curls closer to Cyrus. "Can't blame them tomorrow is the day."

Cyrus held onto Guzma not wanting things to end, he wished he had more time. "I'm sorry."

"Don't.... be" he stifles another yawns. "Mmh too tired."

Cyrus was equally exhausted yet they haven't done anything for a week. All they've been doing is eating and sleeping so much. "Mmh Guzma?"

"Yeah..."

"I love you."

"I love you too"

The two embraced barely able to stay awake spending the final hours they had together.

......

Cyrus didn't expect to wake up, he expected to forget everything and live on as a pokemon. Yet here he was next to Guzma in a wet and sticky bed. His body did feel different though he could still see he had hands with sharp claws like comet, but still hands. He was able to wiggle his toes and move his legs so that was the same. Something had to be wrong. He looked over to Guzma who was still dead asleep and noticed it first.

Guzma had two prominate attena from his head along with clawed fingers like his own but different, he had spurs on the back of his ankles and what looked like armor speckled about his body which reminded him of different bug types exoskeleton. His teeth were sharper as well, and he swore it looked like Guzma back had a large shield on it covered the entire thing.

Did his body change that much as well? He couldn't really tell, but all he felt was hunger as his stomach growled louder then he was used to. He needed to figure himself out first, but he could smell something delicious from somewhere in this building. He wiggled free from Guzma and headed towards the smell.

....

Cyrus's former admins looked shocked when they saw him walk towards them as he sits at the table eyes locked on the food they were cooking. Saturn ran up to him with tears and thanked the higher powers at be that master Cyrus was still alive and here.

Cyrus wasn't really listening when a large plate of food was placed in front of him. It took a moment for him to use utensils with his new claws but once he got it he gladly ate until he was full.

It seems as if the smell attracted Guzma as well like a bug pokemon to honey. They both ate in silence not really registering that they both were ok.

When it did dawn on them they held each other's hand under the table and shared a smile. They made it together.

#harlockshipping #team skull guzma #cyrus #galactic cyrus #team galactic #team skull #ya boy guzma

[bqstqnbruin]

Lead Me

Something about that GIF woowowow ok 

This was another request and I think I have one more still to write but I got distracted today by not doing all of my homework that is due on Tuesday (thank God for Easter Monday and Catholic schools)

But here it is!

Here is the original request!

___________________________

“We’re here today with members of Team Canada figure skating! They’re going to be showing our guys some of their moves to see how graceful they can actually be. Something tells me it’s not going to go well for our guys,” One of the PR people for the Flames says to one of the cameras that would be recording you. You were nervous, but this was part of being on the team, so you had to do it. You were a stereotypical figure skater, petite, timid, and quiet. But that played to your strength on the ice, which is why you made the team in the first place. Doing this thing with hockey players who are the exact opposite is what scares you.

The cameramen spread out across the ice as someone from the team staff comes to split the guys up into groups for each of you to teach. Ten guys were being split among five skaters. You got Matthew Tkachuk and Elias Lindholm. You had to teach them a routine that they could do as a pair and the best routine would win skate tying privileges for 30 games. The two of them towered over you, both nearly a foot taller than you. Both could easily crush you if they so much as tripped on you.

“Ok, so, I’m going to teach you a basic routine. You need to start in fifth position, your arms out, your head down, like this,” you say, showing them. You look up to see Elias doing what you asked, Matthew struggling to find his balance. “Matthew, let me help.” You skate over to him and adjust him so he looks like Elias. 

His eyes meet yours. For a moment, you felt like Rory and Dean in the first episode of Gilmore Girls, when Rory drops all her stuff on the ground while leaving Stars Hallow High. “Um..” you try to find your words, “So let’s move on to the next part.” 

The only words you try to say are those revolving around teaching the two boys the routine, but they kept asking you questions.

“How did you get started with skating?” Matthew asked.

“My family is a big hockey family, so I’ve been skating since I could walk.” 

“Why figure skating over hockey?” he pries.

“Look at me?” you say, confused. You were barely over a hundred pounds; you’ve had people tell you in the past that you look like you could break anytime you jump; you would actually be murdered if you even wore all the hockey gear.

“Oh, trust me, I see you,” he says under his breath.

“What?” you say, not quite making it out. 

Elias bursts out laughing, Matthew turning bright red, “Yeah, Matthew, I don’t think I heard what you said either.” He playfully pushes Matthew to the side.

“Y/N, I had asked about your family,” he tries to cover and change the subject.

“I have two older brothers, who, like I said, played hockey, but I clearly did something similar but not the same.”

“That’s like me and my siblings; Brady and I play hockey and Taryn plays field hockey. Something similar but not the same.” 

You start to smile, “I always wanted to play field hockey,” you admit, and you actually did. No one ever really brought it up in conversation, and you weren’t someone to just spill stuff about yourself. 

You guys had downtime anyway, the routine was done and they had run through it twice in its entirety, so you actually didn’t mind the conversation. No one ever really had a conversation with you in a group setting.

“What about school, how did you balance school and skating?” He asks, sitting down on the ice. 

You and Elias follow suit, plopping yourself down so you are directly facing him, Elias off to the side, looking giddy for some reason, “I went to a boarding school in America called Miss Porters in Connecticut, then did homeschool when we found out I had a shot at making the national team. What about you?”

“I’m a Catholic schoolboy,” he admits, “Which is what makes me the man I am today.” he pretends to flip his hair, hand movements and all. All it does it shake the wild curls on top of his head.

You can’t help but laugh, “So Catholic school makes you into a man who can’t do a simple figure skating routine?” you tease.

“I beg to differ.” He says, being dramatic, causing you to laugh again. You don’t even notice that Elias has moved further away from the two of you. Either that, or you two moved closer together. 

“Uh, let’s just go back over what you guys are doing,” you get up as quick as you can, “You still have half an hour, so might as well work on anything you don’t know?” 

“Hey, Y/N. Do you think you can help me with that last move? I want to see you do it with Matthew. You know, so I can see how it’s supposed to be done?” Elias says, smirking.

“Sure?” The last move was trying to be a play on Jason Brown’s 2014 USA National’s routine, Riverdance. The boys were free to act silly, which came easy to them anyway and do a grapevine move while holding each others hands, then turning to face the ‘audience’ and basically trying to do the highest high kicks they could do while still holding on to one another.

Matt skates up to you, taking your hands like he would Elias’, a chill running down your spine as soon as his hands meet yours. “I’m sorry he’s having you do this,” he says, quiet enough that Elias can’t hear as him and the other guys are looking on and whispering. “I’m not normally great at talking with girls, but with you, it’s been kind of easy, right?”

You look up at him, smiling, “Yeah, it has been.” You guys do the end of the routine, but he ends up tripping you. You fall flat on your butt, bursting out laughing. “Oh, my God,” you say between cackles.

“Y/N! Are you ok?” Matthew helps you up, but you double back over, laughing. Elias comes over to check on you, too.

“Yeah, that was just so bad.” you blurt out. You tried your hardest, but there was no way these two were going to get their skates tied. 

“It’s not my fault!” Matthew defends himself.

“Your foot was under hers when you were doing the kicks. It is a hundred percent your fault.” Elias said. “I guess you wanted her to fall for you somehow?” 

“What?” 

“Cut it out,” Matthew says. “Ignore him, he hasn’t had food in two hours. He gets cranky.” Elias just shrugs and skates away from the two of you. The other guys were waiting around to start, but you notice Elias say something, pointing over to the two of you, the guys craning their necks to get a glimpse of the two of you. You don’t even notice that Matthew was trying to talk to you. “Y/N? Did you hear what I just said?”

“Uh, no sorry, I thought they were going to give us instruction.” You lie.

“I was wondering if after this if you’re not busy, we could go grab some food somewhere?” 

“Wait,” Your turn to meet his eyes, the sincerity and nervousness of his voice coming through on his face. 

“If those idiots don’t scare you into saying no, then yeah.”

“Yeah, I would like that.” You say, smiling, “But I think right now, you have to go humiliate yourself.” 

Elias and Matthew did a horrible job with their routine; Matthew forgot to jump when they were supposed to and Elias ended up hitting him in the face. Then, Matthew tripped Elias in the same way that he had tripped you earlier, so you guess it was payback. Intentional or not, the other guys couldn’t contain their laughter, just like you. 

One of the guys on the national team came up to you, ”You taught them a routine that would have won, they just gave you idiots, didn’t they?” he says, laughing.

“They’re all idiots, probably. But, they did about as expected.” 

“Looks like one of them has his eye on you, though,” he says, pointing to Matthew. The rest of the guys were watching Noah and Johnny try to do a triple axel, something that takes a few years to get down. Matthew, couldn’t seem to take his eyes, off you, smiling.

You just blush and shrug. You really didn’t have any words to say.

Surprisingly, Matthew and Elias ended up winning. The way they did their routine, the guys thought it was intentional that they hit each other. It wasn’t intentional, but it got them their prize, so who really cares? 

After everything was finished, Matthew found you while you were wandering trying to find him. “Are you ready to go?”

“Yeah!” you say, as he takes your hand, leading you out. 

#matthew tkachuk #matthew tkachuk imagines #nhl #nhl imagines #hockey #hockey imagines #calgary flames #calgary flames imagines

[scifrey]

WORDS FOR WRITERS: The Value of Fanfiction

There’s been a lot of chatter on social media these last few weeks, recycling that trashy, self-aggrandizing, tired old “hot take” that reading and writing fanfiction is somehow bad for you as a writer.

Before we go any further, let me give a clear and definitive answer to this take:

No, reading and writing fanfiction will not make you and does not make you a bad reader or writer.

 Period.

 Why? Here’s the TL;DR version:

1)      Reading and Writing, any kind of reading and writing, will make you a better reader and writer. And it’s enjoyable, to boot.

2)      Fanfiction has been around as long as Original Fiction, so we’d know if there was any negative impact by now (spoiler alert: there isn’t.)

3)      Practice is Practice, so matter what medium you get that practice in.

4)      Comprehending and writing fanfiction is harder than writing original fiction because you have to hold the Source Media Text in your head at the same time as you’re reading/writing a different story. It improves your understanding of storytelling.

5)      No hobby, no matter what it is, so long as it doesn’t harm anyone else or yourself, is bad. And that goes double for if you decide to keep it a hobby. Not every fanfic writer wants to write original fiction, and that’s just fine. Not every hobby has to be monetized.

 Okay. But what do they mean by “fanfiction”?

 “Fanfiction is fictional writing written by fans, commonly of an existing work of fiction. The author uses copyrighted characters, settings, or other intellectual properties from the original creator as a basis for their writing.”-- Wikipedia

 Basically – it’s when you take elements (setting, characters, major themes or ideas) of a Media Text (a novel, a movie, a podcast, a comic, etc.) and create a different story with those elements. You can write a missing scene, or an extended episode, or a whole new adventure for the characters of the Media Text. You can even crossover or fuse multiple Media Texts, or specific elements, to create a whole new understanding of the characters or their worlds.

 Similar to fanfic, you can also create fanart, fancomics, or fansongs (“filk”), fancostumes (“cosplay”), and fanfilms. These are called Fanworks or Fancrafts.

 Fanfiction is usually posted to online forums, journals, blogs, or story archives and shared for free among the public. Before the advent of the internet, fanfiction was often printed or typed, and hand-copied using photocopiers or ditto machines, and distributed for free (or for a small administration fee to cover materials) among fans at conventions, or through mail-order booklets (“zines”).

 Fanfiction has existed pretty much since the beginning of storytelling (A Thousand and One Nights, Robin Hood, and King Arthur all have different elements attributed to them by different authors retelling, twisting, adding to, or changing the stories; there’s no single-origin author of those tales.)

 There are billions on billions of fanfics out there in the world—and while a majority of them are romance stories, there are also adventures, comedies, dramas, thrillers, stories based on case files, stories about the emotional connection between characters when one is hurt and the other must care for them, historical retellings, etc. There are also stories for every age range and taste, though be sure to take heed of the tags, trigger warnings, and age range warnings as your browse the archives and digital libraries.

 As a reader, it’s your responsibility to curate your experience online.

 So why are people so afraid or derisive of fanfic?

 People who are hard on fanfic say that…

 ·       It sucks.

o   Well of course it sucks! As it’s a low-stakes and easy way to try out creative writing for the first time, the majority of fanfiction is overwhelmingly written by new and young writers. Everything you do when you first try it sucks a little bit. 

I’m sure no figure skater was able to immediately land perfect triple axels ten minutes after they strap on the skates for the first time in their lives. No knitter has ever made a flawlessly perfect jumper on their first try. No mathematician has ever broken the code to send a rocket into space after having just been taught elementary-school multiplication. So why on earth do people think that new writers don’t need to practice? I can promise you that Lin-Manuel Miranda’s first rap was probably pretty shaky.

·       It’s lazy or it’s cheating.

o   Listen, anyone who tells you that writing anything is lazy clearly has not sat down and tried to write anything. Writing is tedious. It is boring. It takes hours, and hours, and hours to get anything on the page, and then once it’s on the page you have to go back and edit it. UGH. There is nothing about being a writer—even a fanfic writer—that is lazy.

o   And anyone who tells you that trying to tell a fresh, new story within the limits and confines of a pre-existing world and have it make sense is cheating, then they have no freaking clue how hard it is to be creative with that kind of limitation placed on you. It’s harder when you have a set of rules you need to follow. What you do come up with is often extremely interesting and creative because of those limitations, not in spite of them.

o   The argument that using pre-made characters, settings, tropes, and worlds to make up a new story is cheating is also complete bunk. Do those same people also expect hockey players to whittle and plane themselves a whole new hockey stick from scratch before each game? No, of course not. And yeah, a baker can grow all their own wheat, grind the flour, raise the chickens and cows so they can get eggs and milk, distill the vanilla, etc. Or a baker can buy a box mix. Either way, you get a cake at the end of the process. Whether you write fanfic or original fiction, you still get a story at the end of the process.

·       It makes you a worse writer.

o   * annoying buzzer noise * Practicing anything does not make you worse at it. And reading stories that are not edited, expertly crafted, or “high art” will also not indoctrinate you into being a bad writer. If anything, figuring out why you don’t like a specific story, trope, or writing style is actually a great way to learn what kind of writer you want to be, and to learn different methods of constructing sentences, creating images, and telling tales. Or you know, just how much spelling and grammar matter.

·       It’s not highbrow or thoughtful enough.

o   Sometimes stories are allowed to be just comfort food. Not every book or story you read has to be haute cuisine or boringly nutritious. You are allowed to read stories because they’re exciting, or swoony, or funny, or just because you like them. Anyone who says differently is a snob and worth ignoring. (Besides, fun silly stories can also be packed with meaning and lessons—I mean, hello, Terry Pratchett, anyone?)

·       It makes you waste all your time on writing that can’t be monetized.

o   No time is wasted if you spend it doing something that brings you joy. Not every hobby needs to be a money-maker and not everyone wants to be a professional writer. You are allowed to write, and read, fanfic just for the fun of it.

·       It’s theft.

o   According to Fair Use Law, it’s not. As long as the fanfic writer (or artist, cosplayer, etc.) is not making money on their creation that directly impacts or cuts into the original creator’s profit, or is not repackaging/plagiarizing the original Media Text and profiting off it’s resale, then Fan Works are completely legal. So there.

 How, exactly, does fanfic make you a better writer?

 Fanfiction…

 ·       teaches you to finish what you start.

o   The joy of being able to share your fic, either as you’re writing it, or afterward, is a big motivating factor for a lot of people. They finish because they get immediate feedback on it from their readers and followers. Lots of people have ideas for books, but how many of them do you know have actually sat down and written the whole thing?

o   Fanfic is also low-stakes; there’s nothing riding on whether you finish something or not, so you have to inspire yourself to get there without the outside (potentially negative) motivation of deadline or a failing grade if you don’t get the story finished. You end up learning how to motivate yourself.

o   Fanfic has no rules, so you write as much or as little as you want, stop wherever you think is a good place to end the story, write it out of order, or go back and write as many sequels or prequels as you like. Again, it’s totally low-stakes and is meant to be for fun, so you can noodle around with what it means to write a “whole” story and “complete” it, which teaches you how you like to write, and how you like to find your way to the finish line.

·       teaches you story structure.

o   Before you can sit down and write a story based on one of your favorite Media Texts, you’re likely to spend a lot of time consuming that text passively, or studying it actively. Either way, you’re absorbing how and why Media Text structures the stories it tells, and are learning how to structure your own from that.

o   Once you’re comfortable with the story structure the Media Text you’re working in is told, you’ll probably start experimenting with different ways stories can be told, and find the versions you like to work with best.

·       teaches you how to write characters consistently.

o   Fanfic is really hard because not only do you have to write your fave characters in a way that moves the story along, but they have to be recognizable as those fave characters.

o   This means you have to figure out their body language, verbal and physical tics, their motivations and they way the handle a crisis (fight, flight, or fawn?), and then make up the details you may need for your story that you may never see on screen/the page, like how they take their eggs or what their fave shampoo is, based on what you already know about them. That takes some top-notch detective work and character understanding to pull off.

o   Once you know how to do that, just making up a whole person yourself for original fiction is a breeze.

·       Teaches you how to hear and mimic a character/narrator voice.

o   You have to pay close attention to how an actor speaks, or how a character’s speech patterns, dialect, work choice, etc. is reflected on the page in order to be consistent in your story.

o   And all of this, in turn, teaches you how to build one for yourself.

o   I have a whole series of articles here about building a narrative voice, if you want to read more on constructing an original voice for your narrator.

·       Teaches you how to create or recreate a setting.

o   Again, like achieving character consistency, or mimicking a character or narrative voice, it takes work and paying attention in order to re-create a setting, time period, or geographical region in a fanfic—and if you’re taking your characters somewhere new, your readers will expect that setting to be equally rich as the one the Media Text is based in.

o   Which, again, teaches you how to then go and build an original one for yourself.

·       teaches how to take critique.

o   Professional writing is not a solitary pursuit. In fact, most writing is not entirely the work of an author alone. Like professional authors work with editors, critique partners, and proofreaders, some fanfiction writers will sometimes work with beta-readers or editors as well. This are friends or fanfic colleagues who offer to read your fanfic and point out plot, character, consistency, or story structure errors, or who offer to correct spelling and grammar errors. This is a great way to practice working with editors if you decide to pursue a professional career, and also a great way to make friends and strengthen your community and skill set if you don’t.

o   Many fanfic sites offer readers the opportunity to leave a comment on a fic, rather like a reviewer can leave a review on GoodReads or Amazon, or any other online store or blog, for a novel they’ve read. Sometimes these comments/reviews are 5 star and enthusiastic! Sometimes they are… not. The exact opposite in fact. As you get comments on your fanfic, and learn to ignore the ones that are just mean rather than usefully critical, you gain the Very Important Skill of learning to resist firing back at bad comments or reviews, while enjoying the good ones.  It also teaches you how to ignore drama or haters.

·       Teaches you how to exist within a like-minded community.

o   While the actual writing part of writing is solitary and sometimes tedious, nothing is ever published into a vacuum, whether it be fanfiction or original. Besides your editing/critique/beta reader group, you will also likely develop friendships, a support network, and mutuals. It’s always great to uplift, support, cheer on, and celebrate one another’s accomplishments and victories, whether the writing is fanfic or original.

·       Teaches you that it’s okay to write about things important to you, or your own identity.

o   You can change a characters ethnicity, cultural background, sexuality, religion, or disabilities to match yours, and talk about your lived life through the megaphone of that character. Or, you can insert original characters based on you, your desires, and experiences.

o   Once you’re comfortable writing in your #ownvoice in fanfic, you can approach it in original fiction, if you like.

o   See my article titled Your Voice Is Valid for more on this.

 What if I want to be a professional writer?

 Notice how I didn’t say “real writer”. Any writer who writes any kind of story is a ‘real’ writer. I mean, pinch yourself—you’re real, right? The difference is actually between being an “amateur” writer (a hobbyist who does not write for pay), and a “professional” (who is paid for their writing). Just because you only play shinny on the street with your friends, or in a house league on the weekends, it’s doesn’t mean  you’re not still as much of a hockey player as someone who plays in the NHL.

 Writing fanfiction before or at the same time as writing original fiction that you intend to sell is a great way to learn, or practice, everything I’ve mentioned above. If you read it widely, it will also expose you to different story telling styles, voices, and tropes than your reading of published fiction.

 ·       Can I sell my fanfic?

o   No. For fanfiction to remain under the umbrella of Fair Use Law, you cannot profit off your fanfiction. There’s some grey-area wiggle room around things like charging a small amount for a ‘zine or a PDF to cover administrative costs, but zero wiggleability around, say, selfpublishing your fanfic and charging heaps for it.

·       Can I “file off the serial numbers”?

o   “Filing of the series numbers” is when you take a fanfic you’ve written and essentially pull it apart, remove everything that’s clearly someone else’s Media Text, and reassembling the story so that it’s pretty much a completely original piece of creative writing.

o   Yes, you can sell these, provided your filing is rigorous enough that you aren’t likely to be dinged for plagiarism. It’s widely known that Cassandra Claire’s Shadowhunters was once Harry Potter fanfic, and that Fifty Shades of Gray was once Twilight fanfic. But did you know that my Triptych started life as an idea for a Stargate Atlantis fic? There’s lots of stories out there that were once full fics, or the idea for the novel was originally conceived for a fandom, but written as original instead.

o   So long as you’re careful to really rework the text so that it’s not just a find-name-replace-name rewrite, you should be fine.

o   Be aware, though, that the agents and editors you might pitch this novel to know how to Google. They may discover that this is a filed-off story, and depending on their backgrounds and biases, might be concerned about it. There’s no need to inform them of the novel’s origin straight off in your pitch/query letter, but you may want to have a frank discussion with them about it after it’s been signed so they can help you make sure that any lingering copywrited concepts or characters are thoroughly changed before publication.

o   Should you take down the original fic-version of the novel while you’re querying/shopping it? Well, that’s up to you, and whether you’re comfortable with an editor/agent potentially finding it.

·       Should I be ashamed of my fic, or take it down, or pretend I never wrote fic?

o   What? Why? No! I mean, I have hidden some of my most immature work, but I’ve left pretty much my whole catalogue of fanfic online and I don’t deny that I was/am a ficcer. Why? Because it’s a great repository of free stories that people can read before they buy one of my books, so they can get a taste of how and what I write. Also, you will be in good company. Lots and lots of writers who are published now-a-days started in fandom, including:

Steven Moffat

Seanan McGuire

Rainbow Rowell

Claudia Gray

Cory Doctorow

Marissa Meyer

Meg Cabot.

Naomi Novik

Neil Gaiman

Lev Grossman

S.E. Hinton

John Scalzi

The Bronte Sisters

Andy Weir

Sarah Rees Brennan

Marjorie M. Liu

Anna Todd

...and me, J.M. Frey

 How fanfic can harm.

 Like with anything else, there are ways that reading and writing fanfiction can actually harm you, or others, but it has nothing to do with the reading or writing of fanfiction in and of itself.

 ·       Some creators may prefer that you don’t (and may or may not follow up with legal action).

o   Anne Rice famously went after fanficcers in the 90s who wrote fanfic of her work, handing out Cease & Desist notices like confetti.

o   99% of creators don’t care. Those who do will generally have a notice on their websites or social media politely asking fancreators to refrain. Mostly this is due to their general discomfort over the idea of anyone else getting to play in their worlds. The best thing to do is respect that request, and find a different fandom to write in.

·       Flamewars and fandom fights leading to bullying and doxing.

o   Regrettably, just like any other community filled with people who have different favorites, opinions, and preferences, there will inevitably be clashes. It’s up to you to decide how to react to negative interactions, and how to model positive ones.

o   Don’t forget, you curate your online experience, so don’t be afraid of that block button.

o   Also, don’t be the jerk who goes after people for liking different aspects of the fandom. Everyone is entitled to interact and like a Media Text their own way. “Don’t yuck my yum,” as they say.

·       Trying to make money on other people’s IP/Media Text (law suits, etc.)

o   It doesn’t belong to you, so don’t try to make money on it.

o   There’s a grey area here in terms of selling prints/plushies/jewelry/etc. and there’s no hard line about where one copyright owner will draw the line, and another won’t. Warner Bros. owns the film rights for both Harry Potter and Hunger Games, but I’ve seen Harry Potter-themed bars spring up while fans wanting to make Hunger Game fanfilms have been shut down. A friend of mine sells hand-made fandom-inspired items at cons—there is no rhyme or reason to what she gets told to stop making and what she’s left alone on.

o   Best thing to do if you’re told to stop is just so stop, move on, and find a different fandom to be active in.

·       Writing Real Person Fanfic (“RPF”) can be considered a violation of consent.

o   This article sums it up pretty well, but basically… if you decide to write RPF, be aware that they person you are writing about is a real person, with real thoughts, and emotions, and they may feel violated by RPF. If you decide to write it, never send it to the people it’s about, and always clearly tag it so other can choose to engage with it, or avoid it.

o   Also be aware that it could ruin their love for what they do. For example: the friendships between the members of 1Direciton became strained and the band eventually disintegrated because people wouldn’t stop sending band members smutty stories or art of them having sex with one another, and it made them too uncomfortable to continue in the band.

·       Showing/sharing fanfic & fanart outside of its intended context. Fanworks are for fans, and there are definitely issues if…

o   It’s shown to celebrities/actors/creators.

  Shoving your fantasies onto the people who create or portray your fave characters is rude, and wrong, and also kinda gross. If they seek it out themselves, that’s one thing, but the same way you wouldn’t throw it at a complete stranger, don’t throw it at them. You may love the characters these people play, but they are not their characters, and they are not your friends.

  It may also really weird them out and ruin their love for what they do.

o   it’s shown to writers working on the series.

  There was a famous case where a fanficcer sent a story to a novelist, and the novelist was accused of plagiarism by the ficcer when their next novel in the series resembled the plot of that fanfic. There was a whole court case and everything.

  Because of this, writers of TV shows, books, etc. don’t want to (and often times, legally can’t) read your fanfic. They don’t want to get accidentally inspired by what you’ve written, or worse, have to throw out something because it resembles your fic too closely. Just let them write their stories the way they want, and if they choose to seek out fic, they will.

o   it’s mocked by celebrities.

  I’m not letting Alan Carr and Graham Norton off the hook. If it’s super rude and gross to shove fanworks at actors/writers/creators when you’re a creator, then it’s doubly rude for anyone to take a story or art made for a specific audience (the fans), by a specific community (the fans), lift it out of it’s context, and invite the public to mock it while also shoving it at the actor/celebrity in a place where they are literally cornered and can’t leave (i.e. the chat-show sofa). Man, it really steams me up when they do that. It’s rude and it’s tone-deaf, and it’s not fair.

  And most of the time they do it, they don’t even ask the artist or writer for permission, first, which is just…. Uuuuugggghhhh. It may be fanfic, but it was still created by someone, and you should always ask permission before publicly sharing something created by someone else.

  Grrrrrrr.

 In Conclusion

 If someone tells you that reading or writing fanfic is bad for you as a creator, tell them to get bent.

Famous Fanfic

·       Hamilton by Lin-Manuel Miranda

·       Wicked by Gregory Maguire

·       Wicked: the Musical by Stephen Schwartz

·       The Phantom of Manhattan by Fredrick Forsyth

·       A Study in Emerald by Neil Gaiman

·       Sherlock by Mark Gatiss and Steven Moffat

·       The Dracula Tape, by Fred Saberhaugen

·       Paradise Lost, John Milton

·       Inferno, by Dante

·       The Aeneid, by Virgil

·       Ulysses, by James Joyce

·       Romeo & Juliet, by William Shakespeare

·       The Once and Future King by T.H. White

·       A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur’s Court, by Mark Twain

·       The Three Musketeers, by Alexandre Dumas

·       Pride & Prejudice & Zombies, by Seth Grahame-Smith

·       Phantom, a novel of his life by Susan Kaye

·       …and so many more.

#words for writers #fanfiction #fan fiction #fan fiction is good for you #writing #am writing #writing community #writing fanfiction #writing fanfic

[sparkywanderer]

Parallels in SK8 The Infinity: Why Renga will (probably) get a happy ending

So uh. I had a ton of thoughts after the recent episode. So I wrote a thing about parallels and stuff and not gonna lie it’s kinda long (I get sidetracked like 5 times and have not edited this to be concise so it’s really bad???). Here it is, though, if you would like to read my rambling anyway!

Spoilers for Episode 8

Sk8 really likes its parallels. Whether it be how many times it likes to group Langa and Adam together as the “talented ones” or equals or whatever, or how the writers put Cherry/Joe and Adam’s separation with Langa and Reki’s in episode 7 practically back-to-back, it’s clear that they’re all tied up together in some specific way. Not only that, but Miya’s story of losing his friends due to his skateboarding talents rings eerily similar situation-wise to how Reki isolates himself from Langa due to the latter’s talents (though of course there are major differences and such, but other posts could probably explain way better than me so let’s ignore that for now).

Episode 8 adds another parallel to the mix with the reveal that Tadashi actually taught Adam skateboarding in the first place, because well, guess who taught Langa skateboarding? Guess who else enables the skateboarding of someone else, in Tadashi’s case handling Adam’s other work as a secretary and driving him in/out of S, and in Reki’s case building a skateboard for Langa? And not only that, but guess who else is compared to a dog (albeit more for the sake of a bet than anything)? Think back to the whole bet with Miya.

(I think there’s a manga panel that shows that Langa sorta thinks of Reki as similar to one too, but I’m too lazy to find it tbh)

Tadashi and Adam’s relationship is still a little unclear from episode 8, so there definitely could be more of these parallels, but what we do know is this: these are both pairs that were very, very close, sharing a mutual love for skateboarding, before eventually drifting apart as one became far more engrossed in the sport than the other to the point of danger. The writers portray this through Langa’s incredibly high speeds in Episode 7, and the flashbacks of Adam getting into highly dangerous situations with other people which cause them to get badly injured. Both of them don’t fear the thrill of this wild style of skateboarding, enjoy it even, while others like Reki, Cherry Blossom and Joe clearly do-- setting them apart as similar people, as Adam remarks. Langa mirrors Adam and Reki mirrors Tadashi, which bleeds into their equally mirrored relationships. 

Going more in depth on Reki and Tadashi specifically, both of them are not the best at communicating their feelings. In Reki’s case, he bottles up all of his doubts and anxieties about his relationship with Langa until they eventually culminate into one scene and force them apart. In Tadashi’s, he doesn’t stand up against Adam’s father about letting him continue to skateboard even when he clearly wishes to. They’re different, of course, but both of them are clearly the type to put a mask over how they actually feel: in Reki’s case with an “It’s nothing!”, and in Tadashi’s case with an “I have no opinions”. 

(One of the few times smiling Reki brings me Suffering instead of serotonin)

But what’s the point of this all? What’s the point of drawing out all these random connections between Adam and Langa, and Tadashi and Reki? The purpose isn’t showing the similarities, but the differences. Given everything that’s similar, it’s a lot easier to see what’s distinct, and in my opinion that is what will ultimately set these two relationships apart.

Because here’s the thing: Langa actually cares about Reki. Even if they’re so different in terms of skateboarding skill level (which is not necessarily true, but that’s a whole other thing), Langa cares enough about Reki to not leave him behind. The writers blatantly show this in Episode 6, when Langa stays behind and looks for Reki despite the tantalizing offer of a race with a bunch of very talented skaters right in front of him. (It could be argued that he DOES take the offer instead of focusing on Reki by breaking the promise with Reki in episode 7, but the thing is he also assumes Reki will understand and still support him, clearly surprised at his reaction, so it’s not really the same.)

Meanwhile, just think about what Adam does to Tadashi when he’s so focused on his stupid tournament, in contrast. Using him as a scapegoat for his own goals with no shame whatsoever.

(someone free this man. someone free this man please)

Not only that, though, but his passion for skateboarding isn’t just in the sport itself, but a major part of it is the people he spends time with. Before with snowboarding, it was his father, and when he was gone Langa stopped finding joy in that sport altogether. And now it’s Reki who’s gone, and he’s quickly realizing skateboarding that no longer brings the same thrill that it used to-- as made evident with the sudden shift to snowboarding in that scene, and the absence of his heart beating quickly, which could represent a lot of things but the point is he’s not having fun. Oh wait, that's another parallel.

On the other hand, Adam accepts that he’ll leave some people behind with his talents, dismissing them as unworthy rather than taking the time to actually try and recognize any flaws within himself or his way of thinking. This is perfectly exemplified in the first scene of Episode 8, where he shows little to no concern whatsoever over someone he’d been considering a possible match just a couple of seconds ago. Because it’s as he says: to him, when the perceived “distance” between two people is too great, to the point where it is “unreachable” for one of them, there can be no “real love”.

(oh yeah they both have blue hair too i guess)

But remember, Langa’s not like that. He isn’t willing to so easily give up on Reki like that, as seen with how he consults his mother for advice and still constantly checks to see if he’s there to talk to. He’s not going to so callously give up on him like Adam does with those he skates with, because his version of love isn’t nearly as twisted as his. Instead, he’s going to try and fix things, “repent and make efforts” (though of course neither of them are entirely at fault here), and communicate, as foreshadowed by the latest episode.

Reki, on the other hand, doesn’t show as many signs of wanting to try and reconnect with Langa, as of Episode 8 anyway. But I still have faith in him, because he seems to be having some doubts given his actions-- and more than that, remember what Cherry was talking about when he found him, words that he probably at least kind of listened to! Eventually he’s going to realize that he’s cut off a really good relationship for the wrong reasons, and he’ll have to apply some of these teachings and make efforts to actually communicate once he begins to realize it.

(Also, just take a moment to appreciate the bi calligraphy.)

So what can we take away from all this? Adam said Langa was the same type of person as himself. And sure, maybe that’s true in some ways, but it’s not entirely, and if the anime wants to have any clear thematic messages about relationships, it will most definitely reflect the results of their differences one way or another. At the very least, Reki and Langa will not turn out like Adam and Tadashi did. Because what’s the purpose of constantly comparing and contrasting characters in eerily similar situations, if their differences don’t have any actual effect on the story and the message that it’s ultimately attempting to convey, especially in a short 12 episode anime?

But anyways, if you actually did read this far for some reason, thank you! If I missed anything, you wanna add anything else, or just idk talk about this anime in general, let me know :D

(TLDR: Adam and Langa are sort of similar but also really different because the latter cares for Reki, so therefore this is yet another sports anime that will probably be about the power of friendship/love, and I Pretend I Do Not See whatever death flags there are for Langa I DO NOT SEE THEM!!!) 

#sk8 the infinity #sk8 the infinity analysis #not me wriitng a whole fucking essay on this skateboarding anime... #im probably just reading too much into things as usual aha #sidenote: rewatched episode 7 as I wrote this and can confirm it was Not any less painful than the first time I watched it #seriously though this is a comedy sports anime. no ones gonna die. right haha #tbh idk what the point of all of this was when y'all probably already know that but MAN am i hyperfixating hard on this show #and im gonna make it everyones problem #(sorry) #sk8 spoilers #reki kyan #(my beloved) #langa hasegawa #i am in no way qualified to do this analysis by the way sorry for that too #anyways the moral of the story is idk what im doing don't take this too seriously

[parasympathic]

ൠ - random headcanon

If the kitchen is the heart of a household, Monty wonders sometimes what the one in Endine’s Headquarters says about any of them. There’s a memory that rests against the bottom cupboards, his back pressed against the wood and Athena resting against his shoulders, a bottle half finished between them and talking about dreams that feel just a little too far out of reach. He aches to think about it now, because he thinks he’s getting everything he wanted and she’s gotten none of it. And he doesn’t know what to thank or what to blame for that, if it’s the product of all of those quietly held ambitions or an absence of hers, or maybe he just got lucky, but it leaves him faintly guilty for it.

He finds too many shelves bare when he returns from Italy, so the second day back sees him in the kitchen with bags of groceries on the counter, restocking boxes of cereal that they always seem to burn through fastest when there are so many children under their roof. Enough of their pictures pinned to the refrigerator with alphabet magnets, crayon drawing of the building he stands in, stick drawings of friends or family, of mythical creatures that several of them can craft just out of will and illusion. It’s the same kind of magic that he’s sure makes Osun and Frankie such a popular subject, but he’s sure their personalities have just as much to do with it, because the picture he can find of himself, he’s a tall, stiff figure next to Athena.

It’s there that two of the younger kids find him, still putting away milk and eggs on the middle shelf. Selina isn’t quite a teenager yet, still a few months away, and the little brother who trails at her heels is behind her by a few years and more than a foot of height. It’s still for his sake that she asks Monty to hold out a wrist. The bracelet is gray and blue and black, colors twined together and framing the tacky white beads that spell out his name. It still makes Monty smile warmly, trying to catch the wide and hopeful gaze of the boy hiding just behind her. A familiar shyness that he’s been slow to step past the bounds of. He’s a telekinetic and she’s a telepath, both of their parents dead, and Endine HQ is the most stable home they’ve had since.

“He wanted to give it to you before you left, but...” She shrugs, and he can fill the rest in for himself; he came over later and left earlier than he has in years past.

“Thank you, Kyle,” he says. “I love it.” A smile to match the wealth of gratitude in his voice, and he holds his hand out to shake in a mockery of formality, something more playful to skim past how much he can relate to the discomfort of having someone touch him without permission. But it surprises him when he pushes forward to hug one of his legs instead.

It leaves Monty hesitating for a brief moment before his hand settles on the top of his head, smiling at the words even if it’s his fault they’re a week delayed. “Merry Christmas Dr. Monty.”

Often enough the kitchen smells like coffee, even if he thinks it’s rarely the kind that Emil would approve of. The steady drip of it filling a pot that might help keep him going through all the work he still has to get through, up too late and here too early, half the morning already spent in his office trying to sort out where Sentinels would be best placed when he isn’t sure exactly what the Institute’s next move is. Only that a single threat seems enough of a reason to ask Dietrich for a favor when he comes down for breakfast. Stealing a familiar seat next to him before asking if he wouldn’t mind spending a little more time at the Voodoo on its busier nights. It isn’t anything official because it can’t be, not without overstepping in two directions.

But at some point he gave Monty his loyalty and sometime he wonders if he’s walking a familiar line between utilizing and using him for that. It still gives him pause when there’s only a single detail he clarifies, still looking down at his cereal and his face a familiar, unreadable mask that some days he still struggles to see past. “That’s where Emil Pavone works, right?”

If it cuts right to the heart of it, he doesn’t feel the intrusive press of someone else’s thoughts so he doesn’t really know what to make of it. “Yes?”

He nods his head, but whatever mystery that solves for him, he doesn’t share, and Monty feels a sinking in his stomach. “So mostly weekends?”

“Yes,” Monty tells him. “Thank you.” And there’s little that follows, but it’s only after he takes his coffee and walks away that he feels the warm flush spreading through his frame, the kind he imagines would absolutely thrill Emil. Feeling his skin turning red from his ears down, and for a moment all he can feel is mortified, remembering a library in Valerian’s Headquarters and he drinks his coffee a little more quickly like it’s ever served him at all in erasing embarrassment.

Another week finds him in a similar position if not a different hour of the day, a game promised to Dev that’s slipped through the cracks, and she’s been quick to remind him of. Aware how quickly she can turn petty when she feels like she’s being ignored, but he doesn’t think that’s what follows the words she drops while she waits at the kitchen counter with him. “You don’t sleep here anymore,” she says, and Monty imagines it’s just as much to fill the silence when patience has never been one of her virtues. He leans his lower back against the counter, lifting a brow at her and waiting for anything else to follow, but it never does.

They’re words he honestly expected long before now, a shift in habits that he was sure didn’t go unnoticed. And he knows there’s a question in there somewhere, but he doesn’t volunteer the answer, and that shouldn’t be surprising to any of them by now. “No, I don’t.”

Her lips press together into a thin line, some measure of frustration looking back at him that he would find funnier if he weren’t always wary about anyone getting too close to something personal. And there is little that’s more personal than where he’s been sleeping and who he’s been sleeping with, but if that’s the question she’s trying to circle around to, it’s not the one she finally gives. “With the timing, I thought it might be because of... you know...”

It doesn’t surprise him that she doesn’t find it easy to say. It surprises him more than he does. “The Institute?”

“Yes, that.” There is a noticeable tension the second the word is out in the open, and he can’t blame her for it, but he does regret the discomfort it causes her. It’s a strange sort of guilt, all of Emil’s reminders that there are people around him who would understand suddenly left front and center in his thoughts. And if he still feels certain it wouldn’t help him any to keep talking through it, he wonders if it wouldn’t have helped her or her brother. “You know Dom thinks it’s about him? That we’re too much for you to deal with on top of everything else. I think you’re just off playing the stoic hero.” She pauses briefly, looking down at the counter. “I had... dreams. After. Is that what’s happening to you?”

For a moment he feels colder, he feels worse, because she’s worried, and if she’s not entirely wrong, she’s far from right. He had those dreams, he had those moments where he woke up and couldn’t remember where he was, but he doesn’t think he’s had any since he told Emil he forgave him. Either way he doesn’t want to admit any of it, but he wants to leave her alone in this even less. “I had a few,” he admits after a long moment before clarifying what he thinks is more important. “But that’s not why. And it’s not any of  you either. What did you dream about?”

She rolls her eyes, breath escaping in a small huff. “I was asking about you, Monty.”

“And I was asking about you.” He offers a tight smile before the coffee goes off, and if there is more he could offer, that’s the only thing that he does. A warm cup that he presses into her hands before following her out of the room with an easy dismissal of her concerns. “Thank you. But you don’t need to.” And if he stops short of saying I’m fine, he thinks right now, he is.

A few nights later leaves him and Dom at the island counter, the younger man looking a familiar mixture of stubborn and penitent, pained and frustrated, wincing against the cold compress Monty presses against his face and taking refuge in the open carton of ice cream in front of him. “You said you would stop,” he chastises. His voice not quite as gentle as he’d like it to be when his own frustration is too close to the surface, pulling him away from a quiet and comfortable evening at home and back out to the Pit to pick up the child who swore he’d stop going.

“I know, I just-” He frowns down at his ice cream like it might have answers for him, and Monty isn’t sure if he’s grateful or annoyed that he eventually skips over familiar excuses. “Are you going to tell Athena?”

“I don’t know,” Monty tells him honestly. And maybe he should, maybe it was what he should have done the first time, but he softens slightly at the hope that looks up at him, a violence he knows better than anyone is born from something lost, something helpless. “Not tonight.” A sigh escapes him afterwards, gaze skimming over Dom and all of his fresh bruises before it skates past him to the fridge where children’s pictures hang, his coffee maker sitting on the counter. The half empty bottle that’s been stashed away higher out of reach and thinking briefly that they’re running low on cereal again before his attention returns to the man in front of him. And if he still can’t tell what their kitchen says about the heart of Endine, he hopes it’s some version of family.

#answered; #asks; #hc;