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devilscastle69 · 5 months

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panic! at the drugstore (j/jk, nanami)

hiiiii @ezynse merry xmas, happy new year, happy day. <3

im ur secret santa. <33 i hope u like this fic. ily. i want u to know the j key on my keyboard is challenged so i wrote "Goo" by accident sm ToT

(sorry for the title i dont even rlly listen to them i- )

please keep this to sneeze kink blogs only! 18+ only!

Summary stuff:

Fandom: J/JK

Characters: Nan//ami, Go/jo, Ijic/hi, Yu/ji,

Pairings: slight nana/go. in the way la croix has flavor

Good future AU (no bad stuff, everyones an adult. set in 2023)

As soon as Nanami detected Gojo’s presence, he should have turned on his heel and left. Instead, he’d gone into the drugstore, reasoning that the necessity of his trip outweighed the aggravation it’d cause. He wasn’t naive enough to hope he’d get out of here without any additional psychic damage but maybe he’d luck out and Gojo would—

“Nanami!” Gojo sang from a few aisles over. This was starting to play out like one of his nightmares. Verbatim. “Wow, you shop here too?!”

“Not anymore.”

Gojo laughed easily and brushed off the obvious rejection with a wave of his hand. “Oh, don’t act like you’re not happy to see your best buddy!”

“I have no such thing.” Nanami sighed and drew out a cough in the process which he managed to muffle into the sleeve of his jacket. Anyone else would have read the room and left him alone, but Gojo continued to chatter on at a volume unfit for the public space they were in. If only he’d move back a few centimeters so Nanami could escape without having to push past him and potentially causing a bigger scene than they’re already causing. He’d already used up his energy—both cursed and otherwise—at work today and he was quickly fading.

For the first time, he wished he could focus on the bubblegum pop blasting through the speakers with its sentiments of Sakura blossoms and old times; it would beat trying to follow the embellished story Gojo was telling. He pinched the bridge of his nose. To make matters worse, the temperature change had caused the congestion that had mostly settled by the end of the train ride over here to return with a vengeance. His nose threatened to drip and he risked a small sniffle. Immediately, he recognized it as a mistake when the lingering prickle sharpened and traveled deeper into his nose.

As if he hadn’t sneezed enough today.

“And after all that I got some wagashi at this great place near the hospital, Great Luck right? And haha it was! Anyway, the point is… I got some stuff for Yuji, but then I got hungry waiting for the car so I figured I’d better make up for it.”

Nanami made a point of checking his watch as a last ditch effort for a polite departure, less for Gojo’s sake and more for the sake of everyone else in this godforsaken store. But most of all for his own sake, considering he’s quickly losing the battle against the pertinent tickle up his right nostril. “I don’t have time to talk,” he said evenly, breath only wavering once he’s gotten the last word out.

Unfortunately, Gojo clasped his shoulder, refusing to let him leave. “Did you take the train here? We could carpool instead, Ijichi is—”

“ht’KKxt!” Nanami interrupted with a poorly restrained sneeze directed into the sleeve of his jacket.

“Bless you!” Gojo’s head lolled to the side; he had the decency to release him, but otherwise didn’t move out of his personal space. Nanami nodded and turned away. “Wow, that sounded painful. You okay?”

It was. “hGNXt’ch! h’kKt…chh.” Damnit. “Hh- kmpht’Chhh!” He might not have been able to see Gojo’s eyes, but he sure could feel them on him. This tickle just wasn’t going to quit until he let it out, and he’d rather end this as soon as possible. “h’eSCHh!”

“Oh bless you.” Gojo, ever uncaring of displaying any decorum, took zero steps away from him. He examined him from a few different angles, tapping his chin as he hovered. “Bet I can guess why you’re here today!”

“Excuse me.” He pinched the bridge of his nose and rubbed small circles all the way into the inner corners of his eyes and tried to ignore the heat that had risen to his ears. His head pounded even harder than it had before.

“Always so formal, huh?”

Always so inappropriately casual, huh? Nanami glanced at Gojo’s basket and its contents: strawberry shampoo, bags of candy, winter apple body wash, face masks, moisturizer, cotton candy flavored lip gloss, and more items he couldn’t quite make out, but surely none of them were essential enough to inconvenience Ijichi in the way Gojo was. Everything he’s learned about Satoru Gojo has been against his will, and now he’s horrified that his brain was wasting the time wondering if he’s one of those people who can’t go to the store and truly buy one item.

“So, how was your—”

“I don’t have time to talk. Excuse me.” Risking a shoulder check, Nanami walked towards the aisles. He tried not to sniffle more than strictly necessary and tried to ignore the extra set of footsteps behind him. Key word was tried.

“Oh wow, you really sound terrible.” Gojo said sympathetically, continuing to haunt Nanami all the way to the cold and flu aisle. “How long have you had that cold?”

Why did it have to be Gojo?

“Stop following me.”

“You forgot your basket, though.”

So he did. “I don’dt need that much.” It was true, but Nanami accepted the basket anyway from the pouting man.

“Mm, really? You kinda sound like you’re dying, y’know.” Gojo wandered around the aisle and picked up a box of medicine that he held up to his blindfolded eyes. “No offense.” A man started walking in their direction, took one look at Gojo, and immediately turned around. Nanami released a small forlorn sigh through gritted teeth.

“I’ll be finde.” he said, clearing his throat. He could curb the hoarse quality his voice had taken on, but the congestion was something he’d have to live with for now. “You mentionded Ijichi is waiting?”

“Yeah, so hurry up, Nanami!”

“I will n’dot be ri-ridi’hhgg wih—” He’d gotten distracted and hadn’t noticed that the itch from before had been slowly respawning. Gojo gave a questioning hum as Nanami his knuckle to his nose, sniffled sharply, and cleared his throat again. “I will not be riding with you.”

“Aw, not with me?”

Nanami shot him a glare. All of his efforts were in vain because the urge to sneeze returned with a vengeance and demanded his attention in a way that put Gojo’s efforts to shame. The prickle spread like wildfire through his sinuses, and in spite of his efforts in snuffing it out, he’d allowed himself to get distracted enough to give the enemy the advantage. “Hh-!” He inhaled sharply before shoving the back of his wrist up to his nose. “nGhthsCH! hh’NGXTCHh’ueh!” That last one had been particularly loud but had been just as unrelieving as its predecessors. “hehH’TSChhiuh!”

Gojo patted his back. There was a warmth to his palm that Nanami could feel even through the layers of fabric acting as a buffer between them. “Bless you.” Using only his free hand, he easily broke the seal of a travel pack of tissues on the shelf and nudged a few tissues into Nanami’s palm.

“You’re supposed to pay first.” In spite of the protest, he fixed his glasses that were in danger of falling off his face and accepted the tissues; by noon, his handkerchief had become unusable and he’d already gone through the tissues he’d accepted at the train station this morning, so his options were limited. He turned away for a moment to blow his nose. While his efforts were productive, they did little to kill the taunting buzzing in the back of his nose. He pinched his nostrils shut from behind the tissue and willed the tickle to recede.

“Not yet! Hey if I buy your stuff will you ride with me? Wouldn’t you get back sooner that way? Oh, bless—”

“hh’MPHtchh!”

“—you again!”

He took a moment to massage the bridge of his nose in a silent apology to himself for the poor attempt at stifling before clearing his throat and bringing up sodden tissue to wipe the lingering moisture from the red rims of his nostrils.

No amount of free cold medicine would make spending his free time with this absolute menace in a small enclosed space worth it, but at the same time it’d be less aggravating for him to just go along with it in the long run. Gojo’s already made it clear he has no intention of leaving him alone. He gave half a nod and picked up the first bottle of cold medicine that he saw and a bag of face masks and took a few steps in the direction of the check out.

“That’s all you’re buying?” Gojo asked. His lips formed an exaggerated frown and his forehead wrinkled as if he was bewildered by Nanami’s shopping habits.

Nanami was too busy fighting a losing battle against the threat of another sneeze to tell Gojo to stop adding more items to the basket, but he managed to shoot him a pointed glare before his expression crumpled. “Hh- hehhH- …mPHTtshhiuh! Pardon,” he said more out of habit than anything and wiped his nose again, “I have more than enough now.”

“So frugal.”

He supposed the cough drops, vicks, lotion tissues, vitamins, and nasal spray wouldn’t hurt, especially if accepting them will get Nanami out of here faster. Since he’d already opened the tissues, he figured he might as well put on one of the masks in the pack. His glasses immediately fogged and he tucked them into his inner coat pocket.

After they’d approached the register Gojo told the cashier they would be paying together and nuzzled his cheek against Nanami’s shoulder in an intimate way. He’d smack him later.

The cold pierced through Nanami’s coat as soon as they opened the door. As annoying as this situation is, he can’t say he’s upset that he won’t have to walk back to the train station. They turned a corner and Gojo pointed out the car.

“I know, I know.” Gojo opened the door to the passenger side and abruptly wrapped an arm around Nanami’s shoulder, yanking him into the field of vision as if he’d run away. “That took a little longer than I said, but look who I ran into!”

“Nanamin!” Itadori called out from the back seat with a cheery wave. Nanami is just as surprised to see him, though he’d mostly tuned out Gojo’s story. “No way, what a coincidence!”

Nanami shot Gojo a withering look and gave a slight bow to Itadori. “Itadori-kun…”

“Think fast!” Gojo called out and threw a bag of candy at Itadori.

He caught it easily. “Wow, thank you, Gojo-sensei!”

“Gojo-san, we were meant to be back over a half hour ago—“

“Ijichiiii, you need to relax. Seriously, you’re already getting frown lines, that’s no good. Look, I even got something for you. Tadaaa~” He dropped a pack of instant udon into his lap and a face mask and made himself comfortable in the passenger seat. “Can you drop Nanami Kento-kun off first?”

“Don’t call me that.”

Ijichi sighed and took a moment before he half-heartedly thanked Gojo for the gifts. Then he turns to look at the backseat. “Of course, Nanami-san.” He and Nanami shared a quick glance as the cause of their stress tore into his own pack of candy and ate it noisily.

“Oh, why are you wearing a mask, Nanamin?” Itadori asked as Nanami sat next to him and put on his seatbelt. “Do you have a cold?”

“It’s alright,” Nanami assured him and cleared his throat, “just a mild one.”

“I dunno if mild is the right word there, Nanamin.” Gojo interjected as Ijichi finally started driving.

Itadori’s face fell and Nanami sincerely considered kicking the back of Gojo’s chair, though he was too busy pinching his nose shut over the fabric of the mask to stifle a sneeze that had nearly escaped his detection. “hGXxt’chshh!- excuse me.”

“Bless you. I hope you feel better soon.” Itadori frowned and offered him a piece of candy. Nanami shook his head and Itadori shrugged and ate it himself.

“You’re gonna pop an eardrum like that,” Gojo chastised, clicking his tongue.

All of this was past the point of the nightmare he’d thought he was having earlier and was starting to veer into the fever dream category. Perhaps in more ways than one. Gojo flicked through the radio stations until he found what he was looking for and started singing along with a pop song. Itadori joined him and they pointed at each other while Nanami reflected on his life choices and folded his arms more tightly over his chest.

Nanami glanced at Ijichi’s GPS. Twenty minutes of this felt like a death sentence. His limbs had started aching a few hours ago and now that the adrenaline was long dead and he was sitting again, he felt it in full force. The sudden urge to lean his temple against the foggy window arose and he indulged in it, ever so slowly pressing his forehead to the window.

While Gojo was especially pitchy, the noise at least took the focus off of Nanami as he muffled a series of throat-tearing coughs against the crook of his arm. His lungs gave a slight whine as he regained his breath and he could feel the silent attention the other three men were giving him.

“Can you breathe okay, Nanamin?” Itadori asked, patting his shoulder. If it were anyone else, Nanami would have batted the hand away, but doing that to Itadori would feel like kicking a puppy and it's not like he was heartless. While most people become hardened and jaded after living the life of a jujutsu sorcerer, Itadori remained as kind and genuine as ever over the years.

Instead he nodded. “Yes. Don’t worry.”

Itadori gave him a thumbs up. The singing continued and he pitied Ijichi for how long he’s had to put up with Satoru Gojo today.

To Gojo’s credit, he toned down the singing, but Nanami almost wished he’d go back to his caterwauling, because his nose had chosen that moment to betray him yet again. It itched like mad and putting pressure on the tip of his nose did nothing to chase the feeling away. He did his best to muffle it into his sleeve anyway, hoping the extra layers would do anything to make it less intrusive than he knew it would be. “Hh- hgzt’SChhiuh! heHMPHhshh’ieuh!- pardon me.”

“Aw, bless you,” Gojo chimed in, stretching out his seatbelt as he turned his body around to face him. “Do you want my jacket, Nanamin?” He puckered his lips.

This time he let his shoe dig into the bag of Gojo’s chair. “No.”

Ijichi quietly turned up the heat. “Give him a break, Gojo-san,” he said tiredly.

The rest of the ride quite literally blurred together as Nanami fought to keep his eyes open. With the heat on, his chills were kept at bay, and it was easy to drift off to sleep. He jolted and shook himself awake at least three times before the familiar building came into view, and the third time, it’d been because Itadori was saying his name to get his attention. Ijichi pulled up closer and stopped the car. Nanami thanked him for the ride and held up a hand to stop Itadori from offering a side hug.

“Get well soon, Nana—”

Nanami shut the car door and ignored the rest of Gojo’s sentence. Getting into the apartment was a blur, but it wouldn’t be the first time he’d come home in rough shape, relying on autopilot. He immediately hung his jacket and loosened his tie, and then he removed his face mask, cringing as he pinched away the lingering moisture from his nostrils. He’d done his best to avoid rubbing his nose all day, but his efforts seemed to be in vain considering how sore it still was.

As much as he wanted to just collapse into the couch, his discipline won out and he managed to undress. Though, not without challenge. “huhh…HGSCHh’uh!” He sneezed all over his chest, too slow to cover in his exhausted state. Undeniably, it was a relief to be able to sneeze freely in the privacy of his bedroom. “hh-...hDJtSchh’euh! hhaH’DTzSHhh’ih!”

He found the tissues from the bag and blew his nose, letting out a slight hum of relief as some of the congestion came free. His eyes still ached and with a quick dose of medicine, he was ready to close them. He laid in bed with the extra throw blanket atop the comforter and waited for the chills to die down so he could sleep.

It was restful for the first few hours. As he’d anticipated, he woke up in the early hours of the morning coughing, hair clinging to his forehead with sweat, and his mouth bone dry.

3 AM.

It was too early for this. He forces himself into the kitchen to fill a tall glass with water and to find a few more items from the bag. He took the cough drops out and put one in his mouth and placed the rest of the bag on the bedside table.

Somehow knowing that he needed as much sleep as possible hindered him from doing so. He drifted in and out of sleeping for the entire morning, occasionally walking up mumbling something incomprehensible.

He was finally asleep until his phone went off a few minutes past 6 AM. It wasn’t his alarm, but an obnoxious ding.

Gojo:

heyyy nanamin~

… Nanami clenched his jaw as he watched the animated ellipses bubble and waited to see what could possibly be so important to disturb him.

Gojo:

good morning! 🌞hope u get some rest today hahaha :D you sounded awful 🤒dont go dying </3

Typically jujutsu sorcerers have about as much paid sick leave as he would’ve had at his former company: basically none. What kind of fucked up—

Nanami frowned, realizing he’d missed some other notifications, including the ones canceling his mission for the day. It’s easy to put the pieces together. He had to put the phone down to sneeze a few times, and it continued to ding throughout his fit.

Gojo:

we’ll have to go out when youre better!! next friday?? theres a new barcade i wanna try and then KARAOKE!!!!!! :DDD

Gojo:

Nanamiiiiii D:

Gojo:

don’t leave me on read

Gojo:

bless youuuuu :3

Gojo:

no i cant hear u im just guessing

Gojo:

was i right?? o.O

Nanami silenced his phone and went back to sleep, deciding to address the new situation, along with the strange feelings that’d started coming up, later. For now, at least he could relax.

Nanami:

Thank you.

#snzfic #snz #sneeze kink #my writing #j/jk #cold snz #sneeze fic #snz fic

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jalebi-weds-bluetooth · 3 years

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Hi Dear Jalebi, I demand your analysis :) What are your thoughts on IPKKND might have some typical track if the audience, TRP, actors departure didn't influence it otherwise? Let me explain, IPKKND was supposed to have a longer office track (that wasn't common though, I would've loved it) but the TRP was low, so Shantivan track was introduced. Then, I read that, Sana Maqbul (Lavanya) wanted to quit IPKKND, that's why the quick breakup???

Is that why they didn't give us the COMMON AF *jealousy and hero's ex GF turns villain* track? Then again, Anjali was jealous and sad about Khushi after the first reveal of Shyam, and it looked like track about Didi Ki Saut was beginning. But again ratings dropped and the fandom didn't react well (kinda protested), Anjali quickly stopped showing jealousy and Dadi was introduced to give ArShi a common saas-bahu vibe.

Hello Dear Analysis Anon!

I am going to over answer this with a lot of detail because I have a lot of thoughts, as always! Time to get into my thinking cape/coat:

This analysis is going to cover:

(1) every example you just mentioned,

(2) my thoughts on external things affecting plot of the story,

(3) things/plots/ tracks that could've been if not for external factors

Examples

1) IPKKND was supposed to have a longer office track (that wasn't common though, I would've loved it) but the TRP was low, so Shantivan track was introduced

As far as I can remember from one of the writers' interviews, the office track was cut short because this was a show on Star Plus - which, as a channel, caters to 'family audience' therefore needs to have sanskaar and stuff at its core. Hence the rude shortening of the office track and weird 'makeover' and 'desi-dying' Lavanya. And hence we had a very weird four months of an eighteen-twenty years old Khushi teaching someone about sanskaars and suddenly knowing everything about a household when Bua-ji or even Payal would've been a more apt choice for this 'tutoring'.

If this was a Star One show, they might've not shifted out of the office for the longest time!

2) Sana Maqbul (Lavanya) wanted to quit IPKKND, that's why the quick breakup??? Is that why they didn't give us the COMMON AF *jealousy and hero's ex GF turns villain* track?

I did not know that's why the quick end happened. Honestly that happened perfectly. I think Lavanya had an inkling about their relationship heading south right when Arnav told everyone he's getting engaged to her. But she chooses to not see it until one day she couldn't. Maybe we could've gotten more from La but if you see carefully, La clearly knows that this relationship is now just for face. Bless her heart for trying though, trying with a smile!

Also, again I think the writers never thought of making Lavanya a vamp. They had enough material with Arnav-Khushi's own differences, Shyam and Buaji playing enough roles to mess up Arnav-Khushi's love story. I probably think they always had planned Lavanya as a beautiful person who was unintentionally caught in all of this. I feel they planned La and Khushi's friendship - they clearly enjoyed writing two completely different people becoming closest of friends.

The writers/creators deserve full credit for this.

3) Then again, Anjali was jealous and sad about Khushi after the first reveal of Shyam, and it looked like track about Didi Ki Saut was beginning. But again ratings dropped and the fandom didn't react well (kinda protested), Anjali quickly stopped showing jealousy and Dadi was introduced to give ArShi a common saas-bahu vibe.

This is all true.

My Thoughts on External Things Affecting Plot

It's not necessarily bad that external things affect plot. Feedback, from channel or fans, can help the show to pivot and understand what is working and what's not. The problem is when feedback is implemented regardless whether or not it matches the theme of the plot.

I loved:

1) The channel moving out of the office because the power dynamic was too great and the contract terms were very unhealthy and Arnav Singh Raizada deserved to get sued at least 10 times by the end of this contract so yes, the shorter the office track the better. Literally the saving grace is they didn't "fall in love" there.

2) The fans protesting against Didi Ki Saut track. Not because I hated the track - I think it was executed in the worst manner! From identical visual languages to show Arnav-Anjali and Arnav-Khushi scenes (which didn't work to show Arnav being equally torn between the two most important women in his life, but just made the audience get creeped by Arnav-Anjali's relationship) and writing scenes of Anjali getting offended by Arnav-Khushi's intimacy/Arnav spending time with his wife, on her birthday, in his bedroom... did she expect Khushi would just *disappear* in a her and Arnav's bedroom? Like that was the worst way to show a compelling plot line and giving people some weird thoughts about Anjali-Arnav (which I hate because I LOVE Anjali-Arnav).

3) Barun walking out when the plot was literally done. Yes, thank you!

4) Barun going to do a movie led to the kidnapping track, which I liked a lot. No, not the nonsense of Manorama Bond fishing out Delhi's security camera footages in vintage recording system - but the fact that given the chasm and angst between Arnav & Khushi, only something bigger than their misunderstanding could force Arnav to give weight to his feelings and for Khushi to be able to forgive him. And his life was at stake. It was a sharp reminder to both of them that they lost so much by not communicating that it doesn't matter what they had to say - they loved each other, they just needed to get back and fight off everything together.

And then again, there are things I HATED that happened because of external factors:

1) The channel for the whole La becomes Desi. And the overdose of sanskaar and tradition that followed for a few months *uggggh* Clearly the channel demanded this from the plot because family, traditions and all are important to Star Plus (wtf are they thinking for Ghum Hai Kisi Ke? though or YRKKH?) And even the Aarav track and Mrs. India - two tracks with terrible execution - were very Star Plus recommended content. Just now Saath Nibhana Saathiya 2 had a Mrs. Surat/Gujarat track and Yeh Hai Chaahatein had a miracle child popping up...

2) The fans demanding Arnav & Khushi's proximity. The whole hut scene was *noooooo*. Lack of consent, body doubles, GLARING logical loopholes and them just trying to do it when one of them is really not in the mood and they were both so out of character. @phati-sari explains this really well in her post (just search for the hut to get all relevant posts on her blog)

3) Barun? Not exactly - he's never in control of the plot so really it's the writers that kinda know what to do with his presence and absence. Even if they get a short time, it's upto the creators who know if they use the last 2-3 weeks for stretching a random track as much as they can and give a rushed ending or quickly wrap up a crap track and give a satisfactory ending. A good example of this is Lavanya's exit - although rushed was dealt with grace, important conversations and memorable hugs. Bad one is the end of the show - I know Barun gave his papers but I wish they went the La way with the end of the show - important convos, teary hugs and a sweet moment (they tried their best tho...)

It's an ITV trend though to not plan for the end of a show... they stretch a crappy track as much as they can and have like a 2 min epilogue. Kasautii 2.0 was the funniest cause they had all misconceptions cleared, Komolika and Mr. Bajaj die and then have a weird 2 min pillow fight to show 'happy family'... guess in that way I'm glad we had whatever we did with IPKKND!

Possible Tracks Then

So if external factors didn't influence the show, we might have had the following:

1) A longer office track. It would end the way it did in canon though. I think it was prewritten that at one point Khushi would tear up the contract and hold him accountable for everything Arnav did. Just instead of 3-4 days it would've been 10-15 days after the contract.

2) Didi Ki Saut track. Honestly that was compelling if executed right. Sometimes you can have an antagonist without becoming a villain, Anjali the perfect character for that.

3) A separation track. I'm pretty sure Arnav-Khushi could have separated at some point in their six months marriage - this is just my inkling and not something I heard in an interview unlike the above two. If given full reign to writing, we probably would've gotten an angst heavy stuff at some point post marriage/6 months.

4) A remarriage track sans Dadi. We know why Dadi was introduced (honestly I didn't mind her, it was a track done well and kinda to redeem Arnav in front of the public eyes. It's a perfect track cause Arnav is 'nice' for standing up for her and kinda heals the wounds he caused in the first few months of the marriage by retorting someone who tells Khushi everything he told her...) But anyway I do think a remarriage was in the works, not because of TRPs but the way their whole 'marriage' was framed and how Khushi was broken because of the lack of everything in it. And they deserved one w/o the devastation that night brought.

5) The 'marriage' would've been a live in. Arnav and Khushi's elopement was supposed to be darker in nature*. Their 'marriage' would've had no religious nor legal validity, therefore a stark contradiction to everything Khushi stood for... but you can't have that in ITV. *By dark I don't mean sexual violence - never.*

6) The whole IPKKND was meant to be darker. I am glad for the romantic comedy though! I think their balance of angst and comedy pre marriage was perfect! Not sure post marriage because it felt like a loop of going back to square one with no progress. But I think things were meant to be less subtle, more tragic and dramatized. So I think we could've gotten extremely angsty periods post marriage with a slow, gentle lull to the romance/comedy. While I am extremely glad for the lightheartedness, I wish I could've read what the whole original concept for Arnav/Khushi was!

7) Arnav revealing the truth to Khushi would've been different. We know the distasteful suicide track quickly came as a way to push Arnav's buttons and have him confess the truth of his elopement to Khushi. And that came from Barun going away - hence the quick kidnapping track and everything. So if Barun didn't go away, I honestly don't know how the revelation would happen. Would Arnav start piecing things together from information and things about Shyam in Laxminagar? Would Arnav end up helping and hospitalizing Shashi who would tell him the truth? Would Arnav come across any hidden wedding card Buaji could've had printed for Shyam-Khushi or even Shyam's fake kundili? Given the Gupta house wasn't the place where Shyam covered his tracks... was this where Arnav would start seeing things? Or guilt ridden, would Garima/Khushi/Madhumati tell Arnav the truth? Something was meant to happen for this revelation, whether it's Arnav believing Khushi or just getting further evidence against her - I... don't know! I wish I knew what the writers had in store.

We highly appreciate for not showing a typical Nanand against Bhaabi trope, also for not making La villain, but would it result differently if things didn't have a hand? Imma cry thinking Anjali jealous and La villain! meh! What a feast for the eyes it was to see ONLY ONE VILLAIN and less negativity in a tellywood show. Baas bohut hua my casual verbiage. By demand I mean no pressure, please take your valuable time and reply whenever you feel like it.Take Loads of Care and Chocolates your way <3

I hope the above answered all your queries :) Thank you for all the chocolates and care!!!

Phew this was rather long! A big hug to anyone who went through it! See ya later!

- Jalebi

#ask #analysis anon #THIS IS LONG #so many thoughts #how arnav khushi's confrontation would've been #the only answer I crave #analysis #ipkknd #iss pyaar ko kya naam doon

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sassycassie-s-writing · 3 years

Text

A Court Rebuilt

By: SassyShoulderAngel319

Fandom/Character(s): A Court of Thorns and Roses Series/Tamlin, Rhysand, Feyre

Rating: PG/K+

Original Idea: I have no idea where this one came from. I just thought, “What if Rhys’ sister actually survived?” and made a few detail alterations and wrote this.

Notes: (Masterlist)(By Character)(About Me) Don’t really have anything else to say here besides: again, I have not read ACOSF and dunno if I’m going to, but there were loose ends I wanted to tie up. Enjoy!

^^^^^

I’d intended to winnow to the edge of the wards surrounding the manor and then walk to the front doors on foot.

I was quite surprised when I just landed on the front porch. There was no trace of the wards. No protections around the manor house. None that I could detect anyway. The front door was slightly open.

I dismissed my wings before I left home, but I felt the phantom feeling of them shuddering as I pushed the door open a little more.

Inside, the grand entrance was dusty. Dark.

Empty.

I reached out with my magic, searching for the presence of the High Lord of the manor. Please don’t be dead, I thought.

There he was. In the back. The kitchen, if I remembered correctly. It had been centuries since I’d been here, and even then I’d been very young, for a High Fae. His presence was powerful, incredible, but nowhere near the scale and scope of Rhysand’s.

I stayed on alert as I made my way through the manor, heading toward the kitchen. But there were no sounds. No servants bustling around. No sentries patrolling the garden or the halls. The manor was little more than an empty shell. An unkempt, hollow husk of its former glory and beauty.

I made it to the kitchen. The door was wide open.

Instead of going in, I leaned against the doorframe.

Tamlin’s back was to me. He looked… wan. The kitchen was barely in better shape than the rest of the house.

He stiffened as he realized he wasn’t alone, but didn’t whirl around, claws out, to defend himself. Didn’t even turn to see me. I wondered if he knew it was me without looking. He didn’t seem to indicate so.

“Good morning,” I said.

That was when he whirled. His eyes—once the vibrant green of budding trees, now dull—widened as he took me in. “You’re supposed to be dead. Centuries ago,” he said.

“Well, technically, I have you to thank for the fact that I’m not,” I replied. “Do you remember?”

“Get out,” Tamlin snarled. There was no beastly bite to the words. No fangs in his mouth. I didn’t move. Just folded my arms. “Does your perfect brother know you’re here?”

“No. I’d like to keep it that way. I didn’t come to fight, Tamlin. I came to thank you, actually. For delaying your father and brothers long enough that I managed to survive. Yes, my head was bleeding profusely as I drifted downstream. Yes, I nearly drowned and my wings were mostly torn off. Yes, I’m still gloriously furious about it. But when Rhys found me alive and got me home to heal, I was still thankful you stopped your father from finishing me off long enough for me to survive.”

“Are you done?”

“Not yet.” I held my hand out. A small sheaf of papers appeared on my palm. I set it on the kitchen table. “I’ve spent the last week brainstorming ways to rebuild your court. Feyre isn’t sorry for the devastation she left behind; and frankly I don’t think she should be. I certainly am not, given how you treated her after what happened Under the Mountain. But the fact remains that the Spring Court borders the mortal lands, and a strong border is necessary to keep any faeries with bad intentions out of there, and any mortals who have a death wish away from here. Tarquin is fine leaving some of his sentries on the border for as long as necessary, but eventually it would be most beneficial for the Spring Court to monitor its own lands.”

Tamlin growled. A deep, low, guttural sound that made braver faeries than me shudder. As it was, I grew up with Rhysand, Azriel, and Cassian. Tamlin didn’t scare me. “Get out,” he snapped again.

“Those papers have a few different detailed plans for building your court up again. You can use any one you like. Or you can use none of them. That’s your choice. This isn’t the Night Court sticking its nose in the affairs of your court. Like I said, my brother doesn’t even know I’m here. This is just one person who owes you their life trying to get yours back on track. I didn’t spend the past week drafting those plans out of the goodness of my heart. I did it to make us even. I’ve spent centuries being dead to the outside world. Everywhere except home. And, if anyone asks you who came up with this, they won’t believe you if you say I gave them to you. It would be in your best interest, anyway, to say you came up with it yourself. Show you’re still strong.

“But right now, someone needed to kick you in the pants in the right direction. And since I owed you and you didn’t even know it, I figured it could be me.” I shrugged.

Tamlin’s lip curled. “You sound like your self-righteous brother.”

Don’t pick a fight, don’t pick a fight, don’t pick a fight, I reminded myself. Rhys wasn’t self-righteous. He could be cold and calculating sometimes, but his instincts were usually right. I had to remind myself that Tamlin was bitter and broken after everything. He’d been kicked after he was already down, and lashing out.

I wanted to put on the cold, amused, wicked mask Rhys used to wear as the High Lord of the terrifying Night Court; but that mask had never belonged to me, and I would never find it comfortable. “After our parents died, he was the one who finished raising me, so I suppose that would make sense,” I said levelly instead. “I’m trying to help you, Tamlin. For your sake as well as well as the sake of Prythian as a whole. Use my ideas or don’t—I owe you nothing now.”

He snarled again. I summoned my wings and flared them.

“Get some rest, Tamlin. You look tired,” I said.

As he snapped his teeth, I winnowed out of the manor. Back home.

—

The antechamber of the townhouse between the front door and the frosted glass door greeted me. I stepped through the frosted glass door.

My brother was waiting for me in the sitting room, lounging on the sofa. “Where have you been?” His tone was casual, but I sensed there was some irritation behind it.

“Out,” I replied.

“I guessed as much,” he said.

“Didn’t realize I had to report all of my comings and goings to you.” My words held more bite than I intended, but I managed not to flinch at them.

Rhys picked up a crystal glass with a knuckle length of liquid in it from the side table and eyed me over the top of it as he took a sip. “You don’t,” he finally said. “But I would appreciate being told you’re going out and when you think you’ll be back so I don’t worry about you when I wake up and find you gone.”

“He turned the whole house upside down looking for you!” Feyre called from the kitchen.

I instantly felt guilty. “Did you not see my note?” I asked.

“What note?” Rhys demanded.

I felt where it was in the house and then summoned it to me. “I left this on my bed. I was gonna put it in your bedside but I figured you’d check my room first if you got worried.” I handed him the paper. He unfolded it. The note was short—all it said was: Running an errand. Be back in an hour, max. -Me—but it took him a long time to read it.

His eyes turned up to me. His pupils had narrowed to tiny points. “Why do you smell of the Spring Court?” The words were strained.

I heard something clank in the kitchen. Feyre dropped something at my brother’s words.

Rhys put my note on the side table beside his drink and stood up, wings extending just a bit. He towered over me—I was only an inch shorter than Feyre but Rhys had always been so big. His eyes bored into me. I felt his talons scratching at my mental shield. Not a request for entry. An order.

“You promised never to break into my head,” I said sharply.

“I will if it means keeping these people safe. Our people. What were you doing in the Spring Court? Going for a leisurely walk through the woods?”

I flared my wings out a little too. Both of us animals trying to appear bigger than we were to be more intimidating. “I’m allowed to have a private life, Rhysand. I didn’t jeopardize the Night Court at all.”

Feyre appeared in the sitting room. I wondered if she’d considered getting in between us. I wanted to warn her off. I could deal with Rhys myself. Had been doing so long before she was born. It wasn’t that I didn’t want her help—I just wanted to handle this conversation with my brother alone.

“You revealed to Tamlin you’re alive, didn’t you?” Rhys demanded. His talons scraped harder against my mental shield. I reinforced it.

“Yes,” I said.

My brother swore as his mate gasped quietly. “Why would you do that? Do you know how dangerous—”

“Of course I do. But the fact remains that if it weren’t for him, I’d be dead. The fact remains that I owed him my life. The fact also remains that the Spring Court borders the mortal lands and is absolutely barren of faeries. With good reason. Feyre did the right thing in revealing to the court what kind of male he is, but that border still needs to be monitored. I know Tarquin is fine stationing sentries on the border but those sentries will eventually get tired of it, even if he swaps them out. It would be best for the Spring Court to have, at most, the ability to protect its own borders.”

“What were you doing there?”

“I spent the past week brainstorming plans for rebuilding the Spring Court. I merely delivered them, told Tamlin my debt to him was paid, and left. My life, for getting his back on track. He deserves everything that happened to him, but we need the Spring Court’s borders to be secure. Are you going to keep berating me or can I go upstairs and wash off the smell of that place?”

Rhys looked like he wasn’t going to stop glaring at me for the next decade.

I summoned one of the copies I’d made of my plans from my pocket realm and shoved them into his chest. “Go ahead. Read them. Or don’t. I don’t care. I’m going to go take a bath.”

I stomped over to the stairs and stomped up them. From behind, I heard Feyre say softly, “You’re being a little hard on her.”

Before I heard my brother’s reply, I slammed the door shut to my room.

—

When I emerged, freshly cleansed of all the floral scents of the Spring Court clinging to my skin, my brother was in the hallway outside my room.

“I read your plans,” he said flatly, almost begrudgingly. “The one about turning the Spring Court into a haven for faeries displaced from their homes in other courts during this past war was particularly impressive.”

I made a mental note to thank Feyre later. I assumed she had convinced him to at least be civil, even though I could tell he was still furious with me for being reckless with the secret that I was still alive. No one outside of Velaris had known that I’d been rescued and recovered from my injuries. I’d spent centuries staying solely in the city, being safe. A foray into the Spring Court was a welcome change.

I finished tying off my braid. “And?” I prompted. I wanted to see what else was on his mind.

Rhys didn’t reply immediately. Just stared at me with a sharp hone to his gaze. “And,” he repeated, “I think you made a good decision. Even if I don’t particularly relish the thought of Tamlin knowing you’re alive.”

“Thanks.”

“Also, I find it hilarious that on every single plan, you’ve written multiple times to have him claim all the ideas as his own. Though you definitely deserve the credit for it.”

“Be that as it may, it’ll look stronger coming from him. What did Feyre think?”

“Feyre hasn’t read them yet. I don’t think she wants to.”

“That’s fine. I know she’s angry at him. She has every right to be. I’m angry at him too, actually, for how he treated her. He deserves the ruin she brought upon him. He deserved being outed as the beast that he is. But, unfortunately, we need his court strong enough to protect its borders.”

“I agree. Maybe next time, though, if you have incredibly savvy political plans for another court, let me deliver them?”

“Tamlin wouldn’t have listened to you. He didn’t even want to listen to me. Not even after I told him you had no idea I was there.” I shrugged. “Next time I have savvy political plans for another court, I’ll just winnow the pages to the High Lord’s assistant’s desk under the guise of a citizen submitting them. This one was just a delivery I needed to make in person—so that he’d know I owe him nothing anymore.”

Rhys gathered me into a hug. “You’re a really annoying little sister, you know that?”

I smiled. “That’s my job.”

#ACOTAR #ACOTAR Imagine #ACOTAR FanFiction #Rhysand #Rhysand Imagine #Rhysand FanFiction #featuring #Tamlin #hooray #A Court Rebuilt

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why-this-kolaveri-machi · 3 years

Text

we are our family, even if we don’t want to be.

Titans 3.07

a bit over halfway through the season, and we still don’t have all of our main characters on the board! i love this show.

as always, typing this up as i watch. live reaction, baby! *shadowboxes*

SPOILERS AHEAD

1. i don’t think i’ve mentioned this before, but i kinda miss the old ‘dc universe’ intro. it was cool! the whole idea of it was wild and waaaaay over-ambitious, but also very very on-brand because of it.

2. this is... the third time we’ve seen dick sleeping this season? that’s a record! checking another thing off my s3 wishlist...

2.5. i guess i rag on titans all the time for its wafer-thin plotting and bad pacing, but i have to admit that this season has been a step-up from the last one in this regard. titans has very reactive rather than proactive protagonists, and a lot of the last season seemed to be: x happened, the team reacted badly, then y happened, they reacted badly, etc. this time around, it’s not a huge leap up by any means, but at least they’re doing something about it.

i do appreciate the focus on character arcs over everything else. and when i say everything else, i mean it: arcs that started two seasons ago with no big cathartic moments, intermittent payoff and multiple relapses. big bads have ranged from interdimensional demons to superpowered assassins to whatever in the world scarecrow is, but trigon’s big weapon against the titans was to... use their worst fears against them. slade’s was to... use their fears to break them up. crane’s is to... use red hood to use their fears to break them up. even the threat of gotham’s citizens being in danger doesn’t feel real: gotham is mythologised into an entity of its own, infecting our heroes like a parasite. like. this is not to say that most other superhero media aren’t big character arcs intertwined with the main plot, but titans doesn’t even make pretend that it’s anything but.

anyway. that’s my entry #2345 to ‘give a grand unifying theory for titans’. thanks. i’ll be back with more.

3. “anger is just fear in a little black dress.” god I HATE HIM

(what’s he doing with barbara’s likeness? oh... oh god. a terrible thought just occurred to me. what if they introduce hush at the very last minute for plastic surgery shenanigans? would you put it past this show?)

3.5. jason, nooooooooo

3.75. i mean, they’re making it very clear here that scarecrow is the one in control--the one who’s always been in control--and is manipulating jason and literally poisoning him, but i hope it doesn’t end up erasing nuance or jason’s autonomy. if jason’s to reckon with the issues that brought him here, then the lines of responsibility will need to be set somewhere.

(this applies to dick as well but more on that later, i guess.)

4. just--the phrase “40% loss of income” is so funny to me. like, gotham is full of these larger-than-life characters who are idiosyncratic beyond belief, colourful and dramatic and creating chaos just for the sake of chaos, and then there’s the regular criminals and their henchmen who just want to make a quick buck sitting down with pie charts and graphs, griping about the joker reducing their returns or debating high risk investments in, i don’t know, two-face’s next scheme.

“yyyyeeeeeaaah, my financial advisor is telling me that going all-in with a guy who literally makes decisions on the flip of a coin is probably not the greatest idea.”

4.5. god i hate smug!smarmy!scarecrow so much

4.85. as big plans to “control” gotham go, it’s pretty bog-standard. clearly scarecrow has some bigger plan in mind but it really feels like we’ve got no clear insight into him and he’s this generic creepy mystery-man who knows more than he lets on and springs a twist/cliffhanger every now and then. i liked the scenes with him and dick in 3.04 where it seemed like he was genuinely on the backfoot and things weren’t going as he predicted. for all of his faults, dick is at least familiar with scarecrow’s bullshit and knows not to give what he wants.

5. i mean... i see where dick is coming from with the “he’s not jason anymore; he’s red hood” because his immediate glaring concern is scarecrow’s drug and the damage it could potentially cause gotham? i do not doubt that it’s something batman drilled into him, too, but when you’re expected to take point on a situation where the lives of an entire city weigh down on your shoulders, it’s better to simplify things and prioritise. i’m not saying it’s great or healthy! gar is absolutely right to consider this facet of the situation. it’s just dick can’t.

6. hmmmmmmm. HMMMMMMMMMMM.

i don’t know that i’m super fond of this iteration of oracle???? it looks like a cross between cerebro from x-men and jarvis from iron man. it’s giving me second-hand embarrassment. somebody help me.

(at least they remembered dick’s middle name is actually “john”. i like to think bruce printed D in that contract because for a while he genuinely thought richard “dick” grayson was his full name. duck duck goose, dick dick grayson, i don’t know alfred, the kid was in a circus, maybe they thought it was funny. or maybe it was a test in anger control, who knows.)

6.5 “maybe you two would like some time alone?” even AI can’t help hitting on dick grayson in this universe.

“oh mr grayson, if i only had another eye to see you better...”

6.8. on one hand, it’s a bit disconcerting that the title of ‘oracle’ has gone from barbara herself to this gigantic machine; from my impression of the comics-verse, barbara had an extensive computing and surveillance system, true, but she was very clearly the brains behind the operation. on the other hand, i’m kind of glad that the ethical boundaries that this kind of surveillance violates is a sticking point for barbara. (tho let’s be real, the nsa would kill to have this in their arsenal).

6.9. also it’s now obvious that scarecrow’s big plan is to take control of oracle itself. it’s why he had lady vic take that picture of her eyes, or why he’s meddling around with it on his computer.

6.95. if only i could ‘command sleep’ anybody overstepping their boundaries re: personal information...

7. “you can just sit back and watch as the titans destroy themselves.” i mean... he’s not wrong

8. “dick’s parents were killed by a criminal mob; he won’t work with them.” it’s wonderful that you have this insight into dick, kory, i just wish we could’ve watched some of these conversations actually happen on-screen.

8.5. i’m glad that kom’s being treated with such nuance and understanding, though it’s obvious that she definitely has a Plan of her own. (and did i entirely imagine her ability to mimic other people flawlessly at the end of s2? or is that going to come into play at some point?) i think her story has the potential to be genuinely poignant, and in a universe where being Different, either because of mental health or physical differences or whatever else, leads a straight line to Evil, it’s important to acknowledge and then emphasise that the mere fact of your existence as a Different Person doesn’t predispose you to evil. maybe your act of destroying a system that has destroyed you and not scrambling to “fit in” is only evil as defined by that system.

8.8. “you’re trespassing, i should call the authorities, i feel unsafe.” now this is a villain lady who’s definitely aware of her privilege.

8.85. kom smirking knowingly at her sister is everything.

“oooh that’s the kory i remember”

9. conner and dick working together woo!

9.25. god i hate a villain who’s always just a step ahead, no matter what. so crane anticipated dick using oracle to track his personal communications and set him up? how did he know when exactly dick would get to do this? how long did he have that poor man tied up in that van?

(the “save me, grayson” is a nice touch, tho. send dick spiralling even further! because if there’s one thing dick will do, it’s take responsibility for every goddamn thing that goes wrong.)

9.5. ahem. i’m going to need a million gifs of conner yeeting dick across that yard, fandom, thankyouverymuch.

(i understand conner is invulnerable to explosions, but how do his clothes survive??)

9.8. oooh crane is already in oracle! i’m just sitting here laughing helplessly because they’re overpowering this goddamned guy so much. he can build a lab in arkham’s basement! he has access to lazarus puddles! he has minions working across gotham, including a fully functional chemical laboratory staffed by chemists who only answer to him! he has the crime families of gotham quailing in his very presence! he has assassins at his beck and call! he’s enough of a manipulative bastard to have red hood under his thumb! and now he has enough of a tech know-how to not only be aware of oracle, but know how to hack into it! i’m sick of exclamation marks! i’ll shut up now!

9.95. dick leaving behind that smouldering grave for a person he failed to save without taking a second to process how he feels about it and running towards his next plan to corner scarecrow: a microcosm of where his head’s at right now.

10. really hammering in the themes of this season, aren’t we.

10.25. the interesting thing is the titans repeatedly call themselves a family this season (none more so than dick) and while that found family has helped encapsulate and put away their traumatic experiences with their ‘original’ families, it’s meant that they’ve not really dealt with those issues. and dick and gar and jason come from ‘found families’ of their own: they are twice removed, traumatised two times over. they still cling to this identity however, and because of it they’re losing each other. a family isn’t static. it’s an ever-evolving dynamic and you have to put in work constantly to keep it healthy.

10.5. anyway, that’s entry #2346. i’m here aaaalll night.

11. lookit gar the detective! half-transforming and using his powers to deduce things! what a hero! i’ve said this for a long time, but gar is the bedrock of this team, and an unsung one at that.

11.25. i’m confused about him calling this room jason’s though. it seems to me that this is dick’s room that jason later used, and one that dick’s using now. so the unmade bed isn’t really jason’s fault; dick was woken by barbara that morning, and in his hurry, he left without making his bed.

(it still confounds me that bruce didn’t find jason another bedroom in that gigantic mansion of his. you really didn’t give this kid a chance, did you?)

12. oh well. so much for the oracle.

13. ... sorry, wait. you didn’t think i wasn’t going to address the bit with dick right now, did you?

12.5. i honestly don’t think it’s very complicated: dick’s been reeling from one traumatic thing to the next, and just when it seemed like at the beginning of the season, he felt happy and secure with his team and his place in the world, bruce ups and leaves gotham to him, specifically naming him a successor and calling him a ‘better batman’. he’s lost garth and jericho and donna and jason and now hank and dawn. he’s not even sure where rachel is or what she’s doing. after being told that batman was a psychopath for moulding him into a weapon, he’s also been told that his failure to be a ‘better batman’ lead to further disaster. of course he’s going to get batman-goggles. of course he’s going to be a prick.

12.8. i don’t know what to say. i feel his frustration acutely. i don’t think he should’ve said what he said to barbara (can people stop pushing her around this season????) but that pressure to step in where your parent fails? to clean up their messes and try to think like them? to fall into habits drilled into you when you developed them as coping mechanisms growing up? I FEEL THAT.

every step he’s taking he’s putting 110% of himself in it and scarecrow’s still playing mindgames with all of them: i absolutely feel his desperation to take control of that game and turn it on scarecrow, no matter what it takes.

and he did apologise almost immediately, and finally--finally--actually works with barbara.

12.9. again, not excusing him! but i get it. and i think that’s a sign of great character writing.

“did you know i just reminded emmram of all of her daddy issues? what the fuck????”

12.95. i love that dick&barbara, kory&kom, and gar are all approaching solving this mystery from different angles, each as valid as the other. also, conner is there as... emergency bomb defuser man?

13. it’s like all fancy rich people in fancy rich houses do is pour fancy rich alcohol into fancy rich glasses on pristine, untouched tabletops. i wonder what it’s like to live like that.

13.25. I KNEW IT! poor michael. it was nice knowing you.

13.5. man, kory is contending with a lot of issues that she’s successfully bottled up and compartmentalised until now. the cold reality that a child can seek out their parents as refuge and they can view the child as a piece to be moved in a greater game (never out of cruelty, though, never, and somehow that makes it worse), that truth of blackfire’s treatment on tamaran because she’s different, and her own culpability in what happened. she exchanged one family for another, after all, and left that family to die and her sister to suffer. like dick, like gar, kory’s being forced to reckon with what the titans are meant to be, the larger implications of creating their found family in their own space.

14. it’s probably because it’s one in the morning and i’ve had two glasses of wine but i did not follow that bit of exposition at all and victor freeze??? what?

anyway. look at them solving things! together! go team!

“you made a deal with the mob?” oh the sense of betrayal on his face! fuck off, dick, your issues aren’t kory’s.

15. conner is really sweet and a bit of an awestruck crush on kom is to be expected. especially after that power rangers-esque transformation (i say this as a former huge power rangers fangirl. i’ve seen every series until 2007 including the original japanese versions and written fanfic for all of them. so i love a cool costume transformation, is what i’m saying.)

also?

FUCK YEAH

16. i love the gotham crime families just chillin’ around eating ice cream. I LOVE THEM

16.5. that was a fun fight sequence, if marred slightly by that bit of awkward flirting between conner and kom. i wonder if she’s really planning to use him in a larger scheme to get kory back to tamaran, or maybe something else.

16.75. so i’m assuming that scarecrow has jason either so paralysed by fear that he can barely move, or jason’s withdrawing from the drug that he’s been sucking in every few minutes.

17. it’s nice to see them chill after a successful mission! and it can be awkward, but conner’s crush on kom and him striving to impress her is also, well, uh... cute.

17.5. i guess the dick/barbara scene was inevitable, especially given the... unresolved nature of their relationship in the flashbacks? and they’ve been through a rollercoaster together this episode, discovering and then destroying an incredible tool within a matter of hours, re-discovering just how well they work together as a team. dick’s swimming in the nostalgia. i don’t expect it to last as a long-term relationship, but i totally get why this is happening now. and hey, they’re cute!

i have a weeeirrrrd feeling that kory is going to leave to tamaran at the end of the season and that dick and kory will rekindle--or rather realise--their relationship just before that. it’s going to be devastating and beautiful and painful and i will be writing essays about it which would be me just wailing into the screen.

18. gar found molly!!!!!!! MOLLY’S BACK! \o/ gar is the BEST

19. that was a fun episode! i love this silly show, even if it does destroy me sometimes <3

#titans #titans spoilers #meta #dick grayson #barbara gordon #koriand'r #komand'r #garfield logan #jonathan crane #conner kent #a byronic cupcake #badass strawberry truffle #manic pixie pop tart

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reasonablespeculation · 4 years

Note

I’m going to warn you, I’m posting this on multiple blogs ONLY because I’m hoping someone on his team, or maybe even Seb himself sees it, and NOT to be one of those annoying anons. I’m hoping we can spread this and stop the madness because it’s breaking my heart to think this could possibly be the real Sebastian Stan. He may not care about his fandom right now, but who does he think buys con stuff, or movie merchandise and pays tons and tons of money to meet him? For normal people like us, that’s a lot of money to fork out because we are not born into it like some yacht girls are. It’s not just the random people or casual fans who see his movies. When my husband took me to see The Last Full Measure, our friends came too. They wouldn’t have seen it in the theatre unless I had picked it. If regular fans had to pick between Bucky and bigger marvel characters, they’re not picking Bucky. People like us are picking Bucky (or used to). I’d pick him over RDJ, but I doubt any of my kids or husband would! That’s what he isn’t thinking about. Seb has lost his marbles and I am hoping if someone sees this that is close to him, it may be his first marble he picks back up. - - - XOXO

I’m actually going to answer this because I see you absolutely twisting yourself into knots over this and I’ve been told much of the fandom is in a similar state. Let me get real real with you here. I really say this, from the bottom of my heart, with love.

There is no madness to stop (other than the madness of wealth and privilege and I can assure you that ain’t gonna change by “our” efforts). All of the people involved are adult humans with careers, relationships, all the associated responsibilities of life. They have the best health care and therapy money can buy. They have teams and families and support networks that many of us could only dream of.

There is no “real” Sebastian Stan for us. The sooner everyone accepts that we do not know that man, the better.

(I’m giving that its own paragraph because it’s the most important thing I’m saying. If you don’t hear anything else I say, take this one home with you.)

Since we are not able to know him as a real human, we create narratives based on his actions. The absence of coherence between your narrative of him and his actions is what’s hurting you right now. And I don’t say that to diminish the hurt. The hurt is real. I’ve felt it and I deeply regret that you’re feeling it.

Let’s say Seb dumps Ale tomorrow, flies back to NY after filming, never again travels during a global pandemic. How does that erase his actions for you? How does that change the fact that he is a person who does those things, which we can safely assert, because he did those things.

I feel like some people want there to be some dramatic reason that he would act this way. Like the shadowy forces of the agency, “PR”, whatever. Would it comfort you for him to be doing all of this because some mysterious PR person told him to? It does the opposite for me, that a man with so much privilege and freedom would go against his own morals because someone told him to. (Ditto the “Ale is changing him” idea, which also has deeply problematic layers of misogyny and “evil seductress” vibes that frankly are beneath all of us to buy into.)

I need y’all to accept, for your own sakes, the basic premise that: Sebastian is doing what he’s doing because he wants to and/or he doesn’t not want to.

How can I make this clearer? His actions matter. They fucking matter! The way we move through the world matters. I’m not saying he’s evil, but he is a person who made choices. He can’t go back to the old Sebastian because that person never existed except in our fantasies (this is a loaded word choice but I stand by it). He has always, fundamentally, been the same person, and no matter what he does in the future he will continue to be the person who did these things. His actions can’t be erased. They can certainly be forgiven, if that would make you feel better, but it won’t matter to him.

I feel like you also think he owes the fandom something when it comes to his personal life and behaviours. He does not. He never has.

I really really hope for your sake that you are able to come to accept the marbles where they are. There is no swooping avenger coming to save us from Seb being Seb. If those marbles are tripping you up this much, I really think you need to reevaluate this fandom’s presence in your life and the energy (and the type of energy, positive or negative) you’re devoting to it. Then allow yourself to sweep those marbles out the door and move on. Not right away. Give yourself the time and space to grieve this. Even if Seb isn’t, the emotions are real. I have to say again, I was there. I wish I could sit with you as you experience them. I wish I could make you a cup of tea.

I know things are hard right now and it’s difficult to imagine filling the void where this fandom was. I can tell you from personal experience that you will find something to fill that void. You’ll be able to look back on this with fondness, maybe some nostalgia, a wry chuckle. You will find something else that brings you joy. You will bring these lessons into your new fandom and you will be wiser and stronger for it. You will feel that rush of love and excitement and creative energy for something new. It feels fucking amazing. Be strong enough to go after it.

Big luv,

#long post #soapbox talks

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aqua-murphys-law · 4 years

Text

i can feel it falling (timber)

Rating: G Warnings: None Summary: A look at what inspired Milo not to give up on the possibility of Zack becoming his friend, the day they first met.

A/N: When I fell back into the Dwampyverse fandom, I foolishly said that I didn’t know if I was gonna write anything for MML. I really should’ve known better. So here’s a little something inspired by @wiz-witch‘s post here!

I wish I’d had it done in time for MML’s 4th anniversary but such is life. Reblogs/comments would be greatly appreciated, and a good response will let me know whether I should write the other one-shot ideas I’ve got. Hope you enjoy! - Aqua

(Click here to read on A03 for extensive tags!)

~*~

Milo approaches the bus stop with a bounce in his step.

It’s been a relatively light morning so far. There was just one bird nesting in his hair when he woke up, and it relocated to the backyard without much fuss. He got through both of his showers without slipping, getting soap in his eyes, or breaking the water system (the second shower was because the garbage disposal spewed breakfast scraps back up at him, but still, that could’ve been worse).

He even gets to the bus stop before Melissa, only a few boys from school present. It takes a couple seconds before he hears shoes scuffling away from him, which isn’t surprising. It’s very rare for him to actually end up on the bus, but when he does, it makes for an… eventful ride. He can’t fault them for being cautious, since it’s looking more and more like it might actually be one of those days-

“What’s that all about?”

That’s an unfamiliar voice.

Milo turns to the speaker. It’s a boy around his age, dark-skinned with frizzy black hair. He’s dressed simply in a yellow shirt and jeans, a red backpack at his sneakers. He’s looking at Milo with confusion, and something akin to concern.

“Oh, you’re new here,” Milo realizes. It’s strange for someone to transfer schools after the start of the semester, but stranger things have happened. He sighs good-naturedly, going on to explain, “I’ve got a bit of a reputation.”

The boy blinks before amusement tugs at his mouth, and he quirks a brow. “So what are you, a tough guy?”

That might be teasing, Milo’s not sure. “Oh, I don’t think anyone’s ever called me tough,” he says. And this is really pressing his luck, but he can’t help being polite and offers his hand. “I’m Milo.”

The boy actually takes Milo’s hand, and smiles when he does it. “I’m Zack.”

Of course, the other boys at the stop immediately urge Zack against it, but Milo isn’t fully paying attention. He instantly commits Zack’s name to memory because if there’s one thing he’s learned, it’s that knowing his classmates’ names helps soften the blow when he accidentally lands them in the hospital for the first time.

Despite the warning, Zack doesn’t let go right away. His hand is warm, and a little bigger than Milo’s. Mostly softer than Milo’s too, but unexpectedly calloused in telltale places, like he plays a guitar of some sort. That’s interesting.

“So what exactly is this reputation?” Zack asks, seeming more curious than concerned now.

Milo tilts his head. “Well, people have used the J-word, but you know what they say. Sticks and stones can damage your vital organs, so always wear body armor.”

The original meaning of the phrase is still implied. As a Murphy, harsh words are extremely low on his list of things to worry about. At least, that’s how he tries to keep it. It’s not that words don’t affect him at all, he just has steps he takes to prepare himself for them, like he would for any other unpleasant event. Just as he wears body armor to protect against physical harm, he protects his feelings under his carefully crafted demeanor.

Lots of people think his cheeriness is default, but in reality, it’s a conscious choice. It’s his emotional armor. Words hurt him less if he chooses to be upbeat and optimistic, rather than let himself despair. That just creates a negative feedback loop, which doesn’t help anything.

Before Zack can inquire further, Melissa shows up to the stop. Milo gets preoccupied by their conversation and forgets that Zack’s still waiting on an explanation until he interjects. But right as Milo is about to elaborate, Murphy’s Law kicks in.

Milo has just enough time to slap his spare helmet onto Zack’s head before they turn and run. And it is both of them; Zack’s taken off without any prompting- he didn’t freeze like so many people do for their first disaster, that’s good. He’s screaming quite a bit, but that’s to be expected. And more surprising is that Zack’s keeping pace with Milo. Not many people can match his speed when he’s going full-tilt like this.

“-wait, why aren’t you screaming?!” Zack demands suddenly.

Milo’s intrigued. Most people who get caught up in his Murphy’s Law don’t have the presence of mind to question why he’s calm while being chased down the street by some devastatingly heavy object.

“I find it doesn’t help,” he answers simply. “Just hurts the larynx.” While he runs and talks, part of him is absentmindedly planning his next move, and he adds, “hand me that bungee, and you’d better hold onto my backpack.”

Milo winds up his throw. Even as Zack exclaims, “Wait, what?” he feels the other boy grab on as instructed, and then they’re up in the air.

Zack maintains his hold while they flip, and when the bungee snaps and drops them on top of the drainage pipe. He’s strong, Milo notes with pleasant surprise. More impressively, Zack doesn’t go careening off of the spinning cylinder- he manages to stay upright beside Milo. That’s a rare skill, for sure. Maybe he’s taken log-rolling classes, for whatever reason. Or, he’s just exceptionally quick on his feet. An athlete, maybe.

“That bungee was definitely defective,” Milo comments, if only to fill the space.

Zack offers no reply, even as Milo sends Diogee home. The pipe takes them through a road barrier, down a rocky incline, through a wooden fence, off of a thankfully low cliff, and into a shallow pit of mud. They barely have time to blink the mud from their eyes before the pipe falls down after them, and Milo tells Zack to scooch over- which he does with little hesitation.

They fit neatly through the center of the pipe, and a wave of mud sends them up to the top.

Zack glances over at Milo, his sudden stillness probably due to shock. “… the J-word wouldn’t happen to be jinx, would it?” he ventures.

Even though he knows it wasn’t used maliciously, Milo can’t stop himself from flinching. He brushes it off with a laugh, though it comes out slightly apologetic. “Yeah, that’s the one.” He pulls himself up onto the rim of the pipe, offering Zack his hand.

Miraculously, Zack accepts his help, and they climb over the edge and drop into the mud below.

Milo wipes his face off with a towel from his backpack. “I have EHML,” he explains. “Extreme hereditary Murphy’s Law. You know, ‘anything that can go wrong, will go wrong.’ Around me.” He studies Zack with a hint of apprehension, the other boy doubled over to catch his breath. He doesn’t look angry or upset or scared, but Milo can’t always tell.

“Well,” is all Zack says. “Alright, then. How are we gonna catch the bus?”

Milo blinks, handing Zack the towel. “Whenever stuff like this happens, the driver usually gives me a few minutes to make it back in case it’s something light. If we hurry, we should be able to get there in time.”

Zack cleans his face and gives the towel back to Milo, brows raised. “Lead the way, I guess.”

Well, indeed. Milo leads the way, and Zack follows.

~*~

Naturally, they miss the bus.

Zack’s definitely in some kind of shock now. He doesn’t even scream when the oil spill in the rock quarry goes up in flames. Milo gently suggests that they go through the woods instead. And then the shock seems to wear off when they’re beset by a pack of hungry wolves.

Shock and panic can interchange remarkably quickly, in some people.

While Milo knows from experience that wolves do, in fact, love peanut butter, Murphy’s Law isn’t yielding anything today. One of the wolves lunges at the same time he tosses the sandwich, and it gets thrown right back, sticking to Zack’s shirt. That elicits a shrill scream from him, and Milo has to fight the urge to cringe. This is not a great first impression, even by Murphy’s Law standards.

At this point, Milo’s pretty sure that the presence of the sandwich has no bearing on the wolves’ desire to attack them, but he grabs a stick and peels it off anyways, if only to try and save Zack’s shirt from being stained too badly.

They escape by scrambling up a tree, but the situation is complicated by the presence of an irate beehive.

A wolf with a beehive stuck on its face is a new one. Luckily, Zack continues to demonstrate remarkable survival instincts, such as ‘dodging when a wolf with a beehive stuck on its face lunges at you’ and ‘running when a wolf with a beehive stuck on its face gives chase.’ He’s keeping up well enough, though he might be starting to fatigue because he lags slightly behind Milo. And he’s still screaming a little, but Milo isn’t holding that against him.

In the end, they don’t escape the wolf so much as they accidentally plunge through an open manhole. But it’s not a high fall, and Milo’s not one to look a gift horse in the mouth. Or, to look a sewer in the open manhole.

Milo lands on his feet in the middle channel, which is fortunately shallow. Zack crashes in right behind him.

“Here,” Milo hands Zack a headlamp from his backpack, “these will help us navigate in the dark.”

Zack’s voice follows him after a moment. “Dude… if and when we get out of here, I’m gonna have to go my own way. No offense, I just can’t handle all of… this.”

Milo’s heart trips inside his chest. He wants to protest that Zack has, in actuality, handled everything just fine. Truly, even Melissa would be impressed, and he’s sure she will be when he regales her with the story later today. But he knows that isn’t the crux of the matter.

“A- all of what?” he asks quietly, his voice wavering slightly despite his best efforts.

The answer is painfully obvious as a raccoon leaps out at him from a pipe, sailing over his ducked head and disappearing into murky sewer water. Milo grips his backpack tighter and keeps walking.

“This cyclone of calamity that follows you everywhere you go!” Zack exclaims in disbelief, his voice echoing in the tunnels. “How do you live like this?!”

Milo supposes this was inevitable. It’s not often that someone gives him a chance- usually it’s something like this, a new kid who doesn’t know any better- but it always ends the same way. He accepted long ago that Melissa would be his only school friend, and he’s okay with that.

Right now, they’ve reached the point where Milo will say he understands and apologize for putting Zack in danger. He’ll get him out of the sewer and part ways, only seeing Zack as much as school demands. Or less than that, if Zack decides to switch schools and get a restraining order. That’s happened before. But really, this is where Milo should ‘cut Zack loose,’ if he’s speaking metaphorically.

Except.

Except Milo doesn’t want to.

It’s a bizarre sensation. He’s never put up a fight before, whenever someone decided he wasn’t worth all the danger associated with Murphy’s Law. He almost lost Melissa that way, and was incredibly fortunate she decided to choose him. Typically, it’s easier for everyone if he just accepts it without complaint, and he doesn’t like making a scene. But this time, every part of him is rebelling against the idea.

He really, really doesn’t want to lose Zack. Zack, who’s fast and strong and quick on his feet. Zack, who has good instincts and knows how to trust them. Zack, who willingly followed Milo all this way despite knowing about his EHML. He doesn’t come across people like Zack every day.

Right now, it’s just him and Zack in a dark tunnel. There’s no one else around to worry about, no judgmental looks or scolding words. No one to tell Zack that he shouldn’t be around Milo. So maybe, this time, Zack can really decide for himself. Maybe, deep down beneath the knee-jerk fear reaction, he feels what Milo does, and knows that leaving would be the wrong choice.

Maybe Milo can fight for this.

So instead, Milo asks, “How do you live like that?”

Zack’s voice is hesitant. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” Milo turns around, frustration nipping at him because it’s always so hard to put these things into words, “you wanna live like those other kids? They took a bus to school today. A bus! Does that seem like more fun to you?”

That really doesn’t say everything he means. It doesn’t say ‘I think you’re amazing and destined for so much more than an ordinary life’ or ‘I feel better with you by my side so please don’t go.’ But none of that comes easily to Milo, so it’ll have to do.

Zack stops and thinks about it. Really thinks about it. Milo holds his breath.

“Hm. Alright,” Zack says simply. He hops over the middle channel, landing next to Milo on the other side. Closer than most people are willing to get if they don’t have to. He shoves his hands in his pockets and looks at Milo expectantly. “Where to next?”

Milo is almost stunned by the sheer relief that washes over him, but he pushes through it. “Well, there’s a loose grate up over here to the left,” he says, turning around to resume walking. “I’ve been here before.”

“Of course you have,” Zack says, and it actually sounds fond.

Milo’s heart is running now, though he’s not sure why.

~*~

As they scramble their way through the construction site, Milo can’t help but think that they make a good team.

He knows he’s letting himself get too attached, too quickly. At the end of this, Zack could very well change his mind. Or maybe tomorrow, or after a week. Maybe his tolerance of Murphy’s Law has a limit. He wouldn’t be the first.

But they’re incredibly in-sync, for having just met not even a half-hour ago. They don’t even speak as they navigate the various hazards together. Zack seems to be relying on his instincts and cues from Milo, and they escape unscathed, floating down the river on the detached bed of a dump truck.

After they avoid the wolf (again) and Milo sends Diogee home (again), Zack climbs over to sit next to him, leaning back on his arms. His hand is close to Milo’s knee, close enough that their hands would be touching if Milo put his down. And the way Zack’s looking at him right now… his heart’s acting up again. Maybe he should get checked for arrhythmia.

“You know,” Zack starts, “I don’t know if it’s the adrenaline talking, but I’m starting to feel like we can handle anything that comes our way.”

If that’s how adrenaline makes Zack talk, Milo certainly doesn’t mind it. It’s not often that someone else is doing the reassuring, unless it’s Melissa or his family. And the confidence Zack says it with is an incredible thing. Even if it is just adrenaline.

Of course, now that Zack’s gone and said something like that, Murphy’s Law can’t resist the opportunity, and a massive tidal wave appears out of nowhere to carry them out of the river and straight off the edge of a cliff.

This time, Zack doesn’t scream. They plummet silently for a couple seconds before he turns his head towards Milo, almost casually, and says, “Well, maybe not anything…”

Milo would laugh at that, but then they faceplant onto the dome of an alien spacecraft and suddenly have other things to worry about.

~*~

Somehow, they end up at school on time and unscathed.

Zack thinks he might not have fully processed everything yet, because he feels… surprisingly okay. Considering what happened. But really, it seems silly to freak out and make a huge deal out of it when they’re both perfectly fine.

Aside from missing lunches, that is, but the redhead sitting in front of him- who he recalls as Melissa- has that covered. They don’t have time for formal introductions before the teacher comes in and begins class, but context clues tell Zack that she’s Milo’s only friend. And from what he can piece together, she orchestrated a betting pool to ensure they’d have something for lunch in the event theirs were destroyed.

So she’s either psychic, or stuff like this happens often.

That gets filed under ‘things to think about later,’ next to everything else that just happened. Right now, he has to focus on getting oriented to his new school. Which is… actually pretty boring, compared to this morning. Meeting his teachers, figuring out his schedule, finding his locker… it’s crazy to think he was stressing about this stuff just last night.

He gets strange looks here and there, and catches a few murmurs of, “Someone better warn the new kid” and “Wonder how long that’s gonna last” that make him… oddly indignant. He doesn’t like the feeling that his new classmates are judging his choice to stick by Milo.

He also doesn’t like the attention he’s attracted from Melissa. She’s nice enough, but he catches her staring at him sometimes, this intense look in her eyes, like she’s trying to puzzle something out, and it gives him the creeps.

Someone remind him not to get on her bad side…

If something’s up, Milo’s oblivious to it. He’s happy to help Zack around to their classes, and never falters under the stares or whispers or occasional small mishaps that occur. And they are small; nothing else that happens that day can compare to their crazy morning.

Which is perfectly fine by Zack. No complaining here.

The relative calm gives him a chance to actually get a good look at Milo- something that was neglected in all the terror. He’s deceptively average at a glance; pale, brown hair, brown eyes. An ever-present smile on his face. His outfit’s a little odd; shorts, sweater vest, loafers. And Zack quickly finds out that Milo’s backpack isn’t just a regular school backpack that happens to contain a random assortment of items.

Milo wears it nonstop throughout the day, never stashing it under his desk or in his locker. Not even during lunch. That also gets filed under ‘things to think about later.’

Along with the fact that Milo has a lot of scars. Like, a lot.

Zack remembers the conversation at the bus stop, but in the light of day it’d been easy to overlook. Milo’s so pale, the faint marks don’t show up that much until they’re under more contrasting light. And again, they aren’t running for their lives, so Zack can take the time to notice the dozens of scars on Milo’s arms, knees, and face.

Some are small pockmarks, some are lines of varying thickness, some are patchy blotches. Some of them look surgical in nature, while others Zack can’t even begin to speculate about. After their morning together, it’s not hard to imagine why Milo’s acquired so many scars in his short life, but it’s… sobering, to say the least.

Today wasn’t the rule. Milo gets hurt a lot. Like, a lot.

And so Zack’s starting to think this morning was actually really lucky, all things considered. Part of him wants to reconsider his decision. Not so much out of fear that he’ll get hurt, but because he’s not sure he can handle seeing Milo get hurt.

But then Milo catches him staring once. Their eyes meet briefly before Milo’s cheeks flush and Zack looks away, his stomach flipping like it did when they were freefalling together, and he already knows he’s in for the long haul.

~*~

Melissa doesn’t get a chance to speak to Milo alone until lunch, when Zack excuses himself to the bathroom and their little three-person table becomes its usual two-person table.

Milo, who had been excitedly recounting the morning’s events for her, suddenly falls silent as soon as Zack’s out of earshot. He looks up at her apprehensively, fidgeting with his hands, and Melissa already knows what’s on his mind before he says anything.

“So, uh, what- what do you think of him?” he asks quietly.

Melissa tilts her head, considering. She hadn’t thought much of the guy at the bus stop, simply recognizing that he was a new kid and thus didn’t know not to stand that close to Milo. She’d been surprised to see Zack stuck with Milo through all that happened, and seemed none the worse for wear.

“It sounds like he handled himself well,” she concedes.

Milo nods enthusiastically. “Yeah, he really did. I was very impressed.”

“I can tell,” Melissa says, amused.

Milo laughs sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. Is that a blush? “I just, I know we haven’t really hung out with other people in… forever. I didn’t mean to have this whole adventure with him, without you, it just happened.” His expression sobers. “And- and I like him, and I think he’d be a good fit for us, but if you don’t, then just say the word. I’ll understand.”

Then he gives her that little smile of his, the one that’s sad at the edges like he’s already expecting a certain answer and has resigned himself to it. The one he uses whenever he’s apologizing for some Murphy’s Law related incident. The one that makes her want to shake him and say, “It’s not your fault, you deserve better.”

Over the years, some people have tried to stick around Milo just for the spectacle of it. A chance to see what the deal with the ‘disaster kid’ was (particularly back when Diogee was allowed to accompany Milo to school as his service dog). They didn’t care about Milo as a person.

And worse, Milo never caught on. He really thought someone was giving his friendship a chance, and was crushed when they inevitably decided it wasn’t worth the risk.

It only happened a handful of times before Melissa established herself as “someone you do not want to cross” and people were too scared to try it anymore, but it took a toll on both of them. Milo’s convinced that he’s destined to go through life alone, with no one but Melissa at an arm’s length away.

And Melissa’s instantly suspicious of anyone who shows an interest in Milo. Admittedly, she might’ve jumped the gun a few times, and chased off potential friends who could’ve actually had good intentions. After all, some people genuinely did try to be his friend, and just couldn’t handle Murphy’s Law. Mostly new kids like Zack. But whenever someone who already knew them started getting closer, Melissa’s defensiveness quickly deterred any further advances, before she even knew whether they were sincere or not.

Those are acceptable loss margins in her opinion, if it meant Milo didn’t have to suffer another heartbreak.

But she knows he’s lonely. More than others would think, and probably more than he’s willing to admit to himself. The two of them are close, but one person can’t be someone’s whole world. He’s always wary of putting too much on her, so she knows there are holes she isn’t filling.

If she’s being honest, it might be nice to have someone else around to help handle the Murphy mayhem. From what she’s heard, Zack is plenty capable- and that’s without any prior experience. She could do worse for someone to take under her wing. Plus, she hasn’t gotten strange vibes from him yet, regarding Milo. He seems genuine.

And Milo really seems to like Zack. Probably more than he’s willing to admit to himself.

So much so, in fact, it speaks volumes that he’d break this budding friendship if she asked him to. It scares her, sometimes, how much of Milo’s heart she seems to hold. They’ve won each other’s trust and loyalty a thousand times over since they first became friends, but all she really did in the beginning was show him some basic kindness. That’s all it took for him to decide he was devoted.

The wrong person could really abuse that.

… Zack better not be the wrong person.

“He’s in,” Melissa decides.

The way Milo’s face lights up almost makes all her worries go away.

Almost.

Zack will have to watch himself around her. If she gets a single whiff of any funny business from him, he’s done, and she’ll make him regret ever switching schools.

But even Melissa has to admit, the soft way Zack looks at Milo when he returns to the lunchroom and Milo happily waves him over makes her think she probably doesn’t have anything to worry about.

Probably.

~*~

#milo murphy's law #mml #milo x zack #zilo #my writing

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iwrestlenow · 3 years

Text

It All Starts And Ends With You, Chapter One (Stories from THE EMERALD)

TITLE: It All Starts And Ends With You, Chapter 1

FANDOM: Sanders Sides (Necromancer AU)

SUMMARY: The nature of a drake, human versus dragon, isn't just tragic backstory. The supernatural halfbreeds are a living duality, two creatures in one skin. Every drake is, essentially, a twin soul.

Unlike most twin souls with a Necromatic match, however, a drake can choose.

For Janus, giving Patton his human soul was easy...but a secret from his past means that his choice has consequences...consequences he was never supposed to face, because Patton would never be free.

So much for a sure thing.

SHIPS: Moceit (Patton/Janus), Dragon Witch/Original Male Character and background Dukexiety (Remus/Virgil)

WARNINGS: Future smut--warnings for all pertinent chapters will be posted.

...so apparently there's going to be a few side stories in this series? This takes place shortly after MANY MORE TO DIE, but it's not the big sequel. It's very much a side quest type thing because Janus Has Backstory and I Have Moceit Feels(TM). XD

Also, later on there WILL be smut in this story, but the chapters will be labeled--and I'm planning to make them skippable if I can. Otherwise I'll summarize plotty things in the end notes. So you filthy minded animals can have your debauchery, and those less inclined can still have all of my feels. :P

Per usual, unbeta'd self indulgent drivel, all mistakes are mine. ONWARD TO SHIPPYTOWN!

Also located at AO3 over here.

1019, A.A.

“Jay! A word?”

Eleven year old Janus Ormor looked up from the book he was reading on the floor of their living chamber. Father was captain of the guard, and as such they had better quarters in the palace than some other soldiers—shutters on the windows, softer beds, and the rug in their living chamber was far more comfortable than his bed, especially with a fire going.

Janus always had trouble staying warm—which never seemed right, since he was half dragon, but if Father wasn't worried then neither was Janus.

Marking his place carefully, Janus set his book aside and got to his feet so he could dash across the room to crawl into his father's lap. Yeah, it was kind of juvenile—he was eleven, Shadow's sake—but Father ran hot, and Janus was not above stealing a little of that warmth from him.

Knowing that, Timothy Ormor smiled and loosened the top couple buttons on his collar, allowing Janus to press his forehead to the curve of his neck as he crowded close with a satisfied sigh.

“What's going on, Father?”

“Nothing, really, just...well, your birthday is in a couple days.”

“Uh huh! I'm really excited! I love surprise parties.”

“How did...”

Janus looked up at his father with a smile, earning one in return. Father finally laughed, shaking his head.

“Sometimes I forget how good your ears are, wriggle worm.” Father sighed, tugging Janus closer. “No matter—yes, we're throwing you a surprise party. Think you can pretend?”

“I'm real good at pretending!” Janus assured him before cuddling up to Father's chest again.

“Well, that's good...but, uh...we need to talk 'bout something else.”

“What's that, Father?”

“Well...you know the story I told you about how you were born?”

Janus nodded, tucking his head against Father's neck again. “You and Mother loved each other very much, so you--”

“Not that part, imp!”

Giggling, Janus continued.

“--after Mother found out she was with child, you guys let me be born in the way of the dragons: she changed form, carried me for a year, and I was hatched a few weeks after the egg came. I didn't get my human form until I was a month old.”

“Well...that's the thing, kiddo...Shadow's Balls, there's no easy way to say this...”

“Say what, Father?”

“I...damn it, but I promised her you'd know your people. Thing is, Jan...your mother didn't have you with me.”

Janus felt his stomach get cold inside.

“What do you mean? You...you're my father.”

Timothy ran a hand through his son's hair, staring into his bright and confused little face. He wasn't overly fair, but his jet black hair washed out his complexion some, his dark eyes glittering in the firelight.

He was so easily mistaken for human with that beautiful face—until he heard things no child his age should. Until he stuck his hand in a fire and came away unburnt. Until he grew slow and lethargic in the cold...until those dark eyes bled yellow as daffodils, pupils lengthening into reptilian slits.

“I'm your dad, wriggle worm,” Timothy confessed, “but the truth is...I'm not actually your father.”

********** 1033, A.A.

“Sneak attack!”

Janus dropped his book as Patton rushed straight at him, flinging himself into Janus's lap and wrapping his arms around his neck to squeeze tight.

“I could see you coming, sweetie.” Janus pointed out with a sigh that didn't match the fierce swell of affection in his chest, hot and restless, compelling him to hold Patton in return with arms wrapped carefully around his waist.

Patton's giggle, right in his ear, sent a pleasant shiver up his spine. “But you didn't know I was gonna hug you!”

“Your arms were open for one.”

“So?”

“You also do this at least three times a day.”

“Only because you said four was too many!”

Patton drew back to pout at him this time, and that hot swell of affection stretched in his chest to the point of pain. Since Mori's death and Roman's installment as regent until the coronation, Logan and Patton had been given free reign of the castle, along with a few other Necromata prisoners the pair had vetted. Until their freedom was voted on by the citizens, they couldn't be released, but they could at least be made comfortable, and given room to reclaim some shred of normalcy.

Which meant Patton could, and did, visit Janus far too often, greedily devouring every hug, cuddle, hand hold, or simple hair ruffle he could gain access to. Janus could hardly deny him...and Janus wanted it all just as much.

Gods, Janus wanted, too much and too soon and too...inhuman.

Staring into Patton's face, Janus's vision was tinged with rays of gold. A gilt to every dark curl on Patton's head, flecks of gold in those deep blue eyes turning them into true lapis...shimmering gold lips pooched into a mock scowl, gold dusting the faint array of freckles he was acquiring after a few weeks of sunlight...

Pressure. Warm, steady, gentle...

Janus blinked, realizing Patton had his forehead pressed against Janus's. He was talking, words Janus couldn't hear but felt, soft and soothing and endless to fill his ears and press back the shimmering film over his vision.

The gilt edges faded away. His eyes were blue, deep and still and endless. He was Patton again, not...not some worthless hoard.

Just Patton, soft and sweet and bloodthirsty, infinitely more precious.

“...got you, Janny, my beautiful Janus. I got you, you're doing so good, you're so good for me...”

...okay, that couldn't be allowed to go on. Not when it made warmth pool far lower in Janus's body, made him want something entirely different—and wow, he was not ready for those kinds of personal revelations today.

Clearing his throat, Janus reached up to gently touch Patton's cheek.

“I'm all right, Pattycake. Promise.”

Patton watched him dubiously, a far more serious version of that pout forming on his face again...Gods and Souls, he wanted to run a fingertip over that lush lower lip. Or maybe bite it.

“You were growling.” Patton replied suspiciously. “And you were feeling cold. You're never cold, you're always warm as toast.”

“It's nothing, truly. I was just...distracted.” Janus tried again. “Work related, got me a little upset is all.”

Patton narrowed his eyes—then leaned back in to hug Janus again. Janus hugged him back without thinking...and felt his breath catch when he swore, swore to all the dragon gods, that he felt the tiniest press of lips against his neck before Patton burrowed in, pressing his face there.

“No one's 'llowed to upset my pretty dragon.” Patton mumbled against his throat. “Gonna eat their liver.”

Janus knew enough to know that was a very genuine threat, petulant as it sounded—and the promise of bloodshed should not make his heart throb with the softest pulse of tenderness and adoration. And yet...

“No more cannibalism, remember, darling?”

“It was one time, and it was an accident!”

Janus had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing as Patton drew back to whine at him in protest.

“Yes, darling. Of course—entirely accidental. Naturally.”

“Humph. Not talking to you anymore.”

“Understood.”

“...the Lord Father is here to see you.”

Janus felt his blood turn to ice at that.

“Janny? You okay?”

With a sigh, Janus gently patted Patton's knee.

“No, but this was inevitable. Up, Paddock darling. I've business to attend to.”

********** He seemed bigger than Janus remembered.

Walking into his office, he was unsuprised to see Josiah Crofter standing within its walls, back turned as he stared out the window, arms folded across his chest. He wasn't, technically, allowed to be here and leave free, but Josiah had made it clear to the prince regent he knew how to access the castle at will—and had been given leave to do so whenever he wished to see his family.

When Janus was thirteen, he'd been a hungry giant, and now...now he was exactly the same despite the fact that Janus was now a grown man. Tall, too, thanks to that seven foot frame in his ancestry. Somehow, even still, Josiah himself was the bigger, the prouder, the more intimidating.

Clearing his throat, Janus announced his presence. Josiah didn't even turn around.

“You got good men servin' you, Deceit.”

“Do not call me that.” Janus replied flatly, sauntering over to his desk. “The walls have ears. Granted, most of them are mine, but loose lips and all. Unlike the rest of you, I take protection of my True Name very seriously.”

“Unlike the rest of us, son, it can't be used to hurt you. Not anymore.”

“Yes, you saw to that, didn't you?” Janus bit off tersely, sinking into his chair.

Josiah fell silent, taking a moment before he finally turned to face him. He was a stoic wall for several seconds before his expression just...melted, cold gray eyes going smoke-soft as he watched him.

“You look so much like your momma it hurts.” Josiah murmured, one corner of his mouth twitching upwards. “It's a good hurt, mind, but...I know you don't believe me, but seein' you's a balm on old wounds, little ember.”

That caught Janus by surprise—and he hated that. He was the one with the surprises, the tricks, the knowledge...but this man had things he never would.

Father knew who Janus was, but Josiah Crofter...he knew where Janus came from. He knew the why, the history and the parts and how they worked together, because they were a part of him as well. They were, quite literally, part of his soul.

“Which part?”

The question left Janus without his permission, torn from the small, secret part of him that had been inexorably drawn to his birth father's doorstep from the moment his human half had truly awakened for the first time.

He wasn't sure what he even meant, but somehow Josiah knew all the same.

“Both. All.” he replied, deep voice heavy with affection that settled over Janus, warm as fire and soft as the heaviest flannel blanket. “You got her scales and her hair—and in human form, her eyes were always that same shade of yellow you got on the one side.”

The knowledge hit him hard, formed a fist and plunged straight into his chest. It was comfort, it was agony...and it was a much needed reminder.

Josiah Crofter knew him as even his own father couldn't—and far too late, Janus learned to fear him for that reason. Far too late.

Janus's True Name was proof of that.

“Is there a reason you're here to see me, Lord Father?” he replied instead of addressing the observation. “Or did you come her to merely wax sentiment?”

A flare of hurt, then anger passed through his expression, clinging to his bones with its painful familiarity. Timothy Ormor was a man slow to anger, patient and steady—unlike Janus, whose swift mind was only outpaced by his heart, burning with the fire of the dragons.

Lashing out with anger instead of grieving or showing fear. This man was where he got it from.

Like Josiah did now, composing himself and folding his hands behind his back, he would default to a steady and inscrutable mask, cover the truth with strength and decorum.

“I came here to check on you.” he replied evenly. “Your situation with the Morrel boy ain't exactly a common one. Does he know?”

“About my condition? No.” Janus replied flatly. “And he never will.”

“That ain't an option, and you damn well know it.”

“It is if we aren't together.”

Josiah's brow furrowed, expression clouding with confusion. “You a Jadeheart?”

Janus rolled his eyes. “That term is archaic as all Seven Hells—no, I am not aromantic. Nor am I asexual, which is hardly your business—oh, I'm sorry, Soultouched.”

“You love that boy. You're bonded to him.”

“Your point?”

“...so you did give him your human soul.”

Janus fell silent, stubbornly holding the other man's gaze until he grit his teeth with a growl.

“Ah, Hells...”

Janus didn't like the way Josiah's breath left him in a rush, the way he cursed as if he'd just lost something precious. He didn't like the way he hung his head, shoulders slumping in something like defeat.

Janus didn't like the way he felt suddenly like he'd done something to deliberately hurt him.

“He was a Black Dog with a pure heart.” Janus hissed. “The purest heart...anyone who didn't know would assume he had a soul already, how could I give him anything else? How could I kill that human heart with a monster's soul?”

As he said it, he felt the reality of it sink into him for the first time, saying it out loud like that.

Because unlike most twin souls, a drake could choose.

And when Janus gained an inkling of what might be happening, when he felt that moment come—to give of himself, to release something of himself into Patton's care, of course—of course he chose to give Patton, to trust Patton, with everything in him that was human.

“You know what's gonna happen if you hold yourself away from him, son.” Josiah warned.

Janus narrowed his eyes at him, but could no longer bear up under Josiah's scrutiny, his eyes flicking down to his desk.

“Tell me this, Father: if you knew that you were going to become every foul thing the Animator stood for, if you knew that you were going to turn into your own father, would you have married my mother? Would you have exposed her to that monster?”

There was no answer from Josiah. Janus didn't expect one.

The closer he grew to Patton, the worse it got—and now that the sweet little killer was no longer safely tucked away in the dungeons or sequestered in a single wing of the palace, Janus was slipping.

Consumed by the hunger for possession. Tormented by visions of riches. Haunted by the knowledge that, if given half a chance, he would consume Patton whole just to sate his growing thirst for more.

Without his human soul, Janus was losing his grip on himself—and if he couldn't do something soon, the dragon—Deceit--would be all that was left of him.

#janus sanders #patton sanders #moceit #sanders sides #fanfic #necromancer au #fic series: the emerald #my name is liz and i swear to god i will fic again

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beevean · 4 years

Text

3 years of Sonic Forces, the biggest love-hate relationship of the series

[note: this is the translation of @latin-dr-robotnik’s article]

Today is an almost special day, today it’s the anniversary of a rather peculiar game in this series.

On this day 3 years ago, the (to this day) newest game of Sonic Team was released: Sonic Forces. After waiting a year and a half since its announcement (and four years since Sonic Lost World’s release), it was finally time to see what the last chapter of the main series had in store for us, and the results were… okay.

There were so many warning signs in the months before the release: a marketing campaign that was noticeably absent until the very last month, opting to focus more on Mania (let’s not forget that we still get videos about Mania even after the game’s release, not so much about Forces), which added to the uncertainty caused by the footage already available at the time, which ended up being confirmed a few days before the release, when some people managed to get the game early and streamed a good chunk of the game. While one of the leakers was just a bad player, the quality of the game itself was put into question…

A harsh reality

I’m not going to soften up my words here: for being the latest Sonic game, in a post-Generations and post-Boom era, Sonic Forces fell short of everything it tried to do (if it tried). Anything positive comes from the roots of something negative, and in the context of this anniversary, after 3 years without knowing a thing about the next game, it only emphasizes the frustration and the disappointment it caused.

Sonic Forces promised a world devastated by Eggman, an epic battle to save the world and win against a powerful enemy. However, of so many promises, not even the first one, the most basic one, was kept: it was an empty takeover, explained poorly (because they didn’t even show it, they told it through text) and developed even worse. All the potential of such an exciting world was thrown away as soon as the game didn’t even try to explain some of its most important questions (like why Green Hill was in the process of desertification); to this day we still don’t know what the fuck does the Phantom Ruby do, in Mania it has some powers, in Forces it has different powers, and it’s not clear where does it come from or if it’s more powerful than the Chaos Emeralds. It is disappointing to not be able to discover all this untapped potential, and it is so disappointing that one of the oldest works on my blog was an attempt to rewrite the beginning of the game, give it more context and a better footing to start the adventure.

This old leak dates back to 2016, when the game was barely announced, and surprisingly it ended up being real, very very real. Even the title “Sonic Wars” is true, and if you don’t believe me you can open the game’s folder and read the names that appear. Source.

The confusion and disappointment don’t end here. If you have read the mess of opinions and emotions that is my analysis of the game [translator’s note: the link is in Spanish], you may have noticed that one of the biggest questions never answered was, what’s up with the order of the levels and why is it so confusing? Between 2016 and 2017, there were some leaks and statements going around places like Sonic Stadium that confirmed that the game went through numerous changes, not just in the plot, but in the levels as well. Right now I can’t find these old posts (I’m surprised that the fandom didn’t archive them), but it was said that the original idea for Forces, then still called Sonic Wars, was to shine the spotlight even more on the Avatar, or Buddy as it was called; the decision was unanimously rejected by SEGA of America and Europe, forcing SEGA of Japan to order that the game was modified. In fact, I remember that the leak that mentioned this meeting between the SEGA branches was rather bad, with a very tense atmosphere and lots of disagreements.

This is the closest thing to a confirmation of the scrapped plot that I could find. At least it’s proof that I’m not crazy and that Forces was indeed more focused on the Avatar. Source.

The mess that is the order of the levels, the questionable presence of characters like Classic Sonic, and some of the details of one of the leaked scrapped scripts such as that apparently they considered to reintroduce Mephiles – all of this shapes the network of a mediocre game, created under the premise of “from the creators of Sonic Colors and Sonic Generations” but taking all the wrong parts of those two games, using an engine that has been proven to be less efficient than Unleashed’s and Generations (and I’m not talking about the Hedgehog Engine, which is the graphical engine – I’m talking about the game and physics engine of Lost World), and with short levels and… polarizing bosses, to say the least.

The result is a game that shows a lot of potential, but in practice it doesn’t live up to it at all, be it for its own limitations (being rushed like hell) or for a noticeable lack of attention to details; it didn’t succeed in creating a cohesive and coherent world, with levels that could be worthy of what has been learned in these years. This is the reality of Sonic Forces.

And yet...

Despite everything I’ve just said, despite all the unacceptable errors that Forces made, and despite all the terribly wasted potential… we still talk about this game.

There are many reasons. On one hand, Forces and Mania have been the latest Sonic games for 3 years now, which is tragic in on itself (Team Sonic Racing disappeared from the face of the Earth); on the other, we still talk about Forces because there is something that still attracts us to it.

It’s not the same attraction we feel for Sonic ‘06, though. Forces is not a complete, almost-franchise-killing disaster like ‘06 was, it’s not a giant meme that spread from the fandom to popular circles and internet figures such as the Game Grumps. People have been trying to fix Forces’ mistakes, but not on the same scale as projects that tries to completely recreate ‘06 with a radically different engine, or fix each and every bug in the original version. Forces is nowhere near as infamous, and so the discussion goes in different directions.

youtube

Episode Shadow is still one of the most entertaining parts of the game, and one of the most important as well, as Shadow himself hadn’t been a playable character since… well, Sonic ‘06.

On one hand, there is a cult surrounding Infinite, one that I personally don’t agree with, and I don’t know if it’s bigger than Mephiles’ 15 years ago, but I do know that it exists and it’s still present. One of the ways Sonic Team tried to “go back to its roots” was to introduce a character like Infinite in a plot that was supposed to be “more serious”. Final results notwithstanding, Infinite managed to win the heart of a sizeable portion of the fandom, which still wishes for his return and development.

On the other hand, there is the Avatar, our personal OC with an impressive customization system, which allows us complete freedom, to the point that we could recreate characters introduced in Sonic IDW like Whisper the Wolf. What at first looked like a questionable idea, nothing more than a source of memes, ended up becoming the smartest idea Forces had, with a gameplay style that, in my opinion, retains a little of the old Adventure spirit, and even had some of the most fun levels in the game. While Classic Sonic ruined one third of the game, and Sonic was somewhat mediocre compared to his past feats, the Avatar’s gameplay style manages to keep its quality throughout the game, despite the fact that the plot keeps revolving around their presence instead of focusing on the other aspects of saving the world, which is... well, a little unfortunate.

Even I, who I’m not really into Sonic OCs, had a lot of fun recreating some of the characters.

And finally we get to the best part of the entire game: the music.

Even after three years my opinions haven’t changed much. Forces’ music isn’t perfect, it has its low moments (I feel like I’m the only one who doesn’t like Light of Hope) and some disasters (F*ded H*lls lol), but overall it has good intentions and it has some pretty good highlights.

The use of synths, as overdone and criticized as it is, was an honest attempt to follow a trend present in older games, like Sonic Unleashed, where this instrument symbolized Eggman’s influence. An interesting touch that, while wasn’t completely successful, is appreciated.

youtube

I still say that Fighting Onward is one of the best themes of the entire game, and Spaceport as the level benefits from having it.

Then there’s the best part of the entire soundtrack: the return of vocal themes, such as the main theme, the villain theme, and some of the level themes. I cannot explain with enough words how much fans were waiting for this, and it was brilliantly handled by the advertising campaign: a preview of the instrumental version of Fist Bump, a short peek of the Avatar themes, and finally the reveal of some of the major themes. It’s not surprising that it became one of the most appreciated parts by the fans. From the iconic intro of Fading World to the subtle nod to Green Hill in Set In Motion, every theme has something that makes it stand out from the rest of the game.

But even so, the rest of the music in the game has redeemable points as well. Forces in general distances itself from the music styles previously used in the series, especially from the variety of incredible sounds of Unleashed or even Lost World; but from time to time it still recognizably Sonic, like in the half-Megaman, half-Runners Network Terminal, in the extremely epic and underrated Last Judgement, or in the always-mentioned Ghost Town (not the only “good” Classic theme in my opinion, but the first one that comes to mind). Even the remixed Zavok theme sound better in Forces than in its original version.

A love-hate relationship

At the end of the day, the only thing left I could say is that Forces is still one of the most polarizing games in the series. 3 years aren’t enough to heal some of the wounds left by the 4-year hiatus, plus the disappointment of the time, but at the same time these 3 years kept alive the memory of its best moment, the discussions about the music and the uncountable groups of fans reunited to share OCs like the fandom has always done.

In this anniversary, I thought it would be interesting to revisit a bit the peculiar relationship I have with this game, as we wait for a new hype cycle for the next game. And maybe, just maybe, that will be the moment Forces will fade from our collective memory, at least for a decade, until new fans will look back to the good and bad this game has done. And I hope that, in the future, the situation of the franchise will also be different from what it has been these last years, in a good way of course.

This is all we have left of Forces today, a game that did not manage to capitalize on its opportunities, and a game that shames the legacy of the Unleashed-Colors-Generations era; but also a game that had some genuine, interesting ideas, and a different musical direction, one that (with some exceptions) was what the fans wanted. It’s a polarizing game, it’s a love-hate relationship.

#sonic the hedgehog #sonic forces #translation #happy birthday forces #i've translated this article because it sums up my thoughts pretty well #i don't hate it and there are things i unironically like about it #but overall it was a big disappointment

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unholyplumpprincess · 3 years

Text

Change of Heart

Here’s the WidowAna commission! Commissioned by someone who wishes to remain anonymous.

(Older content)

Summary: In which Amelie feels her ice melting away after familiarity strikes her heart and she feels the need to return to Overwatch. Seeing Ana reminds her of what they used to have- and boy can that woman make a girl see stars.

Reblogs > Likes

!!!Minors and ageless blogs dni or you will be blocked!!!

Fandom: Overwatch

Relationship: Widowmaker/Ana Amari (FWB), mentioned romantic interest of Sombra/Widowmaker

Warnings: NSFT/R18+, Widowmaker is a trans woman with facial feminization and top surgery but no bottom surgery: Words used to describe her bits are cock/dick, FWB relationship, bondage.

Words: 2.5k

_________________

Overwatch had banded back together in another stand against the cruelty of the world, a war that would never be won. Of course, it needed to be done secretly- that went without saying. The government wasn’t fond of people with super powers causing a mess of things again. Every former agent that held the recon communicator got the message from Winston.

Even if they were playing for the same team.

Amelie could remember portions of being a member of Overwatch, the entire experimentation on her caused a big jerk in her memories. Yet, the communicator had jostled some more, a little tug in her memories that made her cold heart ache until she was absentmindedly stroking over the shape of it with her thumb, a frown to her plump lips. It would take her months to make her decision after this moment.

For once, in years, she had felt lost and confused. FELT something other than nothing. She once had had a purpose of being one of the greatest marksmen around, never missing, always taking down her prey without a shed of a doubt of anything that came after.

~Rest under the cut~

And yet...In her own mind, she found herself yearning for the smiles she once shared with the ones she used to call her ‘family’.

To Angela’s soft smiles as she checked over for injuries, to Winston acting as the father of the group and making sure everyone was fed, to their newest recruit- Lena- excited to try all the new things and do well. Ana’s kind eyes as she pinched Amelie’s cheek and told her that her aim was getting better by the day. A prideful look that always made Amelie laugh.

A shock had sent her forward in her sleep, eyes snapping awake as if something was calling out to her. Leave, run, go away- her first instincts in years that hadn’t been killer ones. She wasn’t following programming, or orders from men in Talon, something was melting her outer shell away. Something calling out to her, leave, run, go away, a mantra-

There had been one person in this entire organization she had gotten close to. Or, as close as she could have possibly gotten. Someone who saw past the cold exterior to the woman she used to be- the woman she COULD be.

Sombra.

Sombra had found a way to get Amelie to open up as best as she could, somehow wiggling her way into the spider’s heart until she found herself almost aching to see the hacker smiling up at her. Such a little thing with a hidden story, Amelie just knew she was hiding it.

However, ones who hide together stuck together.

She found herself going to Sombra’s room in the middle of the night that very same night, quietly starting to pack her things for her until the hacker stirred from her position in bed, “Ugh-- Amelie? It’s too early-” She starts to groan, sitting up in bed with her hair a mess and rubbing at her eyes, but she’s startled when Amelie rests a perfectly manicured hand on her arm.

There’s a look they share. Amelie’s eyes don’t look lost and solemn, she looks determined.

A tired, yet mischief filled smile spreads across Sombra’s face with a bit of a laugh escaping her, “Oh we’re being naughty this early? Why didn’t you say so.”

It takes an hour, maybe less to gather what is needed and for Sombra to turn off both the lights and cameras. They’re gone by morning, no sign, no note. And an even bigger surprise for everyone when the one missing with Sombra, is none other than their perfect little doll, their perfect killing machine.

The switch back to Overwatch is a culture shock, not to mention the welcome party isn’t very welcome. Not when they see Sombra, at the very least, and the person who nearly killed Lena. Something Amelie only had a flicker of memory about, as if she could recognize her face to a T, but the whole scenario had been a blur. As if she had been a puppet to a ventriloquist.

Once finally accepted after keeping them both in almost interrogation rooms to ensure there was no bugs on them or any nefarious ideas, they were allowed to be apart of the group-. With surveillance, of course.

Lena took Olivia under her wing.

And Ana had Amelie, someone Amelie hadn’t seen in years and could admire the woman even more now.

Her hair was now grayed completely over, not a shock of black in it. Her eyes were just as kind as Amelie remembered them, honeyed and warm with wrinkles delicately framing the outer edges in crow’s feet. Her smile was just as warm, if a bit sad as she reaches to set her hand on Amelie’s cheek, as if checking her over. She’s even shorter than Amelie remembered.

“You haven’t aged a day.” Ana murmurs softly, sounding sad for her and Amelie can’t blame her. Her body was practically frozen at this age, looking just like the young 28 year old Ana remembered. Amelie can’t help it as she turns her head softly into her warm palm, feeding off her heat with a soft sigh. Another small smile makes its way to Ana’s lips, “And still just like a kitten.”

The word makes Amelie scoff, reaching up to hold Ana’s hand firmly to her cheek, “It has been ages since I have been shown...affection. Understand that this does not mean I will kneel to you again.” It’s almost a challenge the way she says it.

They had previously had a thing together, under the table sort of thing. Friends with benefits where the benefit was both women were comfortable in each other’s presence, and of course the ways Ana could make her melt. Before Gerard had captured her attention, that is.

Ana had been her source of affection, pleasure, and familiarity. Her touch could be soft or rough, entirely talented as they’d work Amelie over until she’d be drenched in sweat and sobbing. A dance they both had been familiar in.

Ana showed her the skill of an older woman, Amelie showed her the flexibility of a ballerina.

A soft laugh filters through Ana’s lips, using her thumb to stroke the cold flesh of Amelie’s cheek. “I would never ask you to- not after what you have been through, my dear.”

It strikes a chord in Amelie, something soft, something...familiar.

Of course, that familiar warmth, that soft feeling had blossomed. Old habits died hard, after all.

It’s how Amelie ends up in Ana’s room, again, and again, in the familiar darkness of the night. It’s how her plum lipstick gets smeared from Ana’s own mouth or her skin as Amelie indulges in the sweetness of her scent. Of how Ana feels and sounds when her lips wrap around a soft, small breast and Amelie shamelessly ruts into the offered thigh beneath her.

It’s also how Ana finds her own heart pounding harder than it had in years, at least for a scenario like this. How her fingers twirl in Amelie’s long hair, dragging her up to press kisses to her cold face and indulging in whatever she wanted to hear. How she feels younger by the day the more often she keeps thinking of Amelie and getting aroused, having to fight down a blush at the memories of the night prior.

Insatiable, as Amelie had always been.

And now? Now Amelie is in Ana’s room again, but a little differently this time.

She’s completely stripped naked, shuddering as little tremors wrack her frame from both desire and anticipation. She feels absolutely alive in these moments, head tipped to the side and her long hair free as it dips across her pale lavender flesh. Her curves are beautiful, smooth of scars that her body repaired. Her breasts are smaller, surgery she’d had ages ago during her Overwatch days, same with the way her face is gently sloped and molded perfectly for her own comfort.

Between her legs, her cock rests half hard, heavy against her thigh that flexes with tension. Her cock isn’t too big, perhaps about five or so inches with a beautiful curve upwards with a lovely thickness. It’s smooth and lavender like the rest of her flesh, a deeper shade at the head where white pre-cum beads. She’d never gotten bottom surgery, that much she had been comfortable with.

She’s smooth all over, blemish free and hair free. Something Ana found herself learning to like as she ran her hands over her flesh- but not yet, not now.

Amelie has her arms bound behind her back, wrists together and the rope coming to the ceiling to tie around a hook to keep her standing and still. Across her chest and over her abdomen is the rope binding her wrists firmly to her own body, looking much like a beautiful spiderweb. Ana had yet to lose her touch in the art of perfect knot tying.

Amelie’s legs are open, spread with her feet flat to the ground. Her chest is rising and falling evenly, trying to settle her nerves as her golden eyes, heavily lidded with thick lashes, watch Ana like a predator. Yet, in these moments, Ana should most certainly be taking that title.

Ana is stepped a bit back to admire her work, fully dressed in a white blouse unbuttoned at the top with flared sleeves and tight black pants it’s tucked into. It looked rather old fashioned, beautiful on her. Her gray hair is pulled into an over the shoulder braid, curling to between her freckled cleavage that makes Amelie sigh at the sight. A few stray hairs curl over the eyepatch resting over her eye and Amelie would dare say she looked stunning.

If she wasn’t being cruel, that is.

Warm fingers trace up her inner thighs as Ana rests in front of her, petting up and along her curves with her other hand. “Still as obedient as ever.” She remarks with a pleased hum, silencing any protest from Amelie when her fingers wrap around a dusty purple nipple and giving it soft attention. When she inhales sharply, arching into the touch, Ana’s lips form a tale telling smirk. “Just as sensitive.”

Deft and skilled fingers wrap around her cock, giving Amelie slow, languid pumps with just enough pressure. Ana’s thumb traces the sensitive glans under the head, tracing up to her slit and letting pre-cum spill out a bit so she can use it to slick up her movements. Amelie whimpers, rolling her head to the side and letting out a huff of pleasure when Ana’s warm mouth is replaced on her breast.

A clever tongue flicks over her nipple and makes Amelie’s head swim with pleasure. She keeps her eyes closed, but she can picture Ana as perfect as ever touching her. With one hand working her over with languid strokes and gentle squeezes, her other holding Amelie’s side at where her curve meets the junction of her hip, stroking with her thumb softly in the circle of the ropes resting there.

“Ana-” Amelie breathes out, practically on her tiptoes when Ana pulls from her breast, kissing down her torso between each shape the ropes make. She only hums in response back up at Amelie, a pillow already waiting on the ground for Ana to rest on as she sinks to her knees. A hand gently rests over Amelie’s thigh, petting her outer thigh soothingly as Ana peppers kisses along the underside of her cock.

Amelie’s toes curl, turning her head to the other side before her head bows to watch her with a shaky exhale. Watching Ana’s eye flutter before peeking up at Amelie, letting her lips rub over her sensitive flesh, her hand keeping Amelie’s cock steady as she swallows the first few inches into her warm mouth.

Too much heat, too much warmth, the pleasure of it all- it's too much!

Amelie lets out a beautiful moan, hips jerking to no avail and only managing to tense her bonds tighter around her torso. She murmurs her name again, biting onto her plump lower lip as Ana takes her down with ease.

Practice, she could practically hear Ana chide in the back of her head, makes perfect.

Tension builds in her lower abdomen as Amelie nearly keels over on her bonds. She’s normally quiet in moments like this, nothing but sighs regularly passing her lips, but it seemed a scene like this brought out more of her. A soft swear under her breath, her mother tongue passing across her very lips as Ana keeps taking her into her warm mouth, nosing at her mound as she swallows around her cock-

“Shit-” She whines out in a higher voice, thighs tensing and her wrists jerking to try and maybe bury her fingers in Ana’s hair. To no avail, as her fingers flex and the jerk of her wrists only makes the rope tighten once more around her pleasantly. “Ana,” She tries again, voice high and warning.

It only results in said woman humming, swallowing her back down in a fluid motion as Amelie begins to cum. Vaguely aware of how Ana swallows it down, her hands stroking Amelie’s shaking thighs as if to soothe her.

When Amelie’s eyes flutter open blearily to look down at Ana, she watches as she slowly pulls off her soft cock. Sparing kitten licks and peppered kisses just to make Amelie shake a little bit more before she pulls back and wipes her mouth off on the back of her hand.

“How are you feeling?” Ana asks as she moves to stand up, stroking over Amelie’s curves and reaching behind her in an embrace as well as to pluck the knot from the ropes. “Do you want water? Tea?”

Amelie hums softly in a negative, letting her bonds be free as Ana begins rounding her to help with the bonds, rubbing over the marks left on her skin. “I feel...alive- better than I did earlier.” Spoken calmly, despite the waver in her voice from the tremors in her body. Once the ropes are all removed, she nearly falls on her first step, but Ana gently leads her to the bed instead.

“Come, lie down, you squirmed too much and caused a burn.” Sounding chiding as always, Amelie can’t help but smile at Ana’s fussing. Letting herself rest back on the bed and turn her head to bury herself in the familiar scent of teas and cinnamon.

Ana returns only moments later, a spicy smelling salve being applied to the rope burns across Amelie’s rib cage, wrists, and hips. Massaging into tense muscles as the prior Talon marksman sighs with pleasure and comfort. The entire time, Ana murmurs praise as she works her over, telling her how good she was, how beautiful, just as she starts to doze off. Safe, at last.

Now, Amelie just needed to find a way to get a certain feisty hacker’s romantic attention.

#Widowana #Widowmaker x Ana #Widowmaker #Ana Amari #Overwatch #bendoverwatch #nsft #lemon #commissions #princess writing #Trans Widowmaker

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starshinewriter · 3 years

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Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: DuckTales (Cartoon 2017) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Dewey Duck & Huey Duck & Louie Duck, Louie Duck & Scrooge McDuck Characters: Louie Duck, Huey Duck, Dewey Duck, Scrooge McDuck, Doofus Drake (mentioned) Additional Tags: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Brotherly Love, Protective Older Brothers, doofus is the worst, scrooge used to be as well but hes working on it, Episode: s03e21 The Life and Crimes of Scrooge McDuck! Series: Part 10 of Set After Summary:

Louie apologized to Doofus, he isn't sure how to feel about it. (Spoiler alert, he's very sure.)

Notes:

yes im aware this is another louie-centric story and yes im also aware that i still have to finish the final chapter of AMOM.... that's all i got.

hope you enjoy!

Alternative to Ao3:

The first thing Louie does when he gets home is go up to his room, he thinks his Uncle has some idea of how worn out he is cause he doesn't say anything against it. He knows that he'll have the room to himself since his brothers are still occupied with the gribbles and honestly that relieves him a bit, as bad as that makes him feel he needs to be alone right now. There's also the thing of them knowing whenever something is wrong the moment they see him and will ask questions that he isn't ready to answer yet.

He throws himself on his bed and does everything he can not to think about the day's events but fails almost instantly. So he tries to think about everything except the part that bothered him the most. He fails at that too.

He apologized to Doofus Drake, that was something that he did. And he's supposed to feel happy about it, apologizing is a good thing, but all he feels is everything he always feels with Doofus: dread, terror, the overwhelming desire to get as far away from him as he possibly can- which is about as opposite from good as you can get. He doesn't get it, why doesn't he feel better about this? Why does he feel like he just made a huge mistake? Sure, Doofus is Doofus, but he had gotten him off of his back, which had been his whole goal, he should feel good right now, but all he feels is trepidation.

Trauma, Huey would call it.

All he knows is that he wants it to go away and he doesn't know how to make it, and that might be scarier than actually being scared. What if it never goes away? What if he always feels like he can't let his guard down, ever? What kind of life is that? He buries himself in his blankets and that's where he stays, alone, until the door opens and voices that are talking about something he can't hear pause when they see him. He can practically feel them look at each other and carefully step to the bed.

"Hey, Lou." One of them -Dewey- says. "Whatcha up to?" He doesn't say anything. They look at each other once more. He feels the bed move a moment later- once, twice, and then he's surrounded by the comforting presence only his brothers can give. He stays in the blankets.

"What happened today? Uncle Scrooge gave us a summary but it was mostly about him and what he went through."

"Doofus Drake was there." Is all he says, but it's more than enough, in less than a second arms are encompassing the blankets and grabbing him in a hug. They know what a trigger Doofus is for him.

Huey places his head near where he knows Louie's is, "Do you wanna talk about it?" He feels his head shake and fights back the urge to sigh, of course he doesn't, but that doesn't mean he shouldn't. "We won't force you, but it might help you get your thoughts in order."

"I apologized to him." His brothers share a glance,

"Why?"

Louie shifts in the blankets, his brothers move to make him more comfortable. "To get him to leave me alone, mostly, and drop the case. But I dunno, Uncle Scrooge was apologizing for what he did, so I thought I had to too."

Dewey looks at him with confusion, "But you didn't do anything, not anything that he didn't deserve. Why apologize for that?"

"It felt like the right thing to do."

"Was it?" Louie is silent for a few minutes, that's what's worrying him, what if in making the right decision for the case he made the wrong one for himself?

"I don't know." He finally answers. "I just know I wanted Scrooge and me to be able to go home and I didn't want to have a sworn enemy my whole life."

Huey holds him tighter, "Louie, your relationship with him is not the same as Uncle Scrooge's relationships with his enemies. You're terrified of him! You can't be around him or even think about him without freaking out! He trapped you in his house, he tried to have you killed, he's not your enemy, he's an abuser!" The room falls silent after that and it stays that way until sniffles start to come from the blanket pile.

"I didn't want to do it," Louie admits. "I just did what I thought I had to. But now, now I'm so scared." He breaks into sobs and his brothers quickly pull him out of the blanket and into a hug. "It's not fair, why did I have to be the one to do it?! Why does he get to get away with everything?!" Dewey starts rubbing his back which makes him calm down a bit.

"All I can say is he better hope he doesn't run into us."

"Agreed." Huey replies; Louie lets out a small laugh, yeah he better, but Louie wouldn't feel sorry for him if he did.

____________________________________________________________

His Uncle finds him in the kitchen later and nods at him as he goes to get something from the fridge. "Are you feeling better, lad?" He asks as he sets up a kettle on the stove.

"No." Louie says honestly.

"Ae thought that might be the case." He pours tea into the kettle. "Ae know apologizin' fer somethin' is hard, especially ta someane like that, but sometimes it's just somethin' yew have ta do."

"... What if I made a mistake?" Louie responds without looking at him and his Uncle sighs.

"The only ane that can tell ye that is yew, do yew feel like ye made a mistake?" Louie hesitates before nodding. Scrooge hums, "Necessary evil it's called, sometimes its the only thing we can do. Doesnae make it right, or fair, but look at the positive: at least he'll leave ye alone now."

Louie doesn't say anything to that. Was that positive big enough to negate the negatives? "I wish I didn't." He admits all of a sudden. "Does that make me a bad person?"

His Uncle looks at him sternly, "Louie Duck, you are ane o' the best people ae know. Ye constantly make me want ta be better, and ae know ye do fer the rest o' this family as well. All o' yew kids do. Ae know this situation is awful but ae'm proud o' yew fer being the bigger person, if that counts fer anythin'." Louie nods, it does, it counts for a lot actually.

"Huey said I shouldn't have had to do it, that my relationship with Doofus was different than your's with your enemies. Worse. And that he didn't deserve an apology. I agree with him and I hate that I did it. It didn't make me feel any better, didn't lift any weight off of me, it just made me feel worse. And you know what the worst part is? That I keep thinking that I made him like this, that if I hadn't of gone to see him on Only Child Day he wouldn't be like this, how messed up is that?"

Scrooge turns back to the stove and removes the kettle then pours himself a cup of tea, "The lad was right, my relationships are nae that the same as yers, and it'll do yew no good ta compare them. Ae'll be honest- that child deserves a lot o' things, but an apology is nae ane o' them. Ae'm sorry yew were forced inta that position, yew should never do things cause someane else is or because it seems like the right thing ta do." He sighs. "It was a sticky situation, and ane ye really shouldnae have been involved in, ae dinnae need Donald yellin' at me ta know that's true." He says with a wry grin. "Ae'm glad yew were there though, ye were a great help." He adds, more sincerely.

Louie beams, "Maybe I should be a lawyer."

Scrooge chuckles, "Maybe." He looks at Louie, "Somethin' ae realized today was that while ae had a hand in creating my enemies and them me, ae ultimately made myself. Anyane can go on and on aboot apologizin' and holdin' people accountable, but at the end o' the day our own actions are the only anes we're responsible fer. Yew didnae make Doofus what he is, he made himself like that."

"That makes sense. Thanks, Uncle Scrooge." Maybe now he can feel better about this situation, between his brothers and his Uncle he's coming out with a much clearer view than before.

"And speakin' o' holdin' people accountable..." Louie looks at him with interest. "Ae'm thinkin' Doofus' parents and ae need ta have a little chat aboot his behavior. He cannae make yew as upset as ye get every time yew run inta him and get away with it." Louie grins at him, okay, now he can really feel better about this whole thing. It won't be right away, but he knows now that it is possible. He'll probably be scared of Doofus his whole life, and will never, ever, be near him again, but he won't always be a source of trauma for him and that's probably the best outcome.

And this point, he'll take whatever he can get.

#ducktales 2017 #the life and crimes of scrooge mcduck #louie duck 2017 #huey dewey and louie 2017 #scrooge and louie 2017

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tsarisfanfiction · 4 years

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Fresh Air

Fandom: Thunderbirds Rating: Gen Genre: Hurt/Comfort/Family Characters: Virgil, Scott

Yup, another fic for @gumnut-logic‘s #irrelief! The prompt used here is “Virgil finally teaching Scott things about gardening ( bounce: if it’s about how to transfer a plant into the soil . inpatient Scott keeps failing)” from @lightning1999 - although I admit it’s a pretty loose interpretation. I tried Virgil!PoV for this one... the big boy is probably the hardest for me to figure out so hopefully it’s not too out of character! When the standard methods of dealing with Scott don’t work, Virgil has to resort to something a little more creative.

Virgil couldn’t concentrate. He’d been trying to do a painting, but his muses were staying stubbornly out of reach, leaving the paint blotches just that – lifeless stains of paint on a canvas. This had been his last resort. The piano just didn’t sound right, almost as though it was being purposefully out of tune, and when he’d gone down to the hangar with the intention of getting a head start on maintenance, he’d ended up standing there blankly without even a tool in his hand.

He knew what it was. The others were equally aware, but none of them had managed to shift the awkward mood of the house. Not Alan’s video games, John’s quiet conversations, or even Gordon’s pranks had done anything to kick their eldest brother out of his uncharacteristic slump. Virgil’s previous efforts had also fallen flat, and even with his back to the den below he knew Scott was carelessly draped over Alan’s pilot seat, tablet in hand but turned off.

Dad was alive. He was back, currently secreted away to a specialist rehabilitation centre with his mother refusing to leave his side and Kayo adamantly on security detail. It was a source of great joy for them all – even Alan, the most nervous about what their Dad would be like – but once the rush had worn off, reality had started to sink in.

Scott didn’t know his place any more.

It had been so simple – if not easy – when Dad was gone. Scott had stepped up, again, just like he had done when they’d lost Mom a few years earlier, taking on the responsibility of their family’s wellbeing, the company, and then International Rescue once they could bear to look at the Thunderbirds their father had loved so much. This time there was no Grandma to sweep into their lives a week later and give Scott a reprieve – she was already there, and grieving herself.

Scott was in charge. Easy enough to explain, even if the realities of adjusting to listening to Scott like they’d once listened to Dad had been tough and they’d never quite reached that level (Alan had been closest, but then again there was over a decade between them anyway).

Eight years was a long time. Most of them had had the majority of their teenage years during their Dad’s absence, Scott presiding over one of the most intense periods of change and adjustment in their lives, and they’d all got used to it, Scott most of all.

Now Dad was back, and after the euphoria of the reunion, more practical considerations were starting to surface. Who was in charge? Would they split the responsibilities, or would one of them hold all of them – as both had done at some point in their lives? Would one be able to yield to the other’s command, now they were both used to being the one calling the shots?

It was an unspoken agreement between the younger four that whoever took charge, they’d support them both – even if Virgil privately thought it would be tough to adjust to taking orders from Dad. He’d been too young to join IR before the Zero-X happened. John had been in training, already spending some time up in Thunderbird Five like the child prodigy he was, and Scott had been delighted when Thunderbird One’s metaphorical keys had landed in his lap a year before, but for Virgil, Gordon and Alan, Scott was the only commander they’d ever known. They’d work for Dad, if that was how it ended up, but it would be another period of adjustment.

The conversation hadn’t happened yet. Dad was still too early on in his rehab, so everything was still on Scott’s shoulders, but the uncertainty was looming ahead him and the current scene below Virgil was becoming all too common. Reassurances from all of them that everything would work out just fine seemed to be falling flat, and as a result, the atmosphere was turning stifling.

Virgil ground his teeth and set his palette and brush down, silently promising to clean up the mess later.

“Scott!” he called, descending the stairs. Scott’s head jerked up, the hand holding the dark tablet in front of his face falling away to the side.

“What is it?” he asked, and his face reminded Virgil again of just how tired his eldest brother was. The bags under his eyes hadn’t receded any since they’d found Dad, despite hopes to the contrary.

“Follow me,” he said, slowing but not pausing as he passed the den and headed for the stairs.

“Virgil?” Scott asked, but to Virgil’s relief he moved, finding his feet and setting the tablet down before jogging to catch up. That was a good start; if he had the presence of mind to remember he didn’t like following, he wasn’t too preoccupied with whatever was running amok in his head and exerting its influence over the rest of them in the process.

“Remember the gardener?” he asked as they descended the stairs to the poolside. Gordon was floating aimlessly in the water, and Virgil made sure he was between Scott and their younger brother – the last thing he needed was Scott getting distracted and trying to parse why Gordon was so lifeless in his favourite place. He wasn’t wholly successful, Scott peering past him suspiciously, but a sudden splashing from the water told Virgil that his wingman had seen what was going on.

“What gardener?” Scott asked. Virgil steered him towards the shrubbery, new piles of laurel bushes he’d recently planted. “Wait-”

Leaving his brother to stare at the bushes in dawning comprehension, Virgil ducked to the side to a small storage shed and pulled out two pairs of shears.

“That gardener?” Scott asked as he came back. “The one I kept upsetting and you got mad at me for ruining all your attempts to pacify him?” Virgil handed him one of the pairs of shears, Scott accepting it automatically.

“His name was Monty,” he said. “But yes, that gardener.” He stepped forwards, and after surveying the bush in front of him for a moment, made his first cut. Beside him, Scott stood dumbly, and normally Virgil didn’t particularly enjoy being watched as he did any art but there was something different about his eldest brother trying to piece together in his mind what was going on.

Part of Virgil was nervous. There was no indication that this would work. Scott had never had a particular interest in gardening (memories of Mom trying to get him to repot a plant and dirt going everywhere except the pot sprang to mind with surprising readiness), and that rescue hadn’t been one of his favourites, either. It would make perfect sense for him to drop the shears – maybe at least put them back in the shed, if he’d even spotted where it was – and head back inside to continue his mental struggles alone.

Thus, it was with some surprise that he heard the snip of shears on plant while his shears were still opening after his previous cut. Glancing over to the right, he saw Scott’s face caught in a look of intense concentration as he cut small, tentative chunks of foliage away from the bush.

“It works better if you make bigger cuts,” he commented after a few moments of small twigs falling to the ground, looking more like they’d been trimmed with secateurs than cut with shears. “Don’t let that confidence of yours stop now.”

It was a double-layered sentence, and he knew Scott heard both. Silence answered him, although the sound of the shears grew louder, as though Scott was throwing more force into them. Despite that, the chunks falling to the ground were no larger.

Virgil winced. He’d hoped to get at least some response, even if it was entirely about cutting leaves and nothing to do with the other, deeper, problem. He returned his attention to his own topiary, eyeing the vague shape he’d outlined critically before making a definitive shear into it.

“What if he doesn’t agree with what I’ve done?”

Scott’s delayed response caught him off guard, and he jumped a little, accidentally nicking off a twig he’d been intending to keep.

“What did you mean?” he asked. “Why wouldn’t he?”

Shears snapped viciously at Scott’s chosen bush – a bigger cut now. Progress, maybe.

“I made a lot of changes,” Scott said. “Some of them are just technological advances, I know that. Dad will know that. PODs instead of the Mole, the Firefly? Those made it easier for us to get the right gear for the job.”

Virgil made a noise of agreement as he made another purposeful cut to his bush. He knew all that – remembered the day Brains had approached them with the built-it kits over their specialised individual machines. As the pilot of Thunderbird Two and responsible for all those machines, it had certainly made his job easier. But that wasn’t what was bothering Scott.

“But… John’s space elevator,” Scott continued after a moment, his shears snipping away in an uneven, almost chaotic rhythm. “Brains came up with that almost right at the start. It’s not a new idea developed after Dad vanished. Dad flat-out vetoed it as too dangerous. When he realises that I approved it, and that John actually uses it regularly, he’s going to be furious.”

“Is he?” Virgil asked, unable to stay quiet if Scott was saying things like that.

“He vetoed it, Virgil,” Scott repeated. “I went directly against his wishes. And then there’s Alan-”

“You did what you thought was right,” Virgil cut in, before the Alan tirade could begin again. That one, he had heard before, many times. Why did I let him join? Alan’s too young for this. What if he gets hurt? What if a mission goes wrong? He’s still in school. What if his schoolwork suffers? What if this ruins his future? “Why are you second-guessing yourself now?”

“Because Dad’s here now!” Scott snapped, an extra-vicious shear getting rid of a large bunch of foliage all at once. “Because when I made those decisions I didn’t think he was ever coming back and I wouldn’t have to justify them to him! But now he’s back and I don’t know what he’s going to do with International Rescue. With me.”

Virgil shook his head, squinting at his progress to determine which bit to lop off next.

“Without you, International Rescue wouldn’t have survived to find him,” he said, bulldozing on before Scott could protest. “Those decisions you made are what kept us going. Eight years is a long time, Scott. Things change – things have to change – and Dad knows that. You know he knows that.”

Scott sighed.

“I know,” he said. “I know, but now that he’s here…”

“You’re nervous,” Virgil finished. Scott grit his teeth and gave a jerky nod. Virgil shot him a grin. “If it helps, I’ll be supporting you the whole way, and I know the others will, too. You’ve done the best you could, and he’ll respect that.”

He stepped back from his bush, satisfied. In front of him, a falcon spread its wings as it launched into the sky.

Beside him, Scott continued cutting in silence, his own bush taking shape into something far larger, and rather less refined than the bird of prey beside it. It looked hurried, which brought a small smile to Virgil’s face. Scott had never had the patience for anything related to gardening, after all.

But it was recognisable, even if the bear looked like it had an extra limb and no mouth. Scott stepped back from it and turned away from his creation.

“Thanks, Virgil,” he said, dimples deepening as he let himself smile. Virgil smiled back at him and divested him of the shears.

“I’ll clear up,” he said, looking at the foliage strewn about their feet. Not waiting for an answer, he headed off to the shed to put the shears away and retrieve a rake.

Glancing over his shoulder as he pulled the door open, he found Scott still standing there, staring up at the falcon and the bear, side by side. The heavy air was gone, and Virgil allowed himself a moment of triumph.

It hadn’t solved everything, but it was progress.

#irrelief #irrelief2020 #thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds are go fanfiction #tsari writes fanfiction #lightning1999 #virgil tracy #scott tracy #post-series fic #oh hey i actually finished before bedtime tonight #that makes a nice change #thunderfluff

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monkey-network · 4 years

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An Unfortunate Critique of Spiderverse - Part 1 (of 3)

Spider-Man: Into the Spiderverse was a fun award-winning 2018 animated film with a basically unanimously positive fandom, regarded generally as both a masterpiece Spider-Man film and a remarkable animated film overall. And while I do not disagree with that, it definitely earned its spoils, it pains me a bit to bring up the reason(s) why I can’t call it the masterpiece that many claim. I like this film, but I don’t love it as much as others and I wanted to express why. And I will see to be critical, not cynical. Fair enough? Spoilers ahead for this... 2018 film that you should’ve seen already.

Part 1 ~ The Spiderverse Squad

Now believe me when I say that I enjoyed this trio. Spider-Ham wasn’t as funny as I figured, but he still stood out like Peni and Spider-Noir in a respectable way. I especially loved the fandom’s reaction to them with fanart and jokes galore. But on a look back, it dawned on me that while their presence was welcome, our writers blew the load too soon and wasted these characters. Roll with me, will ya?

If you come to know me, you’ll figure that characters are the element I find the most crucial of your story; you mentally can’t just throw in random heroes into the story unless they’re significant to the protag, story, or world as a whole. It’ll feel weird, like you have no coordination. And yeah, the B team adds to Spider-verse’s worldbuilding mechanic that is the multiple universes; it thematically makes sense that more than one Spidermun can exist. And additionally kicks ass, no objections here. The problem I argue comes when while they add to the world building, it honestly added little to our boy Miles’ story, and it’s that disconnect that makes the characters feel more unnecessary than before. This doesn’t help when things could’ve worked far better if it only involved Gwen and Beter. To explain this better, I wanna bring up a couple films that are similar to Spider-verse yet knew how to use their secondary characters, the first one being...

Kung Fu Panda, baby!

The furious five sans Tigress is about the same as Spider-verse’s B-Team where Po really doesn’t rely on them to both unleash his inner strength and face the final boss in the end. They’re his muse for enjoying martial arts. Po interacts with them a little more than Miles does with the others, but we still have that disconnect between the upcoming novice and the experienced. That disconnect however is counter-balanced by their significance in the story, not only in certifying the stakes that come with Tai Lung, but being the necessary crew to another important character: Tigress.

Tigress is not only a character that Po looks up to, she’s a character with something to prove herself. She puts down Po because she’s envious of the special treatment he’s involuntarily receiving and mirrors the villain Tai Lung before his descent to villainy. The movie would’ve probably been fine if the Furious Five didn’t exist and it was just Shifu and Po training together, but having the five, and Tigress especially, in the story adds a great triangle of interaction between Po and Shifu, Shifu and Tigress, and Tigress and Po. Which makes it all the more poignant when she runs away to face Tai Lung herself, stern in proving herself to both Shifu and Po. We know that she wouldn’t win against him, but that loss is added two-fold when the other four were there to support her. The others aren’t as cynical towards Po, but it’s understandable that they sided with Tigress, thinking their experience together will help them succeed. It makes sense that the four willingly fight with Tigress, and it’s reasonably daunting when Tai Lung is able to tower all of them by himself. Compare this to Spiderverse where we kinda don’t get see our heroes and villains, excluding Miles, stack up that well until the 3rd act; it’s hard to wonder if who’s evenly matched and who can overpower whom. It doesn’t help that Peter, Gwen, and Miles are all isolated from the other three during the final fight in the warp terminal.

It’s in the end where Po proves himself the Dragon Warrior, he not only earned that respect from the five but feels more complete knowing he and his idols look up to each other in a way. We really don’t get that interpersonal synergy with Miles and the B team beyond the moment of them together post Aaron’s death and their initial meeting, the best we get is that Miles knows he isn’t the only Spider-man but even that doesn’t feel as personal as his relationships with Gwen and Peter. Plus while Gwen and Peter are important characters, we don’t see much of a personal connection between the five Spidermun, it mostly comes off as an obligation that they’re together. Now I won’t lie, this is a pretty unfair comparison. The B-team came together on the fly, and it’s not like Miles, Gwen, and Peter knew who they were in the first place. But remember when I said a couple of films in the beginning? This leads to an ironic situation, coming from one of my other favorite movies about being special...

Been a while since I talked ‘bout this beauty

I think it’s safe to say Spiderverse and The Lego Movie have a kindred story beat where our hero meet some tagalongs that have their own thing but nonetheless contribute as supporting characters. But unlike Spiderverse, the Lego Movie showed something I never figured about characters until I saw it once again last year. The other characters have their stake in the plot, but they are also relative features of our main character Emmett. Unikitty resembles his boundless optimism, Benny his excitability, Batman his emotional conviction, and so on. It’s a stretch, but it is possible to note supporting/secondary characters as facets of who our main character is, what they lack or what’s the most prominent idea of them. In Steven Universe, the crystal gems are separate elements of who Steven is at his best or wants to be. Beastars has Legosi, Louis, and Haru have differing aspects of growing up that blend well when united. It’s essentially the braincells meme, the parts make up the whole. Gwen and Peter fill those parts exponentially for Miles, with Peter’s experience and Gwen’s finesse in her skill, to show him the work that goes in being a hero. Same goes for Aaron and Jefferson on a more personal level, being the ones to give Miles the necessary conviction to become the hero. All I gotta ask is: Can ya say the same for Peni, Noir, or Porker?

Again, not that they’re bad characters, but they mostly felt detached from the story in multiple angles

Now at this point you’ll probably say, “Monkey, we get it, where are you going with this?” Well, I can’t help but feel the B-team, while alright on their own, unfortunately feel like cameos that overstayed their welcome. Beyond the initial meetup, the interactions we get with them are second to none, there is no significant dynamic between the B-team and the two spidermun that are more significant to the story. I feel a little less charitable for media wasting potential and it doesn’t help that writing them out until the final fight is very easy. “Peni and Sp//dr were responsible for repairing the flash drive?” Well, I can say a few hints in the movie can point to Aunt May, Peter, and/or Gwen doing it instead. It’s hard to come back to this film compared to the others I’ve exampled when the back of my mind is going “Why are ya’ll here?” I say it would’ve been surprisingly cathartic if the B-team came near the end where they helped out and met up with the trio before bouncing back to their dimensions. As such, we could put more time in for Miles and Gwen together at Aunt May’s house the same way Peter and Miles got earlier before the plot generally runs the same, we have less voices but we build on those character dynamics for more than that bus ride they share. Add to that character theme of Miles, Gwen, and Peter B. being the different generations of Spider-man or something. Overall, I love them, and they feel wasted in this film.

I just can’t see Spiderverse where the focus of these three subsides the interest for the other three

I wanted to discuss this particularly because as much I can say that much detail in the film fundamentally works, which I will discuss later in this analysis, it stands to say that not every ambition in this undoubtedly ambitious movie was added well. It’s honestly how i feel with randomness humor, it’s fun at first but you gotta do more than enough to make it timeless while keeping the surprise of it intact. Or else you just wish they just replaced that joke with something more constructed. Said before, they don’t or weren’t able to utilize these characters beyond their cameo level moments, and it is not a good thing that they’re potentially saved for the sequel because I hate the idea of depending on a sequel to fix the 1st movie’s issues. I gotta wait to 2022 for a potentially better management of characters and that bothers me. I appreciate what I got, but I unfortunately can’t say that appreciation equates to a free pass of what’s detrimental to my love for this film. Now, I tagged this as part one for a reason, because this is only a symptom, a fun size piece to a bigger story problem I have.

Next time. Otherwise, thanks for reading and I hope you enjoy your day.

#into the spider verse #spiderman #marvel #kung fu panda #the lego movie #critique #analysis #Good Stuff #long post #spiderverse #itsv #into the spider-verse

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fanfic-scribbles · 5 years

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Sharing is Caring

Fandom: Supernatural

Summary: You and Castiel share a bed…and a little more.

Quick facts: Romance – Castiel/Reader – Nondescript Reader

Warnings: Fluff, sap, trope used to basic trope standards unapologetically

Words: 1160

A/N: I have scrapped, like, three Cas/Reader stories in the past two weeks. So I went back to basics. Please enjoy this one-bed fluff piece.

“One bed?!”

The guy behind the desk shrugs helplessly. “It’s coming up on a busy season and there are a lot of resorts up the highway.”

You know; you’re just coming back from one of them and you’re sore as all hell from dealing with a figurative pile of ghosts. At this point you’ve had a lifetime of being thrown into walls and you’re exhausted from the drive, but Castiel is a presence behind you and the thought of sharing a bed with him is…

“I’ll take it,” you sigh, committing to the worst (and best) thing you’ll ever do.

“Don’t worry,” the man says as you pay. “I know your boyfriend’s tall, but our beds can handle him.”

You drop the keys. “He’s– he’s not– we– we’re…not…”

Castiel swoops up from the floor right beside you, making you jump aside. He places the keys in your hand. “Thank you,” he says to the man and ushers you out before you can make a bigger fool of yourself.

“Sorry Cas,” you mumble as you take your bag to your room.

“It’s all right,” he says, almost pressed right against you as you both travel the narrow walkway. “Once we have a moment I’d like to examine your head again. You did get hit fairly hard. Several times.”

And he thinks that’s going to explain the damage. Oh if only. “Wow, thanks Cas,” you say and open the door. “But I really don’t have a concussion. I’m just…tired.”

As far as motels go, this one is certainly on the upper end. It even looks like it’s been cleaned recently. You toss the bed cover to a corner and stare at the bed. The one bed. The one, sole, single bed. It is a decent size, but then so is the flame you’ve been carrying for Castiel for years now. That you’re going to be in the same bed with him is…

Castiel clears his throat. “I may not be able to travel as easily these days, but I still do not need to sleep. I could–”

“It’ll be fine, Cas,” you say, quicker than your brain can scream STOP THIS IS A TERRIBLE IDEA WHAT ARE YOU DOI– “I’m just tired.” It’s silent. “Unless– unless you're uncomfortable, then I’ll just– the floor is fine, or I’ll sleep in the car–”

“No,” Castiel says firmly. “The temperature is going to drop greatly tonight. Either we share the bed, or I sit in the chair.”

“We’ll share,” you blurt out, really cementing yourself as a Supporter of Bad Ideas. You then escape to the shower, where you can bang your head on the tile in peace.

This is the dumbest idea ever. You’ve shared beds with Sam and Dean. You woke up once with Sam trying to politely peel you off of him; and mumbling in your sleep is apparently how Dean knows you have a crush on your resident angel.

Except, ‘crush’ is too small. Years of being with him took what was once a crush and has turned it into gut-twisting affection that may in fact be love. You had resigned yourself to suffer in silence but now you’re going to be. Sleeping. With Castiel.

This is both a dream and a nightmare come to life.

Knocking on the door jolts you, and Castiel calling your name makes your heart go about five million beats per second. Jesus; how are you supposed to sleep tonight? “Yeah?” you call back.

“I’m sorry; I was worried you had fallen.”

The water’s still hot, but your hands are pretty thoroughly wrinkled. You close them into fists. “I’m okay; just finishing up!” You can do this. You are an Adult and Castiel is your Friend and you have been in way more awkward situations with him. None you want to think of right now, but the point it, you’ve got this.

Your pep talk wilts in the face of an angelically upgraded bed, but exhaustion is a powerful motivator in its own right. Especially at this point, now that you’re warm and safe, so you crawl into the side opposite your lounging angel. “When did you learn this?”

“A few weeks ago,” Castiel says. He’s leaning his back against the headboard and has a book in his hands. He’s wearing only slacks, socks, and his white button-up, (because this couldn’t possibly be easy, could it?) and he looks a little smug when he smiles at you. “Gabriel said it was very useful.”

“I can’t disagree,” you say and lie down in what feels like a cartoon cloud. You had thought it would be impossible to sleep, but Castiel is at least a body and a half away and you’re so dead tired you can’t even keep your eyes open. You tell Castiel good night (you think) and you pass out.

Your name, whispered roughly right next to your ear, rips you out of the werewolf’s grasp and away from claw trying to dig into your chest.

Instead, you wake up clinging to Castiel as he tries to rouse you. You wish there was an actual werewolf around. “Cas, I’m so sorry, I–” you say and try to push back, but Castiel grips tight and keeps you close.

“What was your dream about?” he asks and rubs your arm. Lightly, but it’s…nice.

“Um…” You breathe deep and try to calm down. “Werewolf. It was about to kill me.”

“And?”

Because Castiel had been prone and helpless, and you had called the monster over, because anything was better than watching him get hurt. “It almost got you.”

“And?”

You groan. “Cas, what did I say?”

He doesn’t tell you.

He kisses you.

You kiss back. It’s instinct, for some reason, even though entirely unfamiliar. When you pull away to breathe again you gasp, “Shit; I’m still dreaming.” There’s a sudden sharp pain on your arm. “Ow!”

“I’m sorry.” Castiel rubs the spot. “I’ve heard it helps prove reality.”

“Yeah, it…does…” You stare at him. “So I’m not. Dreaming.”

He smiles. “No.”

You move forward and Castiel waits. When you kiss him, though, he reciprocates immediately, and you both take the time to explore reality thoroughly. It’s better than any dream you’ve ever had, even though you and Castiel fumble a bit. Maybe that makes it better, because your imagination never dreamed up feeling that bashful smile in response to almost missing each other entirely.

“So,” you say when you’re taking a break. “What did I say to make you…”

Even in the low light, you can see his smile turn into something…more like a smirk. Like he’s trying hard not to and just can’t help himself. Oh boy. “Before your nightmare, you were apparently having a…ah…very good dream…”

You groan and sit up. “Never mind; I’m gonna go find a werewolf to take my heart.”

“Don’t.” Castiel pulls on you so you fall back into his arms. “I’ll take better care of it.”

#castiel x reader #castiel x you #cas x reader #spn fanfic #spn reader insert #romance #fluff #only one bed #trope-tastic

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constantlyunlightening · 5 years

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Prove It (Part 1)

Fandom : BNHA

Pairing : Pro-hero!Bakugo/F!Reader

Genre : the beginnings of smut, 18

Rated for : unapologetic smut with little plot, a competitive Bakugo, sassy reader with a possible death wish and unhygienic work practice! Really, I'm just thirsty for Bakugo. The next chapter will be even more of that

Maybe his quirk needed to shoot out of his eyes instead of his hands. Sure, the idea of explosions blasting out of someone's face was unrealistic. Yet, with the look this man was giving her, she was convinced that's where his powers should originate from. She could almost see the sparks flickering in that crimson gaze of his as he locked it onto her with disdain.

"The fuck did you just say to me?"

A growl, as harsh as his glower, seeped into the space between them. This guy was intense - but she knew that already. Everyone who ever heard of Katsuki Bakugo, the hero, knew that. His reputation had succeeded him as being loud, explosive and oh-so-very-intense.

That reputation of his was even more of a reason why she shouldn't be trying to pick a fight with him. But she couldn't help but to return his sharp gaze with an indignant look of her own. But if she was already past the point of no return; may as well stick with it at that, right? "I said Deku is better than you. He's a better fighter, better strategist, and has a better attitude… Just better," she reinstated, her attitude spiking up in the face of the hot head before her. It wasn't until the words were spilling out of her that she even realized what she was saying. "Hey, I bet he's an even better fuck than you are too!"

Did she say it because she needed to release some of her own anger? Or was she was spending too much time around Midnight? Or, maybe, she said it because she was out of her mind and prepared to say anything for the satisfaction of pissing him off. Hell, she could just be sexually frustrated for all she knew or cared at this point. She just needed to get a rise out of him.

Honestly, their argument didn't have a genuine point to it. Trying to search for her reasoning for getting involved wouldn't solve anything. She and Bakugo happened to be paired up for a mission from their agency. And, well, working with Katsuki long enough tended to make a person pretty irritated in the process. There was steam that needed to be blown off. So here they were. The mission was finished. Everyone was safe and sound. And at the end of the day, the two of them were left in the agency's office alone to finish some paperwork. And after such a long day of endless bickering, there was an air of tension suspended around them.

She just had to go and make it worse.

Katsuki didn't waste time with his response. In a heart beat, the male pinned her back against the wall causing a scatter of paperwork, that she had been carrying, flying up into the air in their wake. He had her pinned to the wall, his arm right above her head as he leaned over her. His body naturally portrayed dominance - the only role Katsuki ever learned to play. The scene could have been romantic were it someone else. Maybe even sexy. But that potential was ruined by the scrunched up look on his face; like a demon seeking vengeance. He looked like he had clawed himself up straight from hell with a visage like that. "Where the fuck did that come from, you perv?" He snarled, voice low in pitch but a slowed crescendo in volume as his patience wore thin.

She should have backed out - put her foot where her mouth is - but she didn't. "Just saying." Her response was blunt, without hesitation, as if it were just an obvious fact. "When I said better, I meant it in every way, so that's included too." Why stop anyway? She wasn't in any real danger. Even if Katsuki was a bit over the top, he was still a hero. He wouldn't hurt her- not much, at least. So stepping out of line with him wasn't a grave mistake, even with his tendency for death threats. Besides, who knew? Maybe it'd end up making her feel better if she had the chance to storm and shout a bit.

But it was Katsuki who was yelling first, as usual. His volume snapped up in that moment as his face steeled itself in that angered expression. "Shut up, you brat!" His tone was somehow even harsher now. Oh, maybe she had somehow struck a chord. But it was Katsuki. It wasn't by any means hard to do that, especially when bringing up his rival hero, Deku. "I can beat that damn nerd's ass any day of the week! And at anything, ya hear me?!"

This was the man she worked with. The man who, like it or not, she'd seen in many different situations. She knew he was capable of handling himself, capable of being the best. He had proven he was dependable, even if his words didn't always match. And yet, he was so easy to reduce to a rampaging mess - over a statement so outrageous and pointless, no less! This up close, she could see the conviction flickering in his eyes as he shouted in her face. His body tempature seemed to be rising, based on the sensation of warmth that ghosted over her once he got in even closer. Maybe he was just getting ready to blow her to smithereens.

It was probably time to get some distance. It was that desicion that had her more casually trying to brush him off, making an attempt to duck away from his grasp. "Yeah, sure. Whatever you say, Katsuki-"

"You don't get to walk away from me!" It was a warning; one she wasn't sure what the follow-through would be, but a warning all the same. He blocked her with his other hand, pounding against the wall to trap her in, his body now a cage. "You don't get to look down on me."

Was she imagining it or was his tone getting even more intense? She assumed he was mostly always at his peak emotion levels - albeit that emotion mainly just being rage - but somehow he seemed to be building up more and more. He was like a snowball racing down a hill in the winter getting bigger and faster; an extremely explosive snowball.

Unless she apologized right this instant and backed down, she was fairly sure he wasn't about to calm down for anything. And even an apology wasn't a for sure strategy. But she wasn't about to say sorry to the hero who had been yelling at her practically all day. Even if she was being just as unreasonable as he was. "… For someone so sure of himself, you sure are getting defensive over this, huh?"

"That's it!" He gave more of a grunt this time around, words laced with pure aggression as his hand came off the wall and he instead was using it to clank the metal of his buckle off in a sudden burst of motion. What the hell…. "Take off your clothes!"

Her shouting had been random but somehow his was worse. Katsuki really was never one to be outdone, huh? She stared a solid ten seconds, eyes widening and mouth slightly agape, watching him tug at his own clothes before she could even think about possibly responding to his odd request. But he was far too impatient for her to figure out her words and instead, he gave her a prompt this time. Pausing his stripping for a moment, belt now undone and hanging loose around his waist, he held his palm out to display just a brief bit of sparks - enough to intimidate. "Take your fucking clothes off or I'm going to blast them off of you."

"You're kidding," she flat lined, finally finding her vocabulary admist his spontanous demand. The look of disbelief remained as she stayed caught in the trap his body had formed and all she got in response was a snort followed by another crackle of the power in his hand. "Why on earth would I take off my clothes? We're in the middle of the agency! And it's you!"

"The hell is that supposed to mean?!" His tongue made a loud click as he leaned in even closer, getting right up in her face. No way to even try and ignore him now. He was demanding full attention and he damn well was going to get it. "Listen, if you're going to talk shit you better be damn well prepared for me to make you eat your words. I'll prove I'm better. I'm the better fighter, I'm the smarter one and I'll fuck your brains out until you can't even say the name Deku if that's what it takes to get you to shut the hell up."

His voice had once again dropped down to that dangerous octave, his body tensing as he hovered over her. Suddenly she was having trouble breathing properly under his imposing presence. Crap. She had worked with him for how long? She had handled her fair share of his absolute bullshit and now, somehow, she was having trouble trying to find her words against him? She just hadn't expected him to threaten to 'fuck her brains out', no matter how vulgar he usually was. How on Earth was she supposed to react to that? She opened her mouth, ready to speak, protest, something. But before she could utter more than a syllable or two, her words were lost. Not of her own volition, but of his.

Her sentence was trapped in the confines of his lips as they melded against hers - taking advantage of the open mouthed position her attempt at speech had left her in. His tongue flicked out, darting to explore her mouth and take sole control of the kiss. He was a black hole in her space, stealing away her voice, her thoughts and her very breath in his vaccum.

It wasn't until he pulled back that she realized his hand had snuck its way into the hair at the base of her neck, tugging and twisting on the strands to force her eyes even further upwords. He may have broken the kiss but he was still only a hair's breadth away. Any slight motion from him would have her trapped by his will again, especially with the anchored hold he had on her. "Shut. Up." Her urge to fight was quelled with two simple words in tandem with a kiss. It was almost staggering how a such a simple action could so easily ignite such a burning sensation within her. While her argumentive spirit had been doused, a new flame had lit inside her heart - a different sort of passion. With one little kiss, the atmosphere changed. It was instantaneous how the world melted away around them. It was just him and her in this big open space. Despite them being coworkers, despite them being in their work place and despite him getting on every single one of her nerves in the past twenty four hours, whatever moral restrictions that kept her back were suddenly gone. "I'm going to make you take it back. If you don't want me too, than back off and don't go spouting off stupid shit anymore."

He was giving her the chance to escape. No matter how aggressive he was, he clearly wasn't about to force anything on her. As long as she shut her trap and backed away now, she'd be fine. Common sense dictated that was the right answer. But she wasn't using her common sense as her main source of judgement right now. Her actual response was very different.

"… Fine. Prove it." The conviction in her answer surprised even her. It didn't match up with the frantic rush of emotions whirling inside her and yet, she couldn't have sounded anymore absolute about the desicion. And with the addition of her hand moving up to tug down the zipper at the back of her suit, she seemed pretty damn sure of herself too.

Katsuki took advantage.

Usually, he was the one to make the first move in a fight and this wasn't an exception, either. The words 'prove it' kicked that fighting spirit of his into high gear. It was the slight loosening of the fabric at her shoulders that signaled him in, his hand snaking around her and tugging on the zipper himself. She wasn't moving fast enough for his liking. He yanked, causing a moment of worry for her about the suit itself ripping with his excessive force. But before she could contemplate too long or voice her concern, his lips had crashed right back down on hers in another heated kiss. He was either really into this or he just didn't want her talking again.

He didn't give her the option to get upset about it. His movements were sweeping her thoughts up a bit too much too quickly for her to make any proper protests. But she was pretty sure she wouldn't have even if she got the chance. His kiss was a devastating blow to her composure and it sent a wave of heat crashing over her. And while she was loosing herself in his overwhelming force, he used his hands to tug her suit down and off her body in rough motions, tossing off any hero accessories that just so happened to be in his way. Pretty expensive equipment to be tossing around the office, but Bakugo clearly didn't care. His one and only priority was being the best. If her clothes and accessories were damaged in the process - well, that was simply collateral.

It didn't take her long to be stripped bare - free of any type of clothing. The cool air grazed over her bare flesh and started to kick a more logical part of her brain into action. This was too vulnerable. He may have undone his pants - the waist starting to dip down his hips - but other than that and his gauntlets having been discarded once the paperwork started - he was still dressed and in his hero costume, no less. Something in her mind screamed weakness and as Bakugo's hands began to taper off and explore her new state, her hands rushed to even the playing field, trying to bare the man before her.

And he was having absolutely none of that.

The second her hands tried to tug at his outfit, his hands bolted off her waist and instead he had her wrists up and over her head, holding her against the wall. If she thought being caged in place by his body was intimidating, this position was now a whole lot worse, causing her cheeks to flare up. "What the hell? Are you backing out?"

Indignation flashed in those crimson eyes - the usual. But there was something off from his normal heated gaze. This look he was giving her was more than just competitive, more than just fired up. It was absolutely primal. The heat had shifted. While usually he was more reminiscent of a volcano during an eruption, now he seemed to be the moments before - it was a slow heat. Dangerous. Even while the lava paced itself, it consumed anything daring enough to try and near it. She wasn't about to explode being near Bakugo. Right now, he was about to burn her all the way from the outside in. She was feeling feverish as his hands tightened around her wrists to the point where a whimper unwittingly left her lips from the strength. "You want me to prove it? Then we're doing this all on my terms. Your dumbass isn't messing this up."

She could have retorted. She had a split second to come back with a comeback, but the low growl of his voice had her own voice hitched, unable to find words. And taking her lack of speech as a sign of submission, his grasp shifted, using one large hand now to hold both of her wrists up and above her while his other hand dropped down in a flash. Her little motion to try to even the playing field not only failed, but also backfired as now he seemed to have skipped the exploration of her body. Instead, he was apparently taking a more direct approach. "Open up," he growled as instead of that one hand now holding her, two digits were right at her lips and after a beat, she obliged. His fingers slipped right into her mouth, taking advantage of the obedience.

His fingers pumped in and out, slicking themselves in her saliva. His palm pushed back on her chin, forcing her head in place against the wall so she had no control over the tempo or the depth of how his fingers moved. She was compliant in the action, a bit too dazed over the way he was melting her to be much of a driving force. But if Bakugo knew how to do one thing, it was trash talk and that usually had a certain way to get people going. "Come on. Suck like you mean it. This is weak." His fingers accented his words with a particularly harsh pump, driving down deeper towards her throat to cause a muffled little squeak out of her as that smirk formed back on his lips. "Maybe you're the one who doesn't know how to fuck, huh? Need some motivation to get going?" He didnt need an answer, instead, his knee pressed against the wall and pushed right up against the juncture of her legs, forcing her to slide right down against the fabric over his leg as he used to force to prop her onto her toes. Her body had a nice stretch in this position, hands way above her head to keep her still even as she struggled for balance on her tip toes. But it was hard to focus on the stretch with the way he was rubbing his leg against her bare skin. It wasn't the touch she was finding herself craving but it worked to knock her back into listening as she suctioned her lips on his fingers just as he picked up the speed in which his fingers fucked her pretty little mouth.

His fingers only came out with a little pop when he was satisfied with how wet they were and then they found a new place to toy with. He replaced his leg with his hand, letting his now damp fingers target her folds, rubbing the slit of her body to rile her up. And damn, was it working. Not releasing her wrists from his grasp, his other hand found her clit in a matter of seconds and that first glide over it caused her body to jolt a bit in his grasp. Her muscles strained against his hold but it wasn't by any means enough to break it. She was strong, she had the power and wits to fight him off at least a little if she really wanted to but she was too worked up and she wanted to see the kind of explosions this man was about to give her. And honestly, right now, Bakugo clearly had the upper hand anyway.

"Better prepare yourself, ya little shit. I'm going to make sure you fall to your hands and knees begging for forgiveness when I'm done with you."

18 years of age or older! If you're under, do not read or interact.

#Bakugo Katsuki #BNHA #Bakugo x Reader #Fanfic #My writing #this is completely self indulgent but read it anyway #I love validation so plz

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delkios · 5 years

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The Beginning of Forever (ToV)

I gotta say, the fact that the game ends with all the world's blastia turning into spirits, I'm shocked and somewhat disappointed at the lack of post-game spirit world speculation. I kind of like a Shaman King-esque situation where spirits (weaker spirits) are tiny floating figures that can lend a person of their choosing their power or empower items. I also like the idea that the barrier blastia became city spirits that can act in their own interests but also protect their respective cities. Eventually. After Estelle ran around for a year or two trying to talk the spirits into being cooperative. Title: The Beginning of Forever Fandom: Tales of Vesperia Rating: G Word Count: 2618 In Responds to: Fluri Week 2019: Sweet Sunday Characters: Flynn, Yuri, cameo by Judith and a couple OCs Summary: Future fic, it's the first day of the rest of Flynn's life. Flynn wakes up with the sun, even though he doesn't have to anymore. For a moment he's disoriented, mind automatically shuffling through his schedule, making lists of all the things he has to do in order to prepare for his first meeting and stalling out when he remembers he doesn't have any today. Or for the foreseeable future. He lays in bed, even though his body is already becoming restless, and wonders how the hell he's going to survive the rest of his life. Mornings in Aurnion are chilly most times of the year so, when it's time for the markets to open and Flynn finally leaves, he pulls on a coat. It's admittedly too fancy for something as simple as shopping, a parting gift from Ioder, but it's currently the only one he's unpacked. The house is on the outskirts of Aurnion- it's current outskirts, the original wall had long been taken down as the town grew -so it's a bit of a walk but it allows Flynn time to enjoy the sun and scent of dew-laden grass and the nearby forest.

The market itself is a little on the hectic side, mainly from all the people wanting to talk to him and give him gifts, welcoming him to the town he'd helped found. Then a couple knights joined the crowd, and the town's knight commander, then the mayor and even a couple guild representatives and Flynn will absolutely deny that he ended up making some awkward excuse and farewell before taking what groceries he'd managed to buy and running. He hopes the novelty of his presence wears off quickly. As he clears the last row of houses, Flynn spots Ba'ul in the open area behind his house- part of the reason for getting it, really -and quickens his pace. The Entelexeia hasn't changed a bit, though Flynn swears he gets a bigger each time Flynn sees him. As Flynn expects, Judith is there and he takes her hand in greeting. "Ba'ul, Judith. Always a pleasure." "Same." She reaches forward with her other hand, brushing her fingertips along his jaw. "The beard suits you." Flynn laughs- he's had that beard for over a decade now. "You always say that." "And it's always true. Karol asked me to apologize for missing your retirement ceremony on his behalf." "It's alright. You were all there for the important one." The one held a week earlier in the Lower Quarter which, despite spending nearly forty years living in and working out of the palace, still felt more like home to him. It had been a sprawling, raucous party that had lasted nearly to dawn, music and lights, dancing and laughter and so many people from all over eager to tell him how proud they were and wishing the best in his future. In contrast, his official retirement ceremony was as expected for an upper class event: stuffy with decorum and full of nobles and dignitaries and politicians who pretended they'd always liked Flynn and would miss him dreadfully. Estelle and Rita were about the only people worth sticking through it for. Especially when Rita would 'accidentally' wheel over the feet of particularly annoying 'well wishers'. If anyone asks, Flynn will freely admit he's glad he'll never have to go to one of those things again. "Speaking of which, Yuri brought your gift inside already." All the people he'd known and grew up with in the Lower Quarter had decided to make him a quilt, each square a message from a person or family. It ended up being about the size of a wall tapestry and Flynn had asked Judith to bring it to Aurnion for him. She turns back toward Ba'ul and Flynn asks, "Are you leaving already?" Judith winks back over her shoulder. "I'd hate to get in the way of your reunion." That enigmatic smile and her taste in clothes are the only things that hasn't changed. Honestly, Flynn is somewhat jealous of that. He hadn't thought himself a vain man until he began to visibly slide out of his physical prime, pushing himself harder through his workouts and trying to ignore the aches and pains that lingered longer until Estelle and Ioder and, finally, Yuri banded together to knock sense back into him. But Judith didn't care about how the passage of time changed her looks, unashamed of showing off her wrinkles and stretch marks and rolls. Flynn supposed having her as a sort of role model helped him cope with his own physical imperfections. "Besides, we'll be back soon enough for your house warming party." Flynn just huffs at her in reply, waving Judith and Ba'ul farewell. Then when he enters the house he's greeted by, "Well, well. If it isn't the former commandant," Flynn's breath catches. Sure, they'd seen each other a week ago but his breath always catches, his heart always skips a beat whenever he sees Yuri for the first time. It has since they were in their twenties. "Took you long enough." Flynn can't help a fond smile even as he shoots back, "Not everyone's retirement process is as simple as telling Karol you'll be retiring in five months." Yuri just shrugs. "You get the better pension, so trade off. By the way, Estelle know you stole one of her dogs?" Flynn reflexively looks down at Thierry at Yuri's side, his tail wagging lightly as Flynn's attention. "Estelle gave him to me. She figured now I'd have time to train a dog." Thierry's young, hasn't yet grown out of his puppy stage entirely. He's also Repede's great-something grandson though, asides from his tail, there's no other resemblance. He's mostly black sable with pale tan patches on his chest and around his red eyes. Flynn isn't certain if Thierry is stockier than Repede was or if maybe Estelle spoils her pets overmuch. "Just how I wanted to spend my retirement years," Yuri sighs, all for show, "babysitting even more things." "I'm pretty sure it's usually the other way around. Isn't that right, Luna?" Yuri's right hand from just below the elbow unravels into a dark mist before reforming into a long, flat spirit, not unlike a ribbon eel whose body is made out of midnight and stars, spine rimmed an iridescent yellow. Luna's full, glowing eyes curves into happy crescents as she swirls around Flynn in greeting. Flynn lets the spirit weave between his fingers. "You've been keeping Yuri in line for me, haven't you?" She trills in response. "I swear," Yuri says in mock indignation, "she likes you better than me." From behind Yuri's thick braid of silver hair, another spirit pops out, hissing at Flynn in actual indignation. Flynn winces and chuckles. "I'm sorry I didn't wake you, Aska. I only went to the market." Aska, a three legged bird-like creature with a ring for a body and a tiny sun floating inside, isn't placated, glaring at Flynn while allowing Yuri to scratch under its chin and coo about how mean and thoughtless Flynn is. Thierry grumbles at the lack of attention directed to himself and goes to thrust his head under Flynn's hand for skritches. "How'd Zaphias take you leaving?" Yuri asks as he takes Flynn's groceries and heads toward the kitchen. "Well enough, I think." Flynn goes to stand in the entry way, watching as Yuri begins to cook, their spirits finally switching back to their preferred people. Luna fashions herself back into Yuri's hand to help him cook. "It took a while for them to understand that I'd be leaving- really leaving -and that they'd need to work with the new commandant." Zaphias resides in the Sword Stair, right where their core used to sit. It had taken both Flynn and Estelle years of careful coaxing and handling before they agreed to lend their power, under direction of Flynn and Ioder, to protecting Zaphias instead of acting out on their own. "You think they'll listen to Ilka?" "I can only hope." Flynn has the utmost confidence in the new commandant, otherwise he wouldn't have retired. "I've seen her work with the spirits protecting Halure and the ports. I'm certain she can handle Zaphias. But," he says because he knows that look Yuri is side-eying him with, "that's not anything I need to worry about any more. So what was so dire it needed Brave Vesperia's founding members to get back into action?" Yuri waves a hand and says something vague about council troubles- Dahngrest has been trying to implement an actual system of government to avoid another succession issue -which he obviously doesn't care about on top of being retired and goes into far more detail about how apparently Karol and Harry's granddaughters nearly eloped and that Karol was needed to mediate his family on the issue. "It's not that anyone doesn't want them getting hitched," Yuri explains as they finish up their breakfast, "it's just the girls don't want a big affair but Harry's the former Don and Karol's the founder of one of the biggest guilds so people keep butting in." Flynn hums, draining the last of his tea. "I believe I'm still a legally recognized officiant. Just to throw that out there." Given one of the women involved is the daughter of Yuri's -and, by extension, Flynn's -godson, he feels obligated to help where he can. Yuri laughs, "If it gets that bad, I'm sure Karol'll be happy to ship 'em our way." He gets up to let Aska and Luna out of the house, Thierry playfully chasing and nipping after them. As they clean up, Flynn talks about the weekend he spent in Halure with Estelle and Rita and their family- the Ristelle Mob, as Yuri dubbed them -as well as the trip from Zaphias, being picked up by Patty despite her technically still being a wanted criminal. She gave Flynn her obligatory threat of kidnapping Yuri for her harem in the same breath she promised to come for the house warming party. Yuri just laughs. And when Flynn mentions swinging by Zaude to pay his respects to Raven, Yuri looks both sad and fond. It had been by Raven's request- when he refused to let Rita find an alternative to his failing heart -that he be buried in such a remote place where few, even now, were allowed to go. A place, he said, where he'd no longer be bothered, his simple grave kept company by two equally simple markers, one for Yeager and the other marked Casey. There had been flowers put there recently, Flynn notes, likely by Gauche and Droite who had all but disappeared after the Adephagos. On paper Flynn had, due to their involvement with Leviathan's Claw, put a warrant out for their arrest but put minimal resources into actually finding them. After a few years with barely even rumors of their presence, Flynn had quietly shuffled those warrants to where all others would eventually forget about them. He wonders, every now and again, if they ever a found a way to be happy. A finger roughly pokes him in the forehead. "Ow!" Flynn says out of reflex rather than pain. "What was that for?" "Because you're gonna scratch up my pan if you keep wiping it like that," Yuri says. "And also I know when you're thinking about work. Or what used to be your work," he added with a very pointed stress on the word. "Sorry," Flynn replies because it's not worth lying about it, putting away the now thoroughly dried pan. He takes a moment to watch Yuri wipe the sink and then his hand dry and stretch his arms up and back until his spine curves and joints pop. "So?" Flynn asks. "Now what?" "How was your walk into town?" Flynn sighs. Yuri grins right back. "Yeah, that's what I thought. Think we'd be better off taking a nap right now." Flynn looks at him as if he'd just said something completely alien. "Nap?" "Yup. I got up too damn early to get here and I'll bet you woke up too damn early yourself. And you gotta learn to take it easy so," Yuri grabs Flynn's shoulder and spins him around until he's facing toward the bedroom, "nap." "But... Thierry-" "Can use the dog door to get back in. And if he hasn't figured out how to to use it, Luna and Aska can show 'im." Despite his protests, Flynn makes it to the bedroom with only a bit of prodding though he feels somewhat foolish changing back into his sleeping clothes at Yuri's insistence. He's much more amendable to the idea when it becomes apparent that Yuri is joining him. As they get into bed, arranging themselves around each other with practiced ease, Flynn gets startled when, instead of tucking his face against Flynn's neck as he usually does, Yuri leans in close enough to cause Flynn to push into the mattress reflexively. "What?" "When did you last spend any time in the sun? I can see your freckles again." He chuckles. "Forgot you had 'em, actually." "Your memory must be going," Flynn quips dryly, "because you said the exact same thing last week." "Can't help it if I'm not used to you being so pale." Yuri laces their fingers together, holding their joined hands up where Flynn can easily see. "You're almost as pale as me now." He's not, really, but there's no denying Flynn is not nearly as tanned as he used to be. He lets their hands drop and Yuri slides around a bit so he can prop his head up on Flynn's chest. Flynn doesn't bother attempting to crane his neck to look at him, he knows that angle is too awkward on a good day. "So how was your first twenty four hours as a free man?" Yuri asks. Flynn's mouth and brow creases as he bluntly says, "Boring." Yuri doesn't try very hard to hide the fact that he's laughing. "I know how that is. Haven't figured out what you're going to do with yourself yet?" Flynn sighs. "When I first started the retirement process, I thought I had plenty of time to do so." "But you didn't," Yuri states, apparently unsurprised. "No." He snorts, then stretches back out next to Flynn. "Good luck with that." Flynn lifts a hand up just to drop it knuckles down on Yuri's back. "You could offer suggestions." "I have a hard enough time keeping myself busy, thanks." But he hums and tilts his head to look at Flynn thoughtfully. "Is there anything you've wanted to do but never had the time?" He looks up at the ceiling, dwelling on the question and coming up blank. Yuri snorts again but doesn't turn away. After a long moment, Flynn asks, "Should we get married?" "Oh, it only took you thirty years to ask," Yuri teases. "Only because I got tired of waiting for you to." "Couldn't. Made a bet with Judy 'bout who'd crack and ask first." Flynn turns to give Yuri a mild glare. "You did not." "Didn't I?" Honestly it's absurd enough to go either way. "In that case you owe me half of whatever you won." "Yeah, yeah." Yuri scoots over to rest his head on Flynn's chest, fingers scratching through his beard. "Yes, by the way." "Hm?" "To getting married. Your memory must be going, old man." Flynn rolls them over, pressing Yuri into the bed. "I'll show you how old I am." "Good idea. I better sample the goods before committing." Flynn sighs. "I can't believe I'm marrying you." "Me, either," Yuri quips but, as they kiss, Flynn can taste the words and I can't wait on his lips.

#fic 2019 #fluriweek2019 #fluri #tales of vesperia #flynn scifo #yuri lowell

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