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the-modern-typewriter · 10 months

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The Gallery of Broken Things

“Don’t you get it yet?” Victor’s voice cut cruel with pity. “They are never going to love you, not like I can.”

Adam swallowed against the lump in his throat. He willed himself to say something, anything. It didn’t even have to be snappy and clever, just something. Nothing would come out.

Lightning flashed above them, illuminating Victor’s handsome features in the storm, and their eyes met. Victor’s voice grew softer as the wind howled louder, but Adam heard him all the same. “After all,” he traced a cold fingertip along the scar on Adam’s cheek. “How could they?” Victor clicked his tongue. “Look at you...”

Adam didn’t want to look, he never wanted to look. His shoulders hunched in protectively.

Victor waited too, eyebrow raised, for Adam to say something.

“I—” Adam didn’t finish. He couldn’t pick out the right words from the maelstrom.

Victor’s lip curled, and he dropped his hand. Adam felt colder than ever, and he didn’t think it was the chill of the rain soaking through his clothes.

“Come inside,” Victor said, “and stop being ridiculous. Before someone sees you.”

He turned and walked back into the house.

And, as always, Adam followed him.

***

The first time that Victor left him, Adam wrote out a list of broken things that he thought were beautiful. He’d only ever learned how to love something beautiful, after all, and it was inconceivable to consider himself as whole.

The initial list contained: stars, in all their dying light; mosaics in their fragments; glowsticks that only shone once cracked; kintsugi; and stained glass windows. It was not a perfect list – but it would do, in a pinch.

London, in the year 2094, was a perfect enough sort of place already. A Victor sort of place. Everything was smooth shining lines of glass stripped of any unsavoury edges, and neatly lush gardens for those who wanted to enjoy wildness without the danger of anything too unruly ruining the view. Adam could admit it was lovely, idyllic even.

It had never once felt like home.

The first time that Adam left Victor, he found The Gallery of Broken Things.

A woman, who he later learned was Margaux, had been handing out flyers on a street corner.

She’d been tiny enough that Adam felt like even more of a freak of nature than he usually did around Victor, and Victor was six foot of lean muscle and magnetic presence. It had almost been enough to make Adam apologise (for existing) and shrink back.

People could be threatened by height, by bulk, Adam knew.

He was not the kind of man that anyone wanted to meet in a dark street, or possibly even a well-lit one. Margaux didn’t seem to notice that.

She’d marched up to him with a pretty wicked smile, like they were in on some private joke together, and an air of whirlwind determination. She shoved the flyer in his hand and asked him to come.

She hadn’t flinched at his face once.

The Gallery of Broken Things was not, Adam learned, a traditional art gallery. It was more of a support group for people trying to figure out how to put themselves back together again.

They rented out one of the more ramshackle buildings on London’s outskirts, and met on Tuesday and Thursday evenings to drink copious cups of tea, chat, and make art. The day Adam went, curiosity tugging at him despite his best efforts, they were working on patchwork quilts.

“I know the name is weird,” Margaux said, plonking down onto a chair next to him. “I don’t mean, like, that none of us have anything to fix. Or that we’re something to be gawked at, though people do. Or to, like, you know, romanticise being broken.” She set the sewing kit down on the floor, along with the unwieldly tower of mismatched fabrics she was holding. “I just…” she bit her lip and looked at him, finally going still for the first time since he’d arrived. “I just got so sick of people saying there’s nothing wrong with me. Maybe there is something wrong with me. Maybe I will never be like everyone else, and maybe, just bloody maybe, that’s fine.”

Adam blinked at her, not sure what to say.

Margaux grimaced.

“I’m messing this up. I just mean, if we were broken, would that be so bad? Would that mean we had no value? Other people telling me I wasn’t broken didn’t make me feel less like there was something wrong with me. It just made me want to, I don’t know, love myself anyway. Screw them.” She tried for a smile. “All this to say, really, broken things deserve love and it doesn’t have to be good. Your quilt. Just, uh, try and have some fun making it.”

Adam found himself smiling back, shyly, as he sifted through the odd ends of material. He had never made a quilt before.

Victor always said that crafts were a woman’s hobby; the lowest branch of art when art was already a pursuit only suited for people not serious or clever enough to pursue science instead. Still, as the weeks turned into months with no sign of Victor, Adam learned two things:

Not everything beautiful was worthy of admiration.

He really loved making quilts.

***

“It’s this idea,” Adam said, “that you can take all the bits that nobody else wanted and still make something good.”

Victor looked at the quilt on their bed, and there was something so unbearably sad in his expression. He said nothing.

“Some of them get really intricate.” Adam shifted on his feet, mouth starting to go dry. “And they have a lot of historical value too. They’re sometimes passed down through families, with every generation adding a patch, until they have this massive blanket. It can tell us a lot about values, tradition, community.” He wanted to punch himself in the mouth, because he could hear that ‘desperate, kicked puppy, please love it please love me’ edge creeping in and he hated it. “I like it.” There, he’d said it.

“You would,” Victor replied, and his expression was unreadable once more. “Patchwork for a patchwork person.”

“You don’t have to be a dick about it.”

Victor’s gaze snapped to him. “What did you just say?”

Adam sucked in a sharp breath, fingers tightening around the edge of his quilt.

Margaux had encouraged him to make it as ugly and cheery as he liked, but Adam hadn’t wanted that. He didn’t think he could do that, not yet and maybe not ever.

It was one thing relishing in ugliness when one was already beautiful, and was spitting in the expectation of it all, and another when Adam had never got to be beautiful in his life. At least it felt that way. Was it shallow to want that for a second?

The quilt resting on his and Victor’s bed was small, but Adam had spent hours on it. He’d learned how to embroider, and stitch, and yeah – yeah maybe it was patchwork for a patchwork person. But it was the prettiest damn bit of patchwork Adam could come up with, and maybe he didn’t know how to love himself and maybe Victor was right and no one else ever would after everything, but Adam could love the stupid blanket. Screw Victor.

“I said,” Adam’s teeth gritted, “that you don’t have to be a dick about it. At least I did a better job on these stitches than you ever did on me.”

“I saved your life! You wouldn’t even have a body to whine about if it wasn’t for me.”

Except, well, it was never Adam complaining. The realisation hit him low and sour in the pit of his stomach. He may not have liked what he’d become when he woke up to new life in Victor’s medical wing, but he wasn’t the one who made such a point of it. He tried to remember when Victor had first made a point of it. It hadn’t always been like that, had it?

Adam squared his shoulders.

“I don’t know, Vic. Maybe if you’d spent some more time on arts and crafts you wouldn’t hate your own creations so much.”

Victor stiffened.

“That’s it, right?” Adam pressed.

He watched as Victor’s dark gaze travelled up him, lingering on the places beneath Adam’s clothing where the stitches lay. The pieces of Adam clustered together from everything that the esteemed Doctor Victor Frank had once thought ideal.

“You were supposed to be my perfect thing,” Victor said. He picked the quilt up off the bed, folding it with care. “I know it’s my fault,” he added, with a small bitter sort of smile, “for not stitching you together well enough. But I bloody well tried, alright? You don’t have to be a dick about it.”

“That’s not—” That wasn’t why he’d made the quilt. Did Victor really think Adam had done this to rub it in his face or something? “I didn’t mean—you started—I like the quilt.”

Victor scoffed. “Do you know what you get when you put together things that no one else wants? Something that no one else wants. If they did, you wouldn’t be here, would you?”

The room felt airless.

Adam reached to take the quilt from Victor, because he clearly didn’t think it was worth anything, or at least not worth enough. To Victor, the quilt could only be a broken thing making some lame attempt at pretending otherwise, couldn’t it? He couldn’t see the love of making, of creating, anything anymore.

Adam’s ears were ringing.

Victor shifted the quilt out of reach.

“Would you?” he repeated. “You’d leave me in a heartbeat if you could. Even after everything I’ve done for you.”

“And what about you!?” Everything in Adam wanted to crumple, to retreat, to mutter apologies until he didn’t even know what he was apologising for anymore except for – well, everything. “As if you’d still be here if you hadn’t made me this.”

Victor’s silence smothered every corner of the room.

They’d met before the accident, Adam had seen the pictures and heard stories, but he couldn’t remember any of it.

They’d been together for two years apparently. Then, the accident happened. His body had been in pieces, the shrapnel of a person, when Victor stepped in. It had been an incredible feat to ensure he survived, some miracle of modern science, but…

Adam straightened to his full height and snatched the quilt from Victor’s hands.

It seemed to occur to Victor then, for the first time, that Adam was a head taller than him and much, much stronger. No. It wasn’t the first time, was it? It was something someone at the gallery had mentioned, once: if they actually thought you were small, they wouldn’t spend so much time reminding you of it.

Victor’s eyes narrowed.

The silence stretched, and stretched—

And then Victor laughed, shaking his head. He closed the gap between them, and wrapped an arm around Adam and the quilt.

“You know what?” He pressed a kiss to Adam’s shoulder. “I’m sorry.If you want to spend your life collecting things that nobody else wants, then that’s just fine. It’s even sweet. You’re sweet. I think it’s an admirable hobby.”

The breath, the everything, deflated out of Adam.

“Thanks,” he said, though he wasn’t sure that was entirely what he wanted to say. He didn’t think Victor meant that as a compliment.

“But maybe let’s not keep it on the bed where people will see it, yeah?” Victor took the quilt once more and moved over to the wardrobe, cramming it into the storage space at the top. “We’ve got that dinner later this week, remember? It’s an important opportunity for me. A chance to get everything back on track. You know how judgy people can be.” The wardrobe door closed. “It can stay in here, just until after that.”

“Right.”

“Don’t be mad, I like it! I do. It’s just - it has to be perfect, you know?” Victor stopped in front of him again, cupping Adam’s face in his palms. “I have to be perfect.”

But we’re not perfect. We wouldn’t even be having this conversation if we were perfect.

Adam didn’t say that though, because the viciousness had sucked out of Victor and left only pleading.

Victor could already see the hurt, the unsaid things and broken edges, couldn’t he? Then Victor looked away, as if scalded by the reminder, and busied himself smoothing out the bed sheets again. Without the quilt it looked like it was still straight out a home catalogue, pristine and colourless.

“It’s just a hobby, Adam,” he said. “Don’t look at me like that. I’m doing this for us.”

Adam said “right” again, even when the word tasted like blood in his mouth.

It was a hobby. Of course, it was only a hobby, so it didn’t matter. Not as much as Victor’s job at any rate. If things got back on track again, then maybe…

***

When Adam told Margaux that he wanted to make the gallery a, well, gallery, Victor had just left him for the fifth time.

It seemed to be their pattern, weaving in and out of each other’s lives. Victor left, and Adam trailed after him. Adam left, and eventually Victor hunted.

Margaux had lit up at the idea, though there were considerations to bear in mind. Space and time and what could be called the law against hideous things. London 2097 was perfect. It stayed that way by excising anything that didn’t fit. A Gallery of Broken Things was not the kind of exhibition that city council would approve of. Still.

The gallery space they managed to grab was a small, cluttered room which they all filled with an assortment of different objects and artworks.

There were patchwork quilts along one wall, of course. Some of them told stories, others were simply pleasing in colour and texture. Then there were other pieces too - a list full of ‘broken things’.

There were the shattered pieces of pottery glued back together in new forms, only more lovely for the fracture. In the corner, by the window, a shadowy ghoul made of garbage bags haunted the breeze.

Adam drifted around the space, adjusting lights, only to put them back. It had taken several months to get everything ready but they would be opening the gallery to the public tomorrow. Everything was set. There was nothing left for him to do.

He didn’t know if anyone would come. He didn’t know if anyone else would find value in broken things, or maybe they’d come but they wouldn’t get it. He wasn’t sure which was worse.

“You okay?”

Adam turned to find Margaux standing in the threshold of the exhibit, grey rain clouds blustering behind her before the front door swung shut.

It was late, and everyone else had long since gone home. He’d thought she had too, though it didn’t exactly surprise him that she hadn’t. She’d clocked in as many hours and pieces to the gallery as he had, if not more.

Margaux’s main installation was a whole bunch of glowsticks painstakingly tied together into the shape of a human skeleton. The body glowed poison green and bloody red. Margaux had liked the thought of a chemical reaction being the base of her piece, even if it was different to where she had started out.

Adam shrugged, because, well. “Getting there.”

Margaux moved to stand next to him, overlooking their work. She buried her hands deep into the pockets of her trench coat and swayed a little with the same restless energy that Adam could feel twitching in his own bones.

“It’s beautiful,” she said, next. “You did a good job.”

“You hate beautiful.”

“I hate that we live in a world that sometimes priorities beauty over kindness, that’s not the same thing.”

Adam laughed under his breath at that, shaking his head. Even though she undoubtedly meant it. They exchanged a glance; Adam’s smile a little less shy now than it had been when they first met.

“Come on.” Margaux held out a hand, waggling her fingers in offering. “Let’s go for a drink. We’ve been much too busy. I’m now terribly deprived of chocolate biscuits.”

“You don’t have to be at group to have chocolate biscuits.”

“It’s not the same on my own.”

He hesitated, but took her hand.

Outside it was drizzling, a noncommittal grey that slicked the streets and left the world hazy. The forecasts said that by tomorrow it would be storming. Adam couldn’t decide if that was a good or bad omen – his new life had started with a storm, or so Victor had always told him. Would there be a time when everything didn’t make him think about Victor?

Margaux squeezed his hand, bringing him back to himself.

She wasn’t looking at him so he didn’t know how she knew. She always seemed to, though. Not just with him, but with everyone who had come to her gallery. Maybe she knew what to look for or maybe she simply paid attention. Maybe both. They’d talked a lot in the years they knew each other, sometimes about the big things but mostly about the little. It was nice.

“You invited him,” Margaux said. “Victor.”

“How did you—”

“It’s what I would have done, once.”

Adam quietened at that. He stroked his thumb along the backs of Margaux’s knuckles, and it was her turn to snap back to the present. They shared another smile.

“Yeah.” Adam turned towards one of the pubs they sometimes went to, eager to escape the rain before it got worse. “I wanted him to see. To – I don’t know. Maybe he won’t show.”

“You don’t have to prove anything to him.”

“I know.” Adam did know that, now, at least in theory. In his guts was always a different matter, but it was a start. “I still want to feel…to feel like he did right by saving me. He lost his job over it, you know? Lost everything. It wasn’t ethical what he did. But I lived, probably when I shouldn’t have done. I guess I want him to know it was worth it. That I was…”

“Doctors don’t only save people who go onto do amazing things. It’s not their place to call that.”

Adam grimaced at her.

She snorted, sitting down in one of the more shadowy booths in the corner, for his comfort. She studied him from beneath a fiery fringe, drumming her fingers against the table, before she seemed to make an effort to stop.

“Besides.” Her voice was deliberately casual, in a way that from Victor might mean an oncoming barb and from her meant – not that. “You’ve done amazing things, if that’s what you’re worried about. You’re…amazing.”

Adam swallowed hard, and resisted the urge to clear his throat. She cleared hers, scrambling to pick up the menu. Heat rushed to both of their faces.

“Yeah,” he said. “You are too.” It seemed like a dumb, too pale thing to say, because she was so much more than amazing.

Their eyes met.

The rain outside began to pour.

“So,” she said. “Fancy splitting some nachos?”

***

“Adam.”

Somehow, Adam really hadn’t been prepared for the possibility that Victor would come. He thought he’d look at the invite, not bother to show, and then either way Adam would have done his part. He turned to face the other man, standing alone by the entrance of the exhibit.

Victor looked as impeccable as he ever did; more impeccable if that was even possible, as if even the swelling storm didn’t dare to touch him.

“Victor.”

Adam’s heart hammered in his chest, ever a reminder of what Victor had done, what Adam owed him, the blood that tied them both.

He watched as Victor pivoted on the spot to examine his surroundings.

They hadn’t officially opened yet. Margaux was in the backroom somewhere and the others would be on their way.

Victor paused by the wall of quilts, one hand rising as if to touch but stopping halfway. Dropping. Victor stuffed his hand into the pockets of his expensive coat.

“A gallery of broken things.” Victor hummed, swinging to face Adam once more. “You could do better.”

“Maybe,” Adam said, softly. “Maybe not. But I don’t want to.”

Victor’s brow furrowed at that, his head tilting to the side.

“You’re early,” Adam said. “We’re not opening until 11. I said that, right?”

“Are you really going to invite people to come and look at…this.” Victor stepped closer. “At you. Shouldn’t you at least be in the backroom or something? I’m just worried,” Victor added, quickly, taking his hand. “People can be cruel.”

“Yeah.” Adam looked down at his hand, huge and patchworked in bits of skin and sinew, strong but hideous in comparison to Victor’s. “People can.”

“So don’t do this.” Victor squeezed his fingers. “Come with me. That’s why you invited me, right? You mess up, I fix things.” He took a step back, as if to tug Adam out of the door.

Adam didn’t move. Victor may as well have tried to tug stone.

“I invited you because this is something I’m proud of.”

Victor stopped tugging.

Adam let go of Victor’s hand.

Maybe, it clicked, it finally clicked, that there was never going to be a point where he was good enough for Victor.

Because it was him.

Because if Adam did something for himself, then he wasn’t doing it for Victor.

Because he wasn’t some controlled experiment, eternally grateful for what he’d been given, but something – someone – alive. Victor had admitted himself, once, that when he saved Adam he’d wanted to know that he could do it. It had been scientific, not heroic. And when it worked too well…

Well, Adam was alive. Living people were not perfect, they messed up all the time.

Victor talked about their past relationship like it had been something wonderful, like they’d been the happiest people on the planet, like they’d had been perfect.

Once upon a time, Adam had believed it. He didn’t anymore.

Victor stared at him.

“That’s what people do, Vic.” Adam’s voice cracked. “Don’t you get it? When they want someone in their life, they invite them to the important things. They support each other. They say they’re proud, even if they think the art’s a bit rubbish.”

Maybe Adam had reasons, other reasons, which all seemed stupid now. Had he really thought Victor would approve? That he might have changed? Maybe he’d hoped.

“I support you,” Victor protested. “I’m supporting you now, even if you’re too—”

“No.”

“…what do you mean no?”

“I really hope you know what no means.”

Victor folded his arms. “I’m trying to help you. If I’d known this was what you’d been up to, I would have come sooner.”

Adam shook his head. He almost wanted to laugh, except it wasn’t really funny. Maybe it hadn’t been funny for a long while. “You’re trying to help you, like you always do, because you think what I do reflects on you.”

“Oh, come on!” Victor sighed, like Adam was being ridiculous. “So, what, you invited me here to lie to you? I don’t lie to you. Tell me one time that I’ve ever lied to you.”

“You said this was only a hobby. It’s more than that to me.”

Victor rolled his eyes.

Adam released a shaky breath, and part of him still wanted to wilt. He forced it down. “This was clearly a mistake.”

“This is a mistake, yes.” Victor’s expression grew colder, and he seemed to regroup himself. “They are going to hate it. They are going to hate you, and then you’re going to break, and then I’ll have to derail my life to put you back together again because that’s what I do.”

“No, you won’t.”

“What, because this time is magically different to all of the times before when you thought you could survive without me?”

Adam’s mind flashed back to Margaux, to the group, to nachos and – if not peace, then belonging.

People who wanted him around, who liked him, who didn’t act like if he got hurt it was his own fault for not being careful enough. People who didn’t say ‘the world is cruel’ as just another excuse for cruelty.

“Yeah.”

Victor outright snorted.

“So,” Adam said, “I think you should go. For good.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“Deadly.”

Victor blinked at him, like he couldn’t comprehend what exactly was happening, like he didn’t recognise Adam anymore.

“Adam,” he began.

“Is there a problem here?”

The two of them both turned, to find Margaux had appeared from the back office. Her eyes were cold in a way that Adam hadn’t seen before, murderous even, as they fixed on Victor.

“We were just leaving,” Victor said.

“No,” Adam said. “We weren’t.”

“Is this gallery yours?” Victor held a hand out to Margaux, charming smile pinned back on his lips. “I’m Victor, Victor Frank. I’m Adam’s—”

Margaux ignored Victor, coming to stand by Adam’s side, studying him. “Are you okay?”

Adam managed a nod.

Victor’s dangling hand curled into a fist. He looked between them, at the way they stood close and comfortable with each other, as if he expected Margaux to be shrieking and reaching for a pitchfork.

“Is there a particular reason,” Victor’s voice was much too light, “that he would not be okay with me? Because, you know, this was a private conversation. I care about Adam a lot, and if you’re encouraging him to—”

It was Adam’s turn to take Margaux’s hand gently in his own.

Victor faltered for only a second.

“I can’t believe this.” His gaze flicked down, scalpel sharp, and then back up. “I really can’t believe this. Are you bloody well kidding me, Adam?”

“I’m sorry,” Adam said. “that you think everything has to be perfect, because you’re never going to be. And I’m sorry you think the world is full of people like you, because it’s not.” He squeezed Margaux’s hand and Margaux squeezed back. “I’m not sorry for leaving you.”

Victor’s mouth clicked shut. He opened it again, but didn’t speak. For once, he really seemed to have nothing to say at all. Then he walked out.

Adam felt like he could finally breathe.

It was time to break the cycle.

***

The opening of The Gallery of Broken Things was not a stupendous success, but as far as Adam was concerned it was a moderate one.

There was a steady stream of traffic and conversation throughout their opening hours, and while some people were less than complimentary about what real art was supposed to look like, others were…different. Maybe lots of people felt a little broken, sometimes, even if they didn’t appear that way.

The lot of them celebrated after hours, with cups of tea and chocolate biscuits. Eventually, again, it was only Adam and Margaux left.

They sat together on the floor, between the installations, the glow of Margaux’s skeleton beginning to fade. She’d have to remake it every so often to keep up the look.

It had been a busy day, so there hadn’t been too much time to talk if talking was even required. Still, he’d felt her eyes on him every so often.

“Thanks,” Adam said, eventually. “For, you know. Helping out with him.”

“I didn’t do much.”

“You did enough.” More than enough, even if Adam still didn’t quite know how to wrap his tongue around all the words.

Beyond the gallery doors, the storm had finally broken.

Because, maybe Victor was right about thing, maybe no one would love Adam like he did.

They would do it better.

#The Gallery of Broken Things #frankenstein #retelling #writing #fiction #some of you will have seen this before #I live in fear of my computer finally breaking on me so this is going here for now I guess #my writing #story #creative writing #frankenstein retelling

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revryebread · 2 months

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Everything Is Interstitial: Games inside of Games inside of Games

Interstitial is a game that takes characters and rips them from the cloth of where they come from and quilts them into one world. “Everything is Interstitial” is an extension of that: what if you could do that with mechanics and games?

I have teamed up with 5 designers to bring their games to Interstitial. When you turn the page from one to the other, you will stop being in Interstitial and start being in one of their games. They'll still be playbooks for Interstitial, but you will have the power to get into the gears and change the fabric of how you interact with the base system.

The best way I can put this is like in Dead Cells when you pick up the Hollow Knight needle and suddenly you can incorporate elements of Hollow Knight’s movement and gameplay into the game. I want that for Interstitial. (You can jump on people's heads and swing down, adding parrying and the weird bounce from the HK to a game that does not naturally have it!)

TAKUMA OKADA

Takuma is someone I have known in the TTRPG scene for what feels like ages, and their work has always been deeply impressive to me. They're a creator who has a way of stringing words together that could never come to me, and whenever they release something it feels like it changes the way I think.

You may know them from Stewpot, Alone Among The Stars, and Old Home!

CARO ASERCION

Caro Asercion is someone I could work with every day and not get tired of it. When I read a game by them, it feels like momentum instead of action–their games let you be the movement of the gears, instead of the thing that is forcing them to turn. It feels second nature, and it makes things happen like magic in front of you.

You may know them from i'm sorry, did you say street magic?, Exquisite Biome, and The Long Shift!

TYLER CRUMRINE

Tyler has an absolutely incredible eye for resolution mechanics, and more importantly has a writing that lets me know cleanly and clearly how those mechanics work work cleanly and clearly. I come out of reading those rules like I've always known how to play. The Possible World RPG series is something I carry around with me when I'm traveling, and whenever I show them to people they are amazed and impressed.

You may know them from Beak, Feather, & Bone, Hounds, and Grandpa's Farm!

BRANDON LEON-GAMBETTA

I remember one of my first times ever being on Discord, sitting in the One Shot community, and turning to my wife and going "Oh woah, there's someone in here who actually makes TTRPGs!". That game was Pasión de las Pasiones, and that person was Brandon! I have been following his work forever, and between the experimentation that comes from his podcast or the genre work he's doing in his games, it's always incredible.

You may know him from Pasión de las Pasione, Stop Hack & Roll, and RadCrawl!

BRIAR SOVEREIGN

There is a wealth of big robot games out there in the wild, and to make yours stand out is a feat of strength. Briar's knack for amazing design both in layout and mechanics has made their work resonate clear above everything else. They are an absolute joy to know, and to work with them will be a highlight of my life.

These designers are each going to take one of their games and port it into Interstitial as a playbook, layout and all. This'll give players new mechanics to play around with, and hopefully ways to break everything. All of these designers are incredible at what they do–-- and they're bringing what they do to Interstitial. As long as we can hit that goal!!

#Interstitial #ttrpgs #ttrpg #crossovers

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andromeda3116 · 10 months

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Propaganda:

1. No one has managed this yet at this point in the story. The Homunculi are always listening, always knowing what the heroes are up to, always one step ahead. The only thing that has surprised them is Roy killing Lust, but that was only because she got cocky and left him to die instead of killing him outright. Olivier, in the middle of a massive attack on her fort by a creature behind her comprehension, finds a way to get the truth from Ed -- who has refused to tell her on the basis of Bradley's threat to Winry, and who we all know is a stubborn little bastard. She gets the answers, and she gets them without the Homunculi or the high brass guessing that she now knows their entire plan, and is high enough in the hierarchy of power to seriously damage them. For once, she puts the heroes a step ahead of the Homunculi.

2. Note that this is not Ling holding his own against Bradley (that's not underrated at all) -- this is the compassion and loyalty to his people that leads him to severely hinder his own escape because his servant is critically injured and he absolutely will not, under any circumstances, leave her behind. "A king is no king without his people", indeed.

3. Like Olivier above, Riza manages what has up to now been nearly impossible from right under Bradley's nose. She devises a perfect code with every name she needs and knows how to make sure Roy is getting it. Her intelligence and ingenuity absolutely shine, and she manages to also put them a step ahead of the Homunculi, from right under their thumbs.

4. Winry is a teenager who hasn't seen any medicine beyond what it takes to attach automail in years, but she draws on the textbooks she read -- which, aside, she was reading, comprehending, and remembering medical textbooks as a child -- delivering a healthy baby with no complications, alone.

5. Gluttony's belly is supposed to be inescapable, an entirely different plane of reality, and Ed looks at all of this surrounding him, says "I'm not dying here" and concocts a wild plan to get them out by repeating the ultimate taboo and throwing himself back through the Gate of Truth -- and it works.

6. Scar's brother is a scholar who has lived his entire life in a culture that despises alchemy. He knows only what he's read of it, and he not only recognizes that Amestris is a massive transmutation circle but also devises a circle that will counteract it, and hides that behind layers of code and the physical shape of the papers, so that only his brother can find it.

7. Riza cannot speak. She can barely breathe. She is bleeding to death. And she still refuses to allow Roy to betray himself. No words, no breath, no reason to believe she may yet live -- but she tells him do not save me at the cost of your principles.

8. Like Ling above, Roy's loyalty to his own people drives and commands and powers him. He never forgets about Jean, and the first chance he gets, he sends someone to heal him, even if it means staying blind for longer. There was no need to wait, except that he refused to put his people second to himself.

#fullmetal alchemist brotherhood #fullmetal alchemist #fma:b #fma #can you tell what i'm currently rewatching?#it's critical that these are also *underrated“ badass moments #the ones that define the characters #rather than the huge kickass things they do during the fights #the smaller moments and defining parts that show their inner strength and intelligence and commitment and fidelity #i figured - this show has so many big badass moments but what about the little ones?

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theromanticrationalist · 3 months

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Sheldon: "Would you still love me if I wasn't who you thought I was?" Amy: "What are you talking about?" Sheldon: "Well, what if it turns out I'm not the single-minded, science-obsessed recluse who puts his work above everything and everybody else that you fell in love with?" Amy: "What if I am not the straight-laced, button-upped quilting queen you thought I was? What if I'm a . . . river-dancing wild woman?" Sheldon: "I'd still love you." Amy: "I'd still love you too." Sheldon: "Do you really know how to river dance?" Amy: "You tell me..." Amy: *dances like the wild vixen woman she is* Sheldon: ". . ." Sheldon: "I'm the only man you do that for." The Big Bang Theory 11x20 The Reclusive Potential

#why are they so perfect!!!!#I love them so much!!!#shamy #my favorite shamy quotes #just shamy things #the big bang theory #sheldon cooper #amy farrah fowler

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mikuni14 · 4 months

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The Sign - Ep 8

We all see you Tharn, how you are eager to be petted and kissed, like Namami! For a second, but still, because, like a true cat, you stopped it for reasons known only by you 😭 100% cat behavior 😆

...............

I have mixed feelings after this episode 👻 On the one hand, it was very interesting, we learned a lot of new things, most of my wild theories turned out to be true, there were a lot of funny scenes that made me laugh out loud. But this episode left me feeling very unsatisfied. For so many reasons:

Phaya looks terrified after waking up from a nightmare. And after a short conversation they both just go to sleep like…..roommates lol Tharn should have hugged Phaya and comforted him, I would give my right kidney for Phaya cuddling up to Tharn like Tharn was cuddling to him before. This scene begs for Tharn to comfort Phaya!

Phaya and Tharn spent a 💞🔥 night, confessed their feelings to each other, and Tharn even said that he made an important decision for himself and Phaya. And their morning after after all this was… nice. That's all. Phaya, Tharn and we deserve better!

Scenes from their past lives. Hmm. First of all, I find it strange to insist on calling Wansarat a girl when the series shows Tharn as a man. I know they didn't want to show Phaya (Billy)'s romance with Wansarat (Freen) so as not to damage BillyBabe's Brand Couple™ image, but there is a very simple solution to this problem: they could have hired another actor to play Garuda and Freen to play Wansarat! And it would even make sense, because at one point Phaya himself says what does it have to do with him, since he already loves someone and it's Tharn - a guy, while watching himself and… Tharn on a fantasy TV with us 🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️ Maybe it's just me, but I don't see any great love between Garuda and Wansarat, certainly not like between Phaya and Tharn. Like, they met, bam! they're a couple now, then in a very soap opera-ish (which makes it a bit comical) style, they both die. Unfortunately, in my opinion, this story lacked depth, emotions of these characters, their feelings. The most emotional scene was Chalathon's horror when he killed Wansarat. I just... I just don't believe in their love being powerful enough to want them to be together again, to create new reincarnations 🤷‍♀️

Ok, enough with tis negativity :) What I liked about it:

There was no awkwardness between them in their mornig after scene, they are both adults, they are both smitten, Tharn tries hard to hide how mushy he feels and I love his sparkling eyes and hidden smiles. 🥰 I like that Phaya immediately suggests moving in together, it's very much in his character. (It's a shame that there is no conversation about their relationship status, I think Phaya is the type of guy who immediately wants the rest of the world to know that Tharn is with him)

I love the abbot, how uncompromising and badass he is, how he has no qualms about fucking up the deity he serves, talking back to him, reprimanding him and how he uses his superpowers. He's super cool.

The training scene was great:

Khem is fun and a little shit in combat, but very skillful

Thongthai ending the fight and winning it with one, well thought, well placed, killer sentence 💀😎

Khem who puts being Thongthai's boyfriend above everything else, including his pride, him winning the fight, everything. The scene where he beats himself with Tongthai's hands: 10/10

teasing Tharn but again in such a nice, friendly way 😊

astounding detective work in figuring out where Tharn spent the night

Phaya coming to Tharn's rescue and stopping any situation that might cause Tharn discomfort 🤩

Phaya kicking Khem's ass and CALLING THONGTHAI TO HELP HIM AND THONGTHAI WITHOUT HESITATION JOINING IN KICKING KHEM'S ASS 😆😆😆 it was SO FUNNY

Yai telling Phaya to take care of his baby brother and Tharn smiling shyly and sweetly and not protesting at all! 🥺 ok, just kill me now, too much uwu 🥺

The scene of Tharn and Phaya by the river, how Tharn takes care of Phaya, them holding hands, Yai feeling happy for them and the scene of him making a heart gesture with a random guy 😆 I also really liked Phaya's panicked look when he doesn't see Tharn. The strange thing is that Tharn, who pulls Phaya away from the water, promises to take care of him, is stressed by the whole situation, when later doesn't see Phaya for a long time does… nothing. He's not even aware that Phaya's gone! Well, it's not the first time that Tharn is a victim of the plot and what currently suits the scriptwriters, and it probably won't be the last 😑

I liked Phaya saying: cool story bro, this cgi is nice and shit, but what does it have to do with me, as I already have a sweet boo back home, who is a whole ass DUDE (I know, I checked thoroughly last night) and also my whole world 😤 I love him for that 👌 I really wanted to make it clear that Phaya fell in love with THARN, not someone else's reincarnation, even if that's technically the case.

I liked Tharn's fight with that masked guy.

And I liked Tharn in white shorts and Phaya's oversized clothes. Phaya also served some sexy looks in this episode 👌

Absolutely perfect, heartbreaking scene of Tharn's anguish. I love Babe's voice in the scenes of his despair, his voice cracked just as much when they were pulling Phaya out of the water during their training, as it does now. It's... wow...

And finally, the question… what exactly are Phaya and Tharn paying for, what was the abbot talking about, what is their karma, what did they do wrong to keep paying for it? Because this story shows that they are both victims of OTHER PEOPLE, and that karma should be a bitch only towards Chalathorn?! Am I missing something?

(Phaya must have pleased and served Tharn well, since he did not wake up either when Phaya was being strangled and he tossed around in bed, or when he got up first in the morning 🤭🤭)

#the sign the series #bl drama #thai bl

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utilitycaster · 5 months

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To elaborate that post about shipping as if it's based on a points system, the specific incident was that the moment in the latest WBN that made me go "oh, yeah, this seems romantic" was Suvi giving her name to Ame before the ceremony, and holding Ame's hand to write it out, and the two touching foreheads as they talked about what was going on. Everything else has really felt within the realm of "best friend" and specifically "best childhood friend I haven't really seen in a long time, but left an indelible mark on me," which is still a profound bond, but this is the first moment that really felt it went beyond that. And it was a beautiful moment! I think that while Eursulon and Suvi clearly love each other dearly, his response was one of "what is this strange world," whereas Ame seemed to have a better sense of the gravity of the occasion, and Suvi was able to open up to her more (and then run away for having done so, natch).

So it is a little frustrating that so much focus is on the conversation later in the episode, when Indra's message reaches Ame in the bathroom while Suvi is also there; and on Suvi reflecting on this as she goes to see Silver; and comparatively little on that smaller, far more intimate and profound scene.

It's not that the part at the after party isn't fun, but it's pretty standard Drunk Female Friends In The Bathroom except, you know, witchcraft messages. I don't say this insultingly at all - I loved it and think the juxtoposition of that vibe with the incredibly solemn naming ceremony, realization of Ame's position, and - but it feels very much like a wacky sitcom plot, particularly with the Fox's interjections. And then the focus on Suvi very reasonably thinking about her friend, who has just come into her role as Witch of the World's Heart, as she walks to Silver's place is just. You can have more than one relationship - and I mean this purely in the term of Closeness With Other People - at once, and indeed, I hope you do! I hope that if you have a romantic partner you also think a lot about your friends! I hope that you think about one friend who's going through a lot while also spending time with other friends! And what's truly wild is that I like Silver a lot, and I also don't really get the sense that will be an endgame romance and we are very early into what will be a very long campaign. There's no need to try to get him out of the picture at this point, and focusing on that still ends up focusing more on him than on the scene!

I guess the best way to put it is that like, this mentality of shipping - the points system - feels like it's behind truly everything I can't stand with shipping in fandom. It's behind such meaningless shipping bullshit microexpressions (not true here obviously but in video format) and (in actual play) coincidental matching dice rolls and vague mechanical parallels for sure, and interpretations like the bathroom scene where I'm like "do you guys have any meaningful platonic relationships in your life," and definitely the thing I said yesterday about mean-spiritedness. It's about "who does this person agree with on this particular issue that's the subject of this episode" and not "who do they have a longstanding history of being able to work through conflict in a loving way." It's about this idea of only being able to think about one person or thing at once. It's about a focus on a monogamous endgame in a cottage above all to the point that you can't enjoy the journey, which really makes me wonder what you're getting out of shipping. It feels very, if you'll excuse the math reference, like a Markov chain sort of mentality where the present state supersedes all of the past, which really misses the entire point of a long-form narrative. It's like more points and also last person to do something wins which is just the grimmest way to think of love and romance I could possibly imagine, and it's so fucking prevalent, and that's before I even get to how it doesn't even tally the points right, both in that smaller but deeper scenes get ignored and if everything had gone super well with Silver I know for a fact people would just go "I do not see it". Like, people pick the winner (arbitrary personal preference) and then backfill the evidence while pretending it's a points based game and none of this makes sense in the context of "experiencing a longform fictional narrative." And then if it doesn't happen they call for a referee and act cheated and lied to and don't realize it's because they ignored 75% of the game. Like. Is it fun being this deliberately obtuse? Is it really?

anyway point being I ship it but already cannot stand like 90% of the shippers, who are spending most of their efforts coming up with a completely unnecessary ship name anyway, which I think is indicative of truly everything going on here.

#wbn tag #i detest cutesy ship names which is funny because i'm better at them than everyone who likes them. sky heart? be serious.#anyway. i have found that rather than engaging in ship wars one should critique someone's entire approach to fiction #it's...sort of easy if you're smart enough it's free it's fun

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harringtonswriting · 1 year

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hehehe you & eddie adopting the lil black kitten that nobody wants and he's in loooovvveee 🥺

BESTIEEEEE this was so cute 🥺 and so fun to write!! im so sorry it took so long but i hope you love it!! this is absolutely dedicated to you 💕 she's a long one though, oops... but i have had SO much fun planning this with you and creating this chaotic duo!! (also if anyone wants to come yell with me about eddie and ozzy pls do i love them so much)

...

Every autumn, you like to do what you can to help out at the Hawkins Animal Shelter. You know they’re terribly underfunded and understaffed even at the best of times, but during the colder months of the year when you know they’ve got more animals than usual to try and feed and keep warm is when you try to do everything you can. In this case, that means donating a few bags of dog and cat food that you picked up on your last trip grocery shopping on a blustery Friday afternoon in November after you’ve finished work for the day.

This time, though, you’re accompanied by your boyfriend Eddie–he’d offered to drive you to the shelter in his van and help you bring all the food in with you. It’s been a long week and both of you hadn’t been able to spend as much time together as you wanted, so you were very much looking forward to this weekend together. Eddie’s hand hadn’t left your thigh since you hopped up into the passenger seat when he’d picked you up after work; the comforting weight is seeping warmth through the fabric of your pants, and one of your hands comes to rest on top of his and fiddle with some of his rings. They’ve picked up some of his body heat as well, the metal smooth and warm under your fingers.

He drives you back to your place, filling you in on his day while you listen and try to warm up. Or, well, you do your best to listen, but you’ve had a long week and being warm and in the presence of one of your favourite people in the world is relaxing you a bit too much. Just hearing Eddie’s voice in person and not over the phone for a few stolen minutes is enough to have you closing your eyes, a smile on your face as you temporarily zone out. Until, of course, he hits the annoying pothole down the street from your place and you’re jolted back to reality.

“Oh, shit! Sorry babe,” Eddie apologizes, his hand squeezing your thigh a little tighter before he continues, “Anyway, so my hand’s totally stuck in there, right? So I’m freaking out, Henderson is losing his mind, and I still have half a session left to DM. Can you believe that?”

No, you can’t, because you have no idea how that story started or what he’d actually been doing. But you nod anyway as Eddie’s van pulls up in front of your building. “That sounds completely wild, Eddie. What did you do next?”

“I saved the day, sweetheart, what else?” He grins at you, putting his van in park. You lean over and press a kiss to his lips, your hand squeezing his.

“My hero. Come up and help me get my stuff?” you ask, and he nods, messy black curls bouncing as he kisses you back. His hand reluctantly leaves your thigh so you can both unbuckle your belts and he hops down out of the driver’s seat to run around and open your door with a flourish and a bow.

The two of you make quick work getting up to your place, and Eddie gathers up the dog and cat food to put it by the door while you get changed and pack a bag to take to his place for the night. You make quick work of it, and then the two of you are making your way back downstairs while you tell Eddie all about the latest work gossip and drama.

The drive to the shelter goes quickly, too quickly, and before you know it Eddie’s pulled into the nearly empty parking lot and the two of you are grabbing the bags of food out of the back of his van. You push the door to the building open and the bells above it jingle as Eddie follows you in.

One of the workers emerges from the back as the two of you make your way up to the counter, and you recognize her from your time at Hawkins High School. Her name is Rory, you’re pretty sure, and you know her mom owns both the Hawkins Animal Shelter and the Vet Clinic located next door. She was in your year at school, and she was always pretty friendly with you in any classes you shared. You’ve been donating to the shelter for a few years now, and you’ve volunteered there before, so you know her pretty well, you think. You smile at her as you place your bags of food on the counter. Eddie follows suit before stepping back, slightly behind you. Rory smiles at you as well, taking a wary peek at your boyfriend behind you.

“Hi! Long time no see! What brings you in?” she asks, walking up to the counter towards you. You can see her spare a longer glance at Eddie now that she’s closer, and you turn your head a bit to see that he’s stuffed his hands in his pockets and is scuffing the toe of his shoe against the floor. You step a little further over, putting yourself between Eddie and Rory as subtly as you can to take the attention off of him. Anything to give him a little more room to breathe comfortably; given that most of the attention he gets around town is negative, especially lately, you do what you can to make things as easy as possible when you’re together.

“We’re here to donate some food,” you tell her, reaching one hand out to rub Eddie’s arm through his leather jacket. It’s a little cool under your fingers, but he leans into your touch. You turn back to face Rory, keeping your hand on Eddie’s arm.

“Oh, that’s really great! Thanks so much, we can absolutely use that,” she tells you as she grabs the bags and picks the bags up one at a time to deposit them on the floor on her side of the counter. She makes small talk with you as she does, asking about life now that you’ve both graduated; you can hear Eddie’s sneaker starting to tap against the tiled floor. You know he’s not trying to rush you; Eddie can get bored pretty easily, and you know he’s been looking forward to spending some time with you, just the two of you, this weekend. You have too, so you’re ready to leave when Rory clears her throat to get your attention.

“Do you guys want to come back and see some of the animals we have right now?” she asks. “I’m sure they’d also love to say thank you for the food, if you want.” Or maybe alone time with Eddie could wait just a bit longer because the idea of being able to see the adorable cats and dogs you’re sure are waiting in the back to be seen and loved is something you’re absolutely on board with right now. You find yourself nodding enthusiastically before turning to your boyfriend behind you.

“C’mon, Eddie, do you wanna see the cats and dogs?” you ask him, your hand moving down his arm to intertwine with his. He raises his eyebrows, and you decide to give him your best smile and bat your eyes. It takes him a minute before he sighs, his shoulders slumping.

“You know it’s not fair when you smile at me like that.” The small grin curling up the corners of his lips tells you that he’s not any kind of mad or upset. You squeeze his hand, moving forward to press a kiss to his cheek and he responds with a quick, chaste kiss to the corner of your mouth.

So Rory lets you both back behind the counter, your hand securely enveloped in Eddie’s as you follow her back to where the cats and dogs are kept. There are more than you’re expecting, and once you’re back there you let go of Eddie’s hand to pet a very lovely golden retriever named Daisy who comes to greet you at the door of her kennel. She snuffles softly against your hand, and you coo to her through the bars as you kneel down to be closer to her height. You hear Eddie’s footsteps move farther away from you as you scratch behind Daisy’s ears, letting her know what a good girl she is.

From Daisy you move onto Gunner the bulldog, and then Maverick the german shepherd, before you wander over to where Eddie’s hanging out with the cats. He’s currently standing in front of a kennel that has one lone black kitten in it; the kitten has long, silky looking fur, and big golden yellow eyes. It’s staring at Eddie, meowing and showing off teeth that look much too big for its tiny mouth, but it makes it look absolutely adorable.

“What’s this little guy doing?” Eddie asks, sticking his fingers between the bars of the kennel. The kitten meows loudly, sniffing them before starting to rub himself against Eddie. He starts to gently scratch the kitten along his back, and the loudest purring you’ve ever heard erupts from this teeny tiny black fuzzball.

“He’s the last one of a litter we got last week,” Rory says, walking over to the kennel to peer in from beside Eddie. The kitten meows at her too, and leaves Eddie’s fingers to come get her attention. She smiles at him, digging some treats out of her pocket to poke through the bars. The kitten takes them happily, scarfing them down with a tiny growl that has your heart melting. “He’s been in there on his own for the last few days since the last of his siblings got adopted.”

“How come no one’s adopted him? Is he sick or something?” Eddie asks, and Rory sighs.

“No, he’s healthy as can be. But he’s a black cat, so, y’know.” At Eddie’s blank look, she elaborates, “Superstition is that black cats are unlucky, so not a lot of people want to adopt them. Especially around this time of year.”

Eddie snorts. “That’s a load of shit. He’s a cat.” You see Rory’s posture relax just a bit, and Eddie’s shoulders, which are up near his ears, lower just a bit as the kitten goes back to rubbing himself on Eddie’s fingers again.

“Tell me something I don’t know.” Rory is interrupted, however, by the sound of the bells above the front door jingling. She sighs. “Oh, that’s the door. I’ll be back in a couple minutes, okay?” You nod, and she turns to leave through the door you entered from.

Eddie takes the opportunity to grab one of your hands with his free one, bringing you closer to the kennel holding the tiny black kitten. “Babe… did you hear that? That little guy is all alone because people think he’s bad luck. Are they stupid? They gotta be stupid. Look at him. He’s purring at us.” He leans his head against the bars, his beautifully wide brown eyes staring at you with all the earnestness he can muster. His black curls fall through the bars, and the kitten starts swatting at them, curious as to this new potential toy he’s been given. “We gotta take him home. I’m not leaving him here.”

You’re more than a little surprised. Eddie had never struck you as a cat person, let alone any kind of animal lover. Not that you’re complaining, and you can see just how much this kitten seems to love Eddie already. It has your heart melting in your chest, seeing them interact, so you can understand how Eddie is feeling. However, you also know that Eddie currently doesn’t live alone, and while his uncle has been nothing but kind to you since you and Eddie started dating, you have no idea whether that man is pro-cat or not. He’s very hard to get a read on sometimes. “Eddie, you want a kitten? What’s Wayne gonna say?” you ask, and Eddie purses his lips for a moment before he shakes his head.

“Wayne won’t even notice. C’mon, babe, we gotta bring him with us,” he says, and there’s a determination in there that you don’t often get from Eddie. It’s the same tone of voice he uses when he asks you if Lucas Sinclair can crash your date night because his girlfriend just broke up with him again, or if you can pick up some very specific snacks for Hellfire night because one of the members has seemed a bit down this week; it reminds you of when you’ve seen him stay up into the early hours of the morning the night before a meeting to change some mechanics around or to switch up his map because he’s noticed that Jeff seems to be flubbing a lot of stealth checks lately and wants to give him a bit of a break without seeming too obvious.

Eddie looks so determined to have this kitten, this tiny little thing that’s chirping out little meows at you that’s been left all alone in this kennel, that you can’t bring yourself to tell him no. Not that you’d think he’d take no for an answer at this point, with the way he’s looking at you now, tiny kitten yanking on his curls and his almost glimmering brown eyes looking into your own eyes, almost looking through them and through you, under the fluorescent lights that blink every so often and make a low buzzing noise that acts as a backing track to your conversation.

The hand holding yours squeezes it gently, tugging you closer until you’re shoulder to shoulder.

That’s when the door swings open and Rory makes a reappearance. “Sorry, that was just my mom. She said thank you for the food, by the way,” she tells you, and Eddie jumps nearly a foot in the air. The kitten has his claws stuck in Eddie’s hair, and he tugs on a particularly big knot when Eddie does so, and your boyfriend yelps in partial pain and partial surprise. You can’t help the laughter that bubbles up from your chest, though you rub your thumb across the back of his hand to ease his pain and embarrassment. You can see the amused grin that Rory has on her face now. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, I think so,” you assure her, and she nods. Eddie clears his throat, brushing his hair out with his fingers and letting go of your hand to point at the kitten in front of you.

“The kitten, that little guy. He up for adoption?” he asks, and Rory nods once again. “I wanna take him home.”

Rory unlocks the kennel, and the kitten is quick to try and jump out of it. She scoops him up in one hand with practiced ease, scratching him under his chin as she shuts the kennel door. She then hands the kitten to you, where he immediately attaches himself to your chest with his tiny claws. His big, round golden eyes stare up at you, and you smile as you start to scratch him under the chin, too. One of Eddie’s hands rests on your lower back, a comforting weight and warmth as Rory leads you back up to the front of the shelter through the door. The two of you come around to the other side of the counter, and she grabs a clipboard and the paperwork Eddie needs to go through. You decide to distract the tiny kitten, giving him your fingers to play with as you half-listen to what the others are saying. Thankfully Eddie fills it out relatively quickly.

“And you’ll just need to print his new name here,” Rory says, as Eddie flips to the final page, pointing to one of the lines near the bottom of said page.

“What do you think, buddy? What should we call you?” Eddie asks, studying the little kitten in your arms. You scratch behind the kitten’s ears, and hear the motorboat purr start up again. Eddie leans in close, reaching out his finger towards the kitten’s tiny pink nose. “What about… Ozzy? You like that?”

The kitten meows loudly, reaching a paw out to smack Eddie’s outstretched finger. He laughs loudly before he scribbles the name down on the form. You crane your neck a bit, and you can see he’s written Ozzy Munson as the kitten’s new name, and then you see that Eddie’s listed both himself and you as Ozzy’s adopters. Warmth blooms in your chest, and you bring Ozzy up so you can kiss the soft, long fur on the top of his head. Eddie pushes the clipboard back towards Rory and digs the cash for the adoption fee out of the wallet in his back pocket. She gives him the tags and paperwork he needs, which he stuffs in his other pocket, and then the two of you are leaving with the loudly meowing Ozzy. Eddie once again gets the passenger side door for you, closing it once you’ve gotten into your seat, and you manage to get yourself buckled in before you’re letting Ozzy crawl all over your lap and make himself comfortable. Eddie scratches behind his new kitten’s ears for a minute after he makes sure to turn the heating on, and then he’s turning the engine over and driving away from the shelter.

Eddie insists that Ozzy accompany the two of you into the pet store when he pulls into the parking lot and places his van in park. The little guy has been curled up in your arms the entire car ride from the shelter, and Eddie is quick to unbuckle his seatbelt and reach over to scoop up the newest Munson.

“C’mon, sweetheart, how am I gonna know what he likes unless I let him pick?” he asks, and he holds up the kitten next to his own face for emphasis. Ozzy’s giant golden eyes blink at you, right next to Eddie’s own very pretty, heart-melting brown ones. You know you’re in trouble, and this absolutely won’t be the last time because you can’t say no to both of them, not when they both look so sweet.

“It’s cold out, Eddie, and we don’t have a blanket for him,” you say, which gives Eddie pause for a moment. But then he’s smiling at you and opening his leather jacket under his denim vest and then he’s placing Ozzy inside. Surprisingly, Ozzy immediately starts snuggling up to Eddie, starting to purr loudly once again and you can’t help but start to coo at the adorable scene in front of you.

“Ta da! He’s a perfect fit.” Eddie looks so proud of himself. God, you absolutely wish you had your camera with you to capture this on film forever. You really need to invest in a Polaroid to take with you everywhere you go just for times like these. You don’t care what Jonathan Byers says, those cameras are the way of the future and not at all a waste of money. Not if it meant you can keep photos of precious memories like this, the autumn chill creating condensation on the windows, Eddie’s fuzzy black bats hanging from the rearview mirror and swinging in the slight breeze created by the loud heating system in the van. One of Eddie’s arms is supporting Ozzy inside his jacket, and the other is scratching Ozzy’s tummy–or it was, until Ozzy apparently decided that enough was enough and you saw his little claws dig right into the flesh of Eddie’s hand.

“Ouch! What the hell, man?” Eddie yells, jumping a little. You can’t help the laugh that bubbles up, and Eddie shoots you an accusatory glance as he brings his scratched hand up to his face to examine it. You look down at Ozzy, and you can almost swear you see a grin on the little black kitten’s face. You reach your own hand out towards him, and Ozzy leans out of the jacket to lick your finger. Eddie huffs, saying quietly, “Hey, I am your father, fuzzball.”

The two of you get out of the van, and you’re quick to get the door of the pet store open for Eddie, since he’s got his arms full with Ozzy, and you wave politely to the clerk behind the counter. The only ones in the shop aside from the two of you are an older woman and a little girl trailing after her, holding onto the hem of her coat. The woman takes one look at you, and then at Eddie, before she’s shuffling the little girl off to the other end of the store. You roll your eyes once she’s out of sight, grabbing Eddie’s free arm and leading him over to the cat section. Eddie’s eyes are immediately drawn to the many toys they have, and he opens his jacket a little wider to give Ozzy a good look at them too.

When he starts picking up different toys and letting Ozzy sniff and bat at them with his little paws, you start getting the essentials together. You pick out a litter box and a scoop, some litter, a bag of kitten food, some food and water bowls, and even some treats as well. When you make your way back to Eddie, he’s got an arm full of fuzzy mice, a few stick and string toys, and even a cardboard scratcher. You take some of it from him to add to the pile in your arms, and he grins at you as he holds up a bag of catnip as well.

“Babe, look, Ozzy and I can get stoned together,” he tells you, seeming so excited at the prospect of both him and his cat getting high. You shake your head, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“C’mon, troublemakers, let’s get this stuff and get home.” Eddie’s quick to follow you up to the front counter, where the older woman and the little girl are making their own purchase. The little girl turns to look at the two of you as you approach, keeping a respectful distance. You see Eddie grin, and he opens his jacket a little wider to show off the now meowing Ozzy. The little girl gasps before she starts giggling and tugging on the woman’s coat.

“Mom! Mom, he’s got a kitty in his coat!” she nearly shrieks, pointing at Eddie. Her mother shushes her, quickly grabbing her bag and sparing you a withering glance before they leave the store. You ignore them, placing your armful of cat supplies on the counter before Eddie deposits the toys and catnip he still has. The clerk coos at Ozzy, who purrs at the attention, and loads everything into a few shopping bags as the two of you pay (including Eddie attempting to unsuccessfully bat your hand away, which Ozzy thinks is a game and starts swatting at everything he can reach). You carry it all out to the van when you’re finished, loading it up into the back and then hopping up into the passenger seat. Eddie hands you Ozzy once again, and then the two of you make the drive back to the Munson home.

It passes by rather quickly, and before you know it you’re there. You pass Ozzy back to Eddie and grab everything you need from the back. Eddie’s already out of the van and unlocking the front door, holding it open for you as you make your way up the steps. Once inside, you toe off your shoes while Eddie kicks off his own sneakers. You make quick work of setting everything down in the living room, and grabbing Ozzy’s new litter box and the bag of cat litter.

“Where are we putting this?” you ask, and Eddie looks up from where he’s gently bouncing Ozzy in his arms. He pulls a face, thinking for a moment, before pointing towards the bathroom.

“Between the toilet and the shower? Will it fit there?” he asks in return, and you shrug. You take the items with you to find out with Eddie following close behind. You quickly tidy and rearrange the bathmat and the towel you know Eddie left on the floor earlier–Wayne knows what the function of the bathroom hamper is, unlike his nephew. You do manage to fit the litter box where Eddie suggested, though it’s a tight squeeze, and tear open the bag of litter to place some in. When you’ve finished, Eddie places Ozzy inside, and you watch as the tiny little fuzzball sniff around and kick at the litter with his tiny paws.

You lean against Eddie’s side, resting your head on his shoulder, and Eddie’s arm comes to wrap around your waist. His hand squeezes your hip gently, and he presses a kiss to your forehead.

“Hope you know that you’re on permanent litter duty,” you tell him. “He’s your son, you scoop his poop.”

“No, no, I put your name on his birth certificate too,” he tells you. Ozzy looks up at the two of you, and screams as he starts to do his business in the box in front of you. “Ozzy is our son, and we share poop duty, babe. With you getting the first shift, obviously.” You nudge his shoulder with your own, which starts a bickering and shoving war as the two of you leave the bathroom to give Ozzy some privacy.

You decide to give the living room and Eddie’s room a quick tidy while Eddie trails around after the newest member of the family; really, it’s mostly just Eddie’s shoes and clothes and his various D&D notes and maps that you have to pick up and put in their proper places, but you know how grumpy he’ll be if Ozzy decides to use them as toys, or worse, as a temporary bathroom so you get it done as quickly as you can. You then get Ozzy’s food and water bowls set up in Eddie’s room near his desk, and get to putting Ozzy’s new toys in various areas.

Once Ozzy has thoroughly explored as much as he wants, and Eddie’s run up and down the length of the living room what must have been a hundred times to get Ozzy to chase a feathered toy on a stick, the three of you move to Eddie’s bedroom. You pick Ozzy up, cradling him like a baby in your arms, before you put him down on the bed and you lay down under the blankets. Ozzy meows loudly, and you scratch under his chin as he walks around near you.

Eddie tsks, changing into a Motley Crue t-shirt before crawling into bed with you on the other side.

“Be careful, babe,” Eddie says, gently picking Ozzy up and placing him between the two of you so that the kitten is laying down too. Ozzy rolls onto his back, stretching out and letting out the tiniest, cutest squeak you’ve ever heard from a cat as he yawns. “He’s just a baby, y’know.”

You roll your eyes playfully, petting Ozzy’s chest. “Eddie, I was just playing with him.” Eddie rolls his eyes in return, but scoots closer to you on the bed until he can get an arm around your waist while Ozzy starts to snooze between your heads.

As you lay there with Eddie, watching him gently stroke Ozzy’s fur with one hand and drum absent patterns against your hip with his other, warm and content and absolutely in love with both the man next to you and the kitten between you, you decide that you never want to leave this bed as long as they’re here with you. It’s your own little bubble of contentment, growing with this tiny family you’re starting together, and you kiss both Eddie and Ozzy and relish the feeling of Eddie’s lips on yours as you pour all the joy and endearment in your heart into the kiss.

(That feeling only lasts until the next morning, when you hear Eddie shouting at you from the bathroom saying Ozzy wants to join him in the shower, and you swear you’ve never gotten out of his bed faster to save a trip to the ER)

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x y/n #stranger things reader insert #stranger things imagine #stranger things x reader #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson #stranger things #sunshineperriee #emma 💕#i love this so much #and ozzy will be making appearances in the future #in both eddie-centric and non-eddie-centric works

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itsagirlwithglasses · 1 year

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A Shadow’s Tale - Chatper Two

Azriel x Pirate!FReader

Chapter Two

Summary: Y/N tries to bargain with the High Lord, ends up stuck 10,000 steps above ground in a house full of secrets.

Word Count: 3,000+

a/n: I was not expecting the amount of love I had on chapter one!! Thank you so much!! I hope you love this one as much!! Can’t wait to hear your thoughts? Happy Mother's Day!

Warnings: none

Of all the lessons you got growing up, swordsmanship was always something you loved. You were good at it. Too good. Your father always proud of having such a weapon tried his best to keep you hidden, safe, but your wild spirit didn’t allow you to keep it to yourself. You were eager to grow up and fight, and train with the others. Even if it displeased the great Captain Hook. You knew you had a target in your back when everyone found out about the daughter of the incomparable pirate of the seas but that never stopped you.

You quickly learned how and when to pick your fights. And that’s why your hands were tied behind your back with shadows. You knew it was work from the spymaster. A shadowsinger, a myth that turned out to be such a weird reality. Who controls lights and shadows? How?

The High Lord was walking a few steps ahead of you. You kept silent, accessing the dark walls and the dim lights on the ceilings, certainly to intimidate.

A door at the end of the corridor was open by some force and a room with a table and a few chairs was beyond it.

The three of you walked inside and Azriel signed for you to sit. You did as told and the High Lord turned around locking his gaze on you. You felt those same claws in the back of your mind and you knew it was him trying to access your thoughts or perhaps your memories. You took a shuddering breath and then you heard his voice in your head.

We can either do this the easy way or the hard one. Luckily for you, I’ll let you choose.

Daemati. You thought as you recall the lesson on magics of the mind.

You saw him smiling darkly and he came closer sitting on the table in front of you.

That’s correct. Now, tell me.

You huffed trying to adjust yourself on the chair as your hands were still restrained. You took a look at the spymaster and then looked to the High Lord. You licked your lips before starting talking.

“If you know who I am, you know why I am here.”

“Let me tell you what I know, sweetheart.” He purred venomously and you lifted your chin almost in defiance. “You and your crew sailed into my court, through my wards, uninvited.” He smiled narrowing his eyes, “How?”

“You tell me.” You spat not breaking the eye contact and you saw his smiled faltering as recognition hit him.

“It’s impossible, they’ve been lost at sea since…” He stopped himself and you cocked your head smiling. “How?”

“I know humans are the ones who write the stories about us, just like they do about you fae, what do they tell you about pirates… Rhysand?”

The room became very quiet suddenly but no one moved.

“Where is it?” He said suddenly and you could feel the darkness of his power on your skin. His emotions coming through his power. Your smile never faltered even if your heart was trashing wildly in your chest.

“That will depend… Do I and my crew have your blessing to stay and recover after Hybern’s hit?”

“You want an alliance?” His eyebrows rose and he laughed mockingly scratching his chin. “Your father was allied with Hybern, you all helped attacking the Summer Court, I had to send my Illyrians and my army to help stop the bloodshed… And now you come into my court wanting alliance?”

“Now, don’t put us all in the same bag Rhysand.” You spat his name, “My father’s choices were never my own.”

“You all crawled from the same sack, I don’t care if you had a say in it, I don’t trust you, why should I after everything?”

“Hybern does not know of the existence of these objects, or better said, that I have them in my possession… They could be the difference between winning and losing the war.”

“Who else knows about them?”

“Me, my second, now you and the creep in the corner.” You took a glance at the spymaster and winked mockingly.

“I want to see them, then I’ll make a decision.” He got up from the table and you furrowed your brows.

“You see that’s not gonna happen.” He looked at you with a death promise in his eyes and you stood face to chest to him and looked up. “You know they’re real and you know I have them, after all how could I have sailed past your wards?” You noticed Azriel stepping closer and preparing to jump on you if you did something to his High Lord. “We will do this my way, or we can forget this meeting at all and I’ll sail somewhere else… I kind of miss the spring anyways.” You raised your eyebrows defyingly and you felt him in your mind before he spoke.

Do not disrespect me in my court Ms Hook. And be careful with the game you’re playing, let’s all hope you’ve got it in your arsenal to back up all that talk.

Is my alliance such an ordeal for you that you can’t see beyond your hatred?

I’ll think on it.

What about me and my crew?

“There’s plenty of lodges and apartments in the city, your crew might visit and stay while we negotiate the terms of our… situation.” He said and nodded to the spymaster who stayed put with his gaze fixed on you. “Everyone will be closely watched, one foot out of way and I’ll know.” He came closer to your face and you swallowed, your confidence and adrenaline slowly leaving your body. “And you will be the one paying for it.”

You only nodded as he started walking out of the room.

“What about me?” You looked at his back as he walked away but he only waved his hand dismissing you and you scoffed. “Entitled prick.” You muttered and felt a cold hand on your elbow.

“You’re coming with me.” Azriel said with zero emotion crossing his face and wondered if Rhysand also had been talking to his spymaster this whole time. Suddenly you felt like a fool but quickly shut out the thought.

“Where? Back to your five star hotel?”

“No, this one has a better view.” And without another word he and threw you over his shoulder making you yelp.

—

Flying. You were flying.

You couldn’t help the giggle that left your mouth at the sight. The city underneath was so small the people looked like ants. The cold bite of the wind and the adrenaline pumping your blood made your cheeks flush. Nothing could ever compare to the feeling of being so far away from the ground. You took one look at Azriel’s face and you saw some sort of amusement in his face but he quickly concealed it.

His grip on you was firm and you felt him everywhere. It was intoxicating, his touch, his scent. Not once he spared you a look, his focus was ahead and you look in the same direction seeing the building you were approaching.

It was breathtaking and you couldn’t help but gape at the view.

“That’s where we are going?” You shouted over the wind in his ear and he didn’t give up any reply.

His wings kept beating at a steady pace and you observed them curiously.

After you left the dungeons, he made you promise to behave if he were to unrestrained you. You agreed and when he picked you up bridal style you couldn’t help but laugh at the situation.

“Flying is the easiest and fastest way to get to where we’re going.” He had told you, “I hope you don’t get flight sick.” He said before taking to the skies making you hold onto him tighter.

You reached a hand towards the base of his left wing feeling how waxy the membrane was and then you were screaming as you lost some altitude. You gripped him tighter closing your eyes preparing for a hit. But it never came, you were still in the sky as he quickly recovered.

“Don’t.” He snarled at you, “Ever touch my wings again.”

You looked in his eyes and you saw the hatred and darkness in his gaze. There it was was. The ruthless killer you always heard people talking about and fearing. And you were in his arms, hoping he didn’t decide against his High Lord and drop you and make you go splat on the city grounds.

You made no more sounds, only looked away. Finally you reached the balcony and he dropped you on the ground not so gracefully.

“I’m… I’m sorry…” You blurted getting on your feet but he had already gone inside the double doors. You took a few deep breaths trying to contain your emotions.

You were not going to cry over that idiot treating you like shit just because of an innocent touch. Not after all you’ve through with you father and Hybern. You waited a few minutes breathing the fresh air and then walked inside. The room was silent and you looked around trying to find Azriel but there was no sign of him. You frowned.

“Who are you?” A feminine voice came from behind you and you quickly turned to find a girl with golden brown hair and grey-blue eyes staring at you with her arms crossed over her chest.

She was wearing what you recognized as Illyrian fighting leathers but you frowned at the pointy ears and the lack of wings.

“Is… This place your house?” You lifted your chin and she walked closer.

“Sort of,” She frowned, “Who brought you in?”

“I did.” Azriel appeared from other room, which you guessed was the kitchen as he was holding two cups of water.

At least his anger seemed to ebbed away as he walked towards you offering you one of the glasses. You eyed it suspiciously and then looked at him, he rolled his eyes.

“It’s not poisoned, just take it.” He forced it into your hands and you took it offering him a fake smile.

“Always the gentleman,” You said and took a sip. Your throat felt immensely better afterwards.

“You’re a pirate?” The girl asked directing my attention back to her.

“Sort of,” I answered just as she had and she chuckled.

“Fair enough, are you hungry?”

“Starving.” You replied and walked towards her.

Something about his girl just attracted you and for some reason you knew you could trust her.

“I’m Nesta,” She guided you towards the dining room and plates with food appeared at the table magically. You gawked at it and you heard her laugh. And it was such a lovely sound.

You took a sit. “This is a lot of food even for me,” You joked and she simply smiled taking a seat on your left, Azriel sat on your right.

You heard it then, the commotion and the voices and laughter. Your smiled faltered and you stood there between them staring at your empty plate as the table filled up with other fae including the now familiar dark presence.

The silence settled and you felt all their eyes on you. You swallowed and then you heard him.

“This is Miss Hook, she will be joining us for a while.” The High Lord spoke amidst the silence and you finally looked up at him in confusion.

Be nice. He talked into your mind and you lifted your chin nodding slightly.

“What’s with the costume?” A red hair male asked in confusion taking in your clothes and you looked at him. He looked so out of place in this court. In your best guess you’d say he belonged to the Autumn Court.

“I’m a pirate.” You replied softly and slowly taking in his surprised reaction. Then looked around the room and frowned.

No one else seemed surprised by this, the High Lord must have warned them. But there was a female with fae features, golden brown hair and brown eyes who also seemed surprised and curious.

“A pirate? Like from the human stories?” She asked, her voice was soft and her beauty made her look so innocent like a fawn, you only nodded. “They are myths amongst mortals… Do you have a ship?” She was smiling in awe and you chuckled.

“Yes, I could show you someday if you wish.” Azriel went stiff next to you and you looked at him.

“It’s not that great, I’ve seen it.” The general, who was sitting across the table from you said and you looked at him narrowing your eyes.

“You clearly have a lack of taste then.” Nesta on your side laughed lowly into her napkin and you saw the general chuckling too as they exchanged a look.

You felt like there was some joke you were missing out on and suddenly felt like a fool. Silence fell again and everyone started eating.

“I’d love to visit it someday.” The female spoke again and you looked at her with a grateful smile.

“So you’re he daughter of Captain Hook, just like in those stories?” The female sitting next to Rhysand asked.

“In the flesh.” You answered dryly tired of being the bottom of the joke and you gained a glare from Azriel, the general and Rhysand. “What?” You swallowed your food looking at them one at a time.

“Be careful how you speak to my High Lady.” Azriel narrowed his gaze and you looked between the males and the female, Feyre Archeron.

You had heard all about her. From Under the Mountain to the High Lord of Spring, to Rhysand. You nodded in recognition.

“My bad… Your majesty.” You saw her rolling her eyes but not at you, at them.

“Ignore them, and please… don’t call me your majesty.” She snorted a laugh and you gave her a polite smile.

She would be a great ally in order to get Rhysand to accept an alliance with you and your crew and you made a mental note to try to get her alone to speak.

—

After dinner the food and plates vanished with the same magic they had appeared and you looked at the now empty table curiously.

“Are you going to take a drink with us how are you going to keep gawking at the table?” The tall blonde female appeared holding out a glass of wine for me and you took it from her mumbling a thanks.

She was about to leave the dining room to join the others but you grabbed her delicate hand stopping her. She turned to you with her eyebrows raised and a smile, “Yes?”

“What’s your name?” You gave her your best smile.

“Morrigan, but my friends call me Mor.” She gave me a bigger smile this time, “My cousin can seem all big and scary but the fact that you’re here and not stuck in the dungeons means he trusts you… Well, kinda.” She laughed and you only nodded.

“What did… What did Rhysand told you… about me?” You asked in almost a whisper and she looked at you as if she was searching your face for something.

“Rhys is… not very trusting, specially if people come through his wards and sail in unannounced.” She chuckled and you joined, “He is a good male, and I don’t know what it is but… There’s something about you... Different. Good.” You swallowed trying you best not to react at that, “And I know he sees it too.”

You only nodded and you both joined the group. You walked to the balcony appreciating the cold air the castle in the sky gave you. You closed your eyes and took a breath in thinking back to your crew, to Bonny and Sebastian who were probably worried sick about you. You had to go to the city and find them. Make sure they were alright. Make sure that the High Lord had kept his promise.

How could you trust any of these people? What if Bonny was right and this won’t be as easy as you thought? What if you just walked into a trap? How far up are you right now? How the hell do you reach the ground floor from here? You walked back inside taking in the group that was now sprawled around the living room.

Azriel was in a corner talking to the beautiful female from earlier. They were super engage in a conversation mostly whispering. The red head male was talking to Rhysand, his posture was tight, just as it had been during dinner, as if he was uncomfortable around them in a way.

Morrigan was sipping her wine and talking to Feyre in one of the couches.

Nesta and the General were cozying up on another couch and realization hit you. Mates. You could definitely smell it now that they were close together.

“I’d like to go to back my crew now.” You announced to the group and Rhysand looked at you smiling darkly while shaking his head.

“You’re free to take the stairs if you dare, but you’re staying here otherwise.” He said and you chuckled.

“I’ll take the stairs then.” You said decisively and you heard some chuckles. You’re a fool. Your brain seemed to scream at you but you shook off the thought walking towards the door that was hiding the stairs.

You opened them and inhaled loudly.

“How many?”

“Ten thousand.” It was Nesta who had replied and you closed your eyes taking a deep breath. You turned to the group.

“Can’t one of your bats take me?” You bit off annoyed.

“My bats are not mules, so no.” He replied with an irritating smile on his lips.

“Where am I supposed to stay then?”

“Nesta will show you to your rooms,” you saw the female glaring at him but getting up all the same and making you to follow her.

You asked for some alone time once you got there and she let you to explore the room that was huge. A four poster bed against the further wall in the middle, a walk-in closet and a door that gave access to the bathroom. To the right of the window there was a ceiling to floor window that opened to a balcony. Everything was decorated in Night Court style and it seemed incredibly cozy despite the dark decorations.

You turned towards the door locking it and then decided for a bath. You took your time in the bath and noticed that the water did not get cold despite how long you were under it. You smiled saying a little thanks, to who you didn’t know… Magic. You chuckled a little playing with some bubbles and then playing with the water creating water balls in between your hands and fingers. The buzz of creating magic making your heart beat a little faster.

You really liked magic, but as no one else knew about it, you could only yield it in private, where no one could see you. Despite the feeling you had of being observed at that very moment.

-------

Who is it? Are you paranoid or is someone actually watching you? What do you think is going to happen next? I can't wait to hear your thoughts and I hope you enjoyed this chapter! <3

Next Chapter

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onenicebugperday · 1 year

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@dragonwysper submitted: Gonna share some mites because I’m an Acari fanatic. I already know the families (and some genera) of these, so no need for ID! I just wanted to share some of what are objectively the Best Creatures ™. All of these are from the [[removed]]* area of Missouri!

*please redact

A Rhagidiidae I found under a log! Very speedy creechur. It was hard to get photos of him haha!

Balaustium sp.! Sidewalk mites! They’re very goofy. I’ve found that if you lightly touch them, they will zip away from you, while spinning to face whatever you’ve touched them with. I have no idea why they do this, though I’ve considered it may be related to a substance they’ve been found to secrete when distressed.

Big Trombidium sp. in a pill bottle (because that’s what I had at the time haha. The perks of being mentally ill…). I released this guy after taking some photos, and then was contacted by Ray Fisher (an American acarologist), who asked if I would be willing to send him over for study. I went back out to refind this guy (which, by the way, is ridiculously hard to do with a mite in a woodpile). I did find him again, and sent him over to Fisher! I still send him specimens from time to time, as he’s working on reorganizing the Trombidiform taxon! I have a potential opportunity to get to name a new species with this (since American mites are severely understudied and everything I’ve sent in is an undescribed species), and I’m overall just really excited to be working with him!

A Trombidium sp. on my hand! They’re so large for mites!

A Trombidiform of some kind in a log crevice! I really like this guy’s little white legs haha.

Same guy from above with a fellow Trombidiform (Trombidium sp.)!

Trombidium sp. belly!! I took a lot of photos of the ventral sides of these mites. They have two major openings (aside from the mouth): the genital plate and the anus. The genital plate is the little mitussy in the center of this guy’s belly, and the anus is at the end of his abdomen (right in the middle of his little mite cheeks)!

Trombidium sp. in the wild. It’s so fucking funny to me how BRIGHT they are. He looks so out of place in the grass, but he’s supposed to be here, and it’s just 😭😭

Fun story with this little Trombidium sp.! So I had a lightning bug in a container (for a miscellaneous mite project), and found a tiny little pupa in there after a couple days! I texted Fisher and was like “👀 what is he,” and he told me it was a Trombidium that had been parasitizing the lightning bug! So, with his instruction, I took the little guy out of the tank and put him in a separate pill bottle to wait for him to emerge. He did after about a week or two, into a smaller version of the mites I see outside! I’ve currently got him in a really tiny bioactive terrarium. I need to send him to Fisher, but I’m lazy and haven’t gotten around to it yet haha.

This little mite will routinely burrow down in the dirt and stay hidden in there for a couple weeks at a time, before randomly popping up to wander about on the surface. He’s made me worry he was dead more than once. But he always turns up! Absolute goober. I feel obligated to name him, but I haven’t gotten around to that either.

Image shows the lad on a carrot shaving, which is in there as food for the springtails and isopods!

And!! Last but not least, a young tick! I don’t actually know what kind of tick this guy is. He’s probably a Lone Star (Amblyomma americanum) because we have a lot of those around here, but I don’t know for sure haha. If you do, feel free to ID him for me!

So this guy is included because he is a mite! Ticks are usually separated from other mites based on an arbitrary categorization of shielded or thick-skinned vertebrate parasites versus everything else, but they are very much in the Acari subclass! They make up two families in the Parasitiform order, Ixodidae (hard ticks) and Argasidae (soft ticks). Ixodidae, a large order of about 17 genera, are what you see in North America and Europe, while Argasidae, made up of 5 accepted genera, are more common in South Asia.

Since they’re very much mites, they also deserve appreciation because they are wonderful and beautiful and fascinating.

…

Please let me know if you want me to send you more mite rambles, because Acari are my biggest hyperfixation at the moment and I love talking about them ❤️

MITE TIME!!!! Oh boy I love mites and they are severely underrated. This is an excellent collection of lads. I don’t wanna play favorites but that first dude has VERY silly legs and I love him deeply 🥺 But I also love the parasitic dude you found in the firefly container. I’ve definitely seen juvenile mites attached to bugs, so it’s fun to find one who had dropped off! Name suggestion: Goober.

PLEASE let me know if you get to name a species, that would be very exciting.

I agree ticks are wonderful and fascinating! Your little pal looks like Amblyomma sp., which would include the lone star tick so that’s more likely since they’re very common in your area. But there’s also the golf coast tick in the same genus that’s found in your area, too, and I wouldn’t know how to differentiate them as juveniles.

Feel free to share mite photos any time you like! Although I will say just a few photos per submission tends to be easier for people to read/reblog! Lots of people will block very long posts or not bother looking at them at all.

Btw dying at “mitussy” omg

#animals #bugs #arachnids #submission #mite #acari #acarology #rhagidiidae #trombidium #trombidiformes #velvet mite #balaustium #tick #long post #parasite

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mini-sae · 1 year

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Homelander × Reader

Scent :

Homelander loves pretty much everything about you.

Your kind heart. Your beautiful eyes. Ayour gorgeous face. Your motherly nature. Your generous curves you try to hide, sadly. He even loves your flaws that exasperate him so much sometimes.

He loves you with his whole heart. He had no idea that he could love like that. Unconditionally. And above all, he didn't know that he could be loved the way you loved him. He was so sure that was never meant for him.

But you entered his life and turned his world upside down. With you, he found himself facing things he never did before. The cold fear of losing someone. The need to take care of someone else's needs before his owns. Even if he need you to take care of his needs.

There's a tiny thing that gnaws at him though.

Your scent.

You have a wonderful scent, that's for sure. And you smell even better when you have his scent on you. When you're in his arms, or after your lovemaking, he can smell himself all over you. And he can't explain how wild that makes him. It's primal and wonderful.

But only you and him can smell him on you. Only you two knows how well he marked you. Claimed you. And that wasn't enough for him.

It wasn't a secret that you two were together. And even if he shielded you as much as could from the attention you hated so much, he was so proud to introduce you to the world as his woman.

But he needed more. Always more. He didn't want everyone to believe that it was just a show. Or that you were just his girl of the moment.

That's why he was in your bedroom while you were at work. Standing naked, rubbing your clothes on his body.

He grabbed one of your favorite shirts and inhales deeply. Then he started to rub it against his neck then down his chest. He repeated this action with every piece you had in your closet.

When the time came for your panties, he becomes almost feral. He growls as he almost choke on your scent. Despite the fact they were washed recently, he could still smell your cunt. The taste of it on his lips as if he just ate you out.

He instinctively fist his cock and starts to jerk furiously. There was no doubt about the fact that he would eat your pussy as soon as you will walk through the door.

There was no need for him to do this with your panties. Who will smell you there besides him ? No, that was just for him.

On the verge of cumming, he puts the piece of clothe on his dick and spill in it. You'll probably see the stains on them, but he couldn't care less.

He breathes heavily as he smell your clothes one last time. After putting them in their rightful place, he puts his suit back on and walk towards your leaving room.

He occupies himself as he can while waiting for you. When he hears you entering the building, he almost jumps of delight. You don't even have time to close your door when he lifts you up and places your legs around his waist.

- Well I missed you too, baby. - You say with a chuckle.

He growls against your mouth and kisses you as if his life depended on it.

To his great pleasure, you were wearing a dress. Wich he took advantage of. He slips his hands under your dress, squeezing your asscheeks.

You moaned while tenderly pulling his hair. He puts you back on your feet and hols your chin.

- You're going to lie down on the bed and spread your legs for me. Now.

His tone was so dominant that you unconsciously clench for him. You happily do as your told. He's right behind you, jumping on you once you're in position.

He takes of your panties and starts to lick and suck at your clit like a starved man. You love how ravenous he can be.

You orgasm in no time and he laps every drop of your juices, humming at your taste.

You slowly coming down your high when he holds you in his arms.

- Baby ?

- Yes, sweetheart ?

- Why is my closet open ?

#fic #x reader #fluff #story #homelander #theboys #lovers #fanfic #fanfiction

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filthyfluffyfantasies · 6 months

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✧ ˚ 　· 　　 . DL;DR - this fic is not meant for anyone under the age of 18 as it contains the following: unprotected p in v, hickies, use of petnames, sex in a car, and creampie / body fluids. writer does not give permission for her works to be reposted, with or without permission. ✧ ˚ 　· 　　 .

prompt - virginity ft hints of lovemaking

character | fandom - sweetpea | Riverdale

reader | original character - female reader, northsider!good girl reader & non -or vague, description.

words - roughly 1k

tagging - < taglist here >

✧ ˚ 　· 　　 . losing your virginity to Sweetpea in the backseat..✧ ˚ 　· 　　 .

The backseat is not where you planned on losing your virginity. The massive frame of Sweetpea, known South-Side gang member, is not the body you pictured yourself encased beneath but as that thick tongue rolls down your neck just right and you shiver in anticipation, everything about your spontaneous choice feels so right. Rough hands ghost your curves, one stopping to squeeze your hips as he nuzzles against the shell of your ear, husky words of praise that most people wouldn’t ever associate with the surly Serpent.

❝ This won’t hurt long, baby girl. Daddy’s got you.❞ Sweetpea mumbles, the thunderous sound of the rain outside the car almost drowning out the husky sound. His voice is velvet. It’s gravel and it’s sex. It sends a thrill through your entire being. He tears your panties off and raises up, head bumping the roof of the car. You raise up too, gentle concern filling your eyes. ❝ Hey, why are you sittin, huh? I told you t’ lay there. Daddy’s got you.❞

❝ Daddy bumped his head though..❞ you’re teasing -and giggling, when you say it, but there’s this fire in his eyes when you parrot back the fact that he’s called himself daddy twice now. A cocky smirk plays at rough lips and he’s pressing down into you, cock rubbing against your aching center. Mouth against your neck as he lines himself up. ❝ You’re in for it now, baby girl.❞ and there’s a wild gleam in his eyes when they lock on you & the way your body is caged in beneath his. His hand captures both your wrists above your head and as the tip of his cock grazes against your sensitive opening, you moan out his name.

Some shitty rock band is playing at a low volume on the radio; neither of you are paying any attention. Sweetpea stares down at you, growling as he sinks into your cunt carefully. He’s still. Kissing you on your face, your mouth and your neck. With his free hand, he caresses your cheek.

❝ ‘S okay, baby girl. I’m gonna take real good care of you.❞ his voice is muffled because he’s started to suck your neck as he slides his cock in just a little deeper, raw... The burn you feel at being stretched beyond what you’re used to by his thick cock is starting to wear off and you rock yourself up into him. The hand against your cheek drifts down and squeezes your hip as he shakes his head at you. Chuckles quietly, the sound deep and a little dangerous. ❝ Aht aht. I think I told you to relax. Let me take care of this, baby girl.❞ Sweet Pea mumbles, cock sinking in just a little deeper.. He’s barely thrusting -it feels too damn good, and your nails dig into his shoulder as he fucks into you slow and careful.

To everyone else, he’s an asshole. Moody and a mean streak a mile wide. But right now, as he takes your virginity in his backseat, he’s sweet.

This may not have been your ideal first time but.. It’s so much better than your wildest dreams.

❝ Thatta girl.❞ he groans out as he feels your body really starting to unclench. Your hips meeting his clumsily. He’s almost tempted to put you on top - because he’s been imagining how you’d look, his massive hands on your hips, lifting you up to slam you back down on his thick cock, your tits bouncing, that fucked out look on your face, maybe even drooling a little, but tonight, this just feels better. ❝ – fuck, oh fuck… baby girl, you’re a perfect fit. Fuck.❞ is growled out against the shell of your ear as he starts to go just a little faster.

His teeth latch against your bottom lip and as soon as he’s let go of your hands, they’re all over him. Clumsily, because you don’t know what to do with them. Doesn’t take long to figure it out when his cock bottoms out and you’re whining, moaning his name and trying to match his thrusts just because it feels so good. He chuckles quietly, gazing down at you with lust-blown eyes full of open adoration. ❝ Ya so fuckin’ pretty, princess.❞ he murmurs, still in awe that he’s the guy taking your virginity.

Not somebody he feels is better. Him. You chose him.

It’s kind of mind-blowing.

Your soft laugh when he says it and the way you shake your head to disagree only have him falling even harder, faster than the speed of sound. When he feels your tight little cunt vise around his thick cock even more, he groans out loud. Dips down his head to settle his forehead against yours as he chuckles quietly, ❝ Does this.. Does it feel good, baby girl? Tell me..❞

You smile up at him, all fucked out and clingy as your first orgasm fades, breathe out against his mouth in that soft little voice that it does and he’s determined. You’re his girl now. His alone.

As his hips stammer and he tries to slow down, head off his own orgasm, you whine. Begging to feel him. Begging him to give it to you. He can’t hold off anymore, dots line his vision as he lets you cling to him and fucks into you faster. The car’s frame squeaking a little as it begins to rock softly. You’ve got a hand pressed against a foggy window. His orgasm shatters him and with his last slower and sloppier thrusts, he melts down into you, pulling you into a kiss so deep that you’re dizzy when it breaks.

❝ Love you, Sweetpea.❞

It’s the first time he’s ever heard anyone say it. At first, he doesn’t know how to react. At first, you’re afraid you’ve just crossed some boundary. You’re about to apologize but a thick digit presses against your lips to cut off your words. ❝ Love you too, princess.❞ he mutters quietly, softly against your mouth.

This is not how you pictured your first time, but.. It’s a night you’ll never forget.

#sweetpea #sweetpea fanfiction #sweetpea fanfic #sweetpea x reader #sweetpea x female reader #sweetpea x y/n #sweetpea x you #( ᴛʜᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴅᴏ ʟɪsᴛ ✓ )#lazyghoulskinktober2023 #🔞ɴғᴡ. ᴍɪɴᴏʀs ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴀᴄᴛ ᴀɴᴅ ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴏᴡɴ ʀɪsᴋ.#( ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴏɴᴜs ʙʟᴜʀʙs )

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suzannahnatters · 4 months

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2023 In Books!

Due to mild fatigue, 2023 was a bad reading year for me - I did not reach my yearly 2-books-a-week goal for the first time since I began logging them, and many of the books I did read did not agree with me. But I still found ten fiction and 7 (!) non-fiction books I had to shout out for the end of the year.

Top 10 Fiction THE RED PALACE by June Hur A historical murder mystery set in Joseon Korea, featuring crystalline prose, a painstakingly evoked historical setting, and an understated romance in a dark atmosphere of terror, secrets, and palace intrigue. Despite being written for a young adult audience, this book impressed me with its complex picture of a deeply flawed real historical context.

TOOTH AND CLAW by Jo Walton A Victorian style comedy of manners in which every single character is a dragon, from the dragon parsons and spirited young lady dragons to the crotchety old dragon dowagers and feckless young dragons-about-town. All of them wear little hats. Sheer cosy perfection.

DRAKE HALL by Christina Baehr My bestie surprised me this year by spontaneously producing four whole novels pitched as "cosy Victorian gothic, with dragons". I haven't read the final edition of DRAKE HALL yet but it's sunshiney, summery, cosy goodness. With dragons.

CRIMSON BOUND by Rosamund Hodge (re-read) A dark and bloody fantasy full of lifegiving female friendship, ride or die siblings, theology, guilt, and stabbings. This one also contains gratuitous St Augustine quotes, a one-page retelling of the VOLUNDARKVIDA, and a love triangle that exists to present the heroine not so much with drama as a proper ethical dilemma.

EMILY WILDE'S ENCYCLOPAEDIA OF FAERIES by Heather Fawcett The story of a mildly autistic lady academic researching faeries with her flamboyant rival professor, who is probably secretly an exiled fae king…but the annoying part is his habit of making his students do all his field work. Cosy, thrilling, hilarious.

THE LAST TALE OF THE FLOWER BRIDE by Roshani Chokshi This gothic-infused psychological thriller was dark, creepy, and sometimes heavy, but it's also a tale that flips the roles of innocent maiden and Bluebeard, engages in valid Susan Pevensie Discourse, and ends on what I found to be a genuine note of hope and healing.

THE COLDEST GIRL IN COLDTOWN by Holly Black This book tackles vampirism as a metaphor for the evil hidden in the human heart, and it's epic, bloody, twisty, and monstrous. I couldn't put it down. Not sure I'd recommend it for the target audience, but it's mature and well-crafted enough to be enjoyed by grown-ups as well.

THE WITCHWOOD KNOT by Olivia Atwater I've read a number of Olivia Atwater books, and this one is head and shoulders above the rest. The best blend of gothic and fae, like a grown-up LABYRINTH, with one of the great fae butlers and so many subtle yet walloping feels. It felt like an old fairytale in the best possible way.

BEHIND THE CURTAIN by WR Gingell The WORLDS BEHIND series is about trauma and healing and repentance, and in this, the fourth book, everything comes decisively to the boil as our favourite twisty knife uncle pits his wits against an enemy who very uncomfortably mirrors himself.

Top 7 Non-Fiction (because I couldn't get it down to just five)

TWO VIEWS ON WOMEN IN MINISTRY by Beck & Gundry (eds.) Four New Testament scholars from a range of complementarian and egalitarian perspectives debate the question of women in ministry, with a lot of detailed scholarship. If nothing else, this book proved that this is something orthodox Christians can honestly disagree about, because there are significant exegetical strengths and difficulties with each position - it's time to stop seeing women holding ministry positions in the church as tantamount to heresy.

REFLECTIONS: ON THE MAGIC OF WRITING by Dianna Wynne Jones This collection was magical - funny and sad tales of her life, many good and passionate thoughts on books and writing, and one absolutely marvellous study of narrative structure in THE LORD OF THE RINGS. Absolutely delightful and highly recommended.

PATERNAL TYRANNY by Arcangela Tarabotti A 17th-century nun takes aim at the misogyny of early modern Europe, wielding razor-sharp logic to argue boldly for the equality of women. But it's Tarabotti's passionate faith, which somehow managed to survive moral injury and spiritual abuse, and even came to see hope and encouragement in scriptures which must so often have been used against her, that will stay with me.

THE GOLDEN RHINOCEROS: HISTORIES OF THE AFRICAN MIDDLE AGES by Francois-Xavier Fauvelle A series of bite-sized essays on the medieval history of Africa from approximately the Islamic conquests of the 7th century to the arrival of Portugese colonists in the fifteenth. Each essay offers the most fleeting glimpse of a long-vanished, half-imaginary world of often breathtaking sophistication and splendour. I loved them.

ONE HOLY LOCAL CHURCH? by Bojidar Marinov This short book, which draws very solidly on past luminaries like Rutherford, Gillespie, Spurgeon, and Hodge, helped me think through some of the questions I've been asking myself about ecclesiology and the role and authority of elders, particularly as I've been rethinking women in ministry. Terrific.

TEN DAYS IN A MAD-HOUSE by Nellie Bly "People on charity should not expect anything and should not complain." In 1887, the American "girl reporter" Nellie Bly got herself locked up in a New York lunatic asylum, and this shocking expose was the result. Sometimes, nineteenth century attitudes towards women and the poor were beyond parody.

A PEOPLE'S TRAGEDY: THE RUSSIAN REVOLUTION, 1891-1924 by Orlando Figes Some aspects of this book have aged poorly - the unthinking acceptance of Russian imperial aspirations, for instance - but apart from that, this is a sweeping, epic picture of the Russian Revolution, covering three decades and every level of society, from daily life in the village commune to the political rivalries of Lenin's declining years, without ever becoming dull or bogged down in detail.

#my year in books #2023 wrapped

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because-she-goes · 1 year

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manchester wedding

warnings: tooth achingly sweet wedding fluff, this time from nora’s POV. Enjoy!

Dear Husband,

Well, Here we are. Today is the day I marry the love of my life while in his favorite city in the world surrounded by his favorite people in the world. Currently, I am sitting in a green room with the windows open trying to get some peace and quiet in order to write this properly. It is summer in England, your favorite season here. I can hear everyone chatting downstairs and the music playing over the loud speakers. I can hear your voice above everyone else’s - filled to the brim with bliss.

We decided months ago to have it Albert Hall since you always dreamt of getting married at a concert venue. The boys surprised you by playing “Fallingforyou” live w/ Pheobe singing. I cried. Obviously. It was a beautiful version, I think they even had some string players join them. It is wild to think about that only an hour ago, I said I do.

Marrying you is the easiest thing I have ever done in my 27 years of life. It is the happiest 24 hours of my life. It is my happiest memory. It is my most cherished moment.

Hearing you say those three letters felt like roman candles exploding in my heart. I can’t believe I get to wake up to you for the rest of my life, how did I get that lucky? I can’t believe I get to have you for forever. When I am with you, it feels like we are moving at light speed to the point where time is standing still.

It has felt like time has stood still since I first laid my eyes on you. From that first glance, to going on tour with you that first year, to leaving New York to move in with you here in London, to us dancing at our wedding. It makes me dizzy, how in each of those moments, my only real memory is of you. Holding onto me in front of the slot machine, hearing your voice lead a choir of thousands each night, holding my hand the whole plane ride over, to seeing your eyes fill with love, hope and joy during our first dance. Nowadays, you are all I think about. You are the center of my universe, my sun and moon and stars.

I know I can be messy at times, and quite the handful, but I’d die to make you proud. To earn the title of Your Girl. Whenever you call me that, it feels like lightning goes through me. You make me feel safe, comfortable, warm, at ease and protected. For that, I can never repay you. I will never be able to thank you enough for not only accepting me, but then celebrating me and all my flaws. It is a refreshing feeling to come home and be myself and not worry about having to put on any masks around you. You understand me better than I understand myself. I never believed people when they said things like that, until I met you. I was in black and white until I met you. Now, I am in technicolor and the whole world around me has changed for the better.

I thank you for showing me your world and all its delights and for the warm welcome into your world. Seeing your friends and how they all adore you as much as I do is a truly special gift. You are so loved beyond measure. I hope you know that. I will never be able to tell you that enough times. My love for you is endless and overflows my heart. Promise me to never forget that, my dear. I’d like to thank your exes for shaping you into the man I met all those years ago, all of those moments with them leading you to me. Without them, I do not know where we would be today. All of their love cannot even compare to the amount I am ready to give you over the next lifetime. I will need 10 lifetimes to tell you I love you enough. I love your mind and how creative you are. I love your work and how passionate you are about it. I love your lips and hands for gifting me the love songs I used to only dream of receiving. I love your eyes and how I could be lost in them and their beauty for years. I love your hair and how you moan when I run my hands through it and pull at the nape of your neck. I love everything about you. Truly, madly and deeply.

I love your heart most, Handsome. It is the kindest, gentlest, most loving one I have ever known. Your generosity is a marvel. Your care for everyone around you leaves me speechless. I can only offer you a lifetime of mine, but you deserve an infinite amount.

Promise me to touch me as softly and sweetly as you did that night in Vegas. Our first touch. Our first kiss. Grab my waist, don’t waste any part, Honey. When I am bare and vulnerable, hold me and never let me go.

You see me for who I am, at my very core. You look at me like I am some sort of otherworldly being when I am simply the one thing I have always been meant to be…. Your Nora.

Love always and forevermore,

Your Wife.

#Spotify #matty healy x reader #matty healy fluff #noras matty #matty x nora #drew’s writing :)#an encounter

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powdermelonkeg · 1 year

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Hey do you think it's possible to fix how time travel works in skyward sword so that this link can be the first hero who fought demise in the distant past? The one from the legend I think Zelda tells us (but maybe it was someone else, my memory isnt that great).

Anyways, I'm curious because I think that's what we were supposed to think. That Link became the hero in the present, them went to the past, and by defeating Demise became the hero from the past.

So, for this, you've got two options, one involving Link himself being known, and the other being Link's legend. They've got different criteria, so it depends on what you're looking for.

If you want it to be Link that's acknowledged, with the caveat that you also subscribe to the belief at the end of the rapidly-fraying timeline post, then you can say that when Fi course-corrected the timeline, that that was a side effect put into motion to make sure Link still encountered the legend that would lead him downward.

However, if you want it to be the legend, provided you also want to go along with what's intended for the timeline (because I doubt they actually put any thought into all those possible splits in the chart), then you can look to the Ballad of the Goddess.

This exists, alongside the legend of the man the goddess gave a sailcloth to. And everything up until this point-

-was pre-determined. Link was supposed to win the Wing Ceremony, Zelda was supposed to hear a call for the surface, and so on.

The Ballad of the Goddess was meant to be a hint and guidance for the hero when he first starts out. He knows what his job is, what the end result should be, even with other stakes at play. So we can reason that Hylia had at least some limited future sight ability in order to generate these prophecies.

With that in mind, the above phrase that generated my whole Mudora theory could well have been the same thing—Hylia telling her people about what's to come, but either leaving out details so they think it's already happened, or time itself distorting the tale to change it from future tense to past tense as it's retold each generation. We know from Gaepora's meeting with Fi that the stories of the past are altered and missing pieces. So if you want to stay as true-to-intention as possible, I'd say go with that.

My own thoughts on this line below the cut.

Personally, it's the past tense that gets me hung up on this bit of dialogue; that the goddess gave the sailcloth back then. It throws me into speculation mode because I'm like "no, that hasn't happened yet, so that means it's happened twice!!!" which gives me a springboard to speculate what the world before Demise might have been like. It's also a line that could have been fixed with a single word.

You know, they say that the goddess promised the Sailcloth to her chosen hero long ago.

If they'd done that, there would be no room for questioning. I do kind of want to ask @sunnylaurels what the exact wording is in Japanese so I know without a shadow of a doubt that it's a dialogue error and not a mistranslation (after BotW's journal conundrum I no longer trust localizations) but-

The fact of the matter is, regardless of what's intended, I think it's more fun to speculate about an unknown predecessor to Link. Someone who tried, who failed, who was given a second chance, who was scattered to the winds of time to fulfill a purpose. It's a whole pocket where I can basically make up what I want, and the canon is just ambiguous enough to support it, which is amazing.

However, I also know that some theories, despite how they're technically canon-compliant, feel like they betray the canon to subscribe to on the basis of the Zeldevs' intentions. I know for a fact that the dialogue was intended to reference Skyward Sword Link. In a similar vein, I know that Breath of the Wild's 10k years ago are intended to happen after everything else in Zelda canon, or that nearly everything in Twilight Princess is intended to be a callback to Ocarina of Time.

I just have a serious case of "but what if THIS tho!"

#ask bee #timeline shenanigans #skyward sword #theory #headcanon #worldbuilding #long post

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savebatsfromscratch · 29 days

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Huh. You ARE warm. - Palletshipping Week 2 (Kisses, Hugs, I Love Yous)

Summary:

Ash and Gary sit at the edge of a lake.

Notes:

Prompt: Kisses, Hugs, I Love Yous Note: This is set basically whenever, but it’s supposed to be in Johto. Words: 1,322

Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/54834484

Ash's hands gripped the grass at his sides as he sat on the edge of the lake. The full moon glowed above, much brighter than the distant glow of the buildings of the nearest town, yet despite being colder, it was also more welcoming. He tore out a patch of the grass accidentally, feeling the slick plants tear at the mercy of his clinging fingers as he stared at the waters before him.

Clearly, just fiddling with the grass wasn't enough to mask this particular feeling of worry. And was he surprised about that? Not really, he had a lot on his mind.

Besides, the person next to him was Gary.

After a totally disastrous run through the caves nearby, his group had found Gary, and given the fact that they were all low on health (and almost entirely out of potions), they had decided to camp together for the night. Choosing between your rival or a random hiker you'd never met, Ash would choose his rival any day.

Even though his current panic may suggest otherwise, Ash felt truly grateful to be able to see Gary again, even on such short notice. Truthfully, he was pretty certain that simple fact was a pretty major factor in his worry, but he had to put it away when Gary cleared his throat.

“So,” he started, somewhat unsure, as if he was worried that Misty and Brock may still be awake, “I'm happy to see you, Ashy boy,”

“Yeah,” Ash said, tossing the clump of grass down into the lake, and watching as it floated on the surface, “Thanks for the berries,”

“Ahw don't mention it,” Gary said, waving his hand, though both of them could clearly feel the sting of awkwardness in the air, “Thanks for letting me camp with you guys for the night,” he sneered at Ash, but there was no bite to it, “Don't try anything funny will you?”

Ash frowned at him. As if. Besides, Brock was the one with the most control of who got to stay with them, Ash wasn't really the one to thank in that regard.

Gary quieted, clearly seeing that Ash hadn't found him very funny. ”Sorry,“ he mumbled, looking back out at the lake, making his eyes glow as the light of the moon hit them once more, ”I know that's not funny,“

There was a pause. The wind carried the scent of pine clear over the rotting scent of lake water.

”You're acting a lot nicer than usual,“ Ash observed, still staring at Gary (somehow he couldn't force himself to look away), ”What's gotten into you?“

Gary turned to him, and for some reason it was only then that Ash could force himself to tear his gaze away, as if he wasn't aware that Gary knew he had been staring. ”You're a lot calmer than usual, can I ask what's got into you?“

Ash grumbled something even he wasn't entirely sure of the contents of as he leaned forward to hug his knees. (He was going to tear every blade of grass off the hill if he didn't find somewhere else for his hands to go.) ”I'm tired,“ he told him.

It was true, but he was pretty sure that neither of them believed that was everything that was going on.

”Yeah?“ Gary asked, snarky once more, though Ash could have sworn there was something else there, something more... tender? ”Tired of losing to all those wild Pokemon back there?“

Ash harrumphed and dug his fingers into the hems of his jeans. “As if you didn't lose to them too! At least I don't have a water ace and loose in a cave...” He trailed off.

Gary raised his eyebrows, a movment so pronounced that Ash could almost hear it. (Or maybe he just heard the soft inhale that he had come to expect from such a move from his rival. Even after months of not seeing each other, it still felt like he knew his every habit like the back of his own hand, or like Pikachu's moveset.)

“What,” Gary was grinning, Ash could tell, “Don't want to finish making fun of me? Did you really get that beat up back there?”

“No!” Ash said, pulling his arms away from his legs and whirling around to face Gary, “No! I just-,” he felt his fingers shake as his arms fell to the ground, “I just, um,”

His face felt warm. Why was that? Wasn’t it supposed to be cold next to lakes at night?

“You’re blushing,” Gary observed, pointing out what would have been obvious to Ash if he hadn’t been denying it so hard, “What happened back there…?”

“Nothing,” Ash said truthfully, if slightly desperately, “I’m just…” ‘Happy to see you, I guess,’ He ignored the thought, though it had been the only thing he had planned to say. “Warm. It’s warm out,”

Gary raised an eyebrow, but he didn’t pry any further.

Ash felt himself flush harder, but still could not tear his eyes away from Gary.

He felt frozen, fingers once again digging into the slimy grass as he locked eyes with his stupid, stupid rival. (There was no other descriptor for the guy if he was making Ash blush by just being in his general vicinity.) Deep down, Ash knew that there was no denying what he felt. He’d felt it for a while, honestly, ever since the encounter with Gary all the way back at Professor Oak’s lab, Ash’s childish crush had seemingly rekindled itself.

All those days of pretending they hated each other were for nothing, and Ash was pretty sure they both knew it.

Slowly, as if moving too fast would make the quiet lapping of the lake roar into a tsunami, Gary reached a hand forward, curling his fingers around Ash’s cheek.

For some reason, Ash did not pull away.

“Huh,” Gary murmured, “You are warm,”

He leaned closer.

Again, Ash did not pull away.

Gary hesitated, glancing over to where the sleeping lumps of Brock and Misty curled around the campfire as if afraid they were looking. But what was there to be afraid of them seeing? He looked back at Ash, who could only blink back, so suddenly lightheaded with emotions as Gary pulled him into a kiss.

For a moment, Ash almost pulled away. The rush of emotions was too powerful, like a wave that threatened to swallow both of them if he wasn’t careful. The feeling of Gary’s second hand in his hair, the almost unconscious way Ash felt his own arm moving to hug Gary, the pure weirdness of the act itself. There was so much to feel conflicted about, but Ash forced himself not to think.

He closed his eyes and forced himself to feel.

Like the night wind on the wing of a Noctowl, he felt utterly lifted from the ground. He wasn’t even sure why. There wasn’t anything special about this act all on its own, he was sure they both sucked at whatever they were trying to do, but even something done badly was still something done, and Ash felt himself pulled into a hug as they continued.

It could have been that a second, a minute, or even an hour had passed by the time they broke apart, and Ash would have been none the wiser, so caught up in his whirlwind of emotions he found himself. It was strange, how clearly feeling reflected thinking in a situation like this, but equally strange how different the two were.

Gary’s hands did not untangle from Ash’s hair, but he didn’t mind, besides, he hadn’t yet unhooked his own arm from Gary’s back either.

A rush of emotions consumed him, and Ash suddenly blurted out, “I love you,”

For once in his life, Gary didn’t seem to have some sort of snarky rebuttal to that… for the most part.

“I love you too, Ashy boy,”

#fanfic #my writing #actual post #trainer gary #trainer ash #palletshipping #palletshipping week #palletshipping week 2024 #fluff #love confessions #pokeani

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