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dilatorywriting · 11 months

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Monster Mayhem: Siren's Song

Gender Neutral Reader x Vil Schoenheit Word Count: 6.1k

Summary: What do you call a deaf pirate? Not 'Siren Food' apparently, which is really sort of hilarious when you've been kidnapped by a hungry Siren. Not for the Siren though—he's definitely not having a good time.

A/N: *rushes in at the 11th hour* Happy Mer-May!! I've been back and forth with clinical rotations and also working on some commission things and Leona's Part 4, but like, it's a fanfiction holiday. I couldn't miss out. And for one of my favorite tropes nonetheless. So here we are.

[PART 1] [PART 2]

There was a legend that floated throughout the Sage Island Seas of the Pirate With No Ears. Which was ridiculous—half because such a tall tale managing to survive so long and so wildly really showed just how pathetic the rest of the gossip around here was, and half because you still had ears. They just didn’t work very well was all.

Some said you’d been deafened by a prowling sea sorcerer who had tricked you into trading away your once keen sense for some mortal foible or other. Others whispered about how you’d been trapped in an ice cavern, surrounded by electric eels and sharks, and that the only way you’d been able to weasel your way out was by cutting off your own ears so that you’d have enough wiggle room to escape from your bindings. Which made absolutely zero sense at all.

In reality, all you’d done was stand far too close to a canon for far too long when you were far, far too little, and ever since all you could hear was the dull ringing of post-battle silence. Sometimes it was a bit sad. When the waves crashed against the shore, or when the gulls flew overhead—you were sure all those things sounded very lovely. You remembered music and laughter and sometimes they echoed in your head at a distance—a memory not quite forgotten but certainly fading at the edges. But other times, like now, where your fellow crewmates were bawling into their ales and wailing about lord knew what… well, it was always nice to find a silver lining in these sorts of things.

One of the tipsy lads tottering around the deck of The Rose Queen tripped and landed against the wood with something that looked like it’d be a very loud smack. Your brain helpfully filled the silence with some nonsense noises and park-play-style laughter instead. You watched Cater stumble by out of the corner of your eye. He patted your head and said something that twisted his mouth into a gaping ‘uuuuu-eeeee-oooo’ before he puttered away to leech off First Mate Clover instead. Ace threw a drunken arm around your shoulder and burbled something against your cheek that popped with the scent of stale booze, and you decided to pretend that you were as alone at sea as your muted senses would like to think.

The party raged on long into the evening and you stared down at the rabble contentedly from your perch in the crow’s nest. They were a good bunch—dullards though they may be. You’d heard (hardee har har) that they were planning to raid the Port o'Bliss, and something must have gone terribly right. You only really hung around to scrub barnacles off the paneling and keep an eye on the tides well enough that Deuce wouldn’t run the lot of you ashore, so you weren’t really sure how the whole ‘pirating’ business actually went about. But clearly they were doing a pretty good job of it.

You rested your chin on your crossed arms and sighed into the salty breeze. The night was warm and pleasant, and before you knew it, you were nodding off against the rough fabric of your sleeves. You weren’t quite sure how long you spent dozing there tangled in the ropes of mast, but it was long enough that by the time you snorted back awake the festive lights had dimmed to embers and most of the crew had sidled away below deck to either keep drinking themselves blind or collapse in a pool of their own colorful vomit.

There was a lone figure swerving towards the bow—precariously close to the railing for someone so clearly unsteady on their own legs, if you did say so yourself. You squinted suspiciously at his mused lavender hair, not entirely sure you recognized the head bobbing around below you. But perhaps The Rose Queen had picked up some fresh recruits at the Port, or maybe the crew had gotten a bit too booze happy with some dye. Purple Hair leaned up against the rails and tipped forward on his toes like he was thinking about diving in, or maybe barfing. Either or, you sighed and shimmied your way down to stop him from tumbling into a watery grave.

“Oi!” you called, the shout vibrating up and out of your throat, and the kid jumped half a foot in the air. “What do you think you’re doing? Get away from there. Riddle’ll have your head if we have to send out the rescue rafts this late at—”

The kid turned to face you with wide, wide, glowing eyes. Your own went round as dinner plates as you watched his too-dark pupils pulse like drumbeat. They were so bright, practically illuminating the whole of his delicate face, but there was no light to them. Matte and sleek like a shark’s eyes.

He shouted something at you so whip fast that you couldn’t even begin to make sense of, and then he was glancing nervously back and forth between the roiling waves at his back and the encroaching deckhand at his front—making all sorts of nonsense gestures that had you sighing behind gritted teeth.

“Look,” you said, interrupting whatever indiscernible gibberish he was spouting, “I don’t know who you think you are. But you’ve picked the wrong ship to try and—I don’t know—seize? Pirate? You can’t pirate a pirate ship! But either way, you—”

Then the kid opened his mouth like he was screaming, and you frowned again. There was strange prickle along your arms that had goosebumps crawling up your skin and the hair raising at the back of your neck, but you shook it off and moved forward with another weary sigh. You pulled a length of rope from the belt slung around your hips and held the limp bundle of salt-soaked mesh up like a threat.

“I will throw you overboard. And hogtie you first,” you promised cheerily. “So you actually sink.”

Purple Hair just looked like he was trying to scream louder, and you were sourly tempted to stick your fucking tongue out at him and make petulant ‘nyeh nyeh nice try’ noises at him, but then there was a heaviness behind you. A creak in the wood that you could feel if not hear. You rolled out of habit—tumbling across the deck just in time to avoid a nasty swipe along your back. And oh no. The thing crawling up over the railing was worse than any lavender would-be ship thief. The black tipped claws and flared fins were telling enough, but the sharp-toothed grin was somehow more so. It tilted its unnaturally lovely head at you and spoke politely—clearly and very, painfully, slowly.

“What’s—this—perhaps—” you were able to vaguely make out. Maybe. The dark and your panic were both a terrible hindrance to putting shapes to sound. His lips curled into something wicked before parting far more smoothly than the younger man’s had. Singing. It was singing, not screaming. Hauntingly green eyes glowed bright and you felt the tunk tunk tunk beneath your feet of the rest of the crew starting to move around beneath you. Around you.

Then there were more of them—crawling up over the railings, trilling into the night air. All far too lovely and far too sharp to be anything but predators. The moonlight illuminated their fangs and scales in a ghostly white glow. There were shivers running along your spine, but otherwise nothing but silence echoed through your head. Small mercies. You watched several of your fellow crewmates rush out of the cabins only to double over with their hands clasped over their ears. Others stuttered and tumbled forward towards the railings as if they were being dragged along like puppets on a string. You cursed and ducked between them—looping your rope around their legs as you went and tugging them to their knees like a line of falling dominoes.

You let your hapless comrades collapse to the deck and curled the last throws of rope around your fists. You were decent enough with a knife when it came to dueling an unmoving, completely unaware foe—like a barnacle or some rusted over door hinges. But real people? Sirens?Fucking literal blade-tipped-merfolk straight out of every sailor’s nightmare? No thank you. So the teeny blade stayed sheathed at your hip and you dove into the fray to find something rope-wrangle-able.

At the other end of the bow, you watched Purple Boy straighten from a crouch. There were new, silvery blue scales crawling up his neck and forearms. He was still tottering around on legs that he clearly wasn’t all too used to, and you watched as the little guppy started to make a furious beeline for Captain Rosehearts. Which—no. Absolutely not. You were never one of those pirates who was like ‘oh, Captain, my Captain~’ but Riddle was good. He was tough, and taciturn, and could throw a tantrum that could bring down an entire harbor. But he’d written out all of his ridiculous six hundred rules by hand so that you could have them. And the teeny furrow in his brow as he staunchly taught himself hand sign after hand sign so that he could yell at you in earnest was so endearing that you’d protect that little firecracker for as long as you breathed.

So you went after Lavender Head, and then of course Lavender Head turned and tried to shout at you all over again. When that continued to not work at all, the Siren began to backpedal in earnest. He turned his head and squawked at whoever was around to listen, but in the chaos of the attack there didn’t seem to be many of his pod free to lend him a hand.

You descended on the little snake, rope at the ready and perfectly happy to make sushi out of the fucker, when something big overshadowed the both of you. Another Siren crested over the side of the ship, larger and clearly more impressive than the rest of its kin. Which matched your stupidly terrible luck just fine. Ah, yes, Mister Big Bad. Please. Go for the deckhand rather than the literal trained mercenaries less than ten feet away. Brilliant. The Siren bared its fangs like some great, terrible, beast and tore into the paneling with its curved claws as it attempted to drag you down to your watery grave. You cursed, and kicked, and yelped in a panic when the thing managed to get one of those cold, pale hands around your ankle.

Despite the fact that all of it surely happened in less than a few seconds, your descent seemed to progress in steps. First, the Siren tugged you over the side. Second, you smartly flipped the loops of your rope up to try and lasso yourself a handhold. Thirdly, you outright missed the ship and instead tangled the spools of thin rope all around your Murderer To Be. Said Murderer’s eyes widened in shock as your unintentional trap wrapped the both of you up like a mess of bugs in a spider web. And finally, the pair of you crashed towards the churning ocean in a knotted-up heap and slowly sank beneath the waves.

You rubbed the grit and salt from your eyes and sat up with a groan. Where were you? Not too far out at sea, hopefully. Washing up ashore had been nothing short of a miracle, and you weren’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth if it meant you got to avoid becoming chum for another day. The sand beneath your fingers was soft and white, and it slipped beneath your palm like water. You moved to push yourself to your feet and froze—a blur of amethyst swiping out and knocking you back onto your ass with a splash.

You spluttered and spat, and had just barely managed to flip yourself over like a turtle who’d been upended on its back when you caught sight of the absolute last creature in the world that you’d ever wanted to see again.

The big Siren had washed up nearby.

Because of course it had.

The creature narrowed his eyes at you and immediately set about lashing his rope-twisted tail against the sand like a rattlesnake. He bared his pointed teeth in a hiss and you were dowsed in a barrage of saltwater ammunition.

“Stop! Stop!” you begged, spitting out wayward chunks of seaweed, and shells, and gods knew what else. “I get it! I won’t come near you, jeesh! I wasn’t planning on it to begin with!”

The Siren curled his lips unpleasantly, putting that wonderful row of dagger-like pearly whites on display. He spat something completely indiscernible—the line of his mouth so harsh and flat that you couldn’t have even begun to pick up the shape of things if you tried—and you scooted as far back as you could without toppling yourself over again.

He dug his clawed hands into the sand and said something else, just as clipped and tight. You assumed it was an accusation. You were very used to recognizing the glare that accompanied those. When you didn’t respond, his brow tugged down low and he snapped something else—this time jabbing those pointed, black, nails in your direction. Ah, so definitely a complaint then.

You cocked your head at him out of habit and that griping turned into a snarl so ferocious that you could feel it racing up your skin like static. Which was definitely pretty trippy.

“I don’t know what you’re saying,” you told him honestly. Which just made the spiked fins flatten all along the side of his head and another wave of those zippy sneers dance up your arms. “Literally,” you tried. “I—”

The Siren opened his mouth and that sparky static from earlier amplified into something near painful. It was strong, and prickly, and left the imprints of invisible shackles all along your already aching joints. You could feel his voice carrying on the breeze—brushing against your cheeks and playing with hair. Thin, icy, fingers digging their way into your brain and yanking. But there was something missing from all that ethereal hypnotism. Something pleasant and sweet to complete the circle of temptation. A voice, you’d guess. There had to be a call after all, or else it hardly mattered how deep and all encompassing the need was to answer.

When you didn’t immediately, like, fall to your knees in subjugation or drown yourself in the inch and a half of tepid water pooling at your hips, the Siren’s eyes dimmed with something that almost looked like hesitance. His brow pinched tight and he parted his red lips wider. A seagull dropped from the sky. Three different crabs crawled out of the sand to bow down.

“I can’t hear you!” you tried again, loud enough to have your teeth aching. His mouth went wider, and an entire ass tuna beached itself to flop pathetically near your ankles. “It’s not a challenge!” you wailed. “My ears literally, actually, do not work, you fucking overgrown anchovy!”

The static disappeared all at once, and the Siren’s lips slipped into a small, surprised sort of ‘o.’ He blinked his too-long lashes at you and stared you down like you were some sort of escaped alchemical experiment.

“There,” you huffed. “Finally.” And then went quiet and a bit concerned. Because apparent Song Immunity or otherwise, the thing was still hugely impressive and scary looking. His claws definitely wouldn’t have any problem picking the leftover bits of you out of his teeth, and you knew well enough that if he dragged you into the depths with that powerful tail of his, there would be no resurfacing.

The Siren too was using this time to glare at you like you were somehow a threat to be taken seriously. Which was half flattering, half pretty funny.

“Well…” you said after a long moment. “I should get going, I suppose.”

You made your way to your feet in the mucky sandbar and started heading off to see where you’d been stranded. You could feel the Siren’s heavy gaze on you the whole while, and decided he was probably trying to figure out if you’d taste better paired with seaweed or a nice jellyfish spread.

The pair of you had been stranded on a small, crescent, islet that couldn’t even rightly call itself an island. You were able to walk from its curling east to west coasts in just under fifteen minutes, and that was at a meandering pace where you stopped to peer into all kinds of little grottos and rocky formations. There was some vegetation at the heart of it—short palm trees and tufts of grassy knolls—and thankfully a few deep divots that had collected some still rainwater, but otherwise it was entirely boring and stupid. Not even any weird tortoises or anything meandering about to make friends with.

By the time you circled back around to your original stranding point, you had fully expected the Siren to have flipped you the metaphorical bird and fucked off back into the ocean, never to be seen again. Instead, he was still stretched out in the shallows of the bay, carefully fanning his long tail out in the seafoam and picking through the mess of it with his pointy claws.

He reminded you of a beta fish—with wide, flowing, fins that looked far more like silk than skin or scales. The tips were a deep, plum purple that gently faded from near black to violet and finally a vivid sort of lilac at their junction. The bulk of his tail looked like it could be made from literal gemstones with the way it shimmered in the morning light (gems that had perhaps been a bit dinged and/or literally torn out in chunks from where he may or may not have been smashed into the rocky shore curtesy of your terrible hogtie, but who’s to say).

There were jagged cuts lining the right half of his pale torso. They oozed a strange sort of silver ichor that was probably some kind of mystical merman blood, but you absolutely refused to get close enough to try and find out. The fins framing his pelvis were tangled and thin looking, and the sweeping ones that trailed all the way down to the tip of his tail were battered and torn. Clearly pulled to bits by your handy, dandy lasso skills. Which… was still tied up at the base of them. Huh. You’d assumed he’d be able to slice through all that knotwork without issue. But maybe…

You approached the Siren cautiously. You caught the exact moment he must have realized you’d returned because the fins along the sides of his head flattened like the ears on a pissy cat and he turned on you with a very dramatic snarl that probably sounded all sorts of menacing.

“Hello,” you greeted, and the merman spat something that you assumed was probably a very polite ‘fuck right off.’

You nodded because, well, fair enough. And then pointed to his injured fins and the waterlogged ropes still twisted up around the heart of them.

“I can get that off if you promise not to eat me.”

He shouted something no doubt very indignant and then was back to hissing at you. Which definitely didn’t sound like an agreement not to immediately murder you on the spot.

“Alright,” you shrugged. “Your loss, I suppose.”

Well, your loss, really. Keeping a wounded Siren around was just asking for trouble. Their pods were viciously protective for one thing, and that wasn’t even taking into account the poachers and rivals who’d be more than keen to come sniffing after the fresh trail of blood in the water. Maybe you could find a big stick or something and just, I don’t know, push him back into the ocean and be done with it.

The thought must have shown on your face, because suddenly he was smacking his tail against the sandbar and spitting something that you very much assumed was a demand along the lines of ‘you are going to take accountability for this.’

Which absolutely no way in Hell. He’d kidnapped you sort of, so that made you his problem, thank you very much.

You felt your stomach gurgle, and it must have been pretty loud going off the stink eye he sent your way. You turned your nose up at him and went about collecting the various critters that had been washed ashore in his tenor’s tantrum.

“Thanks for the food!” you chirped petulantly as you worked on scaling the tuna with the knife from your belt—making long, pointed, eye contact as you did so.

The Siren sneered at you and went back to grooming the shredded ends of his fins.

The rest of the afternoon became a sort of pissing contest between the two of you to see who could earn the title of Bitchiest Beach Bitch. You thought you were definitely winning with the whole ‘eating something that could have been his long-lost cousin’ thing, but then he went and swamped the entirety of the small fire you built (and all of said ‘cousin’ being cooked over it) with one sweep of his tail, so now you were at the very least tied. You set up a nice little shaded hutch out of driftwood and ferns to escape the sun, he called down seagulls to shit all over it and pick it to pieces. He tried to roll around to reach some of the tighter fibers tangled in his pectoral fins, and you chucked rocks at him until he reared on you with a scream that had all the hairs on your arms standing on end. Y’know. Perfectly mature things like that.

That night you curled up beside a tall, jagged rock just at the outskirt of the bay—determined to get some shut eye but to also keep within range of your newest pest in case he decided to try and pull something sneaky. But every time you’d just about settled in to sleep, the shallow tide would lap against your toes in harsh shush shush shushes that had you furrowing you brow until you finally had enough and sat up to see what all the hubbub was about.

The Siren was tossing around in the shallows like a fish in a net—throwing his long body against the bindings and flailing like his life depended on it. And as much as he’d definitely deserved to get caught up in your unintentional hogtie, watching something as large and no doubt powerful as he was wriggling around like a worm on a hook was… Well. Something soured a bit in your gut as you watched him give one, final, great buck against his bindings before collapsing back into the shallows in a circle of seafoam. He panted against the surface of the water, the tips of his pale hair dripping down in a curtain around his haggard face, and you could see a fine tremor running along his shoulder blades.

You turned back to your rock and ground the heels of your palms into your eyes, fighting the absolute batshit insane urge to feel bad for a monster who had literally tried to drag you to your death less than twenty-four hours ago.

The water was calm and still for the rest of the night.

The next morning, you picked up a few of the crabs who had crawled up to shore and went about getting them clean and fit for eating. You glanced at the Siren, who was busy preening over his janky fins and fussing over his hair. It was entirely unfair that you probably looked like a half-drowned rat, and yet this creature that wasn’t even meant to exist on the surface was somehow managing to put himself together well enough to rival the courtesans you’d seen meandering around some of the wealthier coastal towns.

You stared at the crabs. There were three of them. It wasn’t really sharing if it was meant to be a bribe to keep him from eating you whole. Or at least, that’s what you reassured yourself as you cautiously tiptoed back to the water’s edge.

The Siren swiveled on you with a snap of something that looked sort of like a ‘What?!’ and you held up one of the gutted crabs in offering.

“I don’t know if you all eat fish or whatever, but…” You waved the limp crab awkwardly.

The Siren rolled its purple eyes and said something fast and sharp that you couldn’t really parse. Something, something, not, something, something, are crust—Something, something, are you that stupid? (you recognized the impressions of those words well enough to mouth them even in your sleep).

“Look, do you want it or not?” you interrupted, and he bristled—all those delicate, violet, fins flaring up like a porcupine’s spikes.

The Siren crossed his arms stiffly and pointedly turned in the other direction with a mutter of something you had no hopes of catching.

“Whatever,” you snapped and went to bite into your meal. Only to immediately forget that these pointy little fuckers still had their shells on them. You reeled back with a yelp as you stabbed a million, tiny, carapace-shaped holes in your tongue.

The fucking Siren had the gall to turn back around so that you could see him laughing at you.

That night he was back to flipping around in the shallows like a miniature hurricane.

You counted out the waves sloshing against your heels, telling yourself you’d intervene in his self-destructive tsunami once it hit one hundred. And then it became two, then three. You shifted hesitantly to peek over the rock’s edge and watched him curl into himself like some terribly wounded creature before shaking himself out of the fog of pain that had clearly settling over his nerves, and then continued with his nonsense.

You hurled a big, pink seashell at his head and he whipped on you like a rabid dog, practically foaming at the mouth and raring for a fight. When he lunged forward with the waves—seething with hatred, and blame, and nearly crashing onto his already shredded front in the process, something angry in your snapped.

“Look, fish face! You were the one who attacked me! You!” you demanded, stomping perhaps a bit closer than would be rational. “So stop acting like I’m some scheming shithead who was planning to trap you like this from the start!”

The Siren roared something back and slapped his tail in the surf. Static zipped along your cheeks and you grit your teeth. He glared at you bitterly and then began to repeat one word over and over—slow and angry.

‘Eeeeehhh-Pppe-llllll’ said his lips. Strong and harsh with the shape of it.

And then he was back to spewing all kinds of rapid-fire vitriol that you wouldn’t have bothered to keep track of even if you could. Something in his expression shifted almost quicker than you could notice and he lifted his massive tail out of the water. He smacked the fins in your direction and pointedly jabbed a clawed finger at the creases of them—where delicate, silky, tendrils met strong, gem toned, muscle. Where the purple was light and clean. A pale, shiny, lavender. Almost just like—

“That kid?” you frowned. “You attacked me because of Purple Head?!”

He sneered again and pointedly sent a splash of seawater into your face.

“You—” you grit your teeth. “He was still attacking us first! He was going after my friend!” you snapped, kicking your own wave back. For all the good it would do. “You don’t get to act all noble and protective, and like any of that makes any difference when you all were going to eat us!”

The Siren’s face twisted up like you’d force fed him soured milk, and he looped back around with a dramatic fwoosh of water to dive into the shallows. It was maybe two or three feet deep at best, and he was barely submerged. Not to mention how utterly ridiculous it looked to see a creature that was no doubt usually the peak of grace and athleticism reduced to flopping belly first into the waves with his proverbial legs tied up behind him. But you recognized a door slamming in your face when you saw it, no matter the species. Fine. Let him be a petty bastard. He could rot away in the sandbar for all you cared.

The next day you woke up with goosebumps crawling up and down your limbs.

There were all sorts of gulls crash-landed in the sand around you and more sad, little, sea creatures gasping on the beach than you dared to count. You shoved a particularly chubby octopus back into a tidepool as you passed and wondered just what sort of nonsense your co-strandee was getting up to now.

The Siren was circling the bay with his head held high above the low waves—lips parted and clearly caterwauling like a dying porpoise. The surface of the water trembled with whatever was making its way out of his mouth, and he looped and looped around the shores. It reminded you of the time you’d seen a whale calf separated from its pod. It had gotten trapped in a shallow inlet when the tides had changed, and your ship had been anchored just off the same coast. You’d watched it circle and circle, lifting its heavy snout to snort sharp jets of water into the air. Deuce had passed you a scribbled note when you’d asked him what it sounded like.

‘It’s the saddest thing I’ve ever heard.’

There was a moment where the Siren paused in his paces and tilted his head. The fins there flared out to the side, like he was listening for something. But after a long moment the spines drooped back against his damp hair and he went back to his singing an aria to no one.

‘It’s looking for its family,‘ Riddle had signed to you when you’d asked him why the calf didn’t simply leave once the tides had turned in its favor. ‘This is where they last saw it, so this is where it will stay.’

“Maybe they forgot about him already,” you mused petulantly, turning back towards the center of the islet to try and scavenge up something to eat from all the poor creatures who had collapsed beneath your nemesis’s wailing.

The bitter thought wasn’t nearly as satisfying as it ought to be.

That night, the waters were still.

You squinted suspiciously at the merman curled in the shallows of the bay. He’d pulled himself half-out of the water, resting his more human looking bulk in the soft sand as gentle waves lapped at his tail. He slept on his front with his arms crossed beneath his pointed chin—his unbound fins sticking up behind him in a way that deliriously reminded you of bedhead. You watched him carefully for nearly an hour, searching for any tightness in his muscles or change in his breathing that might indicate he was faking it. But as the evening stretched on and he never lurched awake to try and gauge your eyes out, you assumed he might actually be properly resting.

He'd been swimming in circles all day—the aborted, stuttering, beats of his bound tail looking painful even by your non-tail-having standards. Eventually the tremors along the ocean had grown stuttered and strange, like perhaps his voice was giving out on him. And once that had happened, he’d curled up exactly where he was now. And hadn’t moved since.

You stared at the Siren hesitantly. He was certainly in enough of a state that you could probably pull off that whole ‘shoving him into the depths with a stick’ thing. He’d probably just let you do it—sink to the bottom in a mess of shredded fins and tangled twine and never rise again.

You gnawed at your lip, feeling something unpleasantly hot and sticky twist up your stomach.

The knife glinted between your fingers and you thought of crying whales and of the crew that you already missed so much that it felt like a gnawing chasm had opened in your chest.

You huffed out a miserable sigh and lamented for not the first time in your life that you really were just so fucking stupid sometimes. And then you were cautiously making your way down towards the waterline and the sleeping Siren sprawled out in the sand. Slowly—so very, very slowly—you tiptoed towards the mer and tried to get a quick glance at what amounted to the worst of the damage.

The rope had been thin and long, and the more he’d struggled, the more he’d dug the twine into his fins. You reached forward at half speed and slipped the blade into one of the too-tight creases beneath the bindings. You winced a bit in sympathy at the raw, pink skin beneath. No wonder he hadn’t been able to just rip the fibers away. He’d probably just ended up tugging them over and over against the oozing wounds beneath.

The first strand broke beneath your fingers with something that almost felt like a pop. Like seams ripping on a shirt. You glanced quickly at the sleeping Siren to confirm he was still lost to the world and not gearing up to bite your fingers off at the knuckle, and then continued making your way through the worst of it. It reminded you a bit of the time Ace had accidentally snared a sea turtle in one of his fishing nets and the lot of you had spent the better part of an hour slowly working the thing free of the seemingly endless tangles. You delicately worked the tightest edges away from the harsh indentations they’d left against his scales and peeled back the muckier bits with enough gentleness to avoid mangling anymore of his already battered fins.

The last of the rope finally came away with a satisfying, wet weight and you let it fall to the sand beside you with a pleased nod. Now you could let Mister Merman swim away in the morning with no unpleasantly gross sense of moral obligation weighing down your consciousness. Maybe he’d even be thankful enough to look at you with something other than a venomous glare for once. Certainly nothing like the one leveled at you right now. And—

Oh.

You didn’t even have time to properly gasp before you were being flipped and pinned into the wet sand. The Siren loomed over you, digging his black claws into your shoulder until you could feel the first pricks of blood breaking the surface. He snarled in your face, the curtain of his pale blonde hair shadowing his eyes in something so dark it was nearly black. The brilliant purple cast off his glowing irises were like little spots of stars in an otherwise empty night sky.

He leaned forward, teeth bared, and then some sort of tight expression flickered over his face. He paused, brow tugging together steep and angry. He hunched down once more, fangs at the ready, and then ducked back out. He shook his head, like he was trying to clear fog from his brain, and then he was snapping his canines at you all over again.

The Siren reared back with a booming snarl that sent ripples through the soft tide lapping at your ankles. He turned with one, final, icy glower and dove back into the shallows, disappearing beneath the surface in a flash of amethyst scales. He flicked his tail sharply as he went, and one of the tattered fins snapped against your nose with enough of a crack to make you yelp.

You sat up in disbelief, rubbing at your aching skin and watching in outright consternation as the great predator of the oceans swam tight laps beneath the warm waters of your little lagoon—fins occasionally cresting over the surface to smack pointed fistfuls of water into your gaping face.

Deliriously, one of The Rose Queen’s hundreds of nonsensical rules bounced about your head. Happy to fill the otherwise entirely empty space behind your eyes.

‘Never save a Sea Serpent on a Sunday,’ Riddle had demanded, hands at his hips. ‘No Serpents, or Sea Horses, or Sirens to speak of.’

‘Man,’ you thought wildly, brain high on adrenaline and static as you watched one of the aforementioned Sirens swan about like he hadn’t probably just been a half second away from gnawing on your literal bones. ‘If I get out of this alive, Captain’s definitely gonna collar me this time.’

[TAG LIST]

@marvelous-maxi, @ilikefanfics4, @jackalope08, @crocwork-clockodile, @cosmicobubisi, @buttplugs-stuff, @pomefleur, @decemebercircus, @ailynyan, @genzombie, @meliade-ot, @sunlightocean, @theofficialantitherapist, @hermiona18, @sailorenthusiast, @fantasy-dating-sim-trash, @thefiasco-onyourblock, @insideous-beez, @its-clockwork-princess

@novaloptr, @imlost-sendhelp, @matcha-berry @preciosayorgullosa @whoretaglia, @kookygirlwholikescookiesandcoke, @nanauedorian, @trixeraptops, @voxnipop, @starkling25, @thedum1, @horcrux-alchemist, @sleepykitty21, @apathicace, @instantregret101, @nekanecorvus, @looney-mori, @re-ducing, @my2phetaliaheadcanons, @naughtybodypillow, @rendy-a, @carmen-404, @candy284, @thealiennamedterry, @their-name-is-fake, @huetolog, @glacticrose, @seraphinariddle, @rabioa, @sn00zl4x, @dreasimping, @jeidoreech, @ai-dev, @galaxyshine24-7, @fatally-incorrect, @juulranch, @camrastuff, @nocteetdie, @stargaryengirl,

#twisted wonderland imagines #twisted wonderland #twst x reader #Vil Schoenheit x Reader #Vil x Reader #vil schoenheit #Mermay #Monster Mayhem #My Writing #vil shoenheit #Siren!Vil #Mermaid!Vil #Fantasy AU #Monster Mayhem Vil Part 1

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firelxdykatara · 2 months

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I too ship Zutara and think they should have been canon. Although for me it's important to know how such a rewrite would go down. I tried to think, and I'm lost.

After Mai betrayed Azula for him, will he just go "sorry, not interested"? He isn't obligated to date her because of this, but her redemption hinges on Zuko and I don't see it being satisfying if he ends up rejecting her after this.

I thought the solution would be to rewrite her arc in boiling rock to make her have a moral realization, but then the problem with Maiko is practically solved. Their relationship wasn't salvaged by her redemption because last time they talked, Mai still didn't understand what's wrong with the Fire Nation and only changed because she loved Zuko. So how do you make it both satisfying & logical?

With Kataang the problem is the Chakras. The problem with the original (in my opinion) is that after he opened his chakra, letting go of his attachment to Katara, he's still attached (forcing a kiss on eip). Should TCoD get rewritten so that Azula shoots him before he opens it? Then why wouldn't he just open it later? Maybe the chakra would be locked so he feels as though he doesn't need to overcome his attachment just yet. In that situation, how would his chakra even unlock? The stone thing felt like nonsense, so how would I do it?

So yeah I have no idea how to approach this. How would you? (Thanks)

I've been rotating this ask in the back of my head like a rotisserie chicken for a few days--it's interesting because I don't generally stop to think like, how would I write them out of these relationships, I either ignore the relationships completely (which isn't hard, they were barely footnotes in the cartoon) or play a little bit with jealous exes or something. Thinking about like, In A Perfect World where Bryke wasn't in charge of ATLA post-canon (because if zutara had been canon, you can be sure they would've made us regret it) is interesting, and I do have thoughts on how I'd handle their relationships in a rewrite.

(this got long, so the rest is beneath the cut)

Assuming you mostly want to keep canon intact, I think maiko would be the easiest to work around, given how little relevance their relationship has in canon. The problem with maiko as an endgame ship is that it was not set up that way--if it had been, it would not have begun entirely off-screen and their whole relationship would not have been a study in misery and utter inability to connect emotionally. His relationship with Mai was there to showcase just how much he had changed and how little he fit into the life he had been so sure he wanted more than anything since his banishment. It worked very well to highlight Zuko's growth--how that contrasted to Mai's lack of it and why she could not understand him even at his most open and vulnerable--and did not work nearly so well when she was shoved back with him in the epilogue, after he'd quite literally forgotten her existence (he never mentions her again after Boiling Rock, not even to say a word of mourning, considering he'd have every reason to believe she was killed for defying his sister).

I don't think you can fix this by giving Mai some moral realization, because there simply is no room for it. As @araeph says in the essay I linked:

As a character, Mai is very useful to the story during Zuko’s return, because she represents everything that Zuko gains by sticking by his father. A girl who cares about him; the ability to indulge her; the authority he has over others at the palace; we see it all in his interactions with Mai. But this makes Mai a tether to a life he has long outgrown. Her function is not to advance Zuko’s character development, but to obstruct it, which also unfortunately means that Mai gaining a full understanding of Zuko’s trials would be disadvantageous to the story. If she knew everything about him and still wanted him to stay, it would give Zuko more cause than he should have to remain in the Fire Nation, but if she knew and encouraged him to leave and join the Avatar, it would rob Zuko of the triumph of making this decision on his own. In other words, there are good narrative reasons for keeping Mai in the dark; it just doesn’t make their relationship any stronger.

The seeds of a genuine redemption arc (one that includes some sort of moral realization and change to her moral framework) for Mai would have to have been planted far earlier than five episodes from the end of the series, but doing so would have of necessity detracted from Zuko's own character arc and the realizations that he makes despite his attachment to Mai (or more specifically to their relationship, which I feel like he was clinging to more out of a sense of abject loneliness he couldn't shake rather than genuine feelings and emotional connection).

So, in my mind, since we're tackling this with an eye towards getting rid of maiko with the fewest ripples to the overall story anyway, the easiest way to do this would be make one slight change to the end of the Boiling Rock two-parter--have Ty Lee (who had always been the least gung-ho of the trio about bowing to Azula's whims and had to be textually threatened into joining her in the first place) save Zuko's life, and then have Mai (who showed the most genuine affection for Ty Lee anyway) save Ty Lee. I love Zuko more than I fear you always fell flat for me as some epic declaration of love, anyway, since a) Zuko is not around to hear it, and b) unlike Ty Lee, she never showed much fear of Azula to begin with, so it wasn't a very high bar to clear. It was a cool line that was entirely unearned, and I don't think it would be missed, there would be some cute mailee crumbs this way, and a throwaway line of getting them released from the prison after the war ended could wrap up their presence in the story pretty nicely.

Now, kataang is a little trickier, if only because the last leg of Aang's character arc is almost completely derailed by his refusal to let go of his possessive attachment to Katara, to the point where he never naturally reopens his chakras, he has to have the Rock of Destiny hit him in just the right place, and the deus ex lionturtle there to give him a way out of having to make a hard moral choice. (I've maintained for years that if you work the final act of your main character's overall arc in such a way that it could have been solved by one good session with a chiropractor, something got fucked along the way.)

The thing about Aang's chakras is that, narratively, his whole thing with Guru Pathik and leaving his training early to save his friends was basically his version of Luke running away from his training with Yoda on Degobah because of his Force vision, only to find out that his friends were in the process of rescuing themselves and then losing his hand because he hadn't completed the most crucial part of his training. What's missing, therefore, from the last act of Aang's character arc, is the return.

See, in Star Wars, Luke pretty explicitly makes the wrong choice when he chooses to prioritize saving his friends over attaining enlightenment and fully mastering the Force. It was the only choice he could have made, but it was still the wrong one--because, like Aang, his friends did not actually need him to save them, he actually almost makes it harder for them to get away by requiring them to save him because, like Aang, he loses a battle in a very critical way. This was a lesson he desperately needed to learn, and it is clear he has learned it by the time he makes it back to Degobah and witnesses the end of Yoda's life, his own enlightenment having already been reached.

But Aang never goes back to the Guru.

And the text refuses to allow us to sit with the fact that he made the wrong choice in prioritizing his attachment to Katara over his ability to master the Avatar State. He is actually narratively vindicated about it, because the plot bends itself into a pretzel so that he doesn't have to spend any time during the last book trying to reopen his chakras and regain access to the Avatar State, handed both in the final battle with no excess effort on his part, and handed the girl into the bargain. (The girl who never even wanted him, so far as we can tell from all the lack of cues she gave him that she actually returned his feelings.)

And I think this could have been solved with a few scattered scenes. Let Katara actually have some agency in her own romantic relationship (or lack thereof), insofar as noticing Aang's advances and clueing the audience in to how she actually feels. Let Aang struggle with the fact that he can't reach the Avatar State, that his mastery of the elements is in limbo because he can't access his full power, rather than ignoring all of this until the end of the show. If we're trying to keep the shape of the last season roughly the same, let Katara confront Aang about the invasion kiss.

This would have been the perfect time to establish that Katara actually does feel some type of way about Aang prior to the epilogue, and it could have saved us from the exceedingly cringey EIP kiss that Aang never apologized for. How it comes across now, of course, is that Katara basically pretends it never even happened, to the point where she doesn't even know what Aang is talking about during EIP until he reminds her--the death knell for any shot their relationship had at looking requited, because I can tell you, as someone who's been a teenage girl, if someone I had conflicted but burgeoning romantic feelings for had kissed me, I would not have completely forgotten about it only a few weeks later--and we never get any indication as to what she actually felt about the kiss (which was not mutual, despite what Aang's dialogue in the EIP scene implies) except for the fact that she looked away and frowned afterwards. (A change mandated by Bryke, who wanted to leave her feelings completely ambiguous; the original storyboards had her smiling to herself.)

So, with an eye towards wrapping up Aang's puppy love crush and establishing Katara's distinct lack of romantic feelings for him, have her talk to him about the kiss. A good frame of reference for this would be Meng's conversation with Aang in "The Fortuneteller", where she finally realizes that he doesn't like her in the same way she likes him. Katara and Aang's conversation about the invasion kiss could be a callback to this, with Aang having some important realizations--that just because Katara doesn't share his feelings doesn't mean she loves him any less, and just because he can't have her the way he wanted doesn't mean he has to love her any less, that she doesn't belong to him but that's ok, because she's still his family and they'll always have each other's backs. Which could have functioned well in helping him take another step towards unblocking his chakras. Going back to the Guru directly may not have worked, since by this point in the story we're hurtling towards the final confrontation and Sozin's Comet, but let Aang reflect on what the Guru told him with new understanding granted him by his experiences throughout the first half of the season.

To keep the stakes high and up the suspense, obviously, he shouldn't have fully unlocked his chakras and the AS before the final fight, but the seeds could be planted--little moments like a talk with Katara about the invasion kiss, maybe a little more empathy and understanding from him about why Katara needs closure in TSR, etc--and then, during the final fight, rather than hand him all the answers on a silver platter, have him almost lose. He still can't go full Avatar, he's out of time, he still doesn't know exactly what to do about Ozai given his own pacifism and desire to preserve that part of his culture--he tries to fight but he's pretty quickly overpowered. Idk how I would've animated this, and maybe it wouldn't have looked as cool for the final fight, but the true climax of the finale was the Zuko and Azula agni kai anyway, so it hardly matters--I'm picturing him doing the rock-shield thing and going into a brief meditative state, where he finally achieves the enlightenment necessary to unlock the AS on his own, no rock of chiropracty necessary. And at this point, I'd give Ozai a Disney Death, since leaving him alive causes more problems than it solves and it's not necessary for Aang to kill him for him to die--they're fighting on a mountain ffs--but if you don't want to change that part then him figuring out energy bending as part of becoming a fully realized Avatar would at least feel more earned than the lionturtle just handing it to him. (And that could've been foreshadowed better by seeding the idea for it earlier in the season.)

After all of that, particularly if you up the emotions during the agni kai and have Zuko and Katara kiss there (or something less explicitly romantic but still tender, like a brief forehead touch), it'd feel pretty natural to have a just friends ending for Aang and Katara. Maybe a brief, slightly awkward but ultimately amiable conversation if Zuko and Katara had a ~thing at their final fight, and then the final shot of the series could be the gaang all together, maybe zutara holding hands or Katara resting her head on his shoulder or something, but since they already kissed there wouldn't feel like a need to end the whole show on romance, something which I've always felt missed the point of the series.

And then, y'know, after that, the world's your oyster! This is how I'd do it if I were trying to keep the bulk of the final season intact. Of course, breaking it all down to its component pieces and rebuilding from the ground up is also an option, but that'd probably be a longer post lol.

#zutara #atla #m.aiko salt #k.ataang salt #atla canon rewrite #hey albert kim if you're taking notes on how to do season 3 of the LA................#Anonymous #asked

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lakesbian · 6 months

Text

was doing a bit of Thinkin about bakuda due to my worm reread liveblog. she is very much a stereotypical fiery asian woman with blue eyes--shitty mundanely racist caricature alongside savage-yet-honorable lung--but it feels like there's just enough meat there that it's easy to imagine what bakuda could be if worm was really really good instead of just really good. which is why i was sitting in the shower for 10 minutes rotating her in my mind.

this little background detail:

Armsmaster nodded, “Not surprising. She’s new. What we know about her is limited. She made her first appearance and demonstration of her powers by way of a drawn out terrorism campaign against Cornell University. Lung apparently recruited her and brought her to Brockton Bay after her plans were foiled by the New York Protectorate. This is… something of a concern.”

combined with what her powers imply about her could have some genuinely interesting implications. i'm getting into "imagine if this part of worm was better" mode here & not "analyzing what's actually explicitly in the text" mode because what's in the text is very shallow but you can dig something out of that.

she has a tinker power, and tinker powers are powers that result from traumatic rock-bottom events the person with the power saw coming from a mile away--the type of thing you desperately try to build yourself an out for, but find yourself inevitably, horrendously railroaded into anyway, to the point where it would take a miracle to escape from. and that's what the resultant power is--the type of miracle you were hoping for, coming far too late to solve your problem, and fantastically extreme in its ability to solve the sort of problem you were dealing with without actually solving any of your underlying behaviors which led you to that problem in the first place.

and what, precisely, is her tinker power? Exploding Shit Real Good. she very much comes off as the literal version of finding yourself in the midst of a shitty institution, one stacked against you, one expecting you to break yourself to succeed in it, and thinking "damn i kinda wish this entire building would explode rn." it's very easy to imagine her being the type of person some would call passionate and some would say needs to calm the fuck down, very intelligent but swamped by university's increasingly difficult barriers to success and fiscal safety, perhaps expected by society as a whole to serve as the model asian woman in a deeply racist environment--smart, hardworking, successful, and still subservient. you know, all the type of shit that would have someone going Damn I Wish This Building Would Explode And We All Die in their head every time they attend college. i've seen it put forward before that she triggered after just. abruptly failing/being locked out of something academic despite all her effort, and that's what i can envision for her: struggling to keep her head above water, knowing that she's failing to meet expectations, knowing that she's eventually not going to be able to scrape by, socially or academically. her head goes under, so to speak, everything she's been working towards is fucked despite all the effort she put in, and--having always been the type of person to explode when something that unfair or awful feeling happens--she triggers, and literally explodes. proving to the university that she's talented, she's good at something, she's got something to be proud about no matter what anyone says--and if the system won't let her have anything after all the time she spent breaking herself to fit into it, then fuck the system, she hopes it explodes.

so. thats my 2 cents on bakuda but if she was more interesting. hopefully that makes sense 👍

#parahumans #worm #wormtime 2 #wormtime 2 arc 1 #bakuda #i think she deserves to be allowed to be nomral person amounts of angry for understandable reasons #instead of just like. fiery asian girl trope #also can she have brown eyes. please #im not saying please im not asking. brown eyes

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oceansssblue · 12 days

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If you're still taking clone requests, I would LOVE to see something cute and domestic! A couple ideas I've been rotating in my head lately:

-Fives and reader messing around in the kitchen together, making dinner, dancing to stupid music and teasing each other's cooking skills, which inevitably ends in a huge mess (and dinner probably being forgotten about...)

-Wrecker getting sick and being forced into bed despite trying to keep working. It's totally against his will at first, but soon he starts to enjoy the chance to be soft and gentle. The reader finally convinces him to let them take care of him for once, assuring him that he doesn't always have to be the strong one

-Echo and the reader discussing starting a family, Echo expressing his doubts about what kind of father he would be and the reader reassuring him, telling him how much they love watching him with Omega and how good a father he'd be. The more they talk about it the more excited Echo gets at the idea

Hope these sparked something for you! Have a great day :)

Okay okay! Decided to do the two bottom ones as I've already done a kitchen fluffy one with fives and got a few for him requested as well (one of which I'll be working on next).

They're short, since I wanted to do both of then in the same post under the cut. Hope you like them, enjoy!

"BED REST"

TBB REQUESTS– WRECKER/GN READER 📩💖

WARNINGS: none

Somehow, inherently with being a big, strong person, Wrecker was used to helping people. Maybe it was just Wrecker's personality on itself; the way he felt truly happy when taking care of someone, being part of the solution to someone's problem. Wether it be physicall help or kind words, it made him feel warm.

What Wrecker wasn't used to, however, was to be taken care of. Well, he had a very close relationship with his brothers, and they always had an eye out for each other; but it wasn't like that. It didn't soothe any deeper emotional part of him. It was more of a... physical safety check of sorts. Tech had actually suggested to integrate a monthly therapy session to talk about their respective feelings years ago; but it hadn't ended up being a reality, lost instead in his never ending line of hypothetical ideas.

Maybe that's the reason why Wrecker doesn't say anything about the way he's feeling himself. Maybe that's the reason why he puts up a big smile on his face and sits through the presentation of your project as if he's not feeling downright awful. He's so kind and sweet even in his state you don't even notice it until you're actually home with him; and you see him pulling up an uncomfortable expression when he watches you take out some pasta from your fridge.

"Wrecker?" You look at him confused and slightly worried. "Are you feeling okay, honey?"

Wrecker tries to smile again; but his expresion falls and he quickly takes a hand to his stomach, putting slight preasure to it.

You frown and close the fridge, abandoning the tupper back inside of it and aproaching him closely. You carefully place your hand on his wide shoulder.

"Sweetheart, are you feeling ill?" You guess.

Wrecker hesitates.

"Oh, it's nothing" he quickly answers, even with his face twisting in pain. "Just my stomach being whinny".

You smile and caress his shoulder. Poor Wrecker, trying to ignore himself to push through your presentation and make you happy. You can't have him suffering.

"Why don't you go lay down on bed for a bit? I'll make you some tea and be right there" you suggest.

Wrecker frowns in disagreement.

"Oh, no, love, there's no need. I'm fine, really. I'll probably be as good as new in a pair of hours".

You're a little confused as by why he's so reluctant to admit he's not doing good and let you help. You try to soothe him with another caress and a smile; gentle expression on your face.

"And you can rest til you do" you insist, softly but firm, leaving no space for him to evade you.

Wrecker glances to the side.

"Oh, uh... Love..." he suddenly exhales deeply, as if surrendering, and adds in an embarassed tone "I just don't want you to feel like you need to fuss over me. I can take care of myself".

You blink slowly. Ah. You might be starting to see the problem. Maybe it's related with the fact that he's a soldier; always the hero, the saviour, and not the damsel in distress. Maybe it's just that he's Wrecker; always strong and efficient. Well...

"You don't have to be strong with me all the time" you whisper to him, closing up the distance between each others faces and nuzzling your nose with his, affectionately. "I know you can take care of yourself, Wreck, but I want to take care of you too".

Wrecker sighs, and you know you've almost got him convinced, so you continue.

"You always take such good care of me, love. I want to take care of you now. Wanna make you feel loved and safe. Let me, please?"

Wrecker melts and finally nods. You give him a little smile and direct him to your bedroom. Your boyfriend slowly lays in bed, with his back against the wall, watching you hesitantly; you give him a peck on the cheek before returning to the kitchen and quickly putting up together the best of your teas. You think it might help to settle Wrecker's stomach.

You go back to your bedroom with it in your hand; and you carefully pass it to Wrecker, who inmediately gives it an exploratory sip. He humms in aproval; and you find a spot besides him, both of your thighs pressed together.

You patiently wait til Wrecker has finished his tea and has left the empty cup on your nightstand. Then, you slowly direct the clone to scooch downwards and place his head on your lap. You caress his head, then his shoulders and chest; soothing patterns with the sole purpose to comfort him.

Wrecker melts. This was better than what he had thought of at first. He thought it might be uncomfortable, relinquishing control to some other person, being the one in need; but oh, this is great, with your soft hands and your tender words. He might grow to even like it.

Your hands squeeze a sore spot on his shoulder and he groans.

Yeah. He will.

THE END.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

"TO PLAN A FAMILY"

TBB REQUESTS – ECHO/F READER 📩💖

WARNINGS: Mentions of prosthetics and starting a family.

You first noticed it at the end of your first year dating Echo. The lingering glances, the way he seemed to grow lost in his thoughts, how he sighed deeply as if there was something pulling at his heart. You became observant throughout the first part of that second year together; and you reached your conclusion. It's always Hunter and Omega.

They're incredibly sweet, both of them. It's warming to see them interact together in their own special father and daughter relationship. Hunter's firm and always attentive; Omega in his teenager era trying to be more independent. Trying to show everyone she's capable, though you all know she is.

Inevitably, you start paying more attention to Echo's own interactions with the blond girl. For some reason, Omega has always saved a special spot on her heart for Echo; and since you returned with him to the Marauder after a last dangerous mission with Rex and the Rebellion, she has grown even closer to the man that holds your own heart.

It makes you melt, the way he takes care of her. How he teaches her and how he patiently waits for her to replicate his lesson; gentle hands redirecting her and a proud, small smile pulling on his lips when she achieves it. When things get hard, and Omega grows sad or restless, Echo talks her through it; voice soft but not masking reality, helping her understand and process that things can't always be as they want to, but that there's always a reason to keep trying. Your heart squeezes painfully in your chest when you think on how many times this wonderful man has said those same words to himself.

"Echo" you whisper his name one night when you can't keep holding it in. He slowly turns in bed towards you and hums sleeply. You brace yourself for any possible reaction of his. "Do you ever want to have kids?"

At first, Echo seems to freeze. Then he blinks twice, as if he is trying to move on from the fact that you've actually asked him this question out loud; and then he sighs quietly.

"I don't know if I should, to start with" he answers, voice barely audible in the silence of your bedroom.

You frown, lost.

"Why not?"

Echo mirrors your position in front of him; laying on one side of his body with his prosthetic knees slightly bent and head resting on his left bycep.

His eyes move away from yours, glancing down in that reserved way of his that indicate he's feeling a mix of contradicting emotions. You know him well by now.

"We're not living the safest of lifes, cyare. What kind of father would I be if I had to dissapear to help Rex here and there, or put my son through a constant runaway? Besides... They just might get scared of me".

You know the last statement refers to his appearance –you haven't met him before, so you've always seen this shape of his hot as fuck–; and you gently clasp his shoulder with your hand.

"Don't say that" you answer, softly. "They won't. They won't care if you have methalic legs or arms or a headset. They'd love you just the same, just like I do. It's what good families do".

Echo stays silent, thoughtfull. He shimmies forward in bed so that you're touching now; one of your thighs quickly moving over his hip and snuggling together, noses touching and nuzzling slowly.

"Would you?" He finally asks you. "Have kids?"

Your heart beats steadily inside your chest. You can't lie to him.

"Yes" you whisper, hand moving to caress his cheek delicately. You sigh, wishful, and you confess "I love watching you with Omega. You've just got the perfect ammount of gentleness, firmness, patience and honesty. I can't help but imagine you crouching down to explain something to a little Echo as well".

You kiss him sweetly and whisper in front of his lips "You'd be a great father, riduur".

Echo makes a sound with the back of his throat, pulling you tigther towards him. You close your eyes in the embrace.

Echo pictures it in his mind. A smaller version of himself and you, a perfect mix, running around and asking innocent questions to the both of you. How you'd look with him in your arms and how much you'd both love him. It's so beautiful in his mind it suddenly hurts for it not to be real.

Echo hums and conceeds.

"We can talk thorugh it seriously tomorrow" he agrees, pulling a radiant hopeful smile on your face "But right now it's late, and we both need to sleep".

You nod enthusiastically. You know you won't be able to for at least another hour, too excited at the possibility of your recents dream becoming true; but you'll just close your eyes and listen to his steady heartbeat.

You give his lips a peck and glance downwards. You tap his prosthetics with your index.

"You gonna take this today, mesh'la?" You ask him casually.

Once thing you have learned is that Echo doesn't like his physical problems to be treated as if he were made of glass. He understands the empathy; but it makes him uncomfortable, sometimes. By now, after two years together, you've already perfectioned your ways; and the best one is to just be normal about it, not to avoid it or tone it down. Echo's dissabled, but not uncapable. There's an abism of a difference.

"Yeah" Echo answers, moving to search the joints and attachments to abandon his prosthetic legs to the side. "My hips hurt today".

You hum and patiently wait for him to pull them off, leaving them carefully on the floor, before he rolls back towards you and you instanctly welcome him back into your arms.

You kiss him again and yawn.

"We'll take a warm bath tomorrow and I'll give you a nice massage afterwards" you offer, growing sleepy.

Echo smiles.

"You're too good to me" he whispers, cuddling closer.

You hum in disagreement.

"I'm as good as you deserve".

That night, you both dream of your own little family.

THE END.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

taraaaa! Two in one love, u can't complain! Hahahaha. I hope you liked them, they ended up really fluffy and sweet on my opinion.

I'll be writing either a Fives or Tech request next, stay stunned!

Xx,

Sky.

Back to general masterlist here!

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siliconforbrains · 4 months

Text

Okay, it's like 10pm on a work night and I haven't had any coffee today so my thoughts are a little scrambled BUT. I WAS THINKING.

(About In Stars and Time of course I'm always thinking about that game)

A couple of years ago, at the height of Steddie -my sister was big into it and recced me some fics okay- I read this fic about Steve dealing with time loops ("The one in which a time loop is fucking exhausting" by badpancake) and there was this specific detail about the epilogue that stuck with me.

It was the idea that, once the time loops were done and over with, people would slowly start to remember bits and pieces of what happened in earlier loops. After being fractured for so long across dozens of timelines and experiences and outcomes, time was finally healing, and broken shards of lost memories would find their way back into people's minds.

And that got me thinking about a post-game what-if scenario where the same happens to the gang as they travel through Vaugarde.

Like they still don't remember everything -just bits and pieces. Experiences so emotionally charged that they found a way to cross the sands of time and reach them again.

The question is, what would those memories be? The first answer that comes to mind is some of Siffrin's deaths, of course. I can't imagine watching your friend get pancake-d by a boulder would be pleasant, nor witnessing them turning their own dagger to themselves. Or offering him a slice of your favorite snack only for him to go into anaphylactic shock in front of your very eyes, for that matter!

But there would be other instances too, wouldn't they? Death is not the only thing that shook them to their core. What about their first death to the King? Or Bonnie's fate at the end of Act 3? What about basking in the blissful feeling of victory against the tormentor of your land only to turn to look at your friend and know something is very, very wrong?

What about fighting through the House with a party of 4 instead of 5, bloodied, confused, staring in the face of the King knowing you're about to die and wondering why your friend left you all when you needed them most?

I honestly have no idea where I'm going with this, but I've been rotating this concept in my head since this morning and thought I'd get it out on here so y'all can suffer with me tehee

#maxisrambling #isat #isat spoilers #in stars and time #isat siffrin #i genuinely don't know if i'd ever write a fic about this concept #esp bc i already have like 3 wips im working on and i don't need another #but if i ever were to it would be like. a post-game fic where the party realizes just how bad the loops were #how they affected siffrin and how they mightve affected /them/#(bc love this found family to death but siffrin probably downplays a lot of the loops stuff until confronted /lh)#and meanwhile sif has to deal with the knowledge that his family is remembering things he never wanted them to remember #seeing things they never shouldve seen #and is probably filled with a fuckton of guilt about that bc even now that the loops are broken they're hurting them #they all need a hug oh my god #OFC it would have a happy hopeful ending but NSDJKVNDJKFV angst hurt/comfort <3 #okay im done rambling hopefully this makes sense #im gonna go pass out now id say sorry but I'm not lmao xoxo

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vanillavengeance · 6 months

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mystic malfunction is on my mind again and i've been thinking about how funny it'd be if mikey hijacked a training session and taught everyone Lou Jitsu style (à la fish and ladders). ik Splinter's already been trying to make it a little more interesting for Mikey, but maybe it's the day after a particularly sour mission and he's like "yknow what? okay let's do it Orange's way today, just for a bit of a change of pace. lighten the mood a bit." the 2012 boys learn a very structured style, which is def useful (like when Mikey was fighting Shredder), but the 2018 boys are way more used to improvising and using their surroundings in non-traditional ways - particularly Mikey. i think it'd be really interesting to see how the 2012 boys would fare trying to fight in that style, and if they'd use it in future! anyway. the image of Mikey chasing them all around with an improvised household appliance weapon is EXTREMELY amusing to me, along with seeing Splinter's reaction when Mikey informs him that this was how they first learned how to properly fight. I think he'd go through all the stages of grief, but it'd definitely help him understand Mikey's lack of interest in regular training. anyway back to rotating your fic around in my mind like a microwave <3

Oh, I love this idea. Here, have an unedited ficlet I wrote in my notes app quick lol.

==========

Mikey vibrated with excitement, Splinter amused beside him while the others cautiously filtered into the dojo.

Splinter had seen how he’d struggled during regular training and after a small talk about why that might be, he’d allowed Mikey to run his own session to see exactly how the teaching styles differed. Both for Splinters own curiosity and to provide a different, more improvised kind of training so the others didn’t fall too much of a routine.

“So, how many different death traps are in here?” Raphael asks. Michelangelo is attempting to hide behind him but Raphael keeps pushing him away. “And where is one of them so Mike can be distracted by something else—“

“No death traps!” Mikey confirms. The others still look around cautiously as they come to stand in front of him. “I’m gonna show you the kind of training I got from Dad back home!”

The turtles share a disbelieving look, glancing towards Splinter who merely nods in confirmation.

“That’s…great,” Leonardo says slowly. “I suppose we could spice things up a bit.”

“You betcha!” Mikey exclaims. The turtles share one last confirming glance with Splinter before falling into their training stances and pulling out their weapons.

Mikey’s grin grows. “Nuh uh, nope,” he says, rolling onto his heels and thoroughly enjoying their confusion. “Won’t need those.”

Splinter turns to him in curiosity while the other look on in slight terror. Regardless, they lower their weapons to the ground in front of them and wait for Mikey to continue.

Oh, this is going to be fun.

—————

“That’s not how you use a toaster!” Donatello screeches, lunging away from the flying toaster Michelangelo threw by the cord like a flail.

“That’s exactly how you use it!” Mikey encourages from the sidelines. His alternate sends him a bright thumbs up before his head is promptly smacked to the ground by the lamp Raphael wields.

“How on Earth are you still alive if this is how your Master Splinter trained you!?” Leonardo exclaims, hurriedly blocking Raphael’s next lamp strike with his couch cushion. “This isn’t what training is supposed to be!”

“Sure it is! You just have to get creative! I don’t see Michelangelo complaining!” His alternate groans from the floor and he immediately backtracks. “Not about the training anyway!”

The chaos quickly resumed with Raphael going on a rampage with his lamp and the others scrambling out of the way with their other improvised weapons.

Mikey beams up a smile to Splinter who pinches his brow with eyes shut tight, taking deep breaths.

“I…understand your frustration with my teaching methods, now,” Splinter grumbles, watching with tired eyes as Raphael gets a whack to the face from Leonardo’s cushion.

Mikey launches to his feet, not being able to help himself anymore. Without any warning he grabs the closets of the many household items he gathered before starting. His hands adjust around the pens he grabbed, fashioning them into claws between his fingers, before jumping into the fray and straight towards a panicked Donatello.

They’re nowhere near prepared for all the razz-ma-tazz he’s about to unleash.

==========

Hehehe ❤️

#mystic malfunction #rottmnt #tmnt 2012 #rottmnt mikey #rise of tmnt #tmnt #rise of the tmnt #ficlet #I love that image lol #and since I can’t really add it in now it goes here #whether it’s canon or not to the story I’ll leave up to interpretation ;)

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cerastes · 1 year

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Since you like talking about relationships, I've got one I've been rotating in my head but can't really figure out: Kal'tsit and Muelsyse. They're both extremely long lived and, judging from Mumu's song, it's a major source of pain for her. But their personalities, at least on the face, are so totally different. I imagine they'd take quite a while to figure each other's shit out, since neither seems inclined to speak clearly or trust anyone more than necessary, leading to a dynamic that evolves quite a bit, and for a long time, perhaps to the confusion of less observant peers.

With both being practically the urban fantasy equivalent of long lived archmages with aching hearts, as well as experts on their particular fields, there's quite a few parallels one could make between them and their interactions would be very fascinating indeed!

However, I think you touched upon something that I think is both important and a bit different from how you put it: A main difference between Kal'tsit and Muelsyse is, in fact, that Kal'tsit does allow herself to trust in others, while Muelsyse keeps her cards close to her chest, even among those who she supposedly trusts.

Kal'tsit isn't naive, but she does in fact allow herself to trust others... A whole lot, in fact. She believed and trusted Theresa, and still tries to carry out her goals, she trusts in Amiya, not just because Theresa chose her, but because she really believes she's got what it takes. She trusts Rhodes Island Operators so much that, even though she's a powerhouse herself, she doesn't handle everything that Rhodes Island has going on and even has some Operators she implicitly trusts enough to let them handle some seriously dangerous stuff either under her or by being her extension in other endeavors she can't be there for personally, such as Margaret Nearl and Elysium. Reluctantly, she trusts in Doctor's abilities and temperament, in part out of necessity, in part because love it or hate it, Theresa did trust Doctor quite a lot, and so she'll trust in Theresa's trust.

Muelsyse, on the other hand? Her 'trust' is hugely utilitarian. Her choice of joining up with Rhine Lab was born out of necessity, as she judged that Kirsten and company would be her very best bet to achieve her own goals, but that backstabbing environment doesn't particularly allow one to make good friends or trust anyone too easily. In fact, during Mansfield Break, Muelsyse quite literally couldn't compute why Silence would be helping Anthony (Mountain) without ulterior motives: The fact that Silence would do it first and foremost out of the goodness of her heart was unbelievable to Muelsyse, because it goes against everything she's learned, especially in Rhine Lab. In a way, one could argue this is where she started changing a little, and it brought to mind how Saria was legitimately trying to be there for Ifrit because Saria legitimately holds affection for her, which Muelsyse thought was a load of barnacles before, at least without any sort of further objective or ulterior motive. Hell, Muelsyse's character song is a perfect fit for her: Chipper and energetic, yet, the lyrics are very sad and lonely.

I think a dynamic between Kal'tsit and Muelsyse would fundamentally be very... Curt, initially. All business from Kal'tsit's end, because Muelsyse has yet to earn her trust, all plastic smiles and idle hands from Muelsyse, because unless Kal'tsit can verifiably be of use to her beyond being a bigwig at RI, she doesn't need to know her.

But Kal'tsit grows on you, you know? Doctor's not the only one with those people skills... Perhaps they are at another level altogether, given they can handle even the freakiest freaks and weirdos and wrangle friendship out of them, but to say Kal'tsit isn't formidable in the arena of trust is but a lie. She'd get in, I'm sure. Muelsyse would see someone akin to her in ways other Terrans simply could never achieve, and while they are very different in terms of demeanor... Well, so are Kal'tsit and Closure, and Kal'tsit and Warfarin, two good friends of hers. Kal'tsit can definitely deal with Muelsyse's antics, and I think Muelsyse would enjoy seeing someone so similar to her in so many ways that can also allow herself to trust others. Maybe Kal'tsit could be important in just that: Muelsyse allowing herself to trust more.

#arknights #kal'tsit #muelsyse

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playroom-sekaii · 3 months

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ur hcs are just the best and i dont wanna be a bother)))): but do you mayb have any thoughts about tsukasa being just a little sickie baby. a baby who deserves all the care from wxs and kaito and saki and toya and and everyone in the world becsuse hes their little star ever . sniff .

Oooo, I've been rotating the idea of a little Tsukasa sickfic around in my head for a whileee, I guess now it's time I set some of those thoughts free, huh?

(Felt like making a paci edit for once, paci from here)

☆ He'll very much not want to admit that he's sick at first, he can't be, he's a star, he's a big kid, they never get sick! Plus, he doesn't wanna trouble anyone...when he was an actual kid, if he was sick he wouldn't get much more than the required attention from his parents in order to not risk passing it to Saki as well, even now that she's doing better he can't really get out of that mindset.

☆ The rest of WxS can probably tell that something's wrong, but he'll insist that he's fine, he's not small, and he's surely not sick! He tries to go about rehearsal like normal, but he just starts to feel worse and worse, and it's harder and harder to stay big, and eventually the poor kiddo just breaks down because it hurts and he feels icky and he wants this feeling to go away!

☆ The others immediately stop practice, their leader clearly not being up to it physically or mentally. They take him home and decide they're gonna take care of their little star! Emu gets him all tucked in nice and cozy, Rui makes him some warm tea in his sippy cup to help him feel better, and if he starts getting sleepy or fussy Nene sings him lullabies to help him get some rest.

☆ Tsukasa's very clingy while sick, something he usually represses, but now that he's smaller than ever it's clear as day. He needs at least one of the others with him at all times or he'll be a very sad and lonely little one, even if he's snuggled up with all of his plushies he wants them too! Even if he has more than one of them with him he'll be sad if someone leaves, even for a moment ("Where going Rui-nii?" "Oh, I was just going to get you some more medicine." "Oh... :'(" "I'll only be gone for a second baby, and you have Emu-nee and Ne-neechan here in the meantime!" "But want Rui-nii too :<")

☆ It's somewhat hard to get him to take medicine, it's yucky! They have to almost turn it into a game, no no, it's not medicine, it's a magical healing potion to help our little star feel better! He's more okay with it when they phrase it like that.

☆ When Saki gets home, Tsukasa tries to hide, he doesn't wanna get his Neechan sick! She and the other WxS members are eventually able to show him that it's alright, she'll be okay, and his troupemates go home while Saki's here to help her little brother! She dotes on him a lot, it's the least she can do for how much he helped her when she was sick as a child.

☆ At some point in the middle of the night, poor thing has a fever medicine nightmare, and wakes up terrified. He doesn't wanna bother the others or wake up Saki, so he manages to get the strength to go to the Sekai, where Kaito suddenly wakes up to find a very sick and scared little one. He takes him into the little nursery that he and the other Virtual Singers had set up backstage in their circus tent, and he gets him some warm milk and helps Tsukasa calm down from his nightmare. Once he starts feeling a bit better, he gives him a kiss on the forehead and sends him back to the real world, where he's able to sleep peacefully again.

☆ Since WxS still had practice for some of the next day, Saki and Toya decided that they were going to look after Tsukasa until they're free! Toya also wanted to pay him back for everything he did for him as a child, so while he's not as good at some of the aspects of taking care of a sick little one as the others are (Saki insisted on being the one to be in charge of cooking and such for him), he's as gentle and caring as anyone, singing soft lullabies to him and even bringing him a special new plushie to help him feel better.

☆ By the time he's all better (and also big again), Tsukasa is very, very grateful to the others for everything they did for him while he was sick, he even decides to put on a special thank you show for them, what better way for a star to express his gratitude after all!

#project sekai agere #tsukasa tenma #emu otori #nene kusanagi #rui kamishiro #saki tenma #toya aoyagi #kaito #kaito vocaloid #mine ♡

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starpirateee · 2 months

Note

Drabble request:

somehow, some way, Tinky manages to smush Abstinence Camp Lautski and NPMD Lautski into the same realtit

this idea has been ROTATING in my brain forever thank you goodnight

OH MY GOD-

Anon you can't just give me an idea like that and then duck out!!! And with no way to find out who you are either???

Anyway, that's cool as hell, let's get this show on the road!

Steph didn't know when she started seeing double, but at some point, she started swearing she could see... Another of her. Exactly the same in appearance... Mannerisms...

The other her was perfectly fine with everything until the moment the two of them locked eyes across the way. Then she just stared, stock still, unable to believe what she was seeing, or what the hell was going on. Out of an instinct she didn't know, Steph had beckoned her over, trying to pretend like any of this was normal.

It took a while, but the two of them managed to air things out. Stephanie- which the stranger decided upon because it was slightly easier- said she thought something was off earlier that morning, but given that Hatchetfield was notorious for never changing, she couldn't place anything wrong.

Steph had to agree. Nothing ever changed in Hatchetfield, and frankly, she wouldn't notice if anything was wrong either.

Neither of them could make sense of it. Stephanie said she'd not come alone, and after that the two of them came to an arrangement. She was going to find the friend she'd mentioned, and Steph was going to meet her again with the one person she thought might be able to make ends of any of this catastrophic mess. If he couldn't by himself, then the four of them likely could, in any case...

Pete was smart. Logical. He probably knew all sorts that she couldn't even comprehend. That's why she decided to call him first. In her head, even if he couldn't sort this out, he would at least make an effort to get things to make more sense.

"... Hey, Steph!"

He picked up quickly. He always did. And he always seemed so happy to hear from her. The very thought of it brought a smile to her face. "Hey, Pete." Before she could set them off into one of their long conversations, she needed to get to the point. Otherwise they would never get to it. "Uh, I've got a bit of a problem here..."

"A problem? What kinda problem?" She heard the creaking of his bedframe as he sat down. Damnit, now she had to make it make sense to herself, too! She seriously tried to think, to break it down, but nothing was working. There was no sensible way of explaining that she had seen and spoken to another version of herself. Eventually, she just sighed.

"I don't think that I can explain it well enough..."

Another creak. "Take your time, I'm not going anywhere."

"No, uh- I really don't think I can explain... I think you gotta come see this for yourself." Yeah, that was a good way around it. He could make his own judgements if he just saw it plain. Better than her trying to work it out in a few words.

"Sure... Okay. If that's- uh- if that works better?"

She nodded, knowing full well that he couldn't see her. "Yeah, maybe it will. How fast can you get to the park?"

He hummed. "The park? From here? I can be there in maybe ten minutes? How's that?"

"That's perfect. Thanks so much..."

Steph left him alone, and immediately, he sunk back, his brow furrowed in thought. There was a lot to think about, after all. She had left him with a fair deal for consideration. For someone who was normally so good with words, it was strange to have her so inarticulate. He needed to see something, and apparently, that was the only way she could properly explain it. Sure, it seemed a little weird, and Steph seemed a little apprehensive, but he hoped that she was right, that it would make sense when he got there.

No, of course it could. Steph knew what she was talking about, it would totally make more sense when he saw... Whatever it was she wanted him to see. He pulled on his shoes and left without much of a second thought.

In no more than a quarter of an hour, he'd reached the park. Steph was waiting for him on a bench, and waved him over as soon as she saw him. He quickened his pace until he'd reached the bench, and then they started to walk together.

"So, what's the problem?" He asked, glancing behind him.

"This is weird as hell... But, this morning, I swore to god that I was seeing double, but I was wrong..."

"Seeing double? In what way?"

They'd made their way across the park, and instead of an explanation, Steph pointed over at one of the larger trees in the grove, to a girl, who was leaning against it, talking to a boy on the floor.

Pete stared, adjusted his glasses, and stared again. They were far enough away that it wasn't obvious, which was lucky on his behalf, because he was able to do little else. He didn't have to ask for an explanation; it was right there in front of him. "Holy shit, is that _you_?"

"Yeah, it's super weird. When I saw her, I felt this kinda... Connection? Like, I knew straight away that she and I were the same... If you know what I mean."

He didn't. But he nodded anyway, making a note to himself that _this was just another thing he had to get an answer for, if he could._ "Not to mention you look... Pretty much exactly the same."

"Creepy, right?" The two of them approached the pair by the tree, and Steph raised a hand in greeting. "Stephanie, hey! This is the guy I was talking about, the one who might be able to make sense of what's going on here?"

"Well, maybe... No promises," Pete smiled, rubbing the back of his neck. He held out his free hand in the direction of the familiar stranger. "I'm Peter."

He watched Stephanie's eyes widen. She looked at the boy on the ground, then took Pete's hand with a soft smile that still somehow managed to portray all of that warmth and brightness that he knew so well. "This can't be a coincidence..."

Pete also glanced down to the boy on the ground. He was around his age, with large glasses and a head of curly brown hair. When their eyes locked, Pete saw something flash and dance between them. Something yellow, like a crackle of lightning.

It felt familiar, and something in Pete's brain clicked. The pieces started to fit together; the coincidence, the surprise etched on Stephanie's face, even the way that boy was looking at him...

He nodded slowly. "Let me guess... You're Peter, too? Peter... Spankoffski, by any chance?"

"Yeah. Steph filled me in," Peter nodded towards Stephanie, who raised her eyebrows. "I think I might know what's going on?"

"Really?" Steph asked, impressed.

"Well, not exactly, but it does kinda make sense... In a way. I could probably work it out."

Pete looked to Stephanie. "We'll make this easier. Call me Pete, then."

The situation as far as the four of them could work out was as follows. Steph and Pete hadn't felt any kind of displacement or anything wrong with the world. Both would've been fully content to take it at the same level as any other Saturday. Maybe they would've hung out together anyway. Maybe they would've taken advantage of Solomon being so busy with preparations for the Honey Festival...

Neither of them had noticed anything was wrong at all until Stephanie came into the picture. Stephanie did. Peter was convinced he'd mistaken the feeling for something else. Now there was two of both of them. What was weirder still was the fact that the two Stephs looked near enough identical to one another, while the two Petes couldn't be more different.

The crackles of familiarity were mutual. Pete knew to recognise his double through nothing more than that spark.

"While we figure out how the hell you got here, and maybe how the hell to get you back..." Pete sat down on the ground near to his double, and glanced between he and Stephanie. "How about you guys tell us what we're missing out on?"

"What you're missing out on?" Stephanie asked, folding her arms over her chest.

"i'm just assuming we don't have identical lives, but who knows, huh?"

"What about you two?" Peter asked curiously. "You seem... Close, right? How'd that happen?" There was a smile playing on his lips, one that suggested his seemingly genuine interest at finding out how Pete and Steph managed to find each other.

"Close?" Steph echoed, amused. "I guess you could say that... Well, we got close after he let me cheat off him for a bilogy pop quiz."

Peter's eyes widened. Pete laughed. "Don't look at me like that! I was sitting in earshot, what else was I gonna do?"

Peter realised a little too quickly that he'd have done exactly the same thing if he was in earshot of someone like Stephanie Lauter too, there was absolutely no argument about it. He sat back against his hands with a resigning shrug, and let Steph try to continue her story.

"After that, it was like everything happened at once. Max Jägerman- uh, you know him, right?"

Stephanie nodded. "Yeah, sure, I know him. The backup QB. Everyone in school knows Jägerman."

"Backup? Wait, who's the quarterback for you guys?"

"Brad Callaghan."

"Asshole," Peter muttered under his breath, and Stephanie hummed in agreement. "Jägerman too, while we're on that. Anyway, uh- what about him?"

"He... Went missing." Steph was trying to cover her ass and Pete's at the same time. She was going to admit that Max turned up dead, but for the sake of both of them, she was going to deter as far as possible from the fact that they were technically the ones who killed him. "Things started to go downhill fast after that. He turned up dead, So did a couple other kids in our grade."

"Then the mayor, too. And a couple others," Pete added all too hesitantly. He was also trying to avoid thinking about what has happened in the Waylon Place that night, evem though the memory of it wasn't so much haunting as a major guilt trip. He knew he shouldn't feel bad about Max; he made their lives a living hell, and he still didn't feel bad about what happened, so to speak. Especially since it was an accident and the three of them had the memories to prove it. "But this is where it gets less believeable. See, all of those killings... Were done by Max. He came back, y'know? Back from the dead..."

"Woah..." Stephanie whispered, straightening up from against the tree.

"No shit?" Peter, however, leaned forwards, his intent gaze fixed on Pete. He lifted a hand to adjust his glasses, and saw his double nod. "Jeez..."

"We're the lucky ones," Pete hummed. "We're still here... Can't say that about the others, mind. Once we got rid of Max... That was it. They were as dead as he was..." He sighed heavily. Ruth and Richie were never not on his mind, not as things stood. He'd allowed himself to geel guilty about that over everything else, but he didn't have a reason to feel bad about Max. Those two were a different story entirely...

Steph sensed his discomfort at the topic, and for good reason too. He was still far from being able to think about anything else that wasn't his friends, now that the whole thing had blown over and everything had settled in. So she tried to change the subject quickly, turning towards Peter. "So what's your story then? How'd you two meet?"

"This is the stupidest story ever." Steph defended quickly, rolling her eyes. "Both of us got shipped off to fucking idonwannabang."

This seemed to resonate somewhere in Pete's mind, and he blinked. "Damn, wait, really? Peter, was that Ted's idea?"

Peter nodded, seemingly more drawn back than he was moments ago.

"You got scammed, man. D'you really think he of all people woulda survived that place?"

"It wasn't one of his best ideas, that's for sure..."

The tense change sunk in. Pete didn't want to think that as the immediate possibility, but what else made sense with the way Peter phrased it? He held his breath, hoping it was just another case of his overactive mind jumping to conclusions again. "... Wasn't?"

Peter frowned, exhaling a sigh that was probably a lot deeper than he expected it to be. "Yeah. Wasn't. You say you're the lucky ones? Heh, yeah... Me too."

"What... What happened to him?"

"I don't know. Never will. He was the one who dropped me off, but by the time summer was over, he was- he was fucking gone. I... don't want to ask."

#lautski #stephanie lauter #peter spankoffski #starkid #npmd #nerdy prudes must die #abstinence camp #nova's tags →#tw death mention #not just one but two lautskis! this must be christmas #just in case it wasn't clear: abstinence camp lautski got full named and nerdy prudes lautski got nicknamed #thought that would be a good way of discerning them #besides... nick lang is peter. to me #oh and guess what i remembered about the nmt2 timeline while i was writing this #yep that's right. timeline singular. i remembered it was all one timeline

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cartoonhostage · 9 months

Text

I've been going slightly (more than slightly) feral over this comic by @intotheelliwoods, and after rotating it in my mind I was hit with the sudden overwhelming urge to write almost a thousand words about it at 2am

Leo was in a white void. There was a wall of dark goo at his back, clawed hands of ink wrapping themselves around his arms.

“Gh- Sprout-” he grunted, trying to shake the hands off. Even more grabbed on, beginning to pull him into their mass.

“Sprout, I’m SORRY!” he screamed. The goop had fully trapped his legs, rendering them useless, his right arm fought against a tentacle trying to pull it into the wave, and his left reached out desperately.

“I’m sorry!” The last syllable came out as more of a screech than a shout. The goo was pulling him in, it took his right arm, hands yanked at the scarf around his throat from out of sight. The only parts outside of the ick were his head and his left arm, still reaching. His tears fell into the muck, rolling off it like oil on water, while it continued to consume him.

“SPROUT!”

Leo gasped as his eyes shot open. His left arm was reaching at the ceiling, and there were tears in the corners of his eyes. The blanket was constricting all of a sudden, it was wrapped around his legs, his torso, his-

He sat up straight, throwing the blanket off, and put his hand to the spot his shoulder used to fill, panting heavily. Where his right arm had been, where it had been trapped in the dream. It had been gone for a while now, and himself from the future had been helping him, making sure it healed okay.

“Sprout…” he murmured, looking down at his hand. That was what future him had told Leo to call him, that must’ve been who he was reaching for in the dream. But… in the dream he was older, much older, even older than future him. The arm he’d been reaching with had had three stripes like big him, instead of just the two that adorned his shoulder and upper arm.

He slumped back against his pillow, kicking his blanket away, and staring up at nothing. He was still tired, but that dream had felt so viscerally real, he didn’t think he was going back to sleep anytime soon.

He couldn’t have been dreaming of Sprout, he was missing his right arm like Leo, and way younger too. And Leo had been calling for him, it wouldn’t make sense for him to be shouting his own name, apologising to himself like “himself” was a separate entity.

Leo paused a moment, considering the irony of what he’d just thought.

For probably a solid two minutes he was seized with the fear that he’d been dreaming of himself from the future. Not Sprout, him, all grown up, begging for forgiveness from his older self. But there was something nagging at the side of his mind, some part of him that knew with absolute, unshakable certainty that wasn't right. Not Sprout, not exactly him either, what in the world…

I’m sorry Sprout, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, you didn’t deserve it, I want you to know I’m sorry.

Whatever the dream was, those thoughts definitely belonged to him, to Leo. He didn't know where they were coming from, but the feeling that he had to apologise to Sprout was overwhelming and his, like an instinct. His mind was too foggy to think of why. Part of him knew the reason, or maybe it used to.

Leo slid carefully off of his mattress, tiptoeing out of his room in an attempt to make as little noise as possible, the floorboards creaking quietly under his feet.

He managed to open the door to Sprout’s room silently. His future self seemed to be sleeping soundly, faint snores emerging from his snout. Leo stepped nervously closer, worrying that he might have to wake him up or just get into bed with him for some level of comfort from the nightmare, but Sprout cracked an eye open before Leo was even close enough to touch him.

“Poptart?” Sprout started getting out of bed, setting his blanket aside. Leo was still getting used to that nickname, it didn’t make any sense to him, but it did feel just a bit more right every time Sprout called him that.

“Stump hurting again?”

He hadn’t noticed since he could only seem to think of the dream, but the stump where his right arm had once been was aching slightly. He decided it wasn't bad enough to constitute medication right away. He screwed his eyes shut and ran forward to hug Sprout as best he could with his one arm, cutting off whatever he was about to say, probably an offer to get pain meds.

“Sorry,” Leo peeped quietly, pressing his face into Sprout’s shoulder.

Sprout’s arm wrapped comfortingly around Leo’s shell, the tips of his fingers gently rubbing up and down the carapace.

“What for?” Sprout asked softly.

“I…” Leo felt like he should know, that the reason was right on the tip of his tongue, but it was missing. He felt like crying.

“I don’t know.”

“Mm, well,” Sprout hummed, “whatever made you sorry, it’s alright."

He moved his hand from Leo’s shell to cradle the back of his head.

“You’re just hurt and scared,” Sprout said calmly, “No need to be sorry for that.”

Sprout squeezed a little tighter. “You were just hurt.”

Something in Leo’s mind told him that Sprout wasn’t just talking to him, or more like it was more focused on something deeper inside of him.

“You were just scared.”

That part of him heard.

Leo sniffed, a tear rolling down his cheek and getting all over Sprout’s shoulder.

He opened his mouth to say thank you, but Sprout beat him to it.

“Thanks, Poptart."

Leo craned his neck to look at Sprout’s face, confused.

“What for?”

Sprout smiled. “I don’t know.”

Inspired by the fact that Poptart dreamt that he was big Leo

#two arms left #rottmnt 2 arms left #rottmnt 2al #2al #rottmnt #rottmnt fanfiction #star’s fanfiction shenanigans #2 arms left #2al fanfic

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ourflagmeansgayrights · 6 months

Text

ofmd s2e4 rewatch where i pause to jot down my thoughts and other random shit

it's been a busy week since last thursday and shit's only gonna get busier for me after tomorrow so hopefully i can get through these two episodes out before i go to bed lol!!! anyway once again these posts are just me rambling so i can process the insane amount of information in these episodes and if u want to read them too that's fine.

s2e1, s2e2, s2e3, s2e4, s2e5, s2e6, s2e7, s2e8

rip everyone who wanted homoerotic sword fighting in the gentebeard reunion. have a headbutt as a consolation prize.

obsessed with stede holding raw room-temperature meat against his bruised face bc that's not even a little bit how that works. i love this show.

ok so jim saying "he'll probably get around to killing you after he's rested" in response to stede saying ed needs to regain his strength actually gives some pretty good context to why they want ed of the ship so bad. bc they DID fully try to kill ed and now he's here and alive and like. if i were jim i would be pretty worried abt ed holding a grudge abt that.

wont lie stede being like "we dont just banish people, that's not us!" makes me thinkg abt how they fully banished izzy from the ship in e6. i mean technically izzy banished himself on accident but. lol.

also izzy's absence in this scene indicating he is not yet considered part of the entire crew

roach: i need that steak back, it's dinner stede: (pulling the steak away) oh, right fang: maybe let's put the banishment to a vote? stede: (steak back on his face, apparently having forgotten he was literally just about to give the meat to roach) aw do we have to :(

ed chained to the ship is doing. a lot for me. i wont lie.

buttons saying he's been to the gravy basket a few times... how many times has this man almost died??????

it is deeply funny to me that they edit the split second flashback of the drowning and mermaid hallucination to look all creepy as if that whole scene wasn't set to an incredibly sappy 80's love song (said with immense affection)

OBSESSED with stede trying to be like. encouraging to izzy. and being like "he cant hear you he's got no head" about izzy yelling at the ruined figurehead. this fucking dork.

so ive seen ppl talking abt how the crew's in a deadlock abt banishing ed and which ppl they think were pro-banishment and which were against, but the scenes with the crew make it look like everyone's voting for ed to get kicked out. so tbh i think like either of the following interpretations are pretty valid: the crew is split 50/50 on if they should banish ed OR the crew 100% wants to banish ed and stede was gonna try and leverage izzy's vote to try and get more ppl to change their mind. doesnt rlly matter either way tho

also the fact that izzy was the one to keep ed's body is. interesting. the others must've known abt it and helped izzy hide the body in the secret room. but izzy being the one to be like "no we're not throwing him overboard" is. something. no conclusions abt this atm im just rotating this fact in my brain.

i also just have a lot of thoughts abt the mutiny and the fact that like, jim's a trained assassin and the others are also pretty experienced killers and they probably knew they hadn't completely finished the job. and there was plenty of opportunity for them to do something about that. but instead they hid his body and waited for ed to succumb to his injuries. it feels kinda like ed's "technically i outsource the big job" rule. idk. thoughtssss.

frenchie in this scene is so funny bc he seems both actually apologetic abt kicking ed off the ship but also very relieved/vindicated to see him go.

didnt realize olu almost said smthng to ed lol i thought ed was just saying "fuck you" to him for no reason ghfjkghjkfh

"first time i've ever been on this side of a walk of shame" wee john i have so many questions. how many times have you been banished from a ship.

obsessed with archie just being like "way to make this awkward brah." her shitty boss put her life at risk in an attempt to make her and her coworkers kill him in a weird roundabout suicide attempt and her summary of the situation is "well, this is awkward :/"

"shitty sailing with you" sick burn, jim

"you're making it really hard to look up to you, man" LOVE how black pete is still a blackbeard stan. despite everything.

just ONCE i want someone to appreciate roach's sandwiches :(

"dont you want your sammy" STEDE I WOULD DIE FOR YOU

also i disagree with the subtitles here im like 99% sure says "you're no fuckin mermaid" not "you're not a fuckin mermaid" but that's just me ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

stede looks SO sad abt not being a mermaid

love how everyone in this episode just sort of nods and is like "yeah okay" every time buttons tells them he's turning into a bird

altho with stede in this scene specifically im convinced that he's just jumping at the chance to follow ed to the island. he was absolutely gonna come up with some shitty excuse to go ashore anyway but it's nice of buttons to give him plausible deniability

i love how much ed hates nature

why do the subtitles say "gyp-" this has been bothering me all week. the line is "like a drifter"

i also love ed's line delivery of "a wolf?"

anyway dumb posts abt the spider tattoo backstory: 1, 2, 3

i love to see ed getting hugs... wish i could give him a hug :(

ok also buttons talking abt the gravy basket made me think ed needed like some sort of spell or smthng to snap out of it but instead it just kinda wore off by the end of the episode (maybe, depends on how you read the whole buttons turning into a bird scene). this is very funny to me for some reason

anne rubbing the cup she's holding against her tit. queen.

stede bonnet idiot dumbfuck moments

i LOVE anne's line delivery of "eddie motherfuckin teeeeach" like yeah that's cj's girl alright. or was cj's girl. who knows.

SECRET HANDSHAKE im cryinggggg. i love them.

stede's voice sounds so weird when he says "i wasn't looking for you" and that's because he's fucking lying through his teeth

LOVE how anne and mary look at each other after the "shipmates" "former" interaction like they are immediately on the same wavelength. and that wavelength is fucking with ed and his ex. they sniffed out a messy relationship dynamic and were like "oh hell yeah we need more of this in our lives"

ed is SO bitchy this whole scene i fucking love it. ed's face when he says "him?" fdhjksgfjhdgkj

ed: whatever 🙄 anne: whatever? 👀 mary: whatever! 😈

wee john getting more goth is so good

drunk izzy rambling at the ship's figurehead is so funny to me tho i miss drunk izzy

ed's crew lady macbeth "out damned spot" moments

i like how there's a goat in the background of this scene in anne and mary's house and it is unexplained and also never seen again.

ed's face after stede says "that's romance" is soooo good this bitch is so pissed. like oh would you have met me at the docs if i peeled the guard's face off instead of just paying him off? is that what fuckin does it for you???? not that it matters bc i dont care. but. cunt.

yeah im just focusing in on all of ed's faces in this scene. "quite the shift going from wearing people's faces to antique collectors" gets ed to freeze in the middle of bringing his drink up to his lips and just kinda stare off into the distance.

"how did you meet" has ed kind of frowning for a split second before stede starts answering and then he rolls his eyes very dramatically and sighs deeply

ed immediately being like "actually i was gonna kill him myself!" trying to undermine stede's meet-cute story. also anne and mary nodding along in complete unison bc this is just normal pirate conversation to them.

~~~

also as someone who has been team "no ed was dead serious abt the plan to steal stede's identity" this was very vindicating for me. it's a bad plan and it doesn't make any sense but logistics literally dont matter in this show. what matters is giving this story the "falling for the mark" trope makes ed's character arc in season 1 that much tastier!!!!

ed and stede going back and forth telling their story i cant fucking wait until theyre happily together telling this story and instead of ed trying to downplay it and ruin the meet-cute-iness of it they're just building on each other and being sappy and adorable

"more like i relented" one of the biggest lies i've ever heard this man say fjhkgjkfdhk

"until he completely boned it" SAY IT. FUCKING SAY IT. SOOOOO TRUE ED.

auauhghgh the beard bit......... crying

THE!!!!! QUIETEST LITTLE "thank you" OF ALL TIME. TIED MAYBE WITH ED SAYING "thank you" AFTER "i think you're very sophisticated" IN 1.05

i dont blame stede for trying to get ed to open up right after that bc that was the first bone ed's thrown stede's way since he woke up. unfortunately ed is not in the mood to talk abt his near-death experience and mermaid hallucination sequence.

LOVE anne's little gesture when she says "rabbit" and the little hip cocking

stede being like "uhhhh we could leave" during the knifeplay exhibitionism moment

i giggle every time at the way the crew is instantly like "fuck closing our eyes we're doing any fucking surprises"

ngl idgw the crew yelled abt the piñata reveal. but ok

loooove stede's half of the crew just blowing past all the screaming and tension from ed's half. jim screams "STAY THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME!!!" abt the blindfold and roach is like "you won't want to stay the fuck away from this caaaake!" like roach fdhsjfgdhfjkghkj read the room?????

i love how much stede just. completely misses all of annie's flirting

ed coughing during the blunt session i love himmmmm

ok but ed's trying to be like "im totally over stede i dont even like him" and then ed reminiscing fondly with a distant smile abt the 1.06 stabbing scene

"and that was the... second time you left your wife?" underrated line

love how annie's been all quiet and seductive and then when she goes to make her move she's just like "WOUND THIS" and aggressively sits in stede's lap

also ok. "they're gonna be so jealous" is that annie talking abt ed and mary or is that annie using they/them pronouns for mary.

BUTTONS JUMPSCARE

also i love how they have that one medusa painting just. in their kitchen. im obsessed with the interior decor of this lesbian antique store that annie and mary live in

the way she's so touched by the poisoning attempt hjfgfjksghskjhgjkh

buttons being like "aahhhhhh do i give her... this bowl......????" fhjkghkfsjhk

"yeah, babe" TEALORANGES WIN

im honestly sad izzy's pathetic wet beast moment only really went for like three tiny scenes in one episode bc this shit was so funny to me. crawling away saying "you're born alone you die alone" over and over again. sir what are you even doing.

god buttons in this episode is so fucking funny bc i keep forgetting he's there. also why is he even there. like was he even invited to dinner or did he just sit down and annie and mary were like "oh ok i uh. guess we'll go make another plate??"

ed's face after buttons says the bit abt "i can tell this rabbit was intelligent" is soooo funny why is he so fucking pissed fdhsjkgyjdfkghjk

NO WAIT HE'S PISSED BC THAT WAS HIS FRIEND. THAT WAS HIS FRIEND THE WOLF HE WAS TELLING HIS SECRETS. NOW IM KINDA SAD :(:(:(

stede talking abt the sea when what he's actually talking abt is ed part 2 electric boogaloo

ed very calmly. standing up. and smashing the chair. im obsessed with him.

stede bonnet stupid dumbass moments

IMPROMPTU BLANKET FORT TIME

ed's voice is so quiet at the start of this scene he's not even yelling at stede until stede says "it's not fair" ohhhhhh my babygirl is so fucking sad........

"you ditching me without a note or anything" ed's literacy confirmed

"expecting me to just melt back into your arms" eddie my man. stede has not given literally any indication that he expected this at all. you are telling on yourself fhdjskghfkjshd

this scene is so fucking good i barely have anything to say abt it. just. u can rlly tell david jenkins wrote this ep himself lolll

"i was all in, mate. i was all in." IM SOBBING

oh nooooo i forgot that ed's line delivery of "im sorry my horrible naked chin disgusts you so much" isnt actually as sarcastic as the words itself make it seem. like it feels like ed wanted to say that all angrily and bitter but instead he just sounds sadddddd

ok ok but the way stede says "i love your chin naked or otherwise" and then after a pause (during which ed is keeping INCREDIBLY still bc u know otherwise he's just gonna burst into tearssss) stede whispers "ed" and ed is immediately like "don't" and then. stede going in for the "i love you" but like the way he's so slow with it?? he's literally like "i. love." and idk if it's bc he's trying to make this as clear as possible or if he's giving ed enough time to cut him off if he doesn't want to hear it

and ed DOES he DOES cut him off with "you don't get to say that to me" and he like. keeps glancing at stede out of the corner of his eye but not quite looking at him directly bc he knowwwwws it's like staring into the sun baby and ed knows if he looks at stede's face it's literally all over.

but also ed's face after stede pivots to "i love everything about you" he's SO pissed. he quietly groans and rolls his eyes bc this bitch. finding stupid loopholes to not being allowed to say "i love you." fuck this guy ed hates him so fucking much (lying)

oooooh when stede says "you don't have to say it back to me" ed's mouth opens and closes a bit before "not about to" bc this man is trying. SO hard not to cry (so am i but it's not working sorry there are tears on my face right now)

idk idk idk smthng abt "it's nice. feels good." makes me hurt so fucking bad bc the entire time since ed's woken up stede's been getting headbutted and snarked at passive-aggressively but stede's still like "i love being near you it makes me happy :)" brb i need. a fucking moment.

honestly tho how did annie and mary even overhear that bit bc they were on the other side of the room and stede was whispering SO quietly. opposite of when ppl in this show dont hear things despite the things being said like two feet away from them (1.03 geraldo and jackie talking abt how blackbeard was looking for stede, 2.01 zheng saying the indigo was worth way more than she spent on it)

LOVE how anne being like "stede likes the ladies" is how ed figures out "ohhhh wait ok theyre just fucking with us, got it" bc this guy??? liking women????? lmao

this also HAS to be why he gets over mary like his brain mustve gone "wait hang on why the fuck would he go back to her he doesn't even like women. guess maybe he really did panic huh" hdjksghfckghkjsh

obsessed with these TINY tiny details abt the ed/jack/annie/mary polycule dynamics we're given. ed would've expected as much from annie bc she's a fucking psycho. mary apparently used to not be like this. im putting the pieces together im connecting the dots.

ed and stede's knowing smug looks at each other. im obsessed.

annie being rlly sensitive to the word "bitch" im considering that more hints abt the polycule backstory

yayy fanny newspaper

"really? i mean she stabbed you, you poisoned her, and then she jumped on my face" stede this is all part of their very elaborate and deeply toxic sex life ok stop kinkshaming them

~~~

curious if ed and stede are too distracted by mary spelling out their worst fears to comment on all the smoke coming into the room

"everything must go" like a fucking clearance sale. this is such a silly line. this is a silly show. i love it here.

WHY DONT THEY MAKE OUT SLOPPY STYLE HERE THO

wait are they crying while they hug??? bro these girls are so fucking messy i love them

ed saying "see you guys" before he leaves them in their burning house. i would die for him

ok team arts and craft time while making a prosthetic for izzy. obsessed with how the b plot of this episode is literally "the crew struggles to get along but they eventually set aside their differences and work together when they realize there's someone even more cringe and pathetic than any of them"

"YOU ARE!!! HARASSING A CRIPPLE!!!!!!" is suchhhh a funny line im sorry im gonna miss izzy at his lowest fhsjkhjksf. literally they just knocked on the door my dude calm downnnn

obsessed with izzy being genuinelly touched and expressing it by saying "fucking cocksuckers." this man is allergic to having feelings.

stede and ed painfully talking over each other bc everything is awkward and difficult. i love them.

ed's face when stede offers to let ed stay. his very quiet "yis." the way he says "might be nice" and then VERY QUICKLY looks away

stede yelling GREAT at the top of his lungs fhdsjkguydfgfjkhl

i love when these guys try to play it cool bc theyre so fucking bad at it hgdfgvjfxdkgjjdkkgjhfdkh

stede bonnet dumb idiot moron moments

ed staring off lovinglyyyyyy

buttons jumpscare

also is that fucking sage. are we doing cultural appropriation here

buttons saying "Earth Wind and Fire i wanna go higher" hfjkhgfdjkhgjkh

i love how ed. does not question this "fuck yeah, brother. fly."

ed teach lovesick fool moments

i love how happy ed sounds telling stede abt buttons he sounds like his old goofy self for the first time all season.... im gonna cry

also i like how the crew adopts izzy as their new creature. 10/10

post credits scene is annie and mary at dinner with buttons. i guess it's after stede goes to comfort ed but before they go eavesdrop on that convo.

buttons enjoying his last meal as a human. and also he's like "there's too much fucking on that ship i need to get away from it all." and his way of doing this is becoming a bird. love that.

#ofmd s2 spoilers #our flag means death #ofmd #ofmd s2 #ofmd season 2 #edward teach #stede bonnet #crew of the revenge #anne bonny #mary read #izzy hands #gentlebeard #s2e04 #txt #mine #og #ofmds2rwwiptjdmtaors

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lakesbian · 6 months

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How do you think Alec would have handled getting the Valkyrie treatment? Being made into a puppet in the same way that he did to other people, his sacrificial suicide being subverted by another cape who uses people as tools but in a much more complete and permanent sense, coming back wrong and having his cape identity irrevocably a part of his body and self, and no longer being able to take off the mask, is this anything?

see i've rotated this extensively in my mind before because i think coming up with how a cape's design would turn out if they got glastig uained is a really fun exercise (do that shit to lisa for some Fun eyeball body horror!!) but i'm struggling to come up with what would happen to alec :( the most obvious answer is the crown becoming like. Attached. to his head. but id ont know if that's too far out there. there's also the concept of having his face frozen in a permanent smirking expression but i feel like that would go Too tragically counter to the point of a 'surprise hes back again' au wherein he would be expected to. yknow. realize and experience some of his feelings again at some point. so yeah i'd need someone else to help me figure that one out.

anyway the actual experience of being glastig uained. if i recall correctly in ward brian says it was basically just like waking up feeling like everything from before he died was just a few days ago not Years ago so i don't think alec would care that much that someone was using his ghost or whatever for shit while he was dead, relative 2 all the other problems in his life. wouldnt even notice with the type of shit hes got going on. the big reason why this au doesn't really work is that it's just Wildly Unproductively Depressing. it seems like ciara only starts bringing random people back by the time aisha is like. what. 20?

it works Fine and Actually Thematically Interesting Well that brian is like oh FUCK youve GROWN UP when he gets back because it's relevant 2 their sibling dynamics. but it does. it does not work if alec gets back and aisha is like 20. it's just depressing. from alec's PoV it would be "congrats you've been brought back into a world where your best and only friend is too old and character-developmented for you to actually have a close connection with even though for you it feels like she was still your age only a few days ago and also your fucking shit ass siblings are here too and btw the world ended so all of the nice luxuries you were enjoying previously are not options anymore. go feed the earth gimel sheep boy." and from aisha's perspective her best friend would be back but in a monkeys paw way where he did not get to grow up with her and he's still little and sad and fucked up and more like one of his siblings that she's caring for/trying to help vs the equal best friendship she Wants but Can't Have because he is Fifteen. so now everything sucks and is sad for everyone involved. :(.

i would say "on the 'up'side this is a hot new contender for scenarios wherein lisa could feasibly decide alec is her new sopping wet fixer-upper" but she already has an even more absurd and unstable option (that one cop) so as usual alec remains background. btw he would be offended on taylors behalf that lisa had replaced taylor with victoria (who he does not like because shes annoying) and entirely oblivious that taylor had ever thought or said anything about him being sucks and utterly lacking in interiority. AUs that have potential to be funny wrt alec's interactions with the other undersiders but are wildly fucking depressing when you get to his interactions with aisha.

if we fudge a bit and say ciara brings him back like riiight after gold morning aisha would only be a bit over a year older than him so that's more doable in terms of character development and eventual reconnection but it'd still be a mess. i'm not articulating my explanation of how aisha's character development works rn and i don't feel like saying something wrong so i'll just leave it here but trust me it'd still be a mess. maybe an interesting one but a mess

#ask #worm spoilers #scarf don't look

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duchess-kyuupid · 1 year

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Hi! Your fic about Idia melted my heart.

Could I request a female reader singing Zero from Vanitas no Carte (it's in English) to Jamil at VDC because she admires and adores him?

Of course! I loved Vanitas no Carte, especially the ed song- like it's so pretty! Once again, for anyone who wants to listen along or has never heard the song, here it is! And sorry it took some time, dearie! I should be working on my college paper rn, but I've kept you waiting for long enough! Hope you enjoy <3

youtube

[Fem! Reader (no pronouns used, so it can be read as gn too), Fluff, Set in Book 5] {Uh,, this is a long one guys... About 4,600 words, for reference...Whoops, sorry not sorry I love this man to bits lol}

~Dedicating a Song to Jamil at SDC/VDC~

Okay, well, admittedly, you may have been more relieved than you should have been that you were not accepted into Vil's little group to represent the school. You always thought that your voice wasn't that great, but Grim wanted to tryout with you, and Crowley was offering to improve your living conditions at the Ramshackle dorm, so reluctantly you had agreed. You felt quite fortunate that Grim's off-tune (and frankly horrid) singing drowned out your own at the audition. However, Grim did not share those same sentiments.

"Hmph, they're missing out by not picking me, my singing is clearly superior to those two," Grim pouts as you carry him in your arms back home. He said that it'd make him feel better after basically being forced into a manager role in their group.

"Shouldn't you be proud for Ace and Deuce for making the cut? Besides, we're still helping out by letting them stay at our dorm. You'll get to watch them work themselves to the bone while you'll be getting tuna for doing basically nothing on the sidelines, isn't that a win for you?" You reason in an attempt to cheer him up a little.

"Hmm, I guess you're right! I'll be living in the lap of luxury while those two idiots do all the work!" he chuckles evilly with a mischievous smile. You supposed cheering him up wasn't such a difficult thing to do when you knew what to say.

"But don't you want to participate too?" he asks out of the blue.

"What? Me, participate? Nonono, that sort of thing isn't for me- I'm not that great, honestly. I think I'd just rather just settle with being their manager than going up there with them," you chuckle nervously.

"But you know," he chuckles, a gleam in his eyes that tells you that he's up to no good again, "I think I remember hearing a certain someone's voice singing in the middle of the night sometimes. 'Was so pretty I couldn't go back to sleep."

"I-I, well, are you sure that it wasn't just the ghosts pulling a prank on you?" your face starting to erupt in that tell-tale sign of embarrassment that revealed to Grim that he was exactly on the right track. With a haughty laugh and an evil smile, he replies,

"Nope. Asked them already, and they even said they saw you singing in the courtyard." Busted. You groan loudly and try to look away from Grim's teasing looks, but alas, as you were currently carrying him in your arms, facing yourself away from him would require you to rotate your head around like an owl- that or you'd just have to stop looking where you were walking and risk tripping over something.

"Please don't tell me how many times you heard me..." you say as your ears become redder than Riddle's hair.

"Fufufu, I don't understand why you're so embarrassed about it! You've clearly got some talent in singing- not as much as me of course, but it's still impressive for a human! So why didn't you sing like that at the audition? We could've been part of the team and had all the spotlight together!"

"Well, that's the problem," you half-heartedly laugh, scratching your cheek nervously, "I'm not a big fan of the spotlight. I've actually always wanted to be a singer, but I always got stage fright so I never went through with it."

"OHOHOHO, is my dearest Prefect of Ramshackle in need of my everlasting kindness?" you hear a sudden voice proclaim from above you and you shriek in surprise as Headmaster Crowley, quite literally, drops right in front of you out of nowhere.

"Hey! Stop showing up out of the blue like that! Ya nearly gave me a heart attack!" Grim exclaims (who may or may not have accidentally scratched your arms in his own shock). Crowley ignores Grim's complaints as he stares into your eyes with a wide, knowing smile.

"I couldn't help but overhear that you enjoy singing, and!" he emphasizes, "I just so happened to be nearby the area when you were doing your audition. I believe that should be sufficient to grant you a spot for a solo at the SDC."

"Huh?"

"You need not thank me for my generosity! I know that I am just ever so kind to my wonderful students- it is simply a part of my job as the Headmage of this amazing academy! Oh, but, there is the tiny fact that you will not be representing our school in your performance, but I'm sure that you will be more than happy with the arrangements nonetheless!" Crowley proclaims excitedly. Your mind was still reeling in confusion, as is most encounters with this man, so Grim asks in your place,

"Right, so what's the catch?"

To which Crowley gasps dramatically as if he's been hurt by Grim's question, "To think of such a thing! Why, I'm merely extending my gratitude towards one of my favorite students who I only wish to see succeed!"

"Yeah, yeah, sure you do," Grim states with a pensive look on his face.

"Buuuut, if said favorite student of mine did want to sing at the SDC competition- the solo competition is considered separate from the group acts, and thus the first place winner of the solo's will also receive a fair compensation of around 25 thousand Thaumarks! Isn't that just enticing?" At the sound of that, Grim immediately hops on board; he looks to you with excited eyes, almost begging you to accept the offer.

"Uhm, why are you asking me for this specifically, headmage?" you ask quietly.

"Why, it's as I've stated earlier, I merely wish to see you succeed! Aren't I so generous?"

"Well, I mean, you probably heard what I was saying earlier. I'm not good with crowds, so I-"

"Hush, hush with that nonsense!" Crowley interrupts you by bringing up a finger to your mouth to stop you from speaking, "I know I already promised you better living arrangements for lending the Ramshackle dorm to Vil's group, however, if you decide to agree to this solo act, then I will also arrange for free personal catering for you at Ramshackle....But only for lunch!" And he steps back from you with his hands on his hips, standing proud at his joke of an offer.

"Isn't that just like lunch at the school cafeteria? And besides, I'm not even at the dorm at lunchtime during the school week."

"Sounds like a great deal, sign me up!" Grim exclaims, despite your words.

"Wonderful, wonderful! I'm so glad that you've agreed! I look forward to your spectacular performance!" And without another word, Crowley flies away to who knows where, almost as if to avoid having to answer to whatever you had to say next.

"Grim, you're grounded from eating any tuna until after the SDC is over."

"What?!"

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

By now it was far, far too late to be changing your mind about this- if you've even had a choice in it to begin with. You wish right now that you could have just turned Crowley down when you had the chance, but now you were stuck with this. Stuck with having to come up with something for this show. Stuck here sitting in the middle of the night with only two weeks before the event, with nothing but a blank page to showcase for your 'routine.'

Half of it's because of your work as the new 'manager' for Vil's group, half of it's because you're also trying to keep up with your normal school work too, but the biggest reason why you've hardly touched it is because you just...don't know what to do.

Most of the time, the songs you'd sing out in the courtyard would be songs your parents wrote and sang to you as a child, so they became your way of connecting back to home. Sure, you've written one or two songs of your own because you really did want to become a singer, but you always felt that those songs could never compare to the ones other people would write. And now, having to watch over Vil's group like this, you can't help yourself from comparing yourself to them.

But you technically made a promise, and you were going to go through with it. So, you decided that you would not go to sleep until you've written at least one (1) verse. Unfortunately, this has resulted in you staring at a blank piece of paper for the past 5 hours, with nothing coming up in your head to write about for your song and the time was nearing almost 5 a.m. Vil was definitely going to reprimand you tomorrow for getting no sleep, but it is technically also your fault for deciding not to tell any of them about your entry.

There's no hard feelings against them, of course, it's just that, you thought that if you did decide to tell them that you were also participating in the event, maybe it wouldn't work out too well for you. Sometimes, they can be a little bit...overbearing, to put it kindly, so you didn't want them to influence the song you're writing with their strong personalities. Vil would probably make you go through his own special skincare routine, both Rook and Kalim would give you so many compliments that you wouldn't be able to find any constructive criticism, and Ace and Deuce would probably give you too much criticism, under the guise of teasing you. And Epel? You honestly don't know how he'd react. He might just be in agreement with you as you both mutually didn't want to do this, but in the end you don't see him being very helpful seeing as how well he's been doing recently.

Jamil was probably the only one you could bring yourself to trust with this. He'd give you his solid, honest opinion without being too harsh or too jokey about it. He knows a lot about a lot of different things, so he could offer some advice on your song- what to change, what might sound better, and the like. Which would be helpful, if you had anything written down to begin with.

And in your tired, sleep-deprived state, you thought it'd be a great idea to go to him and ask for advice at this hour. So you leave your room quietly, knocking upon his door to get his attention. It didn't really take very long to wake him up in this way, and he answers the door in his pajamas with his face looking like he was fully awake and ready for anything.

"What's wrong? Did something happen?" he asks gravely as he sees the look on your face (to be fair, you almost looked like a dead person with your tired eyes and your hunched over posture).

"Not an emergency. Need advice," you mumble.

"Advice for what? Can it wait until the morning? What are you even doing up this early?" he sighs.

You take a second to respond to his questions in your sleepy, delirious state, but when your mind finally processes it, you just give him a tiny shrug and a measly, 'I dunno.'

So with yet another sigh coming from him, he gently escorts you back to your room, assuming that you're just one of those types of people who lucidly sleepwalk sometimes. But when he tries to set you back in your bed, you stubbornly stand in place, crying out, "No! I'm not going to sleep until I write something down."

"You're trying to write something?"

You nod, "Mhm, but I don't know what. My parents would write about each other. They would write about the things they love. I wanna be like them, but..." your words drift away as your mind tries to succumb to sleep.

"So you want advice on what to write?" he asks with yet another sigh, and you manage to nod your head again, stubborn as you are to not sleep until you've gotten something done. "Then my advice for you is to go to sleep. Forcing yourself like this isn't going to get you anywhere. Having a clear mind is essential to writing. And when you've got plenty of rest, go outside and try out some new things. Sometimes all it takes is a change of scenery to get your inspiration going. I'll tell the others not to bother you today, so just rest for as long as you need to," he says quietly. If you were actually lucid enough to pay attention to his body language, you'd have noticed the soft looks he was giving you, or the way that he was being as gentle as possible with you as he led you back to your bed successfully.

In any case, you accepted his advice, falling dead asleep as soon as your head hit the pillow, and Jamil is left shaking his head at your (adorable) antics as he walks back to his own room.

When you woke up, it was nearly 2 in the afternoon, and as promised, no one had bothered you at all. In fact, the whole dorm was quiet, with not a single soul to be seen. Which was completely reasonable, seeing as how technically school was still in session right now and the others would have practice for a few more hours in the ballroom of the Pomefiore building after that. In other words, you had the whole place exclusively for yourself for the rest of the day.

And yet, you found something quite peculiar sitting on your bedside table. It was a tea set, with a piping hot cup of tea sitting in the middle and a small note leaning against it. Holding up the note closer to your face, you can see that it reads,

'I've used magic to make sure that the tea stays warm no matter how many hours pass, but it starts to wear off when you touch it. The tea is an herbal remedy, supposed to help you clear your mind and stay focused. I wish you luck with your writing. Signed, Jamil'

Jamil made this? For you? Your face grows red in embarrassment as you recall asking for vague advice last night (or this morning, technically). You take a sip of the tea anyway, and you could feel inspiration coming to you as your thoughts continued to wander to Jamil.

'His smile. His kindness. His determination and his thoughtfulness. There's a million different things I could write about him and yet never reach the end of all the amazing things about him.'

And for the rest of the day, it was as if your pen had a mind of its own as it flew across the paper to retell your experience of you finding something that has always been there, yet you're only just realizing it now.

~~~~~~~~~

And so finally, the day of the event had arrived. It was organized so that the groups would perform first, then the solo performers would come after, and then the results of the competition would follow that, which admittedly made you nervous because it meant that the person you've dedicated this song to will be watching you perform said song. You dreaded the idea of being so vulnerable in front of this many people, however, if it meant that you could release all of these pent-up emotions within you, then perhaps it might do you some good to let it all out...

You dressed as nicely as you could, given the limited amount of clothing you had available to you since you've come to this world, but you thought you did a pretty good job at making yourself look presentable out there.

But now, it was finally go-time. All of that preparation, the secret trips to the woods at night to practice your singing and your dancing, the little glances over to Jamil as he's practicing his own routine- all of it is going to be put to the test here and now. The only barrier between you and first place now is your conviction to sing about your love for a certain Scarabian dorm member.

Your name gets called on the speakers, and you sheepishly walk up on stage with your microphone. Your eyes instinctively begin to search the crowd for your friends, but you stop yourself before you could find them because seeing their faces might make you even more nervous than you already are. You stand in the middle of the stage for a moment as the crowd quietens and the instrumentals of your song begins.

'Jamil, I dedicate this song to you- you who gave me the inspiration to compose, you who has given me the courage to follow my dreams. To you, who I've loved for all this time without realizing it. Please, accept my feelings as I sing just for you,' you think, taking a deep breath, and you start to sing.

'Ahead in the empty distance, Fading away unanswered, I turn off the lights to see all the colors in the shadow, Travels across an instant, Far beyond tomorrow, I'm watching a faint breath send a ripple through the water'

Your voice rings out softly, with a gentleness most wouldn't expect for a song appearing at SDC as it echoes through the stadium. And you smile as you get lost in your thoughts again about Jamil. He has always been the type of person to stay in the shadows, always trying his best to avoid any unnecessary attention being drawn to him, but alas, it was exactly because of this that his presence made such faint ripples in your heart to begin with. As the music kicks up a notch, you begin to start your carefully choreographed dance that accompanied this song.

'When I lose myself, I become you, Ichi kara juu leads me back to, Here inside your veil, Finer than a grand view, We'll take a dive, Not even tides can come between us,'

And you recall clear as day how when you were basically delirious from sleep deprivation, your mind's first thoughts were to go to him. Because you knew that you could trust Jamil with anything (despite his many warnings that you shouldn't trust him as much as you do). Your dance suddenly changes its slow momentum as the song progresses to be a bit faster.

'Was it you who I've been searching for, Spent my life alone and waited for, So tenderly and endlessly, You made me whole, you made me whole'

Coming to Twisted Wonderland has been in equal parts exciting and fun, yet so terribly lonely for you. You were lonely even in your own world, never having many friends who would support your interests, but Jamil always made you feel like you could be yourself around him. He was always just,,, safe.

'And the walls I built they melt away, With every touch in your embrace, Every day, every night, every note I play, You made me whole, you made me whole.'

You've become truly entranced into your thoughts, the lyrics and the dance movements coming to you naturally as your mind focuses on other things. From the crowd (that you've long since forgotten about), the people listening in were stunned to silence, enchanted by your voice and your song. Even your group of friends were staring at you with wide eyes as you continued to sing. Especially Jamil.

'How could I have been so blinded, Running away in circles, I hear my doubts drop, When I see you in the mirror,

Right beneath the surface, Washed away my sorrows, I feel your heartbeat, As it echoes through the hour'

Jamil can only stare at you with his eyes as wide as saucers, just like everyone else. Has he ever heard you sing before? No, he doesn't think he has, but he knows that you auditioned with Grim, Ace, and Deuce in front of Rook and Vil, so with a voice as beautiful as yours, why weren't you picked to represent the school? There must have been some sort of mistake in the auditioning process. You clearly had more talent than Ace and Deuce combined...

'When I lose myself, I become you, You are the moment I belong to, Here without our names,'

'Yes, a rose by any other name would smell as sweet... Jamil is so much more than just a servant to the Al-Asims. Oh, to be rid of the Viper name so that he no longer needs to suffer like he has.'

'We're back to being brand new, There's no need to hide, Just you and I until forever'

And as you repeat the chorus, Jamil can't help but to feel like certain parts of this song are quite familiar to him. Like the lyrics are grabbing hold of his heart and caressing it with the tenderness of a lover.

'Was it you who I heard through the door, When I cried and had no place to go? Every day, every night, every note I play, You made me whole, you made me whole.

Tracing and tracing the sunset, Appearing a zero and finally, Now I remember, Oh I have never lived a day without you

Untie the layer of memories, Louder we spin with the melody You are the only, only one for me'

No no no, this couldn't possibly be what he's thinking. This song is clearly a romantic ballad for someone that you must've fallen in love with at some point in time (either here or in your world). This 'familiarity' is just something his mind is making up. And just as he begins to dismiss his initial thoughts, you happen to finally make eye contact with him. You repeat the chorus again with a look in your eyes that convey everything that you're singing and more as you lose yourself to the music.

'I'll never believe I'm alone, In the end, we begin, 'till we meet again, You made me whole, you made me whole

I know I'm never alone.'

And with that, the song comes to an end, and the instrumentals fade out until the auditorium just sits still in complete silence. About a solid minute passes of silence, and you stare up at the crowd with an awkward look on your face. Thinking that this was something that the crowd has disliked, you were just about to apologize for your performance, but then the entire place erupts in an excited cheer.

"WHAT AN AN AWE-INSPIRING PERFORMANCE FROM A STUDENT AT NRC! WHY I DO BELIEVE THAT THIS MUST'VE BEEN ONE OF THE BEST WE'VE SEEN SO FAR!" you hear the announcer exclaim loudly on the speakers. You stare in shock at the loud crowd, looking at all of the happy faces (some were legitimately crying, namely Rook) cheering for you. In your embarrassment, your face reddens and you try to hide it behind your hands as you let out a meek 'thank you' to the microphone. You bow quickly and move to go backstage, but then you hear someone starting to chant 'Encore!' with many others following suit.

You leave it to the announcers to try to calm the crowd- there was absolutely no way you were going to sing another song up there again. You walk through the halls of the backstage area to get back to... Well, you didn't know where you wanted to go right now. Your face was so red right now and you were so embarrassed that you didn't know if you'd be able to handle the reactions of your friends congratulating you. Even worse, you don't know how you'd handle having Jamil congratulating you, with his stupidly cute smile and his devilishly charming eyes. You'd probably faint.

But speak of the devil and he shall appear, you see Jamil and the rest of your friends in Vil's group walking up to you with various different reactions on their faces. Predictably, Ace was teasing you for hiding away your good singing voice, Deuce and Epel both congratulated you like a normal person would, and Rook and Kalim were both brought to tears at your performance- to the point where Vil and Jamil basically had to rip them away from you (with the condition that you'd give Rook your autograph). Vil stared at you with his normal stern look at first before smiling and patting your head, saying something along the lines of you becoming yet another rival of his.

Jamil, though, he waited until everyone else was done with you before approaching you. Your heart had calmed down tremendously by then, but when you saw him walking up to you, you could feel your heart pounding inside your chest nervously. He gives you his most charming smile with a proud look on his face, and he says gently,

"You were amazing up there. I had no idea you could sing like that."

"Hehe, thanks," you chuckle nervously, looking anywhere but his handsome face, "I-uh... Remember that time I went to your room asking for advice on what to write?" he nods. "Yeah, well, that was for this, so uhm... Thank you, for, you know- giving me inspiration to write that song..."

"I gave you inspiration?" he hums, "I only told you to rest. I don't recall doing anything particularly inspiring." You let out a tiny squeak as you try to explain,

"Well! You know how it goes, one day you've got nothing and then another, you've got everything! You don't need to do anything specific to be inspired, it can just come out of nowhere!" you chuckle awkwardly, and in your nervousness you continued to talk, "And besides, you're plenty inspiration for me without even having to do anything! I wrote it for you, after all!" After the words left your mouth, you gasp and cover your mouth with your hands as your face burns bright red in embarrassment.

Jamil stares at you in shock for a moment after hearing your words. You wrote that...for him? Really? Him?

Well, he did have his suspicions of that at first, with the lyrics sounding as familiar as they did, but he brushed it off earlier, thinking that there would be no way that you would've written something so...so... romantic, for him. Did you really feel that way about him? Did you really reciprocate his feelings for you-- the ones that he's decided long ago to bury beneath the ground because there was absolutely no way you were going to like him that way?

Only one way to find out, he supposes.

Jamil slowly brings his hand to lift your face to look at him. The look in your eyes betrayed many of your emotions- embarrassment, anxiety...and hidden in it's depths, he thought he could see hints of adoration within them. In the past, he has considered using his unique spell to make you fall in love with him, however he has always decided against it, for one reason or another. So he knows that the emotions behind your eyes are real- that the lyrics for your song, which was made for him, was real.

So he takes a small leap of faith, choosing to kiss the side of your cheek, "Thank you, Prefect. It was a very lovely song."

"No," you say breathlessly (you were also in shock because you thought he was going to kiss your lips), "Thank you for being my muse."

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

OKAY, admittedly, this took me forever, but that's mostly on me for writing so much exposition before getting to the *actual* request part of the story lol Anon I hope that I didn't keep you waiting for too long for this request, and I hope that it was to your liking!

#Literally I copy-pasted this onto google sheets to see the word count and it took up like 10 pages 😱😱#Don't say I don't feed you guys lmaooo #disney twisted wonderland #tswt #twisted wonderland #twst x reader #jamil #jamil viper #jamil x reader #jamil viper x reader #Kyuupid's asks #duchess kyuupid #twst imagines #twisted wonderland x reader #twst headcanons #disney twst #x reader #fem reader #gn!reader

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