#the reflection is named nathaniel

[nothatsmi]

On my computer I titled this Neil's sanity.

Don't you hate it when your reflection tries to murder you.

Anyway here's an animation I spent the day doing, it's Millport Neil and his Guilt :)

Also thank you so much for all the replies for the animatic! It means so much!! Tbh I would draw and animate more but each time I do so I gotta catch on the school work and I'm getting behind already.. But yeah today I was like meh what's work anyway.

#aftg #all for the game #the foxhole court #the raven king #the kings men #neil josten #the reflection is named nathaniel #also are we gonna talk about the fact that there's gonna be a fourth book #the sunshine fucking court??? #i cannot wait for this shit i am oh so excited #i'm gonna draw jean moreau next time #noah's aftg series

[gigabyte-flare]

He Comes Alive (Part 2)

Part 1

Summary: More hikers are going missing and now one of them has been found dead, seeming having been attacked by a strange animal. Meanwhile, Leon stops by your work, giving you an offer you can't refuse.

Word Count: 3.5k

Pairing: vampire/plagas!Leon Kennedy x fem!reader (afab)

Disclaimer: This story is a work of fiction. Actions depicted in this story are not condoned in real life. You are responsible for your own content consumption. If any of the following warnings trigger you, please read at your own risk. Minors do not interact, this story is 18+ only.

Warnings: Biting, blood, gore, murder, unprotected p in v, masterbation, oral (m and f receiving), stalking, pet names, kidnapping, breeding kink, blood play/kink, DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT [More warnings may be added in future entries]

A quick reminder that I no longer do tag lists

You awake the next morning at around 7:00am, stretching your arms and yawning loudly before rubbing your eyes, the events of the previous night gone from your mind as you climb out of bed. You throw on your pajama pants before going downstairs, where you find both your parents now huddled in front of the TV.

“What’s going on?” you ask, standing in the threshold of the living room before stepping in to join your parents.

What you see, shocks you. It’s a breaking news report. Fish and Game had found one of the hikers, Alicia Walker, dead off of one of the Mt. Lafayette trails.

“They’re calling it an animal attack,” your father suddenly breaks the silence, “there were signs she had been attacked by some kind of animal like a bear or… a coydog. But… I’ve never heard of bears or coydogs attacking people around here.”

Your focus returns to the TV, where you watch the reporter at the Mt. Lafayette trailhead.

“Fish and Game is asking hikers to never hike alone, let friends and family know if they plan on hiking and where, as well as bring adequate protection to defend themselves against wildlife until they can find and euthanize the animal responsible for this attack. Fish and Game believes this same animal is responsible for the other missing hikers, the latest being 21 year old Nathaniel Dion of Oakvale who was last seen Monday--”

Your eyes widen at the name; you went to school with this guy. He wasn’t anyone you knew personally, but he was one of the more popular guys in your high school class. You recall he was a huge fitness junky. He was also Chief Bob’s only son; you could only begin to imagine how much this probably distressed him and his family. 

“Poor Bob and Nancy…” you hear your mother say before she abruptly walks into the kitchen, “I’m going to call them up and see if there’s anything we can do to help them, Mick.”

“Yeah, it’s the least we can do, maybe we should have them over for lunch. I’m sure they could use the company,” your father suggests before turning off the TV and joining your mother in the kitchen.

Meanwhile, you remain in the living room, staring at your reflection in the TV screen before you turn, going back upstairs to your bedroom to get dressed.

Later that day, Chief Bob and his wife Nancy do end up coming over for lunch. Your mother had made up sandwiches and fresh ice tea for everyone. Sitting at the dining table with them was unfortunately awkward, Chief Bob and Nancy were clearly distraught, understandably so. 

“He said he was doing the Lafayette, Lincoln and Liberty loop, which normally only takes him a day or two. When he didn’t come back Wednesday…” Nancy begins, wiping tears from her eyes.

“That’s when I reached out to Fish and Game to report him missing, they immediately organized a search party. That’s when they stumbled upon that other hiker, Alicia. They found her when they were looking for Nate.” Bob finished, clearing his throat as he attempted to regain his composure. 

“Is it true what they’re saying? That an animal is attacking hikers?” you interject before biting into your sandwich.

“That’s the weird part. I asked for a copy of her autopsy report. The poor girl’s throat was practically ripped out, her blood drained out of her body almost completely--”

“Bob, honey, we’re eating.” Nancy scolded.

Bob continues, paying Nancy no mind, “when I talked to the coroner that did her autopsy, he said the bite wound was unlike anything he’s ever seen. I don’t know of a single animal up here that would do that and… drain the blood out like that.”

“I can see why they’re keeping that hush-hush. We don’t need any crazy rumors that we’ve got vampires or some bull crap like that,” Mick replies with his mouth full of sandwich.

“Fish and Game is still looking for Nate, I’m praying to God he just got off trail and got himself lost. I don’t know what I’d do if anything happened to him,” Nancy says with a sigh, resting her hands in her lap as she stares down at her untouched sandwich. 

Your mother reaches over, putting her hand over Nancy’s, giving them a pat, “I have faith that he’s out there. Mick and I and our daughter are here for both of you if there’s anything we can do to help.”

Nancy suddenly bursts into tears, sobbing at the dining room table loudly.

Your mother looks at you, “sweetheart, can you grab the box of tissues that is sitting on my nightstand for Nancy?”

You give your mother a quick nod as you stand up from the dining room table to head upstairs to the master bedroom. So many thoughts were racing through your head, mostly about how the hiker had died. Chief Bob was right; yeah there were bears and coydogs, but nothing would or could suck a person’s blood dry like that. Shaking yourself from your thoughts, you find the box of tissues on your mother’s nightstand, right where she said it was and brought it downstairs.

You sit back down at the table but you can’t help but zone out, thinking about Nate, lost in the forest.

That evening, you get yourself ready to go to work, heading into the garage of your family’s home to get into your bright yellow 1977 Chevrolet Chevette. It was kind of a beater, but it was reliable. Your dad had made sure it was running well prior to you flying back home. You turn the key, the engine roaring to life; you turn around in your seat and slowly back out of the garage to go to work.

You hear Whitney Houston’s ‘I Wanna Dance with Somebody’ come on the radio, you turn up the volume and sing along. After a few minutes, you arrive at the gas station, parking your car on the side of the building before heading inside.

“Hey Peggy!” you call out as you walk in, walking into the back office to drop off your purse and car keys before heading up to the register.

“Hey sweetie!” Peggy replies when you come back out to relieve her from her shift, “how was your day?”

“It was ok, we had lunch with Chief Bob and his wife. I’m sure you heard his son Nate’s missing in the mountains.”

Peggy shakes her head, “I did hear about that, poor kid. I really hope they find him safe and sound. They found one of the other hikers dead, right?”

“Yeah, supposedly attacked by some kind of animal.”

“God help us…” Peggy says under her breath as she walks out from behind the register to let you in.

“Have a good night Peggy!” you say to her, seeing her off as you take up your post.

A couple hours go by, you watch as the sun sets behind the mountains. It was a slow night, so you took that opportunity to mop the floors, zoning out the roar of a motorcycle pulling into the gas station. The sound of the door chime snaps you out of your daze. You look up to greet the customer.

“Hey there, how can I help-- oh! Leon!”

Your heart immediately starts racing again upon seeing Leon. He’s wearing a blue button up shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows with a black vest on top and tight fitting black pants with black boots. The outfit makes him look otherworldly; simply stunning.

“Hey there, I was hoping you were working tonight,” Leon says, giving you a gentle smile.

“R-Really?” you reply as you haphazardly put your bucket and mop over in a corner, “how… can I be of assistance, Leon?”

“Well, as I’m sure you’ve heard, I bought that old house on the end of Hemlock Drive.”

“Yeah… Mr. Mason’s place, right? Oh… right… you wouldn’t know who that was…” you say, your voice trailing off. 

Leon lets out a playful chuckle before continuing, “well… I’m starting to realize I could use an extra pair of hands to help fix it up.”

“You want me to ask around to see if anyone can help?” you say, crossing your arms, shifting your weight on one foot.

“I was actually hoping I could hire you.”

Your heart jumps into your throat and your mouth hangs slightly agape as you process his words. The door chime going off again snaps you out of your shock.

“Hold that thought,” you gesture your finger at Leon as you walk behind the cash register to help the customer that walked in, a stranger passing through getting gas.

Leon stands behind the customer but off to the side, waiting for them to leave so that you two could continue your conversation. You send the customer off on their way after they pay for gas, drawing your attention back to Leon.

“So… what would I be helping you with? I don’t know much about… building stuff,” you explain, feeling your cheeks turn red.

“Oh no, nothing like that. I’d have you help with painting, cleaning, maybe nailing stuff down. Easy stuff, I promise. And I’d be paying you.”

“How much?”

Leon shrugs his shoulders, “I was thinking… $10 an hour? I’d have you do Monday through Friday from 7:00am to 3:00pm, give or take.”

$10?! you think to yourself. 

That is way over what you’re making here, which is minimum wage, “I’ll do it. I’d have to put my notice in here first.”

Leon smiles, “think you can start next Monday?”

“Absolutely!”

Leon leans forward against the counter, reaching across to give one of your shoulders a pat, “excellent! See you on Monday then.”

Leon gives you a subtle wink, turning to walk out of the gas station. You watch as he gets on his motorcycle, jumping a bit when it roars to life, your eyes remaining locked on him as he drives off. You can’t believe your luck.

Pulling up to his home at the end of Hemlock Drive, Leon parks his motorcycle out front, climbing off it before heading inside. Immediately upon entering the front door, he lets himself finally relax, taking off his vest before he works on unbuttoning his shirt. He walks into the bathroom, standing in front of the mirror as he pulls his shirt off, revealing his chiseled chest. 

Before long, dark veins begin to sprawl across his body as he rubs the knots out of the back of his neck with one of his hands, his eyes closed as he lets out a low groan. He slowly opens his eyes, his ocean blue eyes now a brilliant red; they appear to glow in the low light of the bathroom. He snarls his lips at his reflection, revealing his sharp canine teeth that have descended, licking the points with his tongue before he steps back, admiring his physique in the mirror. All the while, something deep and primal within him, at the very core of his being, begins to nag him once more, something that wouldn’t stop since he first laid eyes on the cute girl that works nights at the gas station.

Breed.

In fact, he had gotten himself so worked up that night he met her while filling his motorcycle’s gas tank that he had to go out and hunt. Smirking in the mirror, he turns, walking out of the bathroom, approaching a door in the rear of the house that was padlocked shut. He pulls his keys from his pocket, unlocking the padlock and setting it aside on a small table before opening the door. It leads to the basement, the smell of blood immediately hitting his senses, driving his hunger wild. He descends the stairs slowly, flipping on a light at the bottom that turns on a single set of fluorescent lights.

Under the light, there is a support beam that a young man is tied to, bloody, battered and his neck covered in several bite marks, with duct tape wrapped around his mouth and eyes. The young man immediately hears Leon approach, struggling as much as his weak body can against his restraints. Leon stalks over to the young man, grasping him by his chin and squeezing tightly, smirking down at him. Today he learned this imbecile is the Oakvale’s chief of police’s only son. Just his luck. It was because of this moron hiking alone that Fish and Game had found the remnants of one of his other meals looking for this idiot. He could feel his frustration boiling within him, causing him to suddenly twist the young man’s head, snapping his neck instantly.

“Whoops.”

He didn’t mean to snap the poor kid’s neck, he was hoping to enjoy him for a few more days, now he has to enjoy as much as he can before his blood starts to go stale. Opening his mouth, his fangs and mouth latch onto the dead young man’s neck, growling as he begins to feed upon him. He gets his fill, unlatching himself from the young man’s lifeless form with a gasp, breathing heavily as blood runs from his lips, dripping down his chin onto his bare chest. The young man’s body slumps forward as Leon steps back. He’s going to have to get rid of him before his cute angel starts her new “job” on Monday.

Thinking of her, his eyes flutter shut, his right hand smearing the blood that had dripped down across his chest, bringing his hand to his lips to lick off the blood. Before getting himself too worked up again, he turns around, leaving the basement, shutting off the light as he ascends back up the stairs. He goes back into the bathroom, turning on the shower. As he waits for the water to warm up, he looks at himself again in the mirror. His pupils dilate upon seeing the blood on his skin. Turning away from the mirror, he removes what’s left of his clothing and steps into the shower to clean himself up, watching as blood runs down his naked body, the blood swirling on the shower floor before going down the drain. 

His mind wanders back to his cute angel, to that night he watched her from the window while she played with herself, his own blood rushing straight to his cock. Grasping himself with his right hand, he begins to stroke himself aggressively, chasing his orgasm as he pictured his cute angel lying beneath him, her undoubtedly beautiful cunt squeezing around him. It doesn’t take long for him to climax, ropes of cum shooting out and covering his hand; some of it managed to land on the shower wall. He takes a moment to rinse his hand off as well as wipe the cum off the shower wall before turning the shower off. 

Stepping out of the shower, he grabs a towel off the rack, wrapping it around his waist as he steps out of the bathroom and heads into the master bedroom. He lays down onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling as he continues to think about his cute angel, excited about seeing her on Monday. He thought his plan was ingenious; getting her closer to him under the guise of a job. He knew luring her wouldn’t be difficult, she practically eye fucked him every time they saw each other. Still, he had to offer her pay that he knew she couldn’t refuse. Then, he could take his time courting her and before she even knows it, she’ll be his.

His Mate.

“Absolutely not,” your father says to you sternly the next morning at the table at breakfast.

“What do you mean, absolutely not? I already took the job, Dad, I’m putting in my notice tonight. He’s paying me $10 an hour! I couldn’t say no to that!”

“And have you in that house, alone with some guy we don’t even really know? I don’t think so.”

“Dad come on, he’s really nice…”

“We have plenty of retired guys in town that he could have asked.”

“Mick,” your mother tries to interject.

“For all we know, he could be some psychopath or something--”

“MICK! THAT’S ENOUGH!” your mother finally shouts at him, startling both of you.

You look over at your mother who is glaring at your father; the look on her face could have set him on fire. Your mother was always soft spoken and kind. It took a lot to get her angry, and you’ve never seen her this angry.

“In case you forgot, Mick, she is an adult. Besides, not only is that good money, that would be a good experience for her, too. Yes, we don’t really know Leon, but from the handful of times I’ve spoken to him, he seems fine. He used to work for the government for Christ’s sake. You can’t get more trustworthy than that.”

Your father lets out a loud sigh, his attention back on you, “fine… but at the first sign of trouble, you get the hell out of there, understood?”

“Of course,” you reply with a nod, taking a bite out of your breakfast, “I didn’t know he used to work for the government.”

“Heard it from one of the guys at Moe’s,” your father replies, “he was some kind of special ops agent, or something. At least that’s what I’ve heard.”

“Maybe he can figure out what’s happening to all these hikers,” your mother suddenly says, “they still haven’t found Nate.”

“Poor kid, I hope he’s alright,” your father shakes his head, finishing up his breakfast and getting up from the table, “I’ll be in the garage, I’m going to get that car finished up today even if it kills me.”

You watch your father walk out of the dining room, the unmistakable sound of the door being whipped open and slamming shut following him. You and your mother finish breakfast in silence until your mother finally speaks up.

“He just wants what’s best for you. But, he needs to understand that you are a big girl now,” she lets out a sigh before continuing, “when I was your age, my father wouldn’t let me think or do anything for myself. I’m not letting that happen to you.”

You give your mother a smile, “thanks, Mom.”

Before you know it, Monday rolls around and you’re up bright and early. You were the epitome of a bundle of nerves, getting yourself ready and prettied up to ensure that not only you get there on time, but that you were presentable. 

Might as well give him something nice to look at while working, right?

It’s about a ten minute drive to Mr. Mason’s-- Leon’s house, so you make sure you’re out the door by quarter of eight to give yourself plenty of time to get there. Getting in your Chevette, you back out of the driveway and make your way there. Hemlock Drive is just on the outskirts of town, the entryway actually not too far from the gas station you had been working at. At the very end, you see it, an old ranch style home with a farmer’s porch; you guess it was probably built in the 30s. How many times had you come down here with your school friends and knocked on that front door, only to bolt when Mr. Mason came rushing out, red faced and furious as he chased the kids away. You immediately spot Leon’s motorcycle parked in the front. Over on the side of the house you see another vehicle parked: a black Jeep Wrangler with its unmistakable square headlights.

You park your car, turning off the engine to pull your keys out of the ignition, throwing them into your purse before you climb out of your car. You look down at your watch; it’s five of eight, early like you had intended. You approach the house, climbing the small set of steps, your heart pounding in your chest. You stand in front of the door, raising your trembling hand and give it a few knocks. You can hear movement inside the house and before you have time to collect yourself, Leon opens the door and you almost gasp. He’s shirtless and you can’t help but admire his built form. You force your eyes up to his, his ocean blues looking back at you as he smiles at you. 

“Good morning, sweetheart! Ready to get to work?”

Part 3

#leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x reader #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy x reader smut #vampire!leon kennedy #plagas!leon kennedy #gigabyte writes #he comes alive

[beskarandblasters]

New York or Nowhere

Part three: Dicked Down at the Deli

Bodega Owner!Joel Miller x F!Reader

New York or Nowhere Masterlist

Main Masterlist | Joel Miller Masterlist

Author's note: Okay two things: 1. I think this is some of my favorite smut I’ve ever written?!?!? 😛 and 2. In part one I included a sentence about how the reader has lived in Manhattan her whole life but I changed it to the reader being from Long Island instead. Just bringing that up because it gets mentioned again! It's really not that significant to the story but I didn't want y'all to read this and notice a plot hole/continuity error.

Chapter summary: You find yourself reeling at the fact that Joel gave you a fake number so you decide to go out with your friends. After a tense moment at the bar you leave to go confront Joel which turns into something else pretty quickly.

Word count: 4k

Warnings: reader is able-bodied, no outbreak, canon divergent, drinking, argument between friends, Jessica being ignorant af, Joel being a lil creep, age gap (unspecified), making out, groping, dirty talk, pet names (sweetheart, sugar, good girl, pretty girl, dirty girl 😵‍💫), slight degradation, dub con bc reader is drunk, nipple play, fingering, oral sex (F receiving), semi public sex (I think??), unprotected sex, vaginal sex, pull out method, light choking, no use of y/n

You spend the next few days seething; at Joel for giving you a fake number but also at yourself for buying into his bullshit. You thought you actually had something with him, or at least the start of something. What did he gain from flirting with you and giving you a fake number? 

And the worst part is you’re having sex dreams about him; about him fucking you over the check out counter… or pressed up against the window. You imagine he has a big cock and that he’s talented with his hands. You think how big his hands are and imagine how they would feel roaming your body. Too bad it’s not looking like you’re getting that anytime soon. 

The next weekend rolls around and you and your friends are at your apartment, getting ready for a night out at a rooftop bar called Night of Joy in your neighborhood. You get ready at your apartment together, all of you doing your hair and makeup together. You, Jessica and Charlotte are in your best clubbing dresses. And Nathaniel in black jeans and a button down shirt with the first few buttons at the top undone. They can sense something is off with you but no one brings themselves to question it. 

“After we’re done at the bar tonight can we go back to that deli?” you ask. 

Charlotte stops putting on her makeup and gives you a knowing look in the reflection of the bathroom mirror but chooses not to say anything. Nathaniel, however, comes right out and says, “Why? So you can see that creepy old guy again?”

“EW!” Jessica calls from across your apartment. 

“What do you mean ew?!” you ask, looking at your friends.

“Girl, he’s ug,” Jessica says.

“He’s not terrible looking… but he’s old and creepy,” Nathaniel adds.

Charlotte keeps her gaze on you as she stays by the bathroom mirror, the knowing look never leaving her face and never saying a word.

“Fine, I’ll go by myself,” you shrug. 

“Come on, we can’t let her go alone, Jess,” Charlotte pleads. 

“Yes, we can. It’s just a bodega. She’ll be fine,” Jessica says, folding her arms.

“We established he’s a creep and you’re gonna let her go alone?” Nathaniel asks.

“I’ll go with you,” Charlotte says, offering you a reassuring smile. 

“Thanks, Char,” you respond before going back to getting ready, feeling annoyed at Jessica. Out of all your friends, she’s always the one who goes against you about literally anything. You feel your frustration bubble up but you decide to ignore it for the sake of having a good night. 

The four of you leave and walk to Night of Joy together. Charlotte and Nathaniel try too hard to break the tension between you and Jessica, talking about anything and everything to fill the silence. You play along a little, feeding into their small talk but Jessica isn’t having any of it. As if you did something wrong by having a crush on the bodega man… The same bodega man who gave you a fake number. Whatever, you’re gonna drink to forget your feelings anyway. Maybe if you stop there tonight you’ll have enough liquid confidence to confront him about it. 

You arrive at bar and head up to the roof. And to your absolute fucking delight there’s a frozen margarita station. You make the mental decision to get plastered here, head over to Beldro’s after to confront Joel, and wipe that stupid fucking smirk off his face.

You sit at a table near the edge of the roof with your friends, each of you sipping your margarita with an uncomfortable, palpable tension weighing heavily on everyone. Leave it to Jessica to ruin a night out. You look out into the distance at the view from the roof, scanning the neighborhood. You’re still somewhat new to this area. You’re from New York, yes, but really… Long Island. You came to the city a lot growing up and you feel like a “true New Yorker” but to Jessica… you’re really not. You met your friends at your new job at a PR firm and all of them grew up here besides you. And while Charlotte and Nathaniel are genuinely good friends to you, Jessica isn’t, to say the least. She’s your classic New York elitist, looking down on anyone who isn’t already from here. 

You’re lost in thought looking at the view and that’s when you notice Beldro’s a few blocks down, just barely in view. But you can’t miss those bright green awnings. The conversation starts to pick up between your friends. And though you can’t see it, Jessica notices you’re not paying attention and follows your gaze. 

“Are you gonna engage with your friends or what?” Jessica asks. 

You’re snapped from your thoughts and you turn back to your friends. Jessica shoots daggers with her glare, like she can see right into your mind and what you’re thinking about.

“So… how’s your new beau?”

“My new what?”

“Your little creep.”

“There’s literally nothing there?”

“Your behavior seems to indicate otherwise,” she says. Her words cut like a knife, making you feel guilty just for having a simple crush. 

“Why do you care so much?” your voice quivering just a bit. You shouldn’t be afraid to stand up for yourself but she makes you feel small.

“No friend of mine is going to be a thing with a New York transplant.”

“C’mon, Jess. That’s like xenophobic,” Nathaniel drunkenly adds. 

“Okay that’s a bit of a stretch but this is still ridiculous. And you say transplant like it’s a bad thing? You know I’m a New York transplant, right?” you respond, your anger and disbelief overshadowing any shred of self consciousness you had before. 

“Yeah but you’re still from here. He’s some country bumpkin who thinks he can make it here.”

“You sound insane right now. Anyone can move to New York, Jessica. I think you forget that this city is literally made up of immigrants.”

“It doesn’t mean you have to associate with one.”

“It’s hard to live in New York and not associate with an immigrant. And you know what, I’m done with this conversation. I’m just trying to have a good time and for your information I just wanna go back to that deli for the cat,” you respond angrily, looking just to truly end this once and for all. 

That seems to shut her up for now and she resigns to drinking her margarita before going up for another. 

“She can get… a little out of control,” Nathaniel says after she leaves.

“That’s one way to put it,” you mumble. 

The four of you drink together with the tension still hanging heavy in the air. You feel bad for Charlotte and Nathaniel, absolute angels for humans who are just trying to keep the peace. You get up for a second round. And then a third round. You’re just a liiittle bit drunk and frankly you don’t want to be here anymore. You have all the liquid courage you need to head straight to Beldro’s and to confront that stupid asshole. But you also can’t deny how much you want him. If there was a word for a mix between angry and horny, that would be you right now. 

“I think I’m all set,” you say to your friends. 

“Yeah, me too,” Charlotte says. 

Nathaniel downs his drink and rises from his chair. But Jessica sits at the table with arm folded and a scowl on her face. 

“I never said I was ready to leave,” she says stiffly. 

You, Charlotte and Nathaniel freeze, unsure of what to do. The three of you exchange glances awkwardly before Jessica continues.  

“Were you guys really just gonna leave me alone here?!”

“No? We just thought we were all done?” you say.

“Definitely not,” Jessica says, finishing her drink and getting up for another. She walks back to the margarita station and Nathaniel turns to you. 

“You guys go. I’ll stay with bitty,” he says. 

“Are you sure?” you ask but he waves you off. 

“Go! Be safe. Go get your creepy old man,” he finishes with a wink. 

You and Charlotte wave goodbye before heading down the stairs. As soon as you step out onto the street she asks you, “Do you want me to walk you to that deli?”

“Sure,” you reply. She nods and you both walk silently in the direction of Beldro’s. You’re grateful for her support and her friendship even though you know she doesn’t understand your attraction to Joel. 

As you walk to Beldro’s the familiar green awnings and orange exterior get closer and closer. The butterflies form in your stomach in anticipation. The nerves are kicking in and you do your best to bury them down. The whole point of getting plastered was to come here and confront Joel, not to chicken out at the last second. You stop in front of the door and turn to Charlotte. 

“Thanks for walking with me but I think I got it from here.”

“You sure?”

You nod and she pulls out her phone to order an Uber. 

“Okay but call me if you need anything,” she says. 

“I’ll be fine! But text me when you get home,” you say before waving goodbye and entering through the door. 

You see Joel at his usual spot behind the counter, dressed in jeans, a light gray t-shirt that hugs his biceps tightly, and the classic name tag. This time he’s talking to someone; a man. It could just be a customer but it’s a conversation like he already knows this person. Joel makes brief eye contact with you before averting his gaze and continuing his conversation. You walk up and down the few aisles in the store, killing time and waiting for Joel to be done. After what feels like the tenth time walking past the potato chips you hear, “See ya later, Bill” followed by the sound of the door opening and closing. 

You turn at the end of the aisle you’re in and march right up to the counter, pulling out your phone and opening the failed text thread with Joel. 

“Care to explain this??” you say, holding out your phone in front of his face. 

He blinks a few times and says, “Hang on, sugar. I can’t read this when you’re holding the phone like that,” taking it in his hand. 

“Yeah no I still can’t read this, sweetheart. Let me get my glasses.”

He sets the phone down on the counter and grabs his glasses (rectangular lenses, black metal frame) from the shelf underneath the cash register before putting them on and bringing the phone by his face again. You expect for him to come up with some bullshit excuse as to why he gave you a fake number but instead he starts… laughing?!

“And you’re laughing because??” you say, folding your arms. 

“Because I have a landline, sugar. I really meant it when I said you had to call me,” he says, handing your phone back and putting his glasses away. 

Boy do you feel stupid right now. Joel’s gotta be in fifties and you really thought he would be an avid texter. You don’t say anything, feeling too embarrassed to say another word. But Joel reads the expression on your face and says, “Don’t worry about it, sugar. You’re cute when you’re fired up anyway.”

“Oh really?” you ask, hoping to turn this around. 

“Mhm. And I saw what your text said. You wanted to take me up on my offer?” he says, paired with a shit-eating grin. 

“I did,” you say slyly, resting your elbows on the counter. 

“Did?” he asks, leaning forward and bending down a little.  

His face is only inches away from yours. You look into his eyes before scanning the rest of his face. His brown eyes gaze into yours and his glasses sit low on the bridge of his nose. His facial hair, slightly graying, peppers his face in patches. His warm breath tickles your face and before you know it you’re inching forward even more, really depending on that liquid courage right now. His hand moves to the back of your neck and he closes the gap for you, pulling your lips into his. The kiss is sort of awkward at first, with both of you leaning over the counter and your slight height differences. He tastes like cigarettes and fireball; exactly what you thought he'd taste like. 

You pull back and ask, “Fireball?”

“That would be cinnamon for those of us who aren’t alcoholics.”

“Hey! I’m not an alcoholic!!”

“You have come into my store completely shitfaced two times in one week now,” he deadpans. 

“Hey come on, shitfaced is a bit of an exaggeration. What about tipsy?”

“Now you’re being too generous with yourself there, sugar,” he chuckles before pulling you in for another kiss. 

The kiss grows more passionate and now you wish this stupid counter wasn’t in between you two. You need his body against yours as soon as possible. You pull away again and ask, “Shouldn’t we stop? I mean, what if someone comes in…”

“Don’t you worry about that, sweetheart,” he says,

He moves out from behind the counter and walks past you, flipping the “We’re Open!” sign on the door to say “Sorry, We’re Closed.”

“Are we going somewhere?” you ask, watching him move from the door to the windows. He doesn’t say anything and starts closing the blinds.

“Uhh what are you-”

“You said you didn’t want anyone to come in,” he says, pulling a key out of his pocket and locking the door. 

“And you do?”

He turns around, walks back to you and says, “I wouldn’t mind people watching,” with a smirk.

“Watching what?” you ask as he grabs your hand and leads you behind the counter. 

“Watching me fuck you over the counter,” he replies grabbing your waist. 

“On the same counter you make sandwiches on?”

“Mhm, I’ll give ya one with extra meat,” moving one hand to the hem of your dress, slowly sliding it up. 

You snort a little bit prompting him to say, “You can laugh all you want but I know that did something for ya,” while sliding his hand fully under the skirt of your dress. You shudder at his touch as his fingers tug at the seam of your underwear. He’s right, though. You’re already wet, leaving a small patch of the fabric damp. You lean back against the counter and spread your legs slightly, silently asking for more. You lean back against the edge of the counter and he follows you, planting kisses along your neck and collarbone. His warm breath tickles your neck as he nips at your soft skin, inhaling your enticing scent and driving him crazy. You rest your elbows on the counter behind you and throw your head back in pleasure, exposing more of your neck for him. He trails his tongue from the shell of your ear down your neck and to your collarbone, stopping at top of the bodice of your dress. He pulls the strap of your dress down shoulder, keeping his other hand in between your thighs and teasing your entrance. He tugs at the top of your dress exposing one of your breasts, replacing his lips on your skin and running his tongue over your nipple. He takes it in his mouth and sucks it lightly, finishing by taking it in between his teeth and biting it softly. 

“Fuck, Joel,” you moan as he releases your nipple with a pop. 

“You want more, sugar?” he says against the curve of your breast. 

“P-please,” you whimper. 

“Begging for me? Good girl,” he chuckles. You whine at the praise and arch your back, pushing your breast into his face more. 

“Up,” he murmurs into your skin. He moves his hands to your waist and supports you as you hop up onto the counter. He hooks his fingers around your underwear and slides them off before dropping to his knees and spreading your thighs apart. He pauses for a moment and marvels at how wet you are already. 

“Oh shit you’re fucking soaked; soaked by the thought of taking this old man’s cock, huh?”

“Yes, Joel, please. Fuck,” you moan, desperate for his cock, his mouth, his fingers– anything. He brings his face closer to your cunt and exhales, sending a shiver through you. He flicks his tongue around your clit in short motions, not giving you the full thing. 

“Please, I can’t take it anymore,” you practically cry out, suddenly feeling self conscious that someone on the street can hear you. 

“Aw, don’t cry, sweetheart,” he says, pressing a kiss on your inner thigh before sucking your clit. You reach between your legs and run your fingers through his hair, tugging on it when he suck’s your clit extra hard. He brings a hand up to your belly, pushing you lightly and prompting you to lay down completely. You oblige and rest your back on the counter as he hooks his arms around your thighs, pulling your cunt taught against his face. He brings his face a tad lower so you can grind your clit against his nose as he tongue-fucks your cunt, lapping up every last drop of wetness you produced thanks to him. You grind harder against him, almost suffocating him but in return he hums happily against you. He pulls away for a second to bring his fingers to lips, licking them and pushing two inside you with no warning. His mouth moves back to his clit, sucking hard as he fingers you. You’re teetering on the edge of orgasm, the muscles in your core tensing up in anticipation of a big release. With one last come here motion of his fingers you’re coming against his hand and face, your cunt clenching and relaxing around him sporadically as you ride out your high. You feel the wetness pooling around you so you sit up quickly, anxious to see the mess you just made. 

“Well look at that. You soaked my counter, pretty girl,” Joel says, face slick with your wetness just like your thighs and the counter beneath you. 

“S-sorry,” you whisper, catching your breath. 

“Don’t be sorry, sugar. Tastes real fuckin’ good,” he says before licking one more stripe up your cunt. You gasp at the sudden contact again and moan, ready to take his cock already. He rises and says, “Be a good girl and bend over for me.”

You stumble to your feet and he grabs your hips, spinning you around so you bend over the counter. You stand on your tiptoes and arch your back, sticking your ass up for him. He grinds against you, keeping his hands on your waist. You feel his rock hard bulge rub against you so you push yourself back into him, shaking your ass against his cock.

“You feel that, sugar? Look what you do to me.”

“I need it inside me. Now,” you beg. 

“Don’t worry, I’m gonna take real good care of ya,” he says, unzipping his jeans and pulling his cock out. He pulls up your skirt above your waist and brings a hand to your cunt. You feel his fingers gather some of your wetness, spreading it from the tip of his cock to the base. He grabs your hips and pushes into you slowly, allowing you time to adjust to his size. You wish you got to see it before he fucked you because you know it’s huge judging by the way it’s expanding your walls. He pulls you into him, burying his cock deep into your cunt with each thrust. One hand moves to your breast, pinching your nipple into a stiff peak between his fingertips. The other hand moves to your throat and forces you upright against him. 

“You take my cock so good, you little slut,” he purrs into your ear. 

You’re too cock drunk to form a coherent response, just whining back to him. 

“You think you can come into my store in a skimpy little dress and act up without me fucking the shit out of you after,” he chuckles, pinching your nipple his finger on the last word. 

“It’s so good, Joel. So deep,” you cry out, feeling tears spring in the corners of your eyes. 

“Yeah, that’s it. Be a good girl and take. my. fucking. cock,” he slays, drawing back and slamming his hips into you after every word. 

You feel yourself at the brink of orgasm in no time. Stars form in your vision as he fucks the shit out of you, keeping his grip on your neck and nipple tight as he plows you. Your cunt pulsates around him as you arrive at your final orgasm for the night, your knees buckling underneath you due to the sheer force of you coming. Joel pulls out when he feels your orgasm come to an end and paints your lower back and ass in his cum. 

“Good fucking girl,” he says, planting a kiss on the top of your head. Your cheeks go hot at his praise. 

You both stay there for a moment before he slaps your ass and says, “Hang on. Don’t move.”

You hear him tear off a sheet from a roll of paper towels and feel it wipe up the cum on your back and ass. You stand up straight and smooth your skirt back down, also fixing the top of your dress. You turn and get a look at him in his post sex haze. To your chagrin his cock is already put away but you notice that his shirt has more sweat stains than usual and his forehead is shiny. That old man fucked you good. 

Before either of you can say anything, you hear Ellie come scurrying in from the back. 

“Ellie!” you say, bending down to pet her, “I was wondering where you were.”

“You wanna take her home tonight?” he says, looking down at you. 

“Really?!” you ask in shock. 

“Mhm. Let me get her carrier,” he says, walking to the back. 

“Carrier?! And you said she wasn’t your cat…” you tease. 

“Whatever,” he says, returning back with the carrier, “Just bring her back in the morning.”

“Or else what?”

“Or else I’ll have to punish you again.”

“Oh, okay. So it looks like I’m keeping her forever I guess.”

“You’re funny,” he says, bending down and scoops Ellie into the carrier, “But I’m sure you’ll come in here and do something stupid and I’ll have to punish you again.”

You scoff in response. 

“Come on, you know it’s true.”

“Yeah whatever,” you say, grabbing a pad and pen on the counter. You write down your name and phone number since you just realized he did all this with you without even knowing your name. You trade the piece of paper with him as he hands you Ellie. 

“That’s my phone number and my name, ya know since… you ate me out and fucked me all without knowing my name… Do you do this with all of your customers?” you tease. 

“Just on Friday nights,” he shrugs, “But are you okay getting home?” he asks, opening the cash register to count out the drawer for the night. 

“I’ll be fine.”

“Alright well have fun at your little sleepover, sugar,” he says. 

You walk to the door with Ellie in hand and before you leave he says, “Oh and by the way, I told ya you’d get extra meat.”

“You know you’re just so funny,” you say sarcastically, waving goodbye and leaving through the door. 

You walk home and think about how you really won tonight. Between getting dicked down at the deli and a sleepover with the cat, how could it get any better than this?

Banners + dividers by cafekitsune

End note: Don’t worry he disinfected the counter after 🫣

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#joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller #joel miller au #joel miller fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #bodega owner!joel miller #new york or nowhere #tw dubcon #the last of us #no outbreak!joel miller #joel miller pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedrostories

[pink-envelope]

Blooming Panic Magical Boy Headcanons

-Their personas are all based on the Bloomic characters they're assigned to. And so they take up abilities that reflect that. Bloombot is their Luna/ Kyuubey/ Kero/ magical creature that is there to guide them because they're chosen by destiny/ yada yada.

Quest: Based on Xander of coarse.

Powers include:

Redirection- Can make an arrow appear on the ground to move an ally or enemy.

Healing- Self explanatory.

Shield- It's in the shape of a 2D blue rose design.

Other wise can use general punches and kicks to do damage.

NightOwl: Based on Damien.

Powers include:

Life drain- fangs glow with a pink light, can pierce victim to drain them of strength to health himself or bolster strength.

Wall scale- can move up buildings vertically and navigate through them with ease and understanding how their layouts are.

Charm person- can temporarily charm victim to let down their guard or comply to demand.

Offensive weapons are mostly fangs and claws.

XYX: Based on... Celeste!

Powers include:

Smooth talk- can convince you to comply or believe what ever he says so long as it's said in a rhyme or tongue twister. This works less the more you do it on a single person.

Water manipulation- self explanatory.

Beast communication- can talk to animals, namely to a very specific ornery cat.

Offensive moves also include the punches and the kickings.

Nakedtoaster: Based on Nathaniel

Powers include:

Conjuration- can manifest objects of certain size, bigger as skills improve. Attempts to conjure an object with sentiency like bloombot eventually rebel.

wall flower- can blend into the background with near invisibility; if they speak it breaks the illusion, however.

Command- can put a one word movement command on an item like "lift" on a platform or "off" on an powered electronic. This has a cool down period so it's best to use a sequence of different items. Good for "return"-ing weapons to hand when they've been kicked away.

The one most likely to use weapons for fighting, other wise melee as well.

#blooming panic #quest blooming panic #nightowl blooming panic #xyx blooming panic #nakedtoaster #nakedtoaster blooming panic #this was suppose to be submitted months ago #Sorry to any one who actually wanted this from me #I assume no one would have cared if I did it or not LOL

[me-uglypretty]

a tutor and a kiss

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x F!Reader

Summary: A suspicious tutor for the Barton’s children results in Natasha taking caution steps, while trying to enjoy Christmas and discovering something better.

Warning: (18+) fluff, minor violence, use of dagger | 4k words

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The bonfire crackles, gleaming in tinge of amber, and gleamed wondrously on gleeful faces. Conversations buzzes around, whirring together with the cold wind, and sounds of tree brunches rustling in response.

“We’re putting up the tree tomorrow,” a voice exclaimed, buried by another trying to pass through in fumbles of heavy breaths. “And Miss Tu— to, toto, is helping!”

Natasha amusedly observed the children energetically exchanging their opinion on said wrong name and perceived her friend’s tried sigh. Clint waves his hand at her, a silent plead, please distract them, and she shrugs her shoulder.

“Kids, why don’t we hear some stories from your dad?” Natasha perched her elbows at the edge of her knees.

A glare settled on Clint’s face till his children’s attention was drawn to him. Cooper was profusely wishing to hear more about his father’s action filled stories. Nathaniel squealed excitedly, not entirely understanding, but simply sharing his excitement.

While Clint struggled to prepare a story that wasn’t gory from his past, Natasha tentatively surveys their surroundings. A habit picked up, and never forgotten in the name of ensuring those around her were safe. Although, they were very safe in Clint’s farmhouse.

Sound of footsteps peaks her attention as she stared ahead. Familiar reflective shade of pink and the distinct voices draws a smile on her face. Lila waves animatedly at her, and she pats the space beside her as the young girl takes the seat there.

“Dad, you forgot the marshmallow.”

The enthusiastic children, frowns gloomily, and the youngest was at the edge of crying. Natasha shakes her head, noting down her friend’s offended look, then the flash of reminder and he’s meeting her eyes, another pleading look.

He had inadequately forgotten his children’s request of marshmallow for their family’s weekly bonfire. Thus, his escape was in the name of his friends’ distraction because his children adored their Auntie Nat.

Laura, his lovely wife, shares a knowing look with Natasha, then diverted her attention to her guilty husband. “I’m sure, daddy would happily get some tomorrow. Now, who wants hot chocolate?”

Thrill cheers erupt, and Natasha giddily admires the sight. The absent innocence of her childhood wounds her heart, but she devotes her heart into these special moments together. The innocence smiles and kindness, it gradually heals her inner child.

“Is Auntie Yelena coming tomorrow? I want to show her my new ninja move,” Nathaniel tugged the ridges of Natasha’s sleeve.

A smile appears on her face, spreading wide to the glint in her eyes. “Yes, she’s bringing Kate along too.”

The conversation continues energetically. Natasha reminisces the minimal period when she was allowed to pretend that life was that—purely living as any other kid around her, freely cycling around her neighbourhood as she pleased, free to lay on the grass and play at the playground with her young sister, and so naïve of what was actually real, but still, she immersed herself happily in those precious years.

Reuniting with Yelena after all those years, missed adolescence years, the conversation between sisters—which does happen now, just not entirely icky as Yelena would whine about, and more them, two former assassins and their stolen childhood—and experiencing life that wasn’t crafted for them.

It wasn’t easy, but that bond shared from years ago, still flutters at every soft smile and the seconds before danger collides upon them.

They were still kids, simply older and bearing years of trauma.

“Miss Tutor promised to teach us how to make snow globes! I hope she does that cool magic trick…”

Natasha’s furrowed her eyebrows, entertained by the recurrent mention of someone unknown and curious at the sheer eagerness on the children faces, even the oldest ones were excited.

Laura noticed her expression, and reached her hand forward, tapping Natasha’s thigh. “Clint hired a tutor for them. She’s great, but I think they might love her, a little too much,” she explained, “Don’t worry. She’s clean.”

Clean, and yet, curiosity surges in her chest. She wouldn’t find said person utterly clean or safe, till herself had interrogate the person thoroughly.

“Hmm, we’ll see,” Natasha nodded her head, gaze falling on the flickering fire and particles of ash drifting in the air.

Clint grunted after his youngest son playfully punches him in attempt of showcasing his ninja move. “She’s a good one, Nat.”

Natasha doesn’t question them, but hears the conversation hovering over the same person, and remained as that, someone who’s good and loved by the children.

They giddily huddled around the bonfire, drinking hot chocolate and munching on cookies. Natasha’s hand always being held by her own cup of hot chocolate and the other by one of Barton’s children, all appearing as her favourite, even little Nathaniel who was meant to be little Natasha.

The evening gave them relief, especially Natasha. A beautiful family tradition, sounds emitting of joy and gleaming eyes. Just lovely for hearts pulsing during a festive month.

Natasha couldn’t find herself among stranger without questioning their sinister creature. In the company of those known widely by their broad smile and wealth or those simply offering drink to her with their failed flirtatious tricks, her mind doesn’t permit rest till she was aware that danger wasn’t lingering around.

Thus, she was agitated by the lateness of her God children’s tutor.

“Oh god, Natasha, please relax, okay? Chill,” said her sister, briskly downing her cup of hot chocolate then eyeing Natasha’s untouched cup. “You don’t want?” Yelena gestured to the cup, hands already clasping the handle.

Natasha shakes her head. A small smile curves on her lips as she gentle push the cup towards Yelena. “You’re going to get a stomach ache.”

Yelena waves her hand, disregarding her sister’s advice as she hungrily bites another cookie and dunking the half-eaten cooking into the cup. “It’s very good. You should learn, sestra. We can finally have good home cook meal.”

Take-out has been their surviving nutrition since the sisters’ rented out an apartment together. Natasha has always been excellent at her presented task, but cooking wasn’t the one.

Take down an entire operation? Give her a week or less, and she’d have their entire history data too. Battle aliens without any sort of extra energy? Watch her jump on an alien vehicle without a worry. But ask her to cook a decent meal that wasn’t boxed and instant? Expect something burnt, spoilt or tasteless, or extremely bitter for some bizarre reason.

However, Yelena pride herself on preparing the best macaroni and cheese. At some point, both sisters became progressively tired of the same food which lead them to ordering take-outs. Every single day.

“You can’t survive on sugar, Yelena,” Laura’s voice quipped. “But I can teach you how to bake cookies and cook, you know, so you don’t expect your sister to do everything.”

The offended gasp from the youngest of them, received hefty laughter in return.

“Natasha don’t think you got out of this. You need to learn too,” Laura added, which made the latter glare at her, because it was enough for her younger sister to laugh and point accusingly at her sister.

“Hah! I’m telling Kate Bishop.”

They watch amusedly as golden head of hair bops excitedly, hands waving in the air, mouth wide and happy. The opposite, taller with messy brunette hair, Kate, mirrors her excitement.

“It’s so nice to see her like this,” Natasha muttered, and exchanging an understanding smile with Laura. “And for your information, I’m not a bad cook. I’m simply not good at it.”

Laura laughs as her hand rest firmly on Natasha’s shoulder. “Sure, if it makes you happy. But I’m still ready to teach you how to cook.”

“Who’s learning to cook? Can I join? I’m good with heat!” a loud voice rings, inciting optimism greetings from the Barton children.

“Miss Tutor!” Nathaniel exclaimed, pushing pass his siblings. “Did you learn a new trick yet?”

From the kitchen, Natasha witness the scene unfold. Heavy coat hanging on sturdy arm, along with several Christmas themed paper bags. You weren’t aware of her wary eyes on you, but simply allowing the young boy to drag you away.

“That’s Miss Y/n, she’s the new tutor,” Laura explained. “Don’t scare her off,” she pointed, eyebrows raised and waiting for a tolerable answer.

Natasha shrugs her shoulder indifferently. “We’ll see.”

An elbow on the table, her cheek comfortably resting on the palm of her hand, she observes you from afar. The warm air of the Barton’s house calmed her scorching curiosity and aid her into watching than instantly falling into her customary interrogation routine.

You were a young woman, painfully donned in simple attire, flashing a bright smile that triggered waves of grins in return, and a noticeable flair in your movement. Seemingly accustomed to your environment, hand extending precisely when one of the snow globes rolls off the table, then another guiding young Nathaniel’s paint brush.

“Go join them.”

Natasha doesn’t meet her friend’s gaze. “Where did you find Miss Tutor?”

Clint huffed. “You do know that I don’t allow just anyone here, right?

There’s a hint of offence and tease in his tone. Natasha spiritedly slaps his arm, “I know, old man. There’s just something about her.”

“She seems to really know herself around here, uh? And she’s pretty too…” he added the last part hastily, and smile victoriously as his friend nods, gaze captivated on you.

Natasha became lost in contemplation of your modest state. Perhaps, a part of her mind could agree, you were indeed pretty, and whereas the other, solicits to obtain your motive. Someone that kind, attractive, good with children, eyes glimmering beneath fairy lights so enchantingly—

I don’t trust her, said in disdain groan, and more when she’s dragged into the hall room, compelled into joining their yearly tradition of decorating the Christmas tree.

“Natasha, meet Miss Y/n,” Clint introduced, persuasively nudging his friend’s shoulder towards your direction.

A friendly smile curves on your lips. “Hi, it’s nice to meet you,” the greeting fell gentlely from your mouth. The brush left deserted on the table as your hand extend to shake hers.

Natasha gawked at your hand. Red paint was smeared on your hand, the tips of your fingers shimmered with silver glitters, and the sight mirrors those of the children around. Her stern gaze must had caught your attention when you bashfully recoiled.

“Sorry, I get carried away sometimes,” you excused, trying to remove the stained colours on the an equally stained rag. “Okay. This isn’t working out. Yelena, please take over?” you presumedly stood, “Do not go overboard.”

Yelena scoffed. “I will never. Tell that to Kate Bishop.”

The exchange appeared habitual which vexes her. Why were you familiar with her younger sister? How dare you straightforwardly have things in order? Who allowed you to signal her into following you? And why was she soundlessly trailing behind you towards the kitchen?

“I’m sorry for not introducing myself earlier,” you glanced at her, a nervous smile on your face before diverting your attention to the sink. “Hmm, the water’s pretty cold.”

She attentively watches the movement of your hands beneath the tap, scrubbing as though you were removing something far worse than paint, then turning the tap off and lathering your hands with soap. The fragrance of lavender reaches her nostril. You carefully clean the crook and corners of your hands, even beneath your nails.

Most don’t do that—it must mean something awful.

“Who are you?”

The question halted your movement. “Didn’t think you’d start so soon.”

Natasha frowned. “Excuse me—”

“Let’s go for a walk and you can ask me everything,” you continued washing your hands. “Clint warned me so, I’m prepared,” and you turned around, crossing your arms as you lean back on the counter.

She doesn’t like it. The utmost confidence in your stance. A delight glint in your round eyes. Where the faux white light in the kitchen, cast a mysterious glow upon your head.

“Should we go?” you thumb pointed towards the door, and she nodded her head.

Natasha was astonished to find your good-mannered act of pushing the door open, and gesturing for her to walk forward first, then closing the door behind. The cold wind dispirits herself from what’s bound to ensue after questioning you, because she rather engulf herself in a warm blanket and watch her sister’s tantrum with children much younger than her.

But she demands to know your intentions.

As the distance expands, the Christmas melody and murmurs of conversation fades. Natasha contemplate each step you took beside her. The twitch of your fingers, as if you were reaching for something, then the subtle glance towards her, like you needed to know if she was still there.

“In there,” Natasha pointed towards the barn and you undoubtedly obeyed.

The barn tracks an earthy scent. Inside, it’s almost dark, if not for the moon’s soft obscured glow through the windows. An eerie silent emits from lack of voices and more so, the buzzes of insects. Several pieces of Christmas ornaments were chaotically thrown around. Tinsels hanging awkwardly from the window to the length of an extensive timber. Miniature reindeers hanging from fish strings that gives off an illusion of flying reindeers. It was absolutely the work of her God children.

Natasha stealthily admired the decoration and doesn’t utter a word. She looked at the dirty ground, walked around the barn, frowned at the disheartened look on your face as you shivered.

“Okay, I’m ready, hit me,” you professed, taking a seat on the nicely kept hay. “Not literally though. This is my favourite top.”

She casted a vague wandering look upon your supposed favourite top which was, expectedly, smeared with paint. Then, a playful smile widespread on your face, because you were joking, and she didn’t catch on.

“No.”

Your eyebrows furrowed. “No?”

Natasha crossed her arms, standing straight and robust, with a strict complexion and an unspoken warning that blaze dangerously in her eyes. One wrong move and there would be consequences.

“Clint never had help around here. So, suddenly, you’re here? Come on, cut the shit. Who are you working for?” Natasha voiced sternly, and takes a taunting step forward, while you gulped, appearing afraid.

“Clint did not— sorry— whoa, you’re really into this and—” a shaky voice resonates in your throat, and it’s different than your lively voice she had heard before.

You averted your gaze from Natasha, and it troubled her, who, nevertheless, still viewed your characteristic as suspicious. When you ceased speaking and meeting her gaze with those eyes gleaming in excitement, she warily takes a step forward, at arm length from you.

A deep intake of breath, then it’s soft, but it’s clear, the chuckles that came from you.

“That’s what you expected me to say? Wallow in fear before the great Black Widow?”

Natasha doesn’t bother to hear more as she acted on reflex. The swift grasps of a dagger hidden in her black boots, and she lurched forward, her arm pushes your down from between your neck and chest. More pressure and your breathing circulation would had be disturbed, or a heavy ache would tremble in your chest. While her right hand readily held the danger close to your cheek, despite its petite size, the glint of sharpness makes you shudder.

“Okay! I give in! Clint bet me that I wouldn’t dare— why does this knife look so cute and dangerous— he said I wouldn’t dare challenge you!”

She paused, challenging eyes scrutinise every single reaction on your face to where your eyes flickers to her then the dagger and how your body struggled pathetically beneath her hold.

In the distance, she perfectly distinguishes the song of Silent Night plucking at her brain. It’s Christmas and I’m doing this, where’s the fucking break?

“Who sent you? What’s your name?”

You coughed, trying to ease the pressure brought upon your throat at her assault. But she was relentless and entirely too strong.

“What does Tutor stand for Miss Tutor? I would not hesitate to end you. Answers me!”

What she had expected—wasn’t the flutter of laughter or her heart’s sudden interest to hear more of that unique sound, and the way your smile seems ample to submerge her mind into that sound. It’s unconventional. Natasha expected to prod into your mind, gather needed information, and detent your further danger on the Barton family.

But you were bursting in surprises when you swiftly pushed her backwards, then tackled her on the hay that was once uncomfortably scratching your clothed back. The dagger fell from her hand at the sudden attack. Russian curses spew from her mouth while your eyes widened curiously, then a gentle smile curves on your lips.

“You don’t speak Russian much,” you noted with interested. “Angry or whatever, really, it’s nice to hear you speaking your mother tongue.”

Natasha’s eyebrows furrowed. “You speak Russian?”

“Among other languages. I am a tutor as in Miss Tutor. Tutoring…someone who tutors people.”

Embarrassment flushed her cheeks. Natasha doesn’t like that—the indifferent in your voice, like she wasn’t holding you down before and expecting answers than be held down in return and carelessly at that, because she could easily switch her position.

But she wanted to know.

“Clint did really bet me though. I’m sorry for not being more exciting and cooler, but just really reckless,” you humoured, “But I’m kind of liking this position. It feels like I’m all powerful. Yelena’s not wrong about the whole superhero thing.”

Natasha lifted her head, “Yelena? How do you know her?” she pushes you off her, “Why do you know my sister?”

You raised your hands as she takes threatening steps towards you. “We met when she came over with Kate and I was tutoring the kids.”

“Who are you?”

The question spat angrily from her mouth, and yours wide, unable to utter an answer back that would avoid any sort of violence. Natasha arched her eyebrow, still giving you a final chance. One second passed then two, three, and the fourth befell upon you with her harsh shove and your back pressed on brittle wood.

However, you refused submitting to her brutality. The abrupt shove of your hands emits a warmth, a scarlet tint canvassing your skin and cheeks, vast different from the tone of your skin. It leaves her shocked, gasping as her hands smoothens over her clothed collarbone.

“What the hell,” she glared, while you snickered.

“Oh come, it’s Christmas! Let’s toast some marshmallow and not ourselves,” you jested, “Burned human flesh…isn’t really appealing.”

Natasha’s jaw clenched. Anger flairs dangerously in her eyes, heart blazing with passion to eliminate a supposed threat, and she rose, readily staggering towards you.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa! Stop! That’s enough! Cool down kid!”

Amber flame flickers through the width of your hands, reflecting hauntingly in your eyes, and your rigid stance. But a coy smile was smeared teasingly over your lips, and she’s angrily glaring at you.

“Ha! You owe me Kate Bishop.”

Natasha glance to where several bodies were huddled together by the barn’s door. Yelena was contentedly taking cash from Kate, while Clint shakes his head and pushed them aside as he stepped entirely into the barn.

“Natasha, Miss Tutor is not lying. She’s a good kid. We put her up to it. Please, stop, everyone,” the latter part pointed accusingly at the two friends arguing in the back. “Y/n isn’t bad news. Just trying to have a second chance in life, like you, like Yelena, and she’s not bad,” he breathed out.

“What?” Natasha was baffled. “You pranked me. You fucking pranked me? Thing one and thing two was in it too?”

Bunch of heys resonates in response, and Clint nods his head.

Natasha takes a deep breath, fingers pinching the bridge of her nose. Then, she meets your gaze. “You’re cool?”

The flames in your hands extinguishes swiftly and you waved them with a jovial smile. “Very cool.”

“Ugh, their dropping puns now. Let’s go,” Yelena assured her friend, and gave a pointed look at Clint. “Old man, your children are waiting for you.”

Clint huffed. “Don’t burn anything down.”

As the group walked away, Natasha relaxed the tense in her muscles and you watched her with that aggravating glint in your eyes.

“If it makes you feel better, Kate was sure that you would had attacked me the second I walked in,” you pursed your lips, the next words seeming complicated for you to utter. “But I’m fifty dollar richer cause I said you wouldn’t, and we’ll do this in private, which Clint disagree— they just assume you’d find target and hit.”

Natasha restrained the smile on her face as she watches your commitment on proving them wrong. The motion of your hands, eyes widening when your speech stretches to different part, and maybe, for a fleeting second, she was admiring the spark within you which seems to spread warmth.

Not just the abrupt flairs of fire, but the person that you were—not exactly bad, just someone she doesn’t know.

At that moment, she overhears the melodious voices of her family and the tunes of Christmas dispersed delight in her chest. And you, seemingly standing there, staring at her, waiting for something else to be said or happen.

“It’s cold,” you murmured.

Natasha smiles—her famous lopsided smile blooming gleefully on her face, and you were shocked, then you’re smiling just as wide. She remained there, few minutes of facing each other, and without a word, she takes steps towards the exit.

“Hey, you dropped this,” you hastily reached her side. The dagger held softly in your hand and she takes it, the feeble graze of skins made you shiver, and she hasn’t stop smiling.

You were warm, and she was cold, and it felt as though, this puzzle was meant to unite like this.

“Oh look,” you lifted your gaze upwards, a shy smile adorning on your lips as she follows your gaze.

A mistletoe dangles above heads, brilliant green and red, so lively and teasing those who falls beneath.

Natasha couldn’t ignored it, the thumping in her chest, your warmth body close to hers, the anger that was reduce to something—it’s different, and she wouldn’t dare admit, but she likes the feeling spreading through her chest and where her fingers twitches.

And you appeared the same, bashful smile, the secretive look in your eyes that she understood. Why does she understand you?

It takes her one deep breath, your curious look, the dagger thoughtlessly kept in her pocket, and her hands grasps your face. She contemplated the idea of a silly tradition, then, in one sudden move, she pressed her body into yours and crushes her lips over yours.

You made a noise, giving into her touch. Words weren’t exchanged, just the knowing touch and a needed silence. Your hands rest firmly on her waist, gripping her clothed flesh as you allow your body to slack into hers, and she’s holding you close.

Natasha leans away first, while you hazily chased after her—wanting to feel her more, a hunger that erupts in your chest for her, and she finds it funny that you were readily giving into her.

“You are really warm,” she whispered, her thumb pressed at the edge of your lip, and trails her thumb to where your chin ends. “You got my attention,” she pats your chest softly, then removes herself entirely.

“What?”

The ardent glow of night casted an attractive gleam over your face, and hers, each other admiring the sight adoringly. Natasha doesn’t wish to risk ruining a truly, joyful moment, so she extended her hand for you take and hummed when you easily accepted.

Beside her, you were giddily smiling, fingers firmly enclosing around hers. “I love Christmas.”

The cold evening propels chills on skin, while smiles spread and hearts pulses happily. Natasha glances at you, once, twice, and each time overcomes her with a certain joy, perhaps, this was the so-called Christmas magic that flutters in her chest.

The smiles on those she loves, her sister already waiting by the door with a cheeky expression, the children that she swore to love and protect, and you—a stranger she finds herself completely drawn to.

And when the next year arrives in its merry cheers, Natasha gleefully introduced you as her wife, and kissed you as though, life was bursting colourfully at every second her lips met yours.

And that—a mistletoe that was securely kept in her pocket for the years after.

#winter things #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #natasha romanoff imagine

[ithaquasbbg]

I I’m.. forgot a day and skipped it so I’m going back two days for today lol. Prompt it “if Ithaqua never joined the manor games”

You’re not a monster - Ithaqua x reader

Pairing: Ithaqua x reader

Tw: blood, Ithaqua gets put through it bc his mom sees him as a monster :((

….

“Mother, I’ve made you breakfast.” Ithaqua walks into his mothers bedroom, watching as she tenses up and looks away from him, hands balling into fists as she shakes. Slowly, he lowers the plate and mug of coffee onto the bed next to his mother, giving her a small smile. “Make sure you eat well, alright?” He moves to push a strand of his mothers head out of her face, flinching as his mother suddenly screams, thrashing around and grabbing the cup of coffee, splashing the hot drink all over his face in an effort to get Ithaqua away. “Get away from me you monster!” She screams, using all of her strength to push him away.

She was never violent before, not until she had been captured by the magistrates son. Ithaqua’s face is identical to what the young man’s once was, the monstrous young man who had tortured Ithaqua’s mother. “Mother, please!-” Ithaqua screams at the feeling of the hot coffee on him, grabbing his mothers wrists to try and stop her. This only makes the situation worse as she moves to hitting him any way possible, screaming and crying in his grasp. “Get away! You monster, you are not my son!” After a swift hit in the nose, Ithaqua stumbles back onto the ground next to his mothers bed, tears streaming down his cheeks. It takes a moment before he scrambles up and leaves the room in tears, not thinking clearly as he runs out into the woods outside his home.

He runs until he gets to a lake, sitting on the shore and staring at his reflection. Just like his mother, Ithaqua cannot help but imagine the face of the young man, including how he looked when Ithaqua had murdered him, the way he screamed and cried for anyone to help, the way his frail body tried its hardest to push Ithaqua off. “Stop thinking about it..” Ithaqua mumbles to himself, staring as a drop of blood runs down his face, triggering the memories to get much worse. The man’s death, Nathaniel as Ithaqua had come to know, was a slow one. By the time he had finally perished, there was blood all over his body, tarnishing his once perfectly neat appearance.

Ithaqua panics at the memories and tries to scrub the blood off of his face with the lake water, causing the wound to get worse and worse. “Get off, get off-” he cries and cries, unable to stop himself as he covers his face with his hands, shaking and whimpering apologies to his mother, “I’m a monster, I’m sorry mother, I ruined everything.” In his panicked state, he doesn’t realize that you rush towards him, despite having no idea who Ithaqua is.

“Hey, hey! Relax, please!-” you walk up to him, watching as he uncovers his face, lower lip trembling as he holds back his sobs, shifting several feet away as he whispers a quick ‘sorry’, the way he did whenever he caused his mother harm. “It’s okay, I won’t hurt you..” You whisper and kneel down next to Ithaqua, slowly reaching out and patting his shoulder. “No need to be scared of me, see?” Slowly, Ithaqua relaxes and nods, blood still dripping down his face as he tries to keep himself from looking at his reflection once again.

Without hesitation, you rip a piece of fabric off of your clothing and hold it to the wound, noticing the way his body trembles underneath your touch. “You’re okay, let me clean you up, okay?” He nods, sitting as still as he could possibly will himself to be, looking up at you with big eyes. You notice in this position how pretty his eyes are, the way they look up at you in a way that makes your heart flutter, despite not knowing who the young man in front of you is.

“I’m um.. I’m (Name)” you offer him your hand to shake, to which Ithaqua slowly grabs your hand and shakes it, giving you a soft smile. “Ithaqua.” He whispers, still leaning into you as you try to stop the bleeding. “I need you to tell me something, okay?” Ithaqua looks up at you and nods, eyes sparkling in curiosity. “What happened to you? I want to make sure you’re okay.”

The look on his face instantly shifts from a small smile to that of fear, the way he bites his lip and looks away. It takes a moment for him to speak to you, clearing his throat before he does. “My mother.. cannot remember me.. she’s afraid of me” his voice is barely audible, shaky. Your eyes widen as you slowly reach in and hug the blonde, noticing how he subconsciously leans into your embrace and cries. “She hurts you..?” Your question startled him but he nods, still sobbing into your shoulder. “She never used to hurt me.. but now, I’m a monster.”

You quickly shake your head and pat him on the back, eyes softening. “I’ve barely even spoken to you, Ithaqua, but I don’t think you’re a mon-” he cuts you off with a quiet giggle, shaking his head as he does so. “If you knew what happened, you’d be just as afraid of me as my mother, I’m sure of it.” Unfortunately, you cannot find anything to say to him, simply shaking your head once more. “She’s afraid of you?” You ask, watching as his eyes water once more. Ithaqua swallows back tears before nodding, his voice shaky. “She can barely take care of herself anymore, but she’s terrified of me when I try to help.”

Immediately, an idea springs to your mind. “What if I came to help you? Surely she wouldn’t be afraid of me, right?” Ithaqua’s eyes brighten for the first time since you’ve met him as he nods. “You’d be willing to do that for me? We barely just met.” You nod, giving him a big smile as you do so. “You seem nice, and if it would help you and your mother, I’m more than willing to try.”

You can see a smile forming on his face as he nods eagerly, almost as if this had been something he wanted for a while, somebody to simply be there and help him through this. Though, once you move into his cottage to help, you’re met with a scene much worse than you believed it would be.

Unfortunately, it seemed as if his mother hated him, each time he would try to speak to her he’d come out sobbing, unable to utter a single word as he holds onto you, body shaking. Though, his mother doesn’t seem as afraid of you, but still cautious. Eventually, you’re able to have a conversation with her, asking her why she hates her son so much.

“That’s not my son.” Her expression changes into one of terror, gripping onto the sheets of her bed like a lifeline. “My son did not have the face of a monster.” Immediately, you realize that she no longer believed Ithaqua to be her son, perhaps she even hated or feared him. Though despite your curiosity you don’t pry further, simply brushing out the woman’s hair. “If he wore a mask, would that help you?” She nods at your question, staring at a photo on her bedside of a very young Ithaqua. “As long as I could stop seeing that.. monsters face every time I looked at him..”

When you come back to Ithaqua with the idea that night, you can tell he doesn’t take it well. He stares at himself in the mirror for hours, stressing himself out to the point of illness. “Hey, Ithaqua..” you rub his back as he clings onto you, barely able to think straight because of the nausea. “It’s okay-”

“No, (name), it’s not okay” he interrupts, looking up at you with tears streaming down his cheeks. “I have the face of a monster, my own mother no longer loves me.” You’re unable to find a response as he keeps rambling “all I want.. is to be loved again, but mother will never love me.”

You quickly wrap your arms around him, watching as he breaks down, crying into your shoulder. “And if I told you, Ithaqua, that I loved you.. how would you feel?” His head shoots up as he stares at you with wide eyes “I… you couldn’t love me”

Shaking your head, you wipe his tears from his face, watching as his body leans into the touch, the way he shivers at the feeling of gentle contact after so long. “I could, I don’t see you as a monster.. I never have.” You feel his arms wrap around you as he cries, a hand stroking his blonde hair gently while he does so.

Slowly, you lean back onto his bed, holding him close as he rests his head on your chest, slowly falling asleep in your arms. “You are not a monster Ithaqua..” you whisper, kissing him on the forehead. He smiles in his sleep, almost as if he could hear you. “You’re an Angel, my Angel..”

#idv fandom #idv fanfic #idv headcanons #idv imagines #idv x reader #idv scenarios #idv matchup #idv ithaqua #idv night watch #identity v ithaqua #night watch idv #night watch #ithaqua idv #ithaqua x reader #idv

[imsparky2002]

Talking with Thomas - Reverser Part 2

The boyfriends walked into Astruc’s office, looking very unamused. The creator just smiled at them, unaware of their frustration with him. “Ah, Nash and Mork.” he greeted, “Excited for the new episode?” The boys just rolled their eyes.

“Wow, Nath. You were right. He is terrible with names.” Marc said. “Yeah, unless they’re the main characters.” Nathaniel added. Thomas decided to try and put some smiles on their faces. “So, pretty good script, huh?” he prodded. “Actually, sir,” Marc replied. “There were uh... some things we wanted to talk about. Some problems.”

“A lot of problems, actually.” Nathaniel said, looking straight at Thomas. Marc didn’t even let him argue before beginning his critiques. “First of all, why does it feel like you just copied Nath’s akuma plot for me, just tweaking a few things to make it fit better?“ Marc asked. “W-well...” Thomas replied, nervously taking a sip from his mug. “W-well, it's to show how similar you two are. How you're the perfect fit for eachother!” Thomas answered, his voice shaking with uncertainty. 

“Oh, but not perfect enough for us to get together? Despite the extreme amounts of gay subtext in the episode?” Nath countered, his eyebrow raised in doubt. Thomas gulped. “Ah, w-well, you know how certain... people can be about things like that.” he tried to explain. “Who gives a fuck about that?! I just want our characters to date like we do in real life!” Marc shouted, already tired of the man’s bullshit. “Are you honestly so scared of countries like China and Russia.” Nathaniel asked, looking disgusted.

Thomas just huffed and crossed his arms in response. “Well, sorry that that wasn’t enough for you kids. It was the best we could do for this episode! We really put everything we could into making this script a classic for every aspect.” Thomas complained. “Really?” Nathaniel exclaimed. “Because you sure didn’t seem to put much effort into Marc’s akuma!”

“Yes! I’m a writer!” Marc agreed. “That's the whole idea of my character! Nath got a form that reflected his artistic skills, why didn't I get the same thing?“ Thomas scoffed again. “Well, a writing akuma seemed too obvious, too boring. But we compromised with the paper airplanes!” Marc could only stare at the man like he had grown a second head.

“Too boring?! TOO BORING?! How is someone with the ability to alter reality with merely a pen, boring?! The possibilites are endless!” he shouted, as Nathaniel calmed him down with a pat on his shoulder. “But that's the least of our concerns.” Nathaniel reminded. “Next, let's talk about how my character's been assasinated before it even got a chance to shine.“ At this statement, Thomas looked confused. “Oh please, what are you talking about, Nagatha?”

“It. is. Nathaniel. And what the hell was that fountain scene? Why did I assume it was Ladybug? Why did I get angry at Marc when he clearly didn’t know that was the assumption made? And SERIOUSLY, ripping his journal? Since when was I such a dick?!“ he growled.

“Well, your crush for Ladybug clouded your mind, and the pain of thinking you were the butt of another cruel joke caused you to act irrationally.” Thomas explained, unaware why the boy was getting upset for no reason in his eyes. “Well you sure didn't have me explain why! All I said was that I "jumped the gun". JUMPED THE GUN! ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!” Nathaniel yelled, his eyes wide with confused anger. “I straight up berated the boy, destroyed his property, and stormed off. I didn't even do anything to Marinette, the one who ACTUALLY messed up!”

“Well…Marinette was only trying to help! And she had to be Ladybug, so there wasn’t really time for you to have confronted her!” Thomas reminded. “Was she helping me when she read my journal without permission?” Marc replied, feeling like he could deck the man at any point. “Oh, come on, Morty! She’s your friend and she thought it was great, so what does it matter? Why wouldn’t you want to share it anyway?” Thomas said, even chuckling at the idea that this was worth getting mad about. Marc and Nathaniel were so stunned they didn’t even bother correcting the man about getting the writer’s name wrong.

“I... did he just say that he doesn't understand why I wouldn't want to share my private journal?” Marc said, barely able to comprehend what he had just heard. “Nath, tell me I'm not hallucinating.” Nath shook his head and felt another wave of disgust through his body. “Nope, I heard it too. WOW, DUDE! You need to learn about people’s boundaries!” Thomas was about to reply, but Marc cut him off.

“It's ok, Nathaniel. Because ‘it's Marinette’ who can do whatever she wants because ‘she has good intentions.’”, he said with a mocking tone, using air quotes. “I bet if I was a girl, Marinette was a boy, and you were still a dude, this episode wouldn't get green lit. But it's fine for girls and other queer boys to berate me and meddle with me, according to this straight guy.”

“Let’s not blow things out of proportion now! So things get a little heated and Marinette makes a mistake! The important thing is that it’s fine in the end, you two make up and become partners!“ Thomas replied, trying to sweep this whole mess under the rug. Nathaniel was quick to catch him on his BS. “No we don't! Marinet-, oh sorry, "Ladybug" forced us to reconcile. And I never actually apologized.” Nathaniel said. “And even worse, I accepted it!” Marc hissed. “I was smiling! WHY?!”

“Because everyone loves when a misunderstanding is resolved!“ Thomas admitted. “Remember the umbrella scene? Tumblr's gonna love you guys. MarcNath will be a great fanship!“

“Oh, don’t start with that crap!” Nathaniel snarled. “This is not how you lay the foundation for a healthy relationship! This entire episode is toxic as hell!”

“Marinette herself has asked if we can change the script.” Marc noted. “She's already getting a lot of backlash, and she doesn't want to get more. And this'll probably be our only episode where we matter. This is not how I want me and my boyfriend to be represented.” Thomas just rolled his eyes. “That’s show business, boys! Sometimes you gotta do the uncomfortable stuff for the end results!” Nathaniel could feel the urge to throw up from that statement. 

“I may be Jewish, but Jesus Christ! Do you know how creepy you sound right now? You know what? We'll do the episode, but don't expect us to agree to be relevant ever again.” he stated. “Yeah, I'd rather be a background fan favorite than a supporting cast member in this dumpster fire.” Marc agreed. Thomas looked disappointed by this. Not because he CARED about them, but because he wouldn’t make as much money if they didn’t become superheroes. “But what about our plan to give everyone Miraculouses?” he asked. “When the time comes, just throw us in with some other classmates. We're not having our own episodes for you to ruin.” Nathaniel replied, with him and Marc getting up and walking to the door.

Thomas frowned and humphed at them, like an angry child. “Fine by me!” he scoffed. “We were already planning on lumping together Evan and Serena getting their miraculouses, we can just throw you two in as well!”

“IVAN AND SABRINA!” the boyfriends said in unison, before shutting the door. “Man, what a jackass.” Marc said, as Nathaniel nodded in agreement. “I don’t even know why we still do this show.” he admitted. “I mean, it's not like we have a choice. You know what usually happens when characters leave the program they were created for?” Marc reminded. “They rarely get hired for anything else.” Nathaniel sighed in annoyance. “Oh yeah...”

“I'm more concerned about everyone seeing me as a soft uwu boy.” Marc worried. “I know I'm pretty anxious, but I can be confident sometimes!” Nathaniel nodded and snuggled him. “I know, babe. Lord knows what assumptions people are gonna make about me after this airs. I guess we just have to hope for the best, Marcy. I love you so much.” Nathaniel said, nuzzling his face in Marc’s neck, causing the writer to giggle.

“I love you too, Nathie. Wanna go make out in front of Thomas?” Marc asked, with a sly grin on his face. Nathaniel nodded eagerly.

“You read my mind!”

So after awhile, here it is! The next in the “Talking with Thomas” series. I couldn’t have gotten this done without the help of Weeby, who assisted with the dialogue. I’ll be answering an ask for them soon, a fanon Talking with Thomas, which serves as what may have happened in canon if their OC was written into the show. I’m still in the process of editing it, but it’ll be out soon, hopefully. Make sure to reblog, reply, post and ask, and tell me in detail what you thought of this, and your issues with the episode. In my opinion, Canon NathMarc is trash, while Fanon NathMarc is superior. @artzychic27 @msweebyness 

#nathaniel kurtzberg #nathaniel #marc anciel #marc #thomas astruc #thomas astruc salt #thomas astruc crit #miraculous ladybug #miraculous #canon nathaniel salt #reverser salt #as said before canon! nathaniel does not deserve canon! marc #marcnath #nathmarc #marcaniel #marc x nathaniel #nathaniel x marc

[competitivedust]

So I came across a post on r/tumblr of Reddit where someone was talking about how a character's name is more a reflection of their parents/guardians than themselves (unless they change their name) and it made me think about Daisy and how her name has changed throughout the show.

Her first given name (that she is aware of) was Mary Sue Poots. The name was given to her by the nuns of Saint Agnes, and obviously she loathed it. The name, as I'd heard somewhere, was also a play on the Mary Sue trope which some fans considered her to be in season 1. I see this name as a representation of her childhood which is filled with unsaid trauma. And so she rejects this name the first chance she gets.

The next name Skye is one she gives herself. Now I find her name to be more about her getting out of the orphanage, and finding her freedom. I believe that after getting rejected by multiple families, she finally felt a semblance of belonging with the rising tide. She got more confident in her skills and had people around her who believed in the same goal, freedom of information.

The next name was once again given to her by her parents. Now this one is special. When she becomes Daisy Johnson she becomes a full fledged hero. Her one goal, from the beginning of the show, had been to find the truth of what happened with her parents. And she did. Yes it wasn't what she expected, but I do think she got some closure from it. Now I think Daisy is so special because one, the daisy plant is actually pretty strong. It grows in pretty much any environment. This speaks to her tenacity, her strength in the face of all the difficulties that she faces. Just like the plant, our Daisy doesn't give up no matter what life throws at her. And as amazing as this is, there's another sadder reason why her parents chose this name for her.

So here is my really long post about Daisy and all the names she has been called.

As we all know, in season 7 we find out that Kora was supposed to shoot herself but she didn't because Nathaniel Malick ended up intervening. But had she actually gone through it, Jiaying would have found her body with a patch of daisies growing around her. I believe that she then named her second daughter Daisy because she wanted to remind herself to try to do better than she did last time. Obviously a wrinkly Nazi threw a wrench in that plan.

Edit edit edit

I got so excited about posting this that I forgot about Quake. Another name that was given to her rather than one she gave herself. Quake, to me, at least at first seemed to have a darker connotation. When she is given this name, Daisy is possibly at the lowest point of her life. Estranged from her teammates, refusing help, letting herself get hurt, and sometimes even wanting it. While I don't think her actions as a vigilante are all that terrible (she's literally taking down a fascist organization) I do think her self imposed exile gives the name something of a negative vibe I guess? But overtime the name grows on her, something she says herself. I think as Daisy healed, this name took on a new meaning for her. I don't know why, but I think she was genuinely surprised when during a press conference in season 4 (when mace reveals that she has been an undercover agent all along) a lady she had previously saved hugs her in gratitude. I think, despite being related to a darker time of her life, the name Quake ultimately became somewhat of a symbol of good, of hope. And so once again, she accepted it. Maybe not as explicitly as Daisy but she certainly didn't mind it.

#agents of shield #daisy johnson #aos #me not being toxic in the aos tag? #it's more likely than you think

[samseabxrn]

happy dadwc friday! I love your DA lore prompt list, so let's have some of: The Hand That Cuts. A unique ring.This ring grows unusually warm when slipped onto a finger. It pulses slightly and steadily, as if in time with the wearer’s heartbeat.

Happy Friday!! I love nirikeehan’s DA lore prompts... For you and @broodsys for @dadrunkwriting, I have some more Amell/Nathaniel, very self indulgent :)

When Nathaniel finds her on the carpet, ringed round by a pile of silver, she does not expect the words that fall from his mouth to be: “What do you need?”

“A hot bath,” Amell sighs. “I was too tired to heat the water tonight.”

“It might be a while. Everyone’s gone to bed.”

“No matter.” She waves him off. “It can keep until morning.”

“And what have you chosen to dedicate your time to tonight?” He stares down at her, eyes glancing over her piles of treasure. Trinkets, more like.

“I just have to make sense of these... I was thinking we could sell some of them off.”

"Our coffers overflow," he murmurs wryly, and she bites her tongue. With barely any hesitation he sits before her, long legs crossed in an invitation.

“Here,” she says, barely biting back her relief as she uses a forearm to shove a pile in his direction. Together, they make steady work of the piles, turning pieces over in the lamp light as their warped reflections stare back up at them menacingly.

“Amell,” he says out of the blue, titles forgotten in their late hour. There is a light tension in her name, the sounds pulled taut. She looks up at that, looks at the thin band of silver at the base of his finger. “Where did you get this?” he rasps, tugging the metal off of his hand. Amell glances at the ring as it falls, pausing her sorting.

“I think I found it in a pile of silverware. I can’t really remember.” She clings to everything she gets, still has trinkets lining her rucksack from that year of Blight. A knife from a bloody altar, a painted rune she can’t read. She once took a ring from the belly of a wolf.

“Put it on.”

“Really, now?” She’s not too bothered by the thought. “I think it’d suit you better,” she says, angling it to let it catch the light.

“See for yourself.”

She slides it onto her own finger and barely avoids a flinch at the sharp pulse of feeling.

“Oh,” she breathes, her pulse quickening at the rapid warming of the silver. The ring seems to contract and release with her heartbeat, pinching into her skin and letting go. It is not so much painful as uncanny, she thinks. And that is before it begins to heat, steadily, not to a point of pain, but just shy of uncomfortable.

Perhaps it is uncomfortable because of its knowledge. That it knows there is blood inside her, that this ring can sense her life. Can sense the taint as well from the dull way it pulses, the slight hum of the metal. Amell does not like thinking of her own life, of its fragility. She was going to be a healer, once, and then she died. Now she hates to consider the sickness spreading in her blood, the sluggish thump of her pulse against the taint mixed in. She learned to kill instead, to burn and scar.

She scarred Nathaniel a year ago. Tried to heal him because Anders wasn’t with them, and she was out of practice. Left a ridge running down his thigh, but she was nervous. So much blood. She’s tired of blood. And still he had looked at her after like he was grateful. It sickened her. It never should have gone like this. The ring feels tighter with every breath.

“That’s very strange,” she laughs weakly, and Nathaniel smiles, looking almost relieved to hear this truth acknowledged between them. A secret confidence.

She tugs the ring off. And after the two of them have gone to bed, she slips it back onto her finger, warm as if it never left.

///

There’s a heady mix of blood and adrenaline rushing through her and it’s overwhelming, the ring tight on her finger. She feels sharper, more alert, more lethal like this. Nathaniel comes up to her, touches her shoulder, and it sparks through her, some base instinct to rush away.

There’s some blood along his cheek, and she feels her pulse quicken. She reaches up to swipe it away, but it rubs into his skin, deepens the color there. He’ll burn in the sun, she thinks fleetingly. It's a silly thought, a thought from before. There are darkspawn afoot now. Her world is changed.

“Commander,” he says.

"Hmm?"

"Do you need healing?" She follows his finger to see that he's pointing at her leg, where her leathers have been sliced at the thigh. Dully, she feels the fear of the taint, and then she laughs because they're too far gone for that sort of fear. He raises a brow.

"Save the supplies, Nate."

"At least let me stop the bleeding," he offers, and she stiffens at the thought of his hands on her.

"I can do it," she says, and he hands over the roll of cloth he's been unwinding for her. As she takes it, his eyes flick back down to her hand.

"You got it back?" The ring, she remembers, too late. She forgot to take it off.

“I was curious,” she says. A weak defense. And if it’s conspicuous to him at all, if this thing lays her feelings bare for anyone more than herself—it is only her fault for allowing them to grow once more at all.

“Watch out,” she says sharply, as another spider comes tearing out of the cave, too close to him for comfort before she drops the bandage and lets a spell fly. She ties the knot off quickly as he comes nnear, trying to ignore the way the ring bucks against her skin in protest.

///

Amell sighs as she leans back against the palace wall, trying to retrace every hidden meaning of her conversation with Alistair. Trying not to dissemble the manner in which he laid a kiss to her hand, some strange inversion of the oath she owes to him.

She had taken her jewelry off, including that blasted ring, almost afraid of what might have happened when her hand brushed his. Had some secret feeling been let loose, some feeling she thought lay dead and gone. And still there is the hope of it, that something might yet linger between them—a hope she wishes she could lay to rest for good.

After some consideration, she quickly slips the ring back on, the gentle thrum coming back to her. Becoming a part of her.

"You were good out there," she hears. With quick, light steps, she can hardly tell Nathaniel is with her until he’s at her shoulder.

"Was I?"

"Better than that first year."

"I should hope so!" she says, and she winces. It's too breathy, too earnest. She's out of practice with chatter, could it be? More that this place does something to her. Twists her into someone she cannot recognize. "I made a right mess of the Keep that year," she says wistfully. Fondly, in a way.

"You take good care of it," he says evenly. "More than I could ever wish for my home." It is warm, this approval. There is a sense of shame that comes with it, but she basks in it. He shifts next to her, and she shifts her hand away in a practiced move.

She really should stop wearing this ring around him. He’ll know everything.

"And you held yourself well with the king."

"We were very close once," she says. She doesn't mean to, and she shouldn’t, but she does. Yet he stays cool. Indifferent.

"And what happened?" he asks, because her constable knows her. Knows she likes a story.

I made a mistake. It is at the tip of her tongue and she stays herself. Was it? She would have done it again. And Alistair has made his fair share. Even after she gave him his crown. She stays quiet. He takes this hesitation in a strange way, his eyes softening.

"Nathaniel, wait," she says. Urgent, even though he's hardly moved. He's not going anywhere.

She slides her hand against his chest, coming to rest against his throat. He swallows, and she feels the knot move against her hand, the ring pulsing a little quicker. She should stop wearing the ring. Should stop coming to the palace. Should stop the magic she has no business learning.

And yet she craves the power. The arc of lightning under her fingers and the chill of ice. Feels right like few things do. Like she’s born for it.

"My lady," he says softly, and she realizes she's lost herself.

"I’m not a lady," she replies, but there’s no bite to it. It’s a well worn refrain between them. A game. A reminder of a softer life.

He places his hands at her elbows.

"Commander," he offers instead, and though there is that teasing warmth she has missed so much, even now she will have to be the one to close the distance. She is dead, and so is he, and what more is there to wait for? She tilts her face towards his and presses her mouth to his. Feeling increasingly stupid in the moment, two, it takes him to react. Until he presses her back against the wall, and the metal quickens on her finger.

He brushes a kiss to her hand; like her king did, but his lips linger on the ring, and she feels it shudder on her skin. She tugs him close, uneasy with these similarities. She wants something new. She wants to be made new. She wants to be broken down and reassembled into something better. Or just different. Reforged.

Nate kisses into her neck, her jaw, tugs her collar down and down. She’s too stiff under him, but she’s half in disbelief that she’s done this.

She is too still, she thinks, because he breaks away from her then, his brow furrowing. She knows that look, has worn it too often in her life. As if he has erred, and he can’t tell why.

"It was not a mistake," she says. To what, she does not know. To all of it, perhaps. The boy-king’s crown and the unwanted mercy and the kiss that breaks the curse.

Quickly, Amell wrenches the ring off of her finger; but still, the feeling remains.

#dadwc #my writing #nathaniel howe #warden amell

[p1325]

The 'Timeless Classics' series by RBA stands as a commendable collection of 85 literary masterpieces, predominantly drawn from English literature, with notable inclusions such as Madame Bovary and Anna Karenina from diverse cultural landscapes. This curated anthology transcends geographical boundaries, making its enriching content accessible not only in various European countries under the names of ''Storie Senza Tempo'', ''Romans Eternels'', and ''Novelas Eternas'' but also in South America. RBA's commitment to delivering these cultural gems on a global scale reflects a dedication to fostering a profound appreciation for literature across diverse audiences.

Here are all the titles of the following collection: Jane Austen - Pride and Prejudice

Emily Bronte - Wuthering Heights

Louisa May Alcott - Little Women

Charlotte Bronte - Jane Eyre

Jane Austen - Sense and Sensibility

Edith Wharton - The Age Of Innocence

Jane Austen - Emma

Gustave Flaubert - Madame Bovary

Jane Austen - Northanger Abbey

Edith Wharton - The House of Mirth

Jane Austen - Persuasion

Louisa May Alcott - Good Wives

Nathaniel Hawthorne - The Scarlet Letter

Charlotte Bronte - The Professor

Leo Tolstoy - Anna Karenina (Part 1)

Leo Tolstoy - Anna Karenina (Part 2)

Jane Austen - Mansfield Park

Anne Bronte - Agnes Grey

Thomas Hardy - Far from The Madding Crowd

William Makepeace Thackeray - Vanity Fair (Part 1)

William Makepeace Thackeray - Vanity Fair (Part 2)

Pierre-Ambroise-François Choderlos de Laclos - Dangerous Liaisons Alexandre Dumas fils - The Lady of the Camellias

Henry James - Washington Square

Louisa May Alcott - A Garland For Girls

Henry James - The Portrait of A Lady (Part 1)

Henry James - The Portrait of A Lady (Part 2)

Jane Austen - Lady Susan. The Watson. Sanditon

Anne Brontë - The Tenant of Wildfell Hall

Thomas Hardy - Tess of the D’Urbeville

Edith Wharton - The Mother’s Recompense

Daniel Defoe - Moll Flanders

Henry James - The Wings of the Dove

Edith Wharton - The Customs of the Country

Kate Chopin - The Awakening

Jane Austen - Juvenilia

George Eliot - Middlemarch (Part 1)

George Eliot - Middlemarch (Part 2)

George Sand - Nanon

Henry James - The Ambassadors

Elizabeth Gaskell - Cranford

Thomas Hardy - Under The Greenwood Tree

Edith Wharton - Summer

George Sand - Indiana

Henry James - The Bostonians

George Eliot - Silas Marner

Henry James - The Golden Bowl (Part 1)

Henry James - The Golden Bowl (Part 2)

Edith Wharton - The Twilight Sleep

Emily Eden - The Semi-Attached Couple

Edith Wharton - The Glimpses of the Moon

Mary Elizabeth Braddon - Lady Audley’s Secret

George Eliot - The Mill on the Floss

Elizabeth Gaskell - Mary Barton

Fanny Burney - Evelina

George Sand - Little Fadette

Emily Eden - The Semi-detached House

Charlotte Brontë - Shirley I

Charlotte Brontë - Shirley II

Daniel Defoe - Lady Roxana

Theodor Fontane - Effie Briest

Edith Wharton - The Cliff

Thomas Hardy - Two on a Tower

Frances Hodgson Burnett - A Lady of Quality

Louisa May Alcott - Moods

Lucy Maud Montgomery - The Story Girl

Elizabeth Gaskell - Ruth

Thomas Hardy - The Woodlanders

Elizabeth Gaskell - North and South

Matilde Serao - Fantasy

Thomas Hardy - A Pair of Blue Eyes

Emilia Pardo Bazán - Sunstroke

Ann Radcliffe - The Romance Of The Forest

Louisa May Alcott - A Long Fatal

Charlotte Bronte - Villette

Sybil G. Brinton - Old Friends and New Fancies

Edith Wharton - The Bunner

Sisters Virginia Woolf - The Voyage Out

Margaret Oliphant - The Chronicles of Carlingford

Edith Nesbit - The Incomplete Amorist

Virginia Woolf - Day and Night

Guy de Maupassant - Our Heart

Frances Trollope - The Widow Barnaby (Part 1)

Frances Trollope - The Widow Barnaby (Part 2)

Elizabeth Gaskell - Half a Lifetime Ago

#storie senza tempo #novelas eternas #romans eternels #novels #novel #book collection #timeless classics #jane austen #pride and prejudice #emma #persuasion #bronte sisters #emily bronte #daniel defoe #moll flanders #anna karenina #wuthering heights #jane eyre #sense and sensibility #louisa may alcott #little women #Youtube #me #gpoy #gay #gay men #lgbt

[alexseanchai]

I really wish Miraculous Ladybug had gone where we thought they were going with the Goat and Rooster superheroes, namely Marc Anciel as the Goat and Nathaniel Kurtzberg as the Rooster

because that would have avoided the thing where the character with red hair, a given name derived from one in the Torah, and a Yiddish surname—

(remember Miraculous wielders' superhero outfits reflect their subconscious desires unless they consciously put in effort otherwise, a fact that also has fun implications when noticing how much thinner Rena Rouge is than Alya is and how much paler Rena Rouge and Pegasus are than Alya and Max are)

—has, as a superhero, goat horns.

#miraculous ladybug #nathaniel kurtzberg #cn antisemitism #cn racism #cn body image crap #miraculeakless #ml salt

[artzychic27]

For Halloween, Marc decides to go into school as Count Marcula, a spooky yet romantic vampiric writer. His costume is really detailed, slicked back hair, cape, suit, gloves, super realistic fake fangs, red eye contacts, fake nails, fake ears, you name it.

He speaks throughout the day in a Transylvanian accent (I vant to suck your blood, that kinda voice), brings an umbrella to school, and comes out of an actual coffin.

Count Marcula: Good evening. (Fake blood dripping down his cheek.) Nathaniel: *Nose bleeds from the hotness.*

I'd love some scenes of him scaring the shit out of Chloe and Lila, flirting with Nathaniel, and being a hammy vampire in front of the Science Kids and Akuma Class.

Jean: *Dressed as the Phantom of the Opera* Daaaamn.

Nathaniel: *Dressed as Eraserhead*… He. Is. HOT! THAT’S MINE! HE’S MINE! *Shoves Ivan and Kim out of the way and runs into Marc’s arms* I SAW HIM FIRST! YA’LL BETTER BACK OFF!

Ivan: *Dressed as Jack Skellington* … Did he just-

Kim: *Dressed as Thor* I think he did.

Alix: *Dressed as Miss Joke* Never underestimate the power of a short bisexual.

—

Louis: *Dressed as Bob Ross* Maybe he can suck some actual talent out of someone and put it in you!

Nathaniel: *Sitting in Marc’s lap* SHUT YOUR WHORE MOUTH, LOUIS!

Louis: … Ouch.

—

Lila: *Dressed as Queen Elizabeth 1; walks in on Marc who appears to be biting Nath’s neck in the locker room* AAAAAHHHH!! *Runs away screaming*

Marc: Vat is her problem?

Nathaniel: Don’t know, don’t care; just keep licking the frosting off my neck. Who the hell even started that food fight?

—

Austin A: *Dressed as Heather C* GUYS! MARC’S A VAMPIRE!

Austin B: *Dressed as Bill Cipher* Yeah, it’s a great costume, right?

Austin A: NO! Listen to me! I walked into the bathroom, and there he was at the sink, and he didn’t have a reflection in the mirror*

Austin T: *Dressed as Christine Daaé* … Armsy, have you been eating too much candy?

Austin A: You’re not listening to me! *Austin Q slaps him across the face* Did you just slap me?

Austin Q: *Dressed as Kim Possible* I was calming you down!

Austin A: How was that supposed to calm me down?! There is a vampire in this fucking school and he’s gonna suck my blood!

Austin T: Why would he suck your blood?

Austin A: ‘Cause, look at me.

—

Kim: Guys, it’s time to face facts… We have to kill Marc.

Akuma Class sans Nath: …

Marinette: *Dressed as Zatanna* WHAT?! Dude! We’re not killing Marc!

Kim: Why not? He’s a vampire.

Max: *Dressed as Electra from Starlight Express* Kim, for the last time, Marc is not a vampire. It’s just a very realistic costume.

Nino: *Dressed as Bruno* He did bite into that apple without his fangs coming off.

Myléne: *Dressed as Sally* Oh, and his skin started getting all smokey when he was outside in the sun.

Juleka: *Dressed as Jason* And he bit Nath’s neck.

Adrien: *Dressed as Harry Potter* Nath is looking kinda paler than before.

Marinette: Guys, Marc is not a vampire, okay? And if he is, then may I be struck by- *Thunder crashes outside* … May a bat fly through that door in the next three seconds.

…

Marinette: See? He’s not-

*A bat flies in through the window*

Kim: *Jumps into Max’s arms* KILL IT! KILL IT NOW!

*The students all hide under their desks for a few seconds, and and Marinette pokes her head out, she finds Marc sitting atop the teacher’s desk*

Marinette: … Marc… Did you see a bat just now?

Marc: Can’t say that I have.

*Thunder and lightning crash outside, cutting the lights off, and when they come back on, Marc’s nowhere in sight*

Marinette: … Okay, I’m sold.

Alix: I still think this is bull.

—

Denise: *Dressed as Luisa* Guys, he’s not a vampire.

Alix: Told you.

Nino: Then kindly explain why he has no reflection!

Cosette: Dressed as Static Shock; about to answer, but pauses* … Maybe… He’s so pale that… The light-

Alya: *Dressed in a Clovers cheer uniform* Mhm. Mhm. The light. Go on.

Cosette: … I don’t know, man! He cosplays! He’s got the mechanics of it all down! He could cosplay as Hagakure!

Reshma: *Dressed as Sailor Moon* He somehow made the blood smell like copper.

Ivan: Did you hear yourself just now?

Simon: *Dressed as a Ghostbuster* If Marc’s a vampire, then… I’m the Queen of England.

*Just then, Marc walks by with Nathaniel unconscious in his arms*

Lacey: *Dressed as Tinker Bell* Marc… Whatcha doin’?

Marc: Nath fell asleep. I’m just taking him… Somevhere. *Leaves*

Marinette: So, Simon, would you like your crown to be silver or gold?

—

Chloé: *Dressed as Elle Woods; going into the basement* How dare she make me grab another stupid textbook from down here?! Ugh! Now where are they- *Sees a coffin in the middle of the room* … H-how long has this been here?

*Going against every instinct, Chloé opens the coffin and screams when she finds Nathaniel in it*

Chloé: WHAT THE HELL?!

Marc: You shouldn’t have come down here, Miss Bourgeois.

Chloé: … AAAAAHHH!! *Runs upstairs* VAMPIRES ARE REAL!

Nathaniel: *Groggily wakes up* Hey, is everything alright?

Marc: Yes, go back to sleep, Nath.

Nathaniel: Alright. *Shuts the coffin door*

—

Aurore: *Dressed as Eclipsa* …

Marc: …

Aurore/Marc: … *Nod to each other, open their parasols, and go their respective ways*

#miraculous ladybug #miraculous #nathaniel kurtzberg #marc anciel #mlb ocs #akuma class #science kids

[antihibikase-archive]

Pokemon Blight / Blur : Comprehensive Masterpost

Since I talk and write about my rewrite a lot, I understand it might be hard to get into and/or understand/keep track of! 

So, to make things easier, I decided to compile the very essences of my rewrite and its major changes to the BW/BW2 story in one post!

Links to other posts will be found at the bottom!

If you wish to read some of the posted fics and drabbles I have for my rewrite, they can be found in @antihibikase2​!

Edit 1/10/24 : A formal introduction fic to this verse, Pokemon Blight / Blur - Hero of Static, has been published to both my writing blog and ao3! For those who follow that story and wish to know more through that instead, please be warned that this contains lots of spoilers.

Summary :

“There is a hero of truth, and a hero of ideals. Fighting over what they seek, the legendary dragon splits in two.

But there's more to it than what is told, and becoming a hero isn't without it's sacrifices.“

For the most part, the story of Black and White and its sequels play out the same; the hero hails from Nuvema Town, accompanied by their best friends, meets N, takes down Team Plasma, disappears, and a new hero fills out their shoes.

There are some changes, however. 

Blight ( Black and White Arc )

The hero in this story is Hilbert Blackburn, an earnest youth from Nuvema Town. 

Accompanied by his best friends Cheren Slater and Bianca Alabaster, their party of three, eventually four, venture out into the Unova region hand in hand. Before the fourth gym badge, in the lively city of Nimbasa, Bianca meets a trainer named Hilda Weiss, who had already completed her journey beforehand.

Things take a turn for the worst when they encounter a man named N, and a strange group called Team Plasma has a strange fascination with them.

Traveling as a group, Hilbert discovers he is being built up to be the Hero of Truth who will clash with Team Plasma’s king, N, who represents the Hero of Ideals.

But in the hero's story, both the princes of truth and ideals are accompanied by a party of three.

A warrior, for boundless strength.

A scholar, for adaptive knowledge.

And a heart, for unwavering emotion.

Blur ( Black 2 and White 2 Arc )

Two years after the defeat of Team Plasma, Nathaniel “Nate” Blake of Aspertia City is set to receive his first Pokemon, intending on becoming Unova’s new heroes alongside his best friends Hugh Obsidian and Rosa Whitefield.

Accompanied by the Aspertia City’s new gym leader and its trainer school’s sole teacher, Cheren Slater, the group finds that Team Plasma is attempting a revival that involves using the dragon of the boundary, the beast of ice- Kyurem.

Along the way, meeting familiar faces and new ones alike, Hilda discovers that Team Plasma is planning something nefarious with the use of Opelucid City’s prized DNA Splicers, and Bianca discovers that there was only one Heart in the legends,

all while Cheren roams Unova with half of his heart in tact.

Major Changes from Canon :

The Story of The Legendary Heroes :

The story of the Legendary Heroes has been expanded upon; both heroes, who are unable to come to an agreement, were advised by The Priest to go on separate journeys, accompanied by their respective Warrior and Scholar, in order to seek truth and ideals respectively.

In addition, The Hero of Truth’s party has The Heart.

The characters in the story of the Legendary Heroes reflect the heroes and rivals of modern day Unova, in terms of both personality and appearance; the Hero of Truth is Hilbert, the Hero of Ideals is Nate.

The Scholar and Warrior that accompany the Hero of Truth are Bianca and Hilda respectively.

Similarly, the Scholar and Warrior that accompany the Hero of Ideals are Rosa and Hugh.

The Heart is Cheren. Most versions of the story assume that there is one Heart for each party, when in reality, there was only one of them. In addition, some versions of the story omit his existence entirely.

The Priest is N. Though the Priest is a supporting character in the story, and not a member of royalty, history has been altered and changed throughout the years that Ghetsis’ family mistook the Harmonia name for that of royalty, when in reality, the Priest was an advisor.

Though not important at first, there is a character in the legends known as The Doctor, who resembles Colress.

There are many other characters with roles in the past, such as The Gambler (Grimsley), the Artist (Burgh), etc.

As the story goes, the parties of Truth and Ideals travel separately in pursuit of what they believe in. At the end of their journey, they meet the legendary dragon, but fight over who is more worthy of its power, and by extension, the throne.

Unable to pick a proper path, the dragon splits itself in two, and The Heart is unintentionally killed in the process, being used as a sacrifice to give birth to Reshiram and Zekrom.

With the grief of losing The Heart, both princes abandon the throne and wander Unova with their respective dragons. The Warrior and Scholar of Truth remain in the kingdom to take over the throne, as well as the Scholar of Ideals. The Warrior of Ideals follows after his prince. The Priest extends his help to the remaining party in the kingdom, and they work together to help Unova prosper.

It is said that the ghost of the Hero of Truth wanders the sunken Relic Castle, searching for The Heart. 

Similarly, it is said that the spirit of The Heart wanders the sandy beaches of Undella Bay, searching for his precious Pokemon and his prince. 

Black and White Storyline :

Team Plasma’s goal is not only to have N use Zekrom to command the people of Unova to release their Pokemon, but to recreate the story of The Legendary Heroes to sway their beliefs.

Additionally, Zinzolin leads a part of Team Plasma known as The Order of The Heart- a religion revolved around the revered Heart in one of the versions of the story.

Hilbert and Cheren start traveling together after Castelia City.

Despite not being the main character, Hilda is the one that sees Bianca being forced to go home by her father in Nimbasa City, rather than Hilbert. The girls start traveling together after this.

After the events at the Cold Storage, both duos start traveling as a party of four, completing the party of the Hero of Truth. The party only stops traveling together before Hilbert steps into Victory Road. Though Cheren chases after Hilbert like in canon, Bianca and Hilda initially intended to only watch Hilbert’s matches, before N’s Castle rose from the ground.

After the Unova League raids N’s Castle with the help of Bianca summoning them for help, Sages Rood and Zinzolin take Bianca and Cheren hostage, keeping the Gym Leaders at bay and forcing Hilbert and Hilda to proceed alone. 

N’s sisters tell Bianca of N’s past, as well as the real meaning of the story of the Legendary Heroes. Meanwhile, Cheren is used as a sacrifice, and is brainwashed by Zinzolin to fight against Hilbert, using Cheren’s heart and Hilbert’s rage to trigger Reshiram’s awakening.

While Hilbert becomes champion after he assists Looker in apprehending the sages, he realizes Unova is in a state of unrest and relies heavily on him for reassurance. Unable to take the pressure, and wanting that same pressure to be lifted off the shoulders of his friends, he leaves Unova with Reshiram.

When Hilbert leaves, he leaves behind a Cinccino and a letter for Cheren.

Black and White 2 Storyline :

Zekrom is captured by Team Plasma at the start, alongside Kyurem.

Nate and Hugh travel together, accompanied by Cheren.

Rosa is an on-off companion, sometimes journeying with the boys, but sometimes staying behind in cities/towns to partake in the activities.

In the final battle, Nate, Hugh, Rosa, and Cheren approach the Giant Chasm together, while Bianca and Hilda stay outside to contain the damage.

Instead of Ghetsis having Kyurem use Glaciate before it fuses with N’s Dragon, Zekrom and Kyurem have already merged by the time they get into Giant Chasm. 

In the midst of the battle, the dragon is in the process of splitting up on its own, and is commanded to use Freeze Shock on Nate. 

Cheren takes the hit for Nate, nearly killing him and serving as a sacrifice once more. Nate’s rage at Ghetsis completely awakens Zekrom and successfully pulls it away from Kyurem, and Reshiram arrives immediately after, along with N and Hilbert.

Ghetsis, Colress, and the Shadow Triad are apprehended at the end of the story.

General Lore :

Hilda is a Pokemon Trainer who has already completed her journey beforehand, but was unable to become champion. Having found herself in a state of boredom as one of the strongest trainers in the region, she spends her days at the Battle Subway.

Rosa is a Pokemon Trainer who drops her league challenge at the start, having decided to travel to figure out what she wants. She finds herself jumping hobbies, particularly between partaking in Pokestar Studios or the Pokemon Musical.

Despite being chosen by a dragon at the end of Black and White, the dragon that accompanies N, Zekrom, leaves his side at some point before the start of Black and White 2, cementing his status as not the Hero of Ideals in the story, but rather, The Priest.

Pre-BW2, Cheren is sent to Flocessy Town to be kept out of the media and to help his mind recover following the brainwashing from Beheeyem. Three months into his recovery, he is scouted to be one of Lenora’s successors, and starts training in a condo at Castelia City, mentored by the Striaton Triplets and Burgh.

Pre-BW2, Bianca begins her studies as Professor Juniper’s assistant, and is often summoned by Fennel to assist in her research of the Dreamworld. Her connection with Musharna enables her to “travel” through the Dreamworld, wherein she meets versions of her friends represented by the part of them they hide the most.

Hilda catches the Bouffalant that belonged to Ghetsis, rehabilitating it and giving it a new home. She later gives this Bouffalant to Hugh.

Each of the protagonists and rivals are associated with legendaries/mythicals; Reshiram for Hilbert, Zekrom for Nate, Genesect for Cheren, Meloetta for Bianca, Victini for Hilda, Landorus for Rosa, Keldeo for Hugh, and Kyurem for N.

There is heavy Kuroshipping and Shiroshipping in the story, and becomes a major plot point for the Hero of Truth and The Heart.

Colress is a major character in BW- he is the doctor of the league, and pops up during certain times, including the aftermath of the events at N’s Castle.

Yancy appears near the end of BW, though she and Curtis only have major roles in BW2.

Characterizations of the BW/BW2 Protagonists :

Since the protagonists have no canonical characterizations (Pokemon Masters EX being the closest), I gave them my own characterizations, which may affect how they interact with other characters, as well as their teambuilding!

Hilbert Blackburn

An earnest trainer from Nuvema Town, perhaps a true example of what it means to be a trainer and a champion. Hilbert Blackburn is described to be someone who wears his heart on his sleeve, whether that be a good thing or not. He wanted nothing more than to enjoy his journey with his best friends, but was thrown for a loop when he met N at Accumula Town.

He’s kind and polite, the kind of honest young man most mothers would dream their son of growing up into. He can never refuse someone when they ask for his help, and he trusts in his instincts. However, while it seems he’s plainly open about his feelings, he’s shown some cases where he gets incredibly jealous over other trainers that intrigue Cheren, who he has had a crush on for so long.

By the end of BW2, all he wants is to live his life beyond the titles of champion and hero, and moreover, he wants to live a normal, peaceful life with the people he loves. He starts by trying to “save” his beloved Cheren from his role as The Heart- and succeeds.

While he was partially inspired by Black from Pokemon Adventures, their personalities and goals are still vastly different. Associated with fire-types, particularly the Emboar line and Reshiram, as well as Braviary.

Hilda Weiss

A spunky experienced trainer from Nimbasa City, though perhaps a bit cynical, Hilda Weiss has finished her journey four years ago, journeying at the age of ten. However, she was denied the position of champion, not because her strength was lacking, but she had grown arrogant and forgotten the joy of battling alongside her Pokemon.

She’s considered the life of the Battle Subway four years later, having become someone who lives their life to the fullest, enjoying the thrill and rush that battles bring her. She’s forward with her intentions and her feelings, which put her on odds with certain people who think she has a tendency to stick her nose where it doesn’t belong. This is most obvious with Bianca’s father, who she often butts heads with.

By the end of BW2, she hasn’t settled into a singular position to call her own, but she finds herself content at being someone that her precious friends have grown to rely on- not wanting for history to repeat, she takes charge of the operation of retrieving the missing relics of the party, in hopes it would defy their fate. Associated with a multitude of Pokemon, but particularly the Elemental Monkeys.

Nathaniel “Nate” Blake

In a completely opposite direction from Blake from Pokemon Adventures, Nathaniel “Nate” Blake of Aspertia City is exactly the average Gen Z child; filled to the brim with energy, speaks his mind, and very, very hyperactive. Though perhaps this is part of his charm, and what makes Zekrom sees him as more worthy of its power.

Initially someone who admired Hilbert for his heroics, he discovers the reality of heroics not being as dazzling as it seems, especially when he sees how it makes the people around them cry. Wanting to live in a Unova where he and everyone else is happy, he decides to become a hero that brings smiles, and he starts by accompanying Hugh in retrieving his sister’s Purrloin. He grows to admire Cheren greatly, fondly referring to him as his “big bro”.

By the end of BW2, he is crowned the new champion of Unova, though his journey doesn’t end just yet. He wishes to use his new position as both champion and hero to help his friends recover from the pain Team Plasma had caused. Settling into his role as the Hero of Ideals, he reluctantly works together with Hilbert to be heroes worthy of The Heart reborn.

Associated with electric and bug-types, particularly the Tynamo line, the Sewaddle line, and Zekrom, as well as Jellicent.

Rosa Whitefield

Seeing the state of Unova after what Team Plasma had done, Rosa Whitefield of Virbank City inspires to spread smiles like Nate, but in a different manner; instead of becoming a hero, she wants to become a shining star in an otherwise bleak reality. Dropping out of the Trainer School, she partakes in several activities such as acting in Pokestar Studios, and making her Pokemon shine through the Pokemon Musical Theater.

Sharing the same sense of mischief as Nate, they brighten up everything in their path through their youthful energy, which grows increasingly difficult as Neo Team Plasma starts making its round throughout the region, threatening to encase it in ice. Though she is not a proper league trainer by any means, Rosa uses what she’s learned in Pokestar Studios from Brycen and Sabrina in order to support her friends to the fullest, with some of her “support” being in the form of utilizing her skills in acrobatics as a form of distraction for the enemy. 

By the end of BW2, she starts to become a household name through her acting career, though she wishes to use her newfound influence to help her friends recover from the pain Team Plasma had caused- but first, she hits the books, and decides to lend her aid to Bianca as they piece together the final parts of the legend.

Associated with a multitude of Pokemon, particularly Pokemon that are available in Pokestar Studios, such as the Riolu line, Solosis line, and Vanilluxe line.

Additional Posts and Links for References :

This post is getting too long already, so here’s some separate posts I’ve made regarding the worldbuilding! I’ll add this as I make more.

Main Cast : Nuvema Gang Character Sheets + Aspertia Trio Character Sheets + Pokemon Teams of The BW/BW2 Protagonists + Mega Evolution 

Supporting Cast : Full Names + Past Lives + Curtis and Yancy’s Roles

Misc. Character Posts : Cheren Slater Masterpost +  Something About Bianca and Babel + Symbolisms and Goals

The Legendary Dragons: The Legendary Heroes and The Party + The Unovan Legend, Truths, Ideals, and Misconceptions + Pokemon Parties of The Parties and The Priest + The Order of The Heart + The Ghost of Relic Castle + The Spirit of Undella Bay +  The Doctor, Acro + Acro’s Circumstances + The Doctor And The Eyes + The Doctor’s Many Identities 

Worldbuilding: Arcana Motifs + The Relic Song + Relic Castle Arc

#Pokemon #Pokemon Black and White #Pokemon Black and White 2 #Trainer Hilbert #Rival Cheren #Gym Leader Cheren #Trainer Bianca #Trainer Hilda #Trainer Nate #Trainer Hugh #Trainer Rosa #Natural Harmonia Gropius #Kuroshipping #Shiroshipping #BW/BW2 Rewrite - Blur / Blight

[hauntedfalcon]

Re: your tags about players narration not necessarily reflecting the characters own thoughts and Jinnah x Sean - Sean uses 'Jean' in dialogue between him and Marion and Jean uses 'Sean' when speaking to Nathaniel and Bea in Sean's (and Marion's) presence. So they were both in character when the switch up happened on both their parts. I don't know if it was intentional from Zehra and Brennan but it slaps that it happened at all

oh 100%--I was looping in my still half-formed thoughts from this post here and I wasn't terribly coherent about it 😅

it slaps SO much. also the little look Sean gives Jean right after she says his first name? when by that time it was firmly established that she does not address people by their first names? I Am Studying Them

#Candela Obscura for ts

[holystormfire]

John 1:43-51

'Come and see’ replied Philip

The Martyrdom of Saint Bartholomew,

Painted by Jusepe de Ribera (1591 - 1652),

Painted in 1634, Oil on canvas

@ National Gallery of Art, Washington

Gospel Reading

After Jesus had decided to leave for Galilee, he met Philip and said, ‘Follow me.’ Philip came from the same town, Bethsaida, as Andrew and Peter. Philip found Nathanael and said to him, ‘We have found the one Moses wrote about in the Law, the one about whom the prophets wrote: he is Jesus son of Joseph, from Nazareth.’ ‘From Nazareth?’ said Nathanael ‘Can anything good come from that place?’ ‘Come and see’ replied Philip. When Jesus saw Nathanael coming he said of him, ‘There is an Israelite who deserves the name, incapable of deceit.’ ‘How do you know me?’ said Nathanael. ‘Before Philip came to call you,’ said Jesus ‘I saw you under the fig tree.’ Nathanael answered, ‘Rabbi, you are the Son of God, you are the King of Israel.’ Jesus replied, ‘You believe that just because I said: I saw you under the fig tree. You will see greater things than that.’ And then he added ‘I tell you most solemnly, you will see heaven laid open and, above the Son of Man, the angels of God ascending and descending.’

Reflection on the painting

Have you ever found yourself responding negatively to a suggestion of someone and then thinking further about it and having a change of mind and heart? I certainly have. Someone makes a suggestion as regards to parish life for example, and initially I respond with maybe little enthusiasm. I can only see the downsides, the problems, the complications, the demands it might make on time, etc... Then over time, I begin to see the suggestion in a different light. The words that that person spoke still linger in my mind and I mull it over. Then I come around to seeing that maybe there is something very worthwhile here after all.

That is exactly what happened to Nathaniel. Philip came up to him to share his enthusiasm for Jesus of Nazareth declaring that he and others had finally found the Messiah that the Jewish Scriptures had foretold. Nathanael’s initial response was dismissive, ‘From Nazareth? Can anything good come from there?’ We can indeed all be prone to dismissing people on the basis of where they are from or where they were brought up or their social background or even the colour of their skin or whatever. However, thanks to the gentle persistence of Philip, ‘Come and see’, Nathanael came to see Jesus and did change his mind! In fact he completely changed, as he gets on declaring ‘You are the Son of God, you are the King of Israel’. Jesus then responds that he hasn't seen anything yet!

The next time we meet Nathanael in this Gospel of John, he is to be among the group of disciples who went back fishing after the crucifixion of Jesus, to whom the risen Lord appeared. Nathanael did indeed see greater things...

When it comes to our relationship with the Lord, where we begin is not so important, because the Lord can always move us on, as long as we are open to being led by him.

Most Bible scholars believe Nathanael and Bartholomew were the same apostles. Our painting by Ribera is a profoundly moving work portraying the apostle's final moments before he is to be flayed alive. His body seemingly bursts through the surface of the canvas. His outstretched arms embrace a mystical light that illuminates his flesh. His piercing eyes, open mouth, and petitioning left hand convey an intense communion with the divine. He was a man who wasn't afraid to change his mind, even to the point of dying...

Article by Father Patrick van der Vorst

#biblical #christ #christian blog #glorytogod #bible fandom #bible reading #bible scripture #biblical art #christian doctrine #jesus #holy bible #holy spirit #holy trinity #Holy #bible study #bible verse #art history #religious art #old art #new testament #faith in jesus #bible lesson #john the baptist #artwork #godly wisdom #godly living #gospel #gospel truth #gospel message #faith in god

[isa-ah]

Nathaniel May is a jaded, angry kid who spends most of his time and effort supporting his unwell mother with three jobs. He's dating Gamorrah, a superstitious cattle baron from the Goodnight family.

Chocolate Milk has a palette to reflect his name; sweet shades of brown, tan and cream swirl together for a tasty treat. He's quite short and selectively mute, with a very soft belly and tail.

#oc battle royale #nate #chocolate milk