#then you would have ample reason to assume that i was going through it

[someguyiguess]

tonights song rec is One by Three Dog Night

#tonights song rec #not goin through it or anything its just a pretty good song #now if i had recommended the harry nilson version #then you would have ample reason to assume that i was going through it #cause that one is way sadder and also not as good #this one has guitars and shit

[happy-beeeps]

Naïveté

Summary: Astarion begins to reconcile with the fact he might have fallen for you, only to worry you've caught an interest in someone else. Earllllllly act 2, minor spoilers for act 2!

Pairing: Astarion x f!tav

Warnings/tags: fluff, miscommunication if you squint, jealous!astarion, platonic!wyll x tav, slightly ooc Astarion because I'm still learning to write him so be nice PLEASE😭🥺

WC: 2k

a/n: I'm finishing a character sheet for tav so we can have her backstory, but she's who I've been using this playthrough and I've been really enjoying her story. When I post on Ao3 she'll have a name, but I'm going to leave her unnamed here! Also, will have a seperate BG3 spot on my masterlist soon!

It’s late at camp, and by the time you finish indulging in a bottle of wine with Karlach, you figure you’re the only one still up. It’s been a long night, and an even longer few days, spent trudging through the grimy depths of the Shadowcursed lands and just barely making it out of the encounter with Marcus alive. Isobel had given you the ability to travel freely, but all you could do was set up camp near the inn.

The firelight is dim when you make your way back from the secluded spot near Karlach’s tent, and Astarion’s tent is sealed tightly. You contemplate going over, just peaking your head in to see if he’s deep in trance yet, but you change your mind. After your previous night’s conversation, you’re still not sure on speaking terms. It plays out over and over again in your mind. Naive, he’d called you, your heart was too big. 

You tried to be reasonable. You were naive. You were young, and perhaps no one but Wyll new exactly how young. To be ninety as an elf was to be just becoming an adult. No one else had known, no else had asked, including Astarion. You chalked it up to his truly immortal lifespan, he hadn’t cared about aging for 200 years, why start now?

Still, you couldn’t deny the pull you felt to him, or the thrill that shook your bones when he would quietly rush into your tent each morning, murmuring the incantation for lesser restoration. You still thought of the way he looked at Gale when he asked to consume that locket all those days back. “I’m glad you let him suffer for a moment, darling,” he’d murmured into your ear that night, his breath tingly on your neck, “That one’s ours.”

There’d been other nights since your first night together, while you hadn’t slept together in completion since, all passion and teeth and sweat. Sometimes you’d just kiss him, wrapped up in nothing else but this bliss of arms and scent. Lately though, he’d been closed off—distant. His conversation the previous night had come out of nowhere, as if you were standing on the doorstep of Moonrise Towers that very instant. 

You were so lost in your own thoughts, consumed of Astarion, that you nearly missed Wyll’s form standing near the dimming fire, moving around in a dance you actually recognized.

“I hope I’m not interrupting practice,” you smiled, giving the man ample warning before you stumbled into his rehearsal. 

Wyll wheeled on you, a faint blush growing across his cheeks. “It’s one of those old courting dances, it’d be a cold day in the hells before I’d ever forget them.”

“Oh I’m quite familiar,” you murmured, thinking back to your own youth, your own debutante ball, before you lost everything. “Everyone else around here forgets I come from taste.”

Wyll snorts, “Sure don’t smell like it.”

Your friendship with Wyll is a special thing. No one else can understand what it felt like to be from a Noble family, the expectations and the experience it comes with. When your family had been killed and their wealth assumed, you were completely on your own. Learning how to pickpockets and lie had not been a part of your expensive and tasteful education.

Dancing, however, came second nature.

You move to stand in front of him without really thinking, decades of experience guiding your motions. “Go on, let’s see what you can do.”

He’s a fine partner, moving cautiously around you and guiding your hand easily. Even when he brings you closer for a slightly more intimate dance, his hands nor his eyes never stray. 

“I wonder what I’d have done if I ever saw you at one of the balls my father sent me too.” He murmurs.

“I’m certain you did. Though you would’ve been young. I haven’t been in nearly a decade.”

He chuckles, and clucks his tongue for a moment, “Just practically a baby, far to young to approach Fey nobility.” Before bowing in front of you and wishing you goodnight. There’s the smallest beat where he looks at you as if he has something to say. You look at him for the smallest moment. It would be so easy to love him, if you were anyone else. He’s exactly who your father would have picked for you, save his humanity. But, despite it, you can’t. You can’t fake the flutter you get when you Astarion’s cold hands tickle your fingers, or the tickle of his hair on your cheek when he’s pressed against your neck. You’re not naive enough to admit this to Astarion, but from the fleeting glance you send to his tent, you can see that Wyll already knows. He leaves you with a knowing glance and a soft goodnight. You go back to your own tent, happy to have removed the thought of the curse, of Ketheric, and even of your own problems for just a moment.

So full of contentedness in fact, you don’t notice the scarlet eyes peering at you from the slat of their tent, a whirlwind of emotions cascading over them.

* * *

Astarion doesn’t hide his mild disdain for Wyll, or anyone to be fair, to begin with, but the following morning he bears down on the man like an ogre. “I didn’t anticipate you being quite so light on your feet. The Blade stands at the ready, and also ready to pirouette, I suppose?”

Wyll rolls his eyes at Astarion’s quip, used to the sarcasm, but somewhat surprised at the intensity of the rogue’s grip on his arm. “Wasn’t aware I couldn’t have past times.”

“By all means feel free to entertain us with a ballet in between slaughters,” his voice hushes as you walk by, looking at the two men skeptically, “I’d just prefer if your duets didn’t happen whilst I’m trying to read.”

Wyll follows Astarion’s slightly fleeting to his retreating gaze. You’re standing behind him, out of earshot, leaning against Lae’zel’s tent while she sharpens your sword. Astarion’s stare is enough to allow him to piece everything together. “Can I give you a word of advice?”

“Only if you accept that I may ignore it entirely.”

“She’s wonderful. And she’s made her choice without giving anyone else a chance. If I were you, I wouldn’t waste it, wouldn’t kill you to get to know her.”

Wyll walks away, and Astarion is left alone again with his thoughts. Contrary to Wyll’s belief, he thinks it might actually kill him to get to know you. He’s been balancing precariously on his fight to not let himself be fully consumed by you and your grace, your goodness. You were a spoilt little thing, he was sure of that, and he had meant what he said that night by the water. It didn’t mean it hurt his chest more when your face fell. “Naive?” there was a crack in your cool, crafted facade. Genuine hurt had settled there for a moment, and something akin to disappointment. He hadn’t known how to face you since, hadn’t known how to say “I’m sorry! I’m falling for you and can’t help it and I’m terrified!”

So instead he said nothing at all, and resolved to say something later.

* * *

You had just gotten back to camp for the night, Karlach nearly giggling at the amount of gold she had stuffed in her pockets from the tollhouse. You had noticed Astarion’s eyes on you, heavy and pensive, when you had dealt with the Master of Coin, how easily you’d convinced her to simply cease to be. That was perhaps the easiest transition from nobility to rogue you had, the gift of a silver tongue and wide, batting eyes.

You changed into your camp clothes and watched Karlach throw gold pieces at an increasingly irritated Lae’zel, Gale standing nearby doing his best to keep spirits high in this eerie camp, working with whatever cured meats and cheeses you still had to attempt to make a dinner. You had changed into camp clothes and grabbed one of the books you had found in the tollmaster’s office, a shockingly smutty romance novel that had to be even older than you. It was quiet in the corner you found, somewhere even Halsin’s booming laugh had faded into quiet background noise. You tried to not think about your surroundings, about your increasing frustration with Astarion, or the odd way his gaze had hung on you all day. 

“I’m always impressed by that tongue of yours, petal.” The vampire’s voice pulled you from your thoughts, and he settled beside you on the ground, arms behind him as he reclined easily next to you.

You rolled your eyes at the innuendo, and the pet name. “Yet you’ve been leaving me and my tongue to our thoughts the past few days.” You huffed, flipping the book to the next page, though not really reading any of it 

If Astarion could blush, he looked as if he would. “We’ve been a bit busy darling. I’ve been…strategizing.”

“Strategizing?”

“Precisely.”

The quiet overtook the two of you. After being so distant, if he didn’t want to come to you, then so be it. You could not—would not–crack first. He could not even begin to know the bubbling furnace of your feelings, or you’d be positively done for.

“How old are you?”

His question strikes you, strikes you enough that you set the book off to the side and face him. “At what point did you start to ask me questions?”

“When I realized I had done something to anger my favorite companion,” his fingers reach out and trace small patterns on your skin. “How old are you?”

“Ninety.” Your voice moves to a whisper at the end of the word, and his eyebrows quirk.

“Only ninety and yet alone. And Balduran?”

“Yes, but I haven’t lived there since I was seventy five.”

“Something happened,” he rocks upward, now sitting nearer to you. “You weren’t supposed to be like this.”

“Perhaps that’s why I’m so naive.” It comes out more bitter than you meant, but oh well. He deserved it.

“Naive wasn’t the right word,” he looks like he’s fighting himself to turn out the next sentence. “I didn’t mean to offend.”

You smile softly, laying a hand on top of his. “I don’t know if I believe that, but I appreciate the apology.”

He grins, his deep set smile lines settling in your favorite way. “Tell me about your childhood.”

You shrug, “There’s not much to say. I was an only child, an only daughter. I used to play the lyre, learn languages, paint–”

“You come from nobility.”

“I sort of thought it was obvious,” you shrug and tap your knee against his, “I wasn’t supposed to be out in the middle of a campground, much less learning the ways of a rogue.”

“What were you supposed to be?”

“A wife, I guess.”

“And while I’m sure suitors everywhere are devastated, I much prefer my rogue.”

My. You don’t say anything and neither does he. You let the word hang there, testing to see if he reaches back to grab it, but he doesn’t. It gets quiet for a moment after that, and you can see him spinning the illusion in his head. You, swathed in organza, spinning around a marble ballroom, entertaining suitors. 

“Is that why you danced with Wyll?”

“Ah,” you smile and rest your head on his shoulder. You love these fleeting moments of intimacy, where you can both pretend to be nothing more than lovers on an adventure. “So this was spurred by jealousy?”

“As if I have anything to be jealous over Wyll. He wishes he looked half as good as me.” His words lack their normal bite, and he turns his head softly, so he’s speaking quietly, just to you. “But perhaps in the future you’d let me take you for a spin.”

You press your hand against his on the ground. “You need only ask.”

“I’ll… keep that in mind.”

There’s so much more you both want to say, confessions on the precipice of both your minds, but you say nothing. You idle together a touch longer, hands resting against each other, pretending neither of you can get hurt, envisioning a world where it’s him spinning you across the dance floor in a world where you could have each other.

#astarion x reader #astarion #baldurs gate 3 #astarion x tav #astarion bg3 #astarion ancunin #astarion romance

[heyclickadee]

I understand that people are going to cope how they are going to cope, and trying to find meaning in the handling of Tech in season three is part of that, but it’s also okay to criticize the show.

I like a good character death. Tech’s departure was not that. My issue is not that he’s presumed dead, my issue is that it and the handling of it is nonsense. So (I once again get very negative about my favorite show under the cut):

1. When you kill off a main character, you really have to kill them off. How you do so can vary from story to story, but you really have to do four things:

One, you need a good reason to kill them off in the first place. (“Stakes” is not a good reason. A secondary character, sure, but not a main one. More on that in a minute.)

Two, you need to make it perfectly clear that the character is, in fact, dead.

Three, you need to show the other characters processing and accepting that death. This is important because doing so will allow the audience to do the same and let the character go. This is especially important if you’re writing for a young audience.

Four, you need to make it explicitly clear that the character cannot come back. This is especially true in sci fi or fantasy. Especially if you’re the Character Resurrection franchise.

And guess what the show didn’t do?

Any of that. Any of it. What it did instead was ambiguously remove Tech from the story (uniquely in a show that loves making us watch characters die on screen; last time we saw Tech for sure he was alive), never gave a good reason for doing so in or out of the show, never showed us any character working through the impact of his loss (even though there was ample opportunity for Omega, especially, to do so), and ripped the “could he come back?” box wide open by parading CX-2 in front of our faces. It is never, at any point, handled like an actual main character death. It’s handled as a plot point from which the narrative moves fairly quickly, and treated by all parties as an absence. By all the rules of storytelling, Tech isn’t dead. He’s just ambiguously gone. And that means the writing team did a terrible job if what they wanted to do was kill him off. We should not be debating this after the show has ended if he’s actually dead.

2. I understand why some fans are trying to find meaning in losing Tech. I am not, because that meaning is not offered by the text itself. And, if the plan was to never bring him back, it should have been.

We are not, for example, offered a lesson about how not everyone comes home from the war. In order for that to have been the case, we would have needed to see someone, probably Omega, working through that. We would have needed to see her refusing to accept that Tech is gone—like we do in Plan 99, by the way—and slowly coming to terms with the idea that her brother isn’t coming home. But we don’t get that, not even as subtext.

Something else we could have gotten that would have worked with all the little visual reminders of Tech, empty chairs, name-drops, and even the CX-2 leading? The batch being so haunted by losing Tech and not really knowing what happened to him for sure that they start seeing him everywhere. But for that to work we would have needed, again, to see that as an explicit subplot where someone, probably Omega, again, gets really invested in the signs that Tech is coming back and even starts assuming that CX-2 is him, only to realize that she’s seeing what she wants to see and having to accept that Tech isn’t coming back, but that she can still keep Tech’s memory alive by following in his footsteps. That’s something you can kind of project onto what we’re given in the epilogue, but you do have to project it, because it’s entirely absent from the rest of the show.

As is, Tech’s sacrifice isn’t given any weight. From a narrative perspective, it was an incredibly contrived set of circumstances that accomplished nothing except punting Tech off a train, and gave Tech no choice but to remove himself from the story—exit, stage down. Losing Tech doesn’t, even sub-textually, serve as anyone’s motivation. It does nothing to move the plot or anyone’s character development forward. The primary motivators of season three were Omega’s kidnapping, Crosshair’s PTSD, and Hemlock needing to get Omega back.

Tech’s absence does nothing to move anything forward and only really serves to slow the plot down and make the others struggle to do anything because he’s not there to carry the team like he did in the first two seasons—and nothing about that would have played out any differently if Tech spent the season in a coma in a bacta tank. The only part of Tech’s sacrifice that has meaning is that he loved his family enough to offer it. And that is profound, but that’s not something that would be negated by a return because the love and the offer remain. As for his presumed death? His return couldn’t have taken meaning away from that, because the show never gave it any meaning in the first place.

And no, Tech “dying” isn’t something I have to accept. Tech isn’t a real person, he’s an idea, and an idea that didn’t come to fruition. I can point out the ways the handling of his departure didn’t work all day if I want.

3. CX-Tech was not an overly online theory. I need people to understand this. It was an assumption made by most of the casual audience. My sister, who has no contact with the fandom and doesn’t like me discussing the show at all until she’s seen it, assumed he was Tech. My brother-in-law, who was a die-hard Tech-has-to-be-dead-shut-up guy for the entire hiatus and the first half of season three, was convinced he was Tech. Every kid I’ve spoken to who watched the show thought he was Tech and is deeply confused that he got speared like that. My brother, who doesn’t even watch the show but who does walk by when I’m watching it sometimes, thought he was Tech. You can’t get more casual and away from the fandom than that.

The thing is, the answer we get isn’t that he’s not Tech. It’s, “We’re not telling.” Which means that as it currently stands, a season-and-a-half of CX buildup amounted to a five minute boss fight and a non-answer. That’s…not something that works! That’s atrocious writing if that was the whole sum of their intent all along.

And you can say, well, that was a clever misdirect! Plot twist! Except, one, misdirects and twists only work if the real answer is more satisfying than the false one, otherwise it just falls flat. Two, if it was a misdirect, it’s not one the creative team is willing to own. No one will touch the Tech-CX-2 parallels with a twenty-foot pole, except the Kiners, who have incredibly meaningful explanations for every musical choice but then say shit like, “that chord just sounds good in brass” about Battle of the Snipers (…before going on to say that the four note lose motif from “Plan 99” is Tech’s leitmotif…which is also all over Battle of the Snipers…and is only there according because the batch is divided in that scene, a scene in which Crosshair’s leitmotif is entirely absent even though he’s just supposed to be fighting his own dark side represented by a guy who’s totally not Tech. Sure. I’m going to go eat drywall.) Because acknowledging that and saying that was supposed to be Tech will just make the audience angrier, and they may not even be allowed to do so, and saying that it is Tech—you can understand why they can’t do that, right? The implications are horrific. But that horrific implication is probably what at least some of the casual audience who will never interact with the fandom or a single interview is going to walk away with.

4. The thing that bothers me most about all of this is the combined toxicity of the fandom and the leading from the marketing and social media. Part of the fandom saying that there were never any signs Tech could have survived (in Star Wars, no less) is starting to feel like gaslighting; and while I don’t think there was any malice in the leading in the marketing and social media—I’m even willing to give a tiny bit of leeway for the creative team maybe knowing something we don’t yet—it was handled badly, expectations for this season should have been set early and clearly, and as of right now it all feels like an incredibly cruel prank at autistic fans expense, whatever the intent may have been or may still be.

5. And finally, here’s the thing: I’m willing to give the writers a bit of leeway on this. I’m willing to grant that some choices may have been out of their hands for unknown reasons. I’m even willing to say that maybe they’re not really done with this story yet, that The Bad Batch could just be the first chapter of a longer show that was split up for stupid business reasons, and that the finale is the way it is because they had to have an ending of sorts without actually resolving anything. I’m willing to grant a lot of grace there. In fact, I actually think there’s a very good chance we’ll still get Tech back alive in canon, and sooner than later, if only because no one (not even the voice actors) seems happy about this, most fans are coping but disappointed at best, the creative team got asked about Tech non-stop for a solid year and a half, and the writers don’t seem at all committed. We know from the rest of the show that they know how to definitively kill a guy, and, frankly, Tech in the first two seasons comes across as something of a writer favorite. They like using him!

But whatever I’m hoping or suspecting, and whatever leeway I’m willing to grant the creative team here, the final product is all we have right now. And I am going to criticize that final product for badly handling a (presumed) character death and straight up breaking the central conceit of the show in doing so.

#the bad batch #one thing I will say #is that if I knew for sure #that ‘the cavalry has arrived’ was simply a midpoint #not really a series finale in the writers’ heads but just a season finale #and that this story was going to continue but now with more focus on Rex and Echo #with Tech as the bridge between the two series #I would not be nearly as harsh about the finale as I am #it doesn’t resolve anything it simply stops #because it had to end

[zel-zo]

Hey so you know how in the Izuru-Fuyuhiko conversation, Izuru assumes Fuyuhiko intends to use Izuru for his talents? And Fuyuhiko refutes that like right away. Based on the recent art you made, do you have any thoughts on Izuru making himself useful (as a meat shield apparently) anyway? Izuru usefulness complex vs. Fuyuhiko 'people arent tools' complex or something like that? Sorry if this is a strange ask to get out of the blue haha I am interested in the narrative.

Ok so this is a FANTASTIC question and it took all my restraint not to send back an entire essay lmao💛💛💛 (correction^ I wrote 544 words of this so, maybe a LITTLE bit of an essay)

So, here are my thoughts on Izuru and Fuyuhiko's potential relationship in DRS:US:

I feel like the reason that Izuru may in fact stay with Fuyuhiko in this scenario (I mean, he outright says that if he were told to be free without orders he would probably just disappear overseas and cut contact,) is Fuyuhuko’s resolve not to use Izuru for his talents. I think that, in one way or another, this wont sit right with Izuru, who can easily reason out the fact that he’s a passive force until acted upon, and if acted upon (or used) for the good of humanity, that would have an overall better net benefit to the world than valuing his independence and letting his talents go to waste. As little as Izuru seems to care about anything, the thought process behind letting him do whatever he wants and not like, idk, make him cure cancer, is an absolutely atrocious error in judgement and has to be the fault of some under-developed moral code of Fuyuhuko’s. I think this intrigue is part of why Izuru would want to stay with Fuyuhuko: to see how long it will take for Fuyu, given ample opportunity, to abandon his personal code and start using Izuru (weather for humanity’s benefit or his own).

Note: I also think this is why Izuru would “make himself useful” (like the meat shield incident). By showing how much he could benefit Fuyuhiko when his talents are used, he’s subtly testing his resolve to keep refraining from doing so.

On the FLIP side we have Fuyuhiko, who’s honestly got a point. He’s definitely not thinking of it in the same big moral strokes that Izuru is, but he is thinking of the basic gist of it: What should you value more, a person’s freedom or the good they can do? In his (learned) opinion, the value a person’s life has and the potential they have for good aren’t exclusive, but that person needs to do the good on their own for it to have meaning. His relationship with Peko comes to mind hard here as someone who has been given a role and carried it out perfectly, denying their own free will in the process. Fuyu doesn’t go through the same lesson in the same way as DR2, but it’s clear that he’s coming to similar conclusions about valuing Peko’s free will in their DRUS interactions. I feel like, similarly, Fuyu would just want Izuru to start giving a damn about being used by people and stop treating himself like a means to an end.

So, does this turn into a genuine friendship? Something more?... Maybe??? I see a lot of interpretations of Izuru’s character were he’s an unfeeling machine, which I personally really dislike. I mean, the man has enough emotion to be bored by being unable to be surprised by anything anymore. He does Cry, even if he doesn’t know why. In my eyes, Izuru is mentally incredibly developed, but emotionally underdeveloped because of his emphasis on learning and usefulness since his ‘creation’. So, these two’s relationship is both ambiguous and up for interpretation, but I do think it has room for Izuru to come to understand Fuyuhuko’s thinking and maybe even start caring for him eventually. Honestly it’s all up to your personal interpretation of Izuru’s character!

But yea, those are just my thoughts! Let me know Your own interpretation!! I love these characters and always wanna hear other people's thoughts on them!!! 💛

#fuyuhiko kuzuryu #sdr2 #drsusc #danganronpa s ultimate summer camp #izuru kamukura #Ask #Ask zel-zo #zel-zo #danganronpa #spoilers #possible spoilers #anon #izuru kamakura x fuyuhiko kuzuryu #Feel like i have to tag this every time I post about these two but INTERPRET HOW YOU WANT!!! #Ship or no ship or generally abiguous #We stan all kinds of relationships in this household #I need to see more people talking about these two so feel free to flood my ask or the notes with your own thoughts

[gallavichthings]

Gallavich Things Events Calendar

Hello, lovelies!

The poll I made last week isn't closed yet, but it's clear to see where it's heading. Therefore, and to ease everyone's anxiety, here's the calendar with the events this blog will be hosting FOR THE NEXT YEAR (with more details about each event after the cut):

Sep./23

1st or 2nd week: guidelines and prompts for the Kinktober will be posted.

Oct./23

Kinktober

Nov./23

1st or 2nd week: guidelines for the Masquerade posted/sign-ups open

Dec./23

1st week: sign-ups for the Masquerade close

2nd week (exact day TBD): Masquerade

also 2nd week: guidelines for the gift exchange posted and sign-ups open

Jan./24

2nd week: Deadline to send guesses about the Masquerade (possibly extended if there's a large number of fics);

also 2nd week: Sign-ups close for the gift exchange and prompts are posted

Feb./24

14th: gift exchange (possibly taking over more days, depending on the number of participants)

Mar./24

My birthday lol; jk, we rest. We rest, ok? And you can participate on other events posted by other blogs. But if you want to send me birthday gifts, I'll accept. XD

Apr./24

Spring cleaning again??? Or we rest some more, idk.

May/24

Gallavich Week themes revealed

Jun./24

2nd or 3rd week: Gallavich Week

Jul./24

We rest again? Go outside? Enjoy the summer?

Aug./24

A.U.gust again? Rinse & repeat?

And now for more details:

About the Kinktober, I probably won't be doing a theme per day because I feel like that might be tiring. Also, we just did that for A.U.gust and I saw another Gallavich blog posting something like that for September, so I figured we give people a bit more freedom this time around. I'm thinking of either just a list of prompts that you can post whenever, or a bingo, or one ample/general theme per week... But I'm open to suggestions.

About the Masquerade: Yes, I know most people voted to have it along the Kinktober, but there was also a quite significant amount of people who said they'd rather have it after it. I figured the people who voted to have it alongside Kinktober would still participate it if I had it later, but the opposite was likely not true, so I figured this was better. Also, I will be requesting sign-ups, but they're just so I can organize everything, so the deadline will be quite close to the posting day. Posting will likely be on an AO3 anonymous collection (I'll have to test that first), and the guesses will be made through a Google Form. One more thing: I think it would be nice to have fanart/videos/gifsets as the prizes (preferably about the Masquerade fics themselves), both for the person (or people) who manage to guess the most authors correctly and for the author who manages to "deceive" more people (still deciding on that, but anyway...), so if you make any of this and would like to volunteer, let me know.

About the gift exchange: it was postponed for next year for three reasons: 1) there was no set event in February, so I figured this would be cute and fit the theme of Valentine's Day - instead of secret Santas, you'll have secret admirers ;) ; 2) it gives people more time to participate, since most other fandoms have their gift exchange events at the end of the year; 3) it leaves the Masquerade at the end of the year, which is an event with lower stakes (no one is expecting people to produce anything, so it's easier to cancel their participation if something happens). I reserved actual Valentine's Day for it, but I believe it'll actually happen throughout the week. The format will be the same as in the last couple of years, with participants picking the prompts they'd like to fulfill.

I assumed we'll be doing A.U.gust again next year, but that's not set in stone. Spring Cleaning is also a possible event, but we'll see. Gallavich Week will be happening, as always.

I hope this has helped! If you have any questions,suggestions or comments at all, feel free to send me an ask.

#Gallavich #events #mod post #Shameless US #Shameless

[butwhatifidothis]

You know, as shallow and cheesy as Awakening's writing can get at times, the way it handles Mustafa vs 3H's handling of Edelgard are kind of interesting when compared.

Mustafa is someome that we as players know for exactly one, singular chapter. He is a commander of a troops of soldiers, and he dies the same map he is introduced in. And yet, he has become one of Awakening's most beloved NPC's - if nothing else, he is certainly rarely hated outright. And that is because in his one, singular chapter, he manages to showcase to the player how much of a genuinely good person he is; he is helpless to outright defy his orders, but inspired by Emmeryn's sacrifice he nonetheless tries to plea for Chrom to surrender and avoid bloodshed. He takes their outrage not with anger, or defensiveness, but understanding and sympathy - he knows he is in no place to ask them to surrender, but he does so for the slightest chance of avoiding a fight ultimately he had no power to stop. And after the battle begins and his men start becoming despondent, he loudly tells them that should they want to flee the battle he will take any blame off of their shoulders for doing so. But his men stand by him regardless because they don't want to abandon him, and when Mustafa is killed his dying words are to please spare his men.

In just one chapter, Awakening managed to pull at the players' hearts by going out of its way to show us the kind heart of Mustafa, before forcing our hand in killing him, all while one of the most melancholic tracks of the game plays in the background, further cementing how tragic the situation at hand is for all involved. Most players recall it as one of the most impactful and emotional moments of the entire game.

In contrast to that - and let's assume that we're talking about strictly SS - you have half of the entire route's length having Edelgard by your side directly. As Byleth, you the player can directly speak to and support with her, and you see her perspective on the events of the story. And throughout this time, Edelgard shows herself again and again to be someone of poor character; she admits to being willing to sacrifice her men right after Lonato, Byleth eventually finds out that she helped kidnap Flayn, and that she was somehow complicit with Remire, she graverobbed a holy site and tried to kill Byleth and her "friends" with an army and Demonic Beasts.

And this only includes stuff that Byleth, as a character, finds out throughout the story. They don't know that Edelgard only let them talk with her (aka the player only gains her supports) once they gain the Sword of the Creator, for the explicit reason that she wanted to use them. They don't know that Edelgard didn't just waltz in after Remire randomly, but that she knew it was going to happen and did nothing to stop it. And this only includes stuff in pre-timeskip; they don't see her continue to use Demonic Beasts, or hide behind her citizens, or keep Rhea as a hostage so that she can keep using TWS's help.

And I look at these two characters and am kinda lowkey astonished at how different their writing is. When Mustafa's men grow angry at the soldiers who are shaking in their resolve to fight for Mustafa, I'm on the verge of tears because I know that Mustafa does not deserve death. When Seteth talks about how Edelgard can't be that bad of a ruler because her men follow her, I can't help but roll my eyes. When Henry mentions Mustafa off-handedly in a support chain, I get so sad because the only way to speak about Mustafa at that point is in the past tense. When I talk to characters in the explore sections and I hear them talk about feeling bad about Edelgard dying, I just mash through their babbling.

Because I am given ample reason to understand why characters would like, respect, and mourn for Mustafa. He is kind-hearted, self-sacrificial should it possibly save the lives of others, and does everything he can to make the lives of those around him better. In the collective fuckin' 10 minutes of screentime he has, he shows a quality of character that does nothing but suggest that he was a damn fine person thrown into an impossibly unfortunate circumstance.

But with Edelgard, everything I see of her only tells me that she is selfish, self-centered, and uncaring for the lives around her should they inconvenience her. Why would any character like, respect, or mourn for her, after seeing everything she's done? Even going under the assumption that the players gets all of her supports to the max as they are available in pre-timeskip; nothing, in any support chain, could ever dream of usurping her actions towards everyone. In both a "all of her friends" sense, and especially in a "all of Fodlan" sense. So when I see characters go out of their way to make sure the player knows how swell Edelgard is, I am simply unable to believe that anyone would ever genuinely believe that about her. Not when themselves, their loved ones, and their homelands (for Kingdom/Alliance students) are all being endangered by Edelgard's active, willful actions that she chose to make.

Which itself is another huge thing that makes it so hard to believe anyone in-game would believe in her outside of contrived writing. She's not someone forced to do what she does against all of her wishes, like Mustafa; she is the one with all of the power of 1/3 of Fodlan's political landscape and half of its territorial one. She is the one to spearhead and instigate the war - that is one of explicit conquest anyway, not for any altruistic purpose. Why would anyone cry and snivel and piss themselves over the fact that the person who had the power to make them suffer and did make them suffer lost? Why are they pretending that she's just some poor damsel whose path was so lonely, and not the conquering Emperor that she is and admits to being?

Soooo... yeah lmao. I just found that pretty interesting

#anti edelgard #anti-edelgard #edelgard critical #edelgard discourse #just to be safe #like. I can SEE why Mustafa's men are willing to fight an unwinnable battle for him. why they would die for him #i have NO clue why the hell Ladislava is so loyal to Edelgard - why anyone other than Hubert would ever be GENUINELY loyal to her #MAYBE as a player looking in you can find good in Edelgard but the characters themselves? most don't have that knowledge #and so all most of them have going for them is ''girly who lied to them about colluding with terrorists for a year & tried to murder them'' #and THEN they'd have ''girly who violently invaded my homeland with terrorists and mutated humans'' once the war starts #which y'know call me crazy but i don't think She Was Nice To Me Once In High School is enough to offset that image painted by her actions

[hylianassassin]

A Hot Take on Gerudo Survival Skills

I'm not going to rant and rave about the majority of the discord surrounding Tears of the Kingdom when it comes to Ganondorf vs Hyrule. There are more than enough posts circulating about that out there by plenty of good and intelligent folks, and I've already offered my thoughts on it. I encourage folks to go check those out.

What I'm tired of seeing is the argument that the Gerudo have little to nothing to survive on in the desert. This is one of the most badass and longest enduring tribes in all of Zelda and yet for some odd reason folks seem to insist that they're somehow unable to exploit the incredible amount of resources available to them. I've played desert survival challenges in BotW where I exist solely within the Gerudo area for extended periods of time, and if you know what you're doing its actually quite easy.

Anyone who has spent ample time around the Gerudo region in either of these games knows just how incredibly abundant food is in the Gerudo Highlands. There is a ton of large game up there that is easy to bring down with a single headshot from a Gerudo bow. Gerudo bows are sniper bows and are far from useless. Are we going to argue that these very strong and powerful ladies can't do something as simple as draw one of the bows of their own making, or know how to track prey through the snow? One might argue that we never see a Gerudo in the Highlands or in possession of clothing warm enough to survive up there, but I would counter with the fact that the ice house exists and it's clearly stated that the ice is harvested and brought down from the Highlands. This argument is invalid.

Additionally, the desert itself is abound in fruits and poultry ripe for the harvesting. And obviously it's done to such efficiency that there is an ample enough supply to make a profit in selling these items at market, to both Gerudo and Hylians alike. There is obviously enough surplus of hydro melons that there is a Gerudo NPC that devours them to such excess as to clog up one of the fountains in Gerudo Town.

And while we're on the topic, the Gerudo clearly have an ample enough water supply that they can run fountains constantly, all through their town. So clearly they're not struggling there.

Additionally still, Moldugas exist and are shockingly common. Yes, they're big, powerful and dangerous, but if one little twink with enough bomb arrows can kill one then are you going to tell me that this tribe of intelligent, hearty, and highly trained women cannot organize a Molduga hunt with relative ease?

Various Native American groups were able to thrive on only one or two bison hunts a year. It was dangerous, extremely, but they had it down to a science. You're going to tell me that the Gerudo are incapable of such coordination? Honestly it could even explain and deepen their connection to the sand seals. These lovely creatures can carry a few skilled huntresses through a Molduga's territory to flush it out, and with more than one target the Molduga wouldn't know which one to chase. Throw in archers who are on the rocks or ruins and a Molduga dinner is practically guaranteed. And let's not forget that with typical Moldugas, three blasts from Urbosa's fury is more than enough to bring it down. Given that Riju also possesses lightning magic, and the fact that there is a sage in Rauru's time who also controls lightning, I think we can safely assume that the ability is common enough that it can be relied upon. It wouldn't take anything for the chief to organize a Molduga hunt and ride proudly out there with her sisters to feed the tribe for a good while.

So yes, I'm not saying there aren't issues with Totk's plot or its handling of Ganondorf, but I'm tired of seeing people parrot this idea that the Gerudo are struggling to survive when they're more than capable of doing so. They were doing it long before Ganondorf, and they've done it long after him too. So please, stop using this reasoning to justify Ganondorf outright murdering someone in cold blood just to obtain their Zonai stone. It just doesn't work.

And as a side note, there is clearly a demarcation within the tribe at the time of Totk Ganondorf's reign due to how the Gerudo sage reacts to hearing that he's overcome the last free (yes that's the word they use) Gerudo villages. From what is shown, Ganondorf and his followers are an extremist terrorist group within the tribe.

Again, I'm not saying that there aren't problems with his motivations (and I really hate the greenish skin tone), but he is clearly not doing what he does for the benefit of his tribe. He might think he is, but he isn't. And there are much better arguments that could be made than just, oh the Gerudo are struggling to survive and Hyrule is full and fertile and blah blah blah. And it isn't like Rauru is trying to withhold Hyrule's bounty or otherwise fuck over the Gerudo. It's even stated that he's sent multiple invitations to them to join up with the Hyrulean tribes and share the bounty.

I'm going to repeat myself yet again: stop treating the Gerudo as incompetent and use basic survival and lack of resources to justify what Ganondorf does. It doesn't work.

Side side note: Urbosa's amiibo drops primarily meat. Interpret that as you will. And Ganondorf's legendary cursed grin when he commits said murder? That is not the smile of a sane man.

#tears of the kingdom #totk spoilers #Gerudo #Ganondorf #hot take #rant #that's enough growling out of me for one day #Mun is tired #Ganon

[leafwateraddict]

Sonic Prime theory sonce I cant stop thinking about it.

So i was rewatching Shattered (Ep1), and was looking for hints of what could have possibly happened to Amy in order for her to have been turned into a Cyborg, and I think I have a pretty good idea.

When Sonic first arrives in New Yoke, and is confronted by robots, one of them says, “stand down or be disassembled.” I’m going to assume thats just another word for “roboticize” though I doubt that term is ever going to be used in the show.

But anyways, I was looking in the background for more clues, and I notice that not a single citizen is disassembled like Rusty. And maybe it could be because the same few background character models are being used, but it seems pretty weird to me that in a city that is so dystopian, no citizens would have any physical damage from the robots that constantly threaten their lives if they (quite literally) fall out of line.

And I kept thinking, what if theres a reason for that? What if there was something so traumatizing to every citizen of New Yoke that it all struck a fear in them so strong they lost any will to fight back? What if the reason that most citizens are compliant is that they don’t want to end up like someone who wasn’t?

Basically, what im trying to get at here is… What if the Council disassembled Amy and turned her into Rusty Rose as an example?

More on this under the cut

When Sonic asks what happened to her, she tells him it was a “survival required adaptation” and it makes me think that either one of two things happened. Either she was seriously injured, or thats something that she is programmed to say in response to that question, and though I don’t doubt that as a possibility, lets consider that she’s telling the truth for a second.

If she did somehow get seriously injured, why would the Chaos council, of all people help her? Especially considering that she was more than likely a rebel in the past…

Looking back at how the council puts Sonic through several series of tests… its like they’re looking for his greatest strengths and weaknesses. And right before that Rusty said it was a “survival required adaptation, as you will soon learn.”

She actually gives him ample advice throughout most of their interaction.

Theres also a considerable pause between “It will only end badly” and “for him”?? I feel like that’s another part of it but I can’t quite figure it out..

She also outright says that the tests are life endangering when she suggests them…

Was Amy put through the same rigorous tests as Sonic was once? And if that is the case, was she seriously injured during one of the tests and then modified to fix those injuries…? Or was it the plan all along to make her this way..?

#sonic prime #sonic prime spoilers #netflix sonic prime #sonic prime theory #sonic prime netflix #sonic the hedgehog #amy rose #rusty rose

[palaceofpassion]

We Love May

Inspired by a image I helped conceive

https://twitter.com/trajectorymann/status/1604132961091063808?s=20&t=IqwtaU7O5KrPinTWH6_yUg

She could hear them, the whispers of mockery all around her.  She could see them, even if she only had one good eye, the pointed stares, the snickering.  The way they mocked her, they laughed at her.  And it wasn’t as if May didn’t know why… It was because of what she was wearing.  Upon her was a gilded dress, a shimmering red sleek one piece which was a size far too small for her.  She felt it cling to her sides, it tightly held to her meaty hips, and worst of all it hardly covered her chest.  Though the dress itself was tasteful and classy, it hardly did anything to cover her ample bosom and explosive hips. 

May had always hated her body, stockier than most huntresses and… just as voluptuous.  Her chest was the largest among her… well the largest of any woman she’d ever seen.  She’d remembered the taunted laughs, the jeers that obviously she had surgery to get attention… yet her body was all natural.  And she hated it, hated the way she had to hide herself, how the heavy set chest made life more difficult, whether it was in her day to day life or being a huntress.  

And now she hated the way that everyone stared, stared at the way she kept her arms around her chest to push them close.  To keep the… the little slips from happening.  She could feel the edge of the material tightly pressing against her sunken nipples, sliding away to expose her beneath her slinging arms every time her attention lapsed for even a moment.  Her areola, large and sensitive, were peeking out through the sides of the vertical strip that made up the dress’ chest piece.  It was… absolutely horrifying.  Yet here she was… here she was dressing like this.

And that wasn’t the only reason people mocked her, no… no her eye was gently drawn upwards, seeing for a brief moment the star of the show.  Dancing joyfully with her blonde partner was one Pyrrha Nikos, the woman smiling brightly as she wore the exact same dress that May wore now.

The shame was getting to her, because May knew that Pyrrha wore it better.  Oh!  It was the worst, everyone was assuming that she was doing it to look like Pyrrha.  That this was all intentional… and the worst part is that it was.  Though it was not a decision made by her… she had ditched the perpetrators a while ago, her instincts kicking in as her teammates had surrounded her, their gazes heavily cast upon her body.  They had coerced her into wearing this outfit, into dressing so… so unlike her.  

She hadn’t wanted to, hadn’t desired to be like this.  She hadn’t even wanted to come at all! …But here she was, easily submissed, forced to the whims of others with barely a token, whispered, stuttered phrase from her lips to defend herself that was swept aside callously without thought.  She hated how meek and unwilling she was to put up a fight.  It’s why she was bullied, why people took advantage of her all the time.  And it was just the feelings of cruelty that got to her.  She wanted to cry… wanted to hide in a hole.  But no matter where she went, eyes followed her, mocking laughter joined her.  She couldn’t blur it out, she couldn’t get it out of her head.  

She hated herself, hated what was happening.  She wanted the night to end, something to make it all go away.  

Her heart was about to explode from her chest, her mind was going to overload and her anxiety was causing her throat to close up.  She hated her teammates for making her do this.  She didn’t want them to coerce her into it.  She should leave, but even if she did, she knew that the next morning everyone would make fun of her for what she wore. But if she stayed how would that change? Would it be better to leave, make her presence easier to forget? She didn’t know!  There was no going back, no way of fixing this, why did this have to ha-

Then something changed.  “Hey, are you alright?”  

She heard the voice, ever so close to her.  She jumped, her hands for a brief moment letting go of her heavy set chest, the massive globes bouncing freely into the air, and for a split second the dress slipped.  She could feel it, the shame immediately hitting her, she knew everyone was going to laugh but then… something covered her.  

Her eyes opened wide and she noticed a jacket?  It wasn’t… her eye, the one good one, looked upwards.  Seeing a young man with deep blue eyes, and golden hair staring at her with concern.  Though she noted how he kept his gaze up, and away from her chest.  But she did notice the dust of pink on his cheeks, something that she was quickly sharing.

But… he was wearing a dress… she realized immediately that it was Pyrrha’s partner! HER dress too only his was a different color.  Her face turned a brighter shade, her hands clinging to the jacket, forcing its way around her to hide her chest, even as she held her arms in a cross pattern.  

“Wha.. why?” She squeaked, wincing at the sharp, high pitched release of noise her tight throat made. 

He seemed confused by the statement, even as she noted the fact that he himself was in a pink dress, making a spectacle of himself… then the jacket wasn’t his?  She looked around… seeing… it was the group that he was always with.  She wished she hadn’t known that… because now she was feeling self conscious.  But… but it was JNPR and RWBY.  She noticed that the jacket on Lie Ren was missing, so this must have been his.  

Though as she watched them briefly she noticed the only one who had their attention on her was Pyrrha, who instantly noticed the gaze, responding with a subtle but warm smile.  This forced May to turn back to Jaune…

“Why?  I mean… you looked like you weren’t having a good time, and I noticed you were kind of uncomfortable with uhm… ya know.”  He was at least nice enough not to mention her stupidly big breasts. Her terrible, ugly cow udders that she hated so mu- “So I borrowed Ren’s jacket… do you uh… well how about… uh follow me?”  She noted that he reached out his hand but was a bit too afraid to touch her… but she felt a strange reassurance from him, so she reached out her hand and took his into her own.  It was when he turned his attention to his friends, and got a grin from the short red-head on his team and the blonde girl on RWBY that she noted they were moving on stage.

A sudden loud boom and all attention was on the group on stage. They started to announce something, but her hearing was blurred as her mind was rushing, far too tense and strained to listen.  Blood flowed through her veins at a million miles per hour… but she noticed with a frantic look around that… no one was looking at her anymore.

It was when they moved to a more secluded area that he turned away and kept his attention on the wall with very clear intent.  “You uh… you can fix yourself.” He suggested anyway, to make it clear.  

For a brief moment she forgot that her dress had slid between her round mammaries, the thin strip doing nothing to hide her dark, tanned orbs from bouncing freely. In fact the cloth bunching up between her breasts pushed them apart just a touch, making their already monumental size even more problematic.  She blushed violently, now quickly fixing herself, “Th… thank you…”

The warmth spread across her face had yet to die down, but eventually she was able to get things under control.  It was still small… and her side boob was still blatantly on display from the side, and she didn’t like the way that it pinched against her areola… but it was a step up. 

“I’m… I’m decent…”  She lied, because she didn’t feel decent.

She still did her best to hide herself, one arm held so tightly against her chest she could feel her muscles already cramping up as she held the coat in front of her to give back to him.  

“Oh uh.”  He turned around, his face still bright as a tomato, “You can hold onto that, Ren won’t need it for the night… just uhm…”  

She wondered what he would say, hoping it wasn’t anything humiliating but accepting it probably would be.

“Are you alright?”  

That hadn’t been what came to mind, however. Her gaze jolted upwards as his inquiry of… genuine concern? Her eye watched him carefully.  Her mouth opened but closed a little, her emotions instantly all over the place as her anxiety caused her mind to descend into every possible worst scenario that could happen over the next 5 seconds.

“Sorry… I don’t know if that’s insensitive, it's just… you don’t seem to be having fun and… well you don’t seem comfortable. Like… not even close to being okay.”

She could tell there was heartfelt concern in his voice, but she wasn’t sure what to say.  She wondered where her teammates were… if they were even watching her anymore.  She shivered at the thought of their lecherous eyes upon her again.

“I…”  She thought about lying but it was pretty obvious, “No… I’m sorry I…”  She felt as if she was finally going to cry. “M’not…” She mumbled, biting her lip hard and lowering her head.

But then she felt him move closer and she flinched, immediately feeling guilty when he took a seamless step back without missing a beat.  “Hey uhm, it’s okay… May, right?”  

She nodded her head, surprised that he knew her name… she knew his but only due to his relation with Pyrrha Nikos.  She had never put much time or invested much of her recon abilities onto him… though she was a bit disappointed she hadn’t now.  

“Ye…yes, how do you…?”  

“Oh uh, we have a class together and I remembered it.”  She blinked a little trying to… right combat class.  And she remembered how well he was doing, the improvement he was making every single day.  Her stomach fell a little, though she’d never mocked him, she’d been confused as to why he’d joined.  Her teammates though?  They would openly laugh at him, and now she felt guilt by association.

“Ah… well… yes.”  She nodded, and he nodded in turn.

“Right well… Pyr and I noticed you weren’t really comfortable, and she asked me to check on you.”  Now that was perplexing, “I would have anyways, you just… you don’t seem like you were trying to stick out...”

She felt a faint stroke of fear run through her as her anxiety finished his words for him, assuming what he was about to say regardless of anything to the contrary. “No!  No no I wasn’t I wasn’t trying to imitate-”

He cut her off with a raise of his hands in a gentle soothing motion, “I know, I know, she knows too.  It was pretty obvious that you didn’t want to be dressed in… well in the dress… it’s uh, kind of small on you and...”  

She flushed again looking away, her attention falling back on stage where everyone else was now paying attention to Yang and Nora.

“No… I was…”  She couldn’t give up her team, “It was… suggested to me, to try this…”  She wasn’t exactly lying, but it was more like coercion.  They knew she wouldn’t be able to say no…

“...”  Jaune said nothing, his eyes narrowing. Despite the hostile, dangerous look forming on his face May was outright stunned to realize she didn’t feel herself shrinking away. Instead it was like the blond began to radiate a heat that pulled her in and caused the constant, invasive whispers of her anxiety to become quieter. He suddenly spoke up, and May found her attention fully gripped on his every word. “You know, I used… I was bullied a lot as a kid, and when I first got here it… it got really bad, and Pyrrha was almost in danger ‘cause of it… I know that it’s hard to stand up for yourself.”  She watched him shake in anger… but she felt it wasn’t for himself, and the heat around him grew even more calming, “I won’t tell you want to do but… if you need someone, and I know we don’t know one another but… I’m more than happy to listen.”  

It was as he finished speaking and May’s tunnel vision pulled back that she realized she was blushing with an intensity she’d never felt before, and there was a heated flutter in her chest.  It was as if she was melting under his boyish charms, there was something about him that made her feel… feel so good. Not just good, but enough.

“Tha… thank you…”  She wasn’t sure how else to respond, “I don’t know how to repay you… for all of this…”

“Well… how about a dance?”  

She blinked at his response, his question.  She was stunned into silence, her mouth hung agape.  She… she wasn’t sure… 

“Uhm… maybe a slower one?”  He responded, partially taking care of a worry she had.  “I know that you wouldn’t want to do something fast because of the uh… well…”  He tried not to say it, but even she could tell he had a hard time raising his eyes back up as he very briefly glanced down. Yet, the way he did it, and the small blush on his cheeks helped her feel… different than when someone else did, like her partner or other team members. There was no disgust that curdled in her belly, no revulsion, but something else, something warm and safe and… belonging? She nodded as the flutter in her chest grew.

“I think I would like that… if you uhm, don’t mind.  I’m not a very good dancer… I’m not exactly lithe.”  Then he smiled, and it sent her heart ablaze.

‘Oh gosh, I think I’m in love.’  May had heard of love at first glance, but this… this was different.  Maybe it was just her mixed up feelings, her twisted desires at the moment, but the fact that he was making her feel wanted, and not being a replacement did things to her and she wanted more of it. She needed it.

Jaune gave her another smile, slowly reaching out his hand, waiting for her to take it.  

She felt her heart skip a beat as she finally allowed him to touch her. The moment their fingers pressed against one another there was a sudden jolt of lightning, a course of electricity going through each and every one of her nerves.  It was as if cupid’s arrow had suddenly struck not just her heart, but every single nerve in her body at once. She was beyond redemption now, there was no saving her as she fell so utterly and completely.  Her world soared, her mind hovered above the stars as he pulled her close, waiting for the okay.  And she gave it, she gave it by pushing herself against him, blushing horrifically as he gently placed a hand behind her back. 

She felt safe, felt covered, felt right, as they began to walts quietly to themselves, with no one watching them.

No one except Pyrrha Nikos.  May glanced over as she felt a single gaze on her and her eye opened wide, watching the girl who had an obvious crush on the boy before her watch them.  But instead of being upset or angry or… anything bad Pyrrha’s look struck May’s well trained, rapid fire analysis skills as almost…

She looked approving, but not just that her posture, gaze, and facial expression conveyed naked and unabashed eagerness, support, happiness, pride, and no small amount of the same kind of heady, soul deep adoration and affection that May was currently awash in.

It was a strange feeling, that May herself was unfamiliar with.  She couldn’t begin to comprehend what was going on behind Pyrrha’s thoughts as she continued to watch the two of them enjoy themselves with a content smile.

And May was indeed enjoying herself, enveloped by the positive energy that the boy before her was suddenly bringing to her life.  She’d forgotten entirely about protecting her purity.  She, without any cloying worry as to her current attire, or her stupidly, annoyingly, massive breasts, had pushed up against him, had leaned into him and lost herself in the moment.  She was enjoying the subtle motions of their bodies as if the world only held the two of them.

She found it hard taking her eye off of him, immersed in the pleasant sensations she felt tingling her spine, down to the very last nerve in her body.

As for Pyrrha?

The champion watched with intrigue, there was a rumor that Pyrrha Nikos was a jealous woman.  That she would scorn any who so much as looked at her man, just as she had with one Weiss Schnee.  However those whispered beliefs were just that, baseless rumors.  Nothing about them had been true, just pointless noise made to excite.  She didn’t despite Weiss for holding her beau’s affection.

Pyrrha disliked the white haired woman for her pretentious attitude, for the disdain she treated Jaune with while enjoying the company of a simple flirt like Neptune.  She didn’t expect Weiss to understand what she felt for Jaune, or why she saw in him what she did, but it rankled her that his efforts were wasted.  

You see, Pyrrha had a giving nature.  She was willing to allow Jaune to pursue what he felt was right, what he wanted even, to continue going after Weiss because it was what he enjoyed.  She was used to giving up things for the happiness of others, her career was based on that very premise.

Even with Jaune, she was willing to see him happy with someone else, but at the same time she just knew no one else would see him as she did. No one else saw Jaune’s real self like she did, and thus nobody could love him quite like she could.  

Until now at least.  The more the Champion watched, the more she noticed how meek and soft May Zedong was around her Jaune.  The subtle looks she gave him, the soft little tremors that went through her every time Jaune couldn’t resist a tiny glance at her downright sinful body; reactions anyone without a keen eye would fail to notice.  It was all there, all that and a recognition that Pyrrha had with herself.  She was just like her it would seem, understanding what made the silly boy all that more important.

So she smiled, lips curling warmly and contently, her conversation with Jaune still fresh in her mind.

The little talk they had about how he knew that Weiss wasn’t for him, that he’d set himself up for failure on purpose.  That everything he had hoped for was nothing more than a way to keep himself down.  The poor boy and his self-esteem.  Pyrrha knew she would have to take care of that soon.  But then he had looked at her, had held her close, and given her a gaze that she had so dearly wanted.  It was a nearly unspoken conversation, but the two had finally settled their feelings, feelings that he had told her he’d kept down for her sake. 

The silly man, thinking that she would think less of him if she saw him fumble, unsure of himself. The blond was like the sun to her, he might try and hide his flickers and flare ups, but to her he was resplendent in his majesty, beautiful in his endless, comforting warmth.

Then, they’d noticed May. Almost at the same time they noticed the meekness, the way she was afraid of everyone.  Pyrrha knew how cruel people could be, could see that she was put up to attending the dance; she looked so horribly out of place and uncomfortable. They extrapolated that she was being bullied, her memories of Jaune earlier this year, not being able to help him, came back to bite her.  She couldn’t let it stand, and she could see it was the same for Jaune, the concern in his eyes as he watched the slightly darker skinned girl stumble ever closer to a full breakdown.

She knew now, watching the two of them dance, that it was a good idea the two had acted.  

As she drank in the sight of them there was something else that was inside of her, a deep burning feeling she kept hidden. Pyrrha knew her reputation, she paid people to keep an eye on it after all, back when she was a full time Champion. She often came off as rather unromantic or non-sexual.  But the truth was dangerously the opposite, she was quite the pervert.  She would pretend not to notice Jaune’s slack clothing, or the tent that formed in the middle of the night in his blankets.  She would pretend that his underwear going missing was some freak accident she knew nothing about, not a single detail.  

She would also pretend to not notice the thick heavy scent coming from their restroom… the wafting masculine musk that radiated from the shower.  She knew what it was, it was a smell she recognized deeply from her experience with Jaune’s clothing… 

He was a young man after all, surrounded by beautiful women, and Ren - who was one skirt away from being a femboy.  She couldn’t blame him… it was why he took so long in the shower.  She knew that Nora and Ren knew too, the dazed and hazy looks they would have in their eyes whenever they had to use it after him, coming out after being drenched in his pungent aromas when they finished their own showers.  

Pyrrha Nikos LOVED all of it.  She loved it to the very core.  So… she… she had a more perverse side to her, a dark side.  She… while she wouldn’t admit it, loved power.  Loved holding herself over others, not in a cruel way, no, she knew the way she held herself over others in that they looked at her as if she was an alluring queen.  Weiss was perhaps the most blatant example.  The girl's thirst was so easy to recognize that Pyrrha couldn’t help but purposely tease her, because she knew Weiss would never get it.

But May?  Oh this girl, she was such a cute little thing, like a mouse trapped around predators… and it just sent her twisted feelings ablaze.  She wanted to do so many things to her from the very first moment she laid her eyes on her.  And seeing her falling right into Pyrrha’s trap, falling head over heels and becoming enamored with her Jaune?  Well… she wasn’t sure she’d be able to hold back now~

But, as she watched the two of them continue to dance, she decided perhaps giving them a bit more time was for the better.

And May was glad she did.

The young woman was having the time of her life, before either of them knew it they were in a full swing.  The music had become far more pronounced, a waltz if you would.  Though May had never danced before, she was light upon her feet, as if gliding off the ground with her entire heart set on keeping an eye on the boy before her.  She felt something building inside of her, that little chime from earlier getting progressively stronger.

And despite the dusted red upon his cheeks, he did his level best to keep his attention fully on her.  Even as her ample bosom wiggled freely in the air.  She simply thanked the ones above that no one else could see her… yet for some reason, every time his eyes settled upon her chest, the swaying motion slowly pushed them out of their containment, the more excitement that buzzed inside of her.  

She could tell that he was enjoying the view, despite usually keeping her eye level up, she would sometimes take a glance downwards and even though he was garbed in a short skirt like dress, she could tell that something big and heavy was keeping them aloft.

Her insides burned, excitement building, and lust steadily growing.  It was an unfamiliar feeling that tingled her fancy.  Her heart was pounding thoroughly, both in a mixture of excitement and the buzz formed from the fast movements, from the exercise that she was currently going through.

She could hardly care that her clothing was coming undone, and though she felt her dress slightly slip, she was enjoying herself too much to stop.  But it was only when he pulled her close, pressing her tightly against him that she felt the brush of his chest up against her bare nipples, her soft inner dipped buds through their heightened sensitivity, that she was sent for a wild trip.  

She hadn’t realized just how easily it was for her to be pushed through a forced orgasm.  One that had slowly been building from the very moment he held her hand.  Her mind began to fritz, her sense of smell taking in his pungent aroma with greedy little gasps. It was surely something that wafted around him that aided in her body's sudden urge to manifest its latent lust.  She could feel her ovaries, those tiny little things she never thought she would ever use, spring to life.  

She felt the tremors run through her body, her senses heightening to their max as every nerve went crazy.  Her heart pounded away, violently brushing inside of her.  Her eye rolled to the back of her head, sweat running down her head, matting her hair to her face.  Her body was ablaze with lustful intent as her form nearly gave way.  She wasn’t sure what it was that was driving her insane, whether it was one thing or just all of him.

She could see his eyes opening wide as he held her tighter to make sure she wouldn’t fall.  But he could tell what was happening, she knew he could, what with the thick thing that pushed up against her belly.  

Whatever underwear he was wearing must have not been enough to hide it, even through the dress she could tell that it must have been an impressive thing.  

Her mind hazed, vaguely she could hear him call her name, but then she felt something or someone else grab her.  After that she couldn’t remember much, just that she was being dragged away.

Pyrrha saw it, she saw it!  May was just like her.  She wasn’t sure what it was that set her off, the touch, the smell, or just Jaune in general.  But like a pressure valve overloading, May was going through a powerful orgasm that Pyrrha herself had experienced multiple times.

She wasn’t going to let this chance slip between her fingers.  She could see the arousal in Jaune himself, though he was the perfect gentleman, what was happening before her was the perfect storm and she wasn’t going to give it up.  She lunged forward without thinking twice, her hands extended clutching the two of them.  She would text Nora and Ren later, but no one would be bothering them tonight.  

May didn’t notice the gazes of her teammates, confused and out of luck, watching as she was whisked away by a redhead she had no chance of approaching.

May didn’t know what happened next, from the time Pyrrha had grabbed her, which she at the time hadn’t realized who it was, to the point where she was on her back.  

The next thing she remembered was the sound of moans; lustful, throaty sounds.  Combined with the smacking of flesh, two bodies colliding, the smell of sex, overpowering and mind numbing in its intensity.  The heat of two bodies, right next to her bending into one another, their words mixed with cries of ecstasy.  

Though she felt it lasted a brief scant seconds, she had been mostly brought down for hours.  Time had passed without her realizing it, and her senses were only back when she herself was captured by the vice of pleasure.  

She was only able to think properly, sort of, when she felt her body being pushed back and forth.  Her chest bounced, slapping against her belly as something huge pushed itself inside of her.  She gripped her fingers tightly against hands holding onto her, her eye shut tight as pleasure spiked through her body while that thing pushed into her womb.  

Her virginity had been snatched away, and she hadn’t the foggiest idea of what had done it.  Though she realized oh so quickly that the blonde boy was in front of her, practically looming atop of her.  He was inside of her, his cock stretched her wider than she thought her body capable of.  The first thing to have ever found its way inside of her pussy other than her fingers.  And yet she didn’t feel a speck of pain.

All she could feel was him, his wide girth opening her, every vein that pulsed as he furiously pounded away at her.  The knock of his knob up against her cervix, spiking her with lustful intent.  If this had been anyone else she would have cried, or fought back, but for him? For him she found herself growing submissive, willing, and reciprocative.

The way he looked at her added to the allure of giving in, he was eyeing her with adoration, love, lust, so many things mixed in together.  He didn’t shy away from her sinfully ugly body, the stupidly large curves, the ludicrously fertile form of hers.  He embraced her everything, the way he kept his fingers locked down into hers and pinned her… the way he wanted to show her that she was his, it was… it was everything she could want.

May knew, deep down, that she was someone who needed firm hands in her life, she was… utterly submissive to the world around her.  She just hadn’t found the person that could make her feel like she needed to, like she was supposed to be this way. Hadn’t felt safe to let herself fall with anyone because she could never be sure she would be caught.

But here it was, here he was, pinning her down so she couldn’t move, her legs suspended upwards by his thighs as he knelt in front of her pushing and rocking his hips so their bodies slapped together with loud sounds of clapping flesh.  

She could feel him distending her belly, his big fat juicy cock pushing her around, outright bullying her insides.  Her single good eye was filled with a heart shaped formation, absolutely enamored by the man above her.

But she realized that her head was being held aloft.  Only then did she understand that someone had her on their lap, that they had their hands gently pushed on her head, brushing her softly.

“That’s a good girl~  You’re such a beautiful girl~  You’re ours, you’re our beautiful wall flower.”  

It was Pyrrha Nikos, the champion woman, her body glistening with sweat.  The visage upon her face practically glowing, as if she had attained a sense of enlightenment.  But if what was happening to her had already happened to Pyrrha, which she was sure it had, then she understood why the woman looked that way.  

And it was the second time tonight that someone made May feel wanted, “Hwa?”  She was still confused, unsure of everything, but she clung to every word.

“You’re such a good girl~”  Pyrrha brushed her hair aside, leaning down and gently kissing her upon her lips.  Her first kiss, quickly snatched away by the gentle brush with Pyrrha Nikos herself.  

May understood, she really did now, that she was their pet, their-

“You’re such a beautiful lover~  Oooh!  I’ve had my eye on you for quite some time.”  Pyrrha’s voice was chipper, despite the slow exhaustion from her.  “We’ll both be lovely mothers, together.”  

May swallowed, eye widening as she turned her attention back to Jaune.  

The young man was fully concentrated on doing what he needed to do, but his gaze?  It was solely on her, even as Pyrrha talked, the gorgeous goddess ever enjoying the looks the two now gave one another.

May… May felt her heart flutter, she could see the determination in Jaune’s eyes. 

“You see~  Jaune has seven sisters, and his mother had seven siblings as well~  As it turns out the Arc’s are very potent♥” 

Once more May could feel her insides churning. Her womb was an inferno, the oven inside of her ready and yearning to be filled with a thick helping of virile seed!  And she knew that… that she was incredibly fertile at the moment.  She could tell that her body was yearning to host his child, to bear upon him heirs.

“You can feel it, right?  Your body’s growing ready to support his seed.”  Pyrrha continued to talk, her tone so deliriously happy, “I felt it too, I think it’s his aura, I think… I think that it’s an addiction.  Maybe he always had his semblance?”  She curiously pondered, “I think that perhaps he did, it heightens our urges, our desires, so long as we desire him.”  

Pyrrha thought about it, she was the only one really affected by it, but… Ren and Nora too, they had given Jaune a side glance every now and again, but nothing more.  Perhaps it depended on their opinion of the young man.  Maybe his semblance was causing her body to act up, increasing her urge to breed, to sire heirs.  

After all, Remnant was a dangerous place, maybe that’s why the Arc bloodline was so strong, because it helped repopulate?  She was curious about it, but found herself enjoying the way that May squirmed.  

The poor girl was giving herself away, her mouth was shut tight, but the soft moans that escaped her lips were blissful bouts of pleasure that Pyrrha couldn’t get enough of.

Even as her womb was full of seed, swimming semen that filled her to the brim, she could only want more and more now, watching with a slight tinge of envy.  She was glad that this beautiful woman beneath her was her sole pole sister, for now~

May wasn’t sure if she was ready for children, “I… I…”  She couldn’t find the words, but, “NgghaAhaha!♥”  Her back arched and tongue lashed from her mouth as he hit her cervix again, sending her into a spiraling tower of pleasure!  “Oh oh oh oh!♥♥♥♥”  

Her toes curled, her muscles burned and ached.  She could feel her belly flatten as her chest rose and fell while she gasped for air, only stopping her quick attempts when Pyrrha lowered herself again, this time sliding her tongue in as she brought the submissive sniper to a lovely little lip lock.

May… May… May…

“Get Pregnant, get Pregnant, please, please…”  

She hadn’t heard it now, perhaps because of the slapping flesh,the smacking bodies, the sounds of their forms giving into one another… but Jaune was chanting-no, praying.  

She… she… she felt her body beg to answer his call, even though she was cumming he hadn’t stopped.  She wanted to take his cum, to be filled, to be… to be impregnated.  It would have brought her nothing more than the greatest of joys.

“We’ll have… We’ll have Ozpin make an exception, have you moved over to our team.  After all, we can’t trust those boys with you, though I will have to send them a thank you package for gifting us such a wonderful girl.”  She felt Pyrrha praise her again, their lips no longer connected, but their tongues every so slightly apart, a trail of saliva dripping down into her parted mouth.

May didn’t want to fight, she just… she wanted more, she wanted Jaune to keep on… keep on…

“Beautiful, you’re gorgeous, stunning.”  She felt Pyrrha move away as Jaune began to speak, or mumble.  She wasn’t quite sure… she looked back to him, still under their spell, still unable to think properly.  

His shadow found itself upon her, his larger body frame completely encapsulating as he pinned her down further into the sheets.  Pyrrha had pulled away, giving them space.  Her form collapsed before him, his lips forcing themself upon her, as his tongue, slightly sweet taste, shoved its way into her mouth.  She let him take her, let him do what he wanted.  His hands still held on, even as he pressed further into her forcing her legs to pull closer to her body from above.  

Her toes and feet hung in the air, curled and tense.

PLAP PLAP PLAP

Their bodies were as one, and… and as he continued to talk to her, their lips brushing together, hot breaths kissing off the other’s skin.  

She could tell he was enjoying himself, “I want you, stay with us, please.”  

She… she wanted to stay, wanted to be wanted, to be loved by them.  By these two, “Ye..yes…yes please… keep me… I nee…need you.” She whimpered, squeaked out, her voice cracking as she struggled to assert her desires, even as paradoxically submissive as they were.

She knew she said the right things, because now he was going down with full force.  His penis pounded powerfully down upon her warm wanting pussy. Full length hammer blows that left her tragically empty and then stuffed full in equal measure.  She could hear the wet squelching sounds from her insides, the vibrations of her quivering cunt as she gave into him.

She was being pushed further into the sheets, submitting completely.  She didn’t need to do anything, instead she let out cute little moans.  Her form trembling from the pleasure and submission to those above her.

She closed her eye, letting herself be taken with only the feeling, the smell, and the flash of aura that seeped into her body.

It was as if he was marking her, his… his… she could only assume semblance?  Was doing things to her body that made it easier for him to continue.  She felt it again, her ovaries, that sensation from before, they were ready for his seed at any moment.

She was there, ready to be impregnated, she was fertile and at the perfect moment!  

She would give herself to him and Pyrrha, to the two of them.  The scarlet haired woman watched from a close distance smiling as her two lovers enjoyed themselves.

They were close, so close, Jaune’s back muscles tightened, sweat running down the curves, the sheets and blankets were messy, lathered in their love making.  

But this was the perfect life, “Cum in me, breed me, fuck me, use me, please please please please!”  May’s words came out slightly slurred, her body no longer really hers anymore.  Now that she had given into her pleasures.  

The woman herself was in an intense amount of pleasure, her senses were being heightened, the sense of feeling was going crazy.  She swore she could feel every droplet of sweat that splattered down against her body as Jaune pushed into her further and further.

There was no space between them, her chest squished downwards, the sensitive round globes of fat were flattened as he showed a surprising amount of strength.  She was giving in to the pleasures of the flesh, of being a cushion for which her man ruthlessly slammed into, and now she couldn’t have it any other way.  

He pounded away at her over and over, the bed creaked beneath them, threatening to snap at the legs at any given moment.  

May had never felt so needed or wanted, “In me, pwease, pleaeassh!”  She was losing her mind, anymore and she was liable to lose a few brain cells.  Jaune was making her dumber by the second, the pleasure was too much for her to handle as sparks of heightened sensations overtook her.

She felt him stretching her, every movement he made was amplified by whatever it was going through her body.  Her magenta aura found itself being overtaken by a wash of gold which now covered her entire body.

She felt it, another orgasm was in the works.  

“That’s it~  Cum for us.”  Pyrrha’s voice called out to her, “Give in~  You’re ours, only ours now.”  

“Uhhuh!”  She couldn’t say the words, but she agreed with Pyrrha, agreed to be with them.  Though she was quickly silenced as a pitched scream nearly escaped her throat. 

Jaunce once more forced his mouth upon her, his tongue violently mouth fucking her as it violated her insides.  

She wiggled in place, her hips shaking, her voluptuous form pudding beneath her man. She wasn’t struggling, she was just full of so many feelings and sensations she NEEDED to move, couldn’t stop it.  He was going to cum any second now, by the way his balls grew heavier and heavier with every deliciously stinging slap against her rear, the sweat pouring down his body, the thick throbbing of his cock.  She could tell he was so close, that he was going to give herself up to him, she was going to be filled, basted white on the inside.

She couldn’t wait for him to dye her in his colors, his scent would be upon her for days, maybe weeks, hopefully forever if they did this over and over!  Her mind snapped the moment she felt the first bit of cum slam into her cervix, her womb opening wide to drink from the protein blasted shake.

She could feel the thick, heavy flood that gushed inside of her.  It was fat and viscous, hot and virile!  It pushed against her walls, glazing her insides with all of him!  And her body responded, clamping down as he pinned her, her legs spasming wildly, doing their best to lock him into place as he kept her hands pinned down.

Her womb was quickly filled, growing slightly larger like a balloon as her tubes did what they could to transfer the semen to their rightful place, in her ovaries. 

It was instant, she knew that he’d impregnated her.  Her eggs were fertilized, with the purest of genetics!  It was amazing, now she knew what Pyrrha meant!  He had… he had completely taken her body from her, and she had no way of ever going against it.  She was addicted to this feeling, and she wanted more, she knew… just knew that Pyrrha was the same!  They would have to share, and she couldn’t wait, because she also wanted Pyrrha.

“Good girl~  Just like that, the two of us will have the cutest twins.”  She felt Pyrrha gently brush her hair again.

And Pyrrha was right, they would have twins, wouldn’t they?  

May never knew that so much happiness could come from a horrible situation.  She didn’t know what would happen to her old team… but really?  She just didn’t care.

#Jaune Arc #May Zedong #Pyrrha Nikos #Arkos #Combined Arms #Arcshot #Ballistics #Jaune Arc x Pyrrha Nikos X May zedong

[josefavomjaaga]

Letter to Eugène, February 1810

After Napoleon had given Josephine the boot in December 1809, Eugène had wanted to return to Milan as soon as possible, once the legal procedures were settled and Josephine had gotten over her first shock. But, as things always go when Napoleon is involved, plans changed, and while he had wanted to leave Paris immediately after the New Year's celebration, Eugène found himself still in Paris by February. Ample occasion for more correspondence between viceroy and vicequeen.

Auguste to Eugène, Milan, 7 February 1810 Fenaroli returned last night, the King of Naples took another route, despite having announced himself... I hope he will know that everything had been prepared to receive him as king.

Is it me or does somebody sound slightly piqued here? This must refer to Joachim Murat returning home to Naples after Napoleon's "divorce" from Josephine. With relations between Murat and Eugène being rather strained and Murat having to pass through the Kingdom of Italy on his way to Naples, they obviously had not wanted to add fuel to the fire, and Auguste had been ready to welcome Murat with all royal honours.

And then the guy doesn't even show up. Typical.

I flatter myself, my friend, that you will not follow his example and that you will take the shortest route to get here. Besides, you must know what a delight your arrival will be to me and to the whole kingdom, whose anxiety grew the longer you were away. I have therefore been careful not to mention the Grand Duchy, as this would cause widespread alarm.

The Grand-Duchy in question being that of Francfort, that Napoleon had promised to Eugène in recompensation for the Kingdom of Italy. And Eugène likely loosing the Italian crown is also the reason for the anxiety in the kingdom that Auguste speaks of. The Italians were not stupid and probably already suspected that their viceroy would not return to them at all. Which might not have concerned them all so much because of him, but because they saw their viceroy as the one thing that stood between them and being annexed to France.

Though Auguste does see some personal attachement, too:

On this latest occasion, we were clearly shown how much people love us. The Emperor can't be angry about it, because we don't intrigue for that, and our way of thinking has always been and always will be the same. 

Interesting that Auguste even assumes Napoleon would be angry about the vice-regal couple being well-liked in their Italian domain. As she has not met Napoleon since her wedding in Munich.

To tell you the truth, I don't believe in this new destination that we are supposed to receive, but our good conscience must compensate us for an oblivion that would otherwise be very painful, and that would only afflict you because of me, I know; but don't you know me, my sweet husband, and don't you know that with you and my children I will always be happy? I am young, but events have taught me to appreciate grand things as they ought to be seen; so don't torment yourself because of me, and think only of the happiness I shall soon feel when I embrace you and tell you in person that I love nothing in this world like my Eugène; this feeling will last at least as long as life itself.

#napoleon's family #eugene de beauharnais #auguste von bayern #not a good day today #needed something to cheer me up #good thing these two never disappoint

[wisteriasymphony]

y'all i wrote an interaction between Chat Noir and Peacock!Claudia. Still figuring out their dynamic but this was definitely fun.

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Chat Noir had been sent out on his first mission alone, and he wasn't sure if this was Ladybug showing she trusted him enough to get the job done, or because she was hoping he wouldn't. ...He'd never even set foot in the Red Light District before, so it was all... very jarring.

The target he was tracking called herself "Pavino", and the team had ample reason to suspect she held the elusive Peacock Miraculous. What shape it took and what it did, Ladybug refused to tell him, which more often than not meant she didn't actually know. Not even Ladybug's predecessor seemed to understand it.

But it would be fine. Chat had an address and a target, and if his wits were as good as he liked to think they were, he'd have it over within a few hours. ....But it was a shame that Ladybug was off on the other side of the city tracking down a different Miraculous. That meant he couldn't even call her in as backup.

Chat entered the backdoor of the club, breaking the lock open with his claw. Pavino apparently had her own room in the back, so catching her at the right time would be key. He just had to not be seen.

"Now, who said you could enter through the back door like that?" a sultry voice called behind him. A lone finger was placed on his shoulder, sporting a glittery blue polish on the nail.... Upon turning around, Chat found it matched her leotard perfectly.

"Pavino."

"Now, baby, just because I dress up in costume for my clients doesn't mean you have to~" She wasted no time in getting closer to him, placing a hand on his chest. "And I assume that's what you're here for, hm?"

Chat sneered at her, a little impressed by her audacity. "As if I would ever—"

The girl swatted at his side with a pink fan, eyeing him below the belt. "Then what's that I see?"

Oh god.

"Hah! I kid, I kid. You're a cute one, pretty kitty. I do hope you won't get in my way," Pavino smirked. "Some of us have better things to do than chasing butterflies, after all." She pushed past him, making her way to her room.

"Don't you walk away from me! I'm under orders from Ladybug to retrieve your—"

Chat suddenly found himself being pulled down to Pavino's height by the bell on his collar.

"And what do you think you're getting out of it by taking it, huh? Acknowledgement? Affection?"

"Your Miraculous—"

Pavino twisted the bell in her fist, choking Chat a little. It... wasn't bad?

"Sweetie," she crooned, with this look in her eyes that Chat hated to find so alluring. This was his enemy, after all. "I've been going easy on you this whole conversation because you are not a threat to me. I kill bad men, and you don't seem all that bad to me yet."

She twisted it tighter.

"But if you want me to show me otherwise..."

Even tighter.

"If you want me to bring you to your knees.."

Chat Noir's knees had ironically started to buckle already.

"...Then all you have to do, baby.. is call."

Pavino loosened her grip on Chat Noir, and strutted away, her feather bustle swaying as she walked.

Chat may not have had the Peacock Miraculous... but he at least was pretty sure what its powers were. If this was any indication... it was Seduction.

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#claudrien #peacock miraculous #miraculous fandom #miraculous lb #pavino #i'll post my description of Pavino's powerset later i promise #miraculous fanfic #mlb chat noir #chat noir #miraculous chat noir #canon divergence #miraculous adrien #adrien agreste #mlb adrien

[freakystrashdump]

🔮The Oracle Bakery🔮

Emperor Belos|Phillip Wittebane/OC

Slow burn, enemies to lovers, Belos is a content warning by himself

Read on AO3

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Chapter 8: Devil's Food Cake

The stars on a clear night were always a sight to behold on the Boiling Isles, a type of magic which even the most ardent of poets would struggle to describe its beauty in full. Witches of every coven basked in their beauty and power. And if the Moon was in a particularly powerful phase, it was hard to turn a corner on the streets of Bonesborough without coming across someone performing a ritual. From luck to love to even some more vengeful ones resorting to hexes - clear, starry nights like these were like catnip for spellcasters everywhere.

So it would come as no surprise that if one were to pay a little closer attention to the starry sky, they might have seen a witch-sized cluster of stars flying across.

The enchanted cape, Selena thought, was such a good design choice on her part - not to toot her own horn or anything. The inside was enchanted to mimic the stars above, so when she would fly in the night sky, one would really have to pay attention to spot her. And even then , one might assume it was just a trick of the mind.

As it turned out, copying a book took much less time than the three days she gave herself off from work. All she needed to do was go through some really old journals she had saved a long time ago, and find the specific spell she needed: a very easy trick that most everyone used to copy notes back in school, an enchantment for quills which would -with some guidance- copy written words without fail. That, along with deciding to only copy the integral information from the journal (she didn’t need the Emperor’s personal musings and drawings, she reasoned, no matter how charming it was), had her finished by the time Friday evening rolled around. 

So she had the entire weekend to herself.

Which is something she actually kind of knew would happen - she just wanted the three-day weekend in general, and the whole journal thing was a really good excuse to justify it to herself. Which meant more time to sleep, laze around and scroll penstagram, and go give the emperor’s coven hell as Midnight. 

Which is exactly what she was up to on this beautiful, star-filled night.

Selena couldn’t help the excited grin appearing on her face when she spotted a flock around three scouts patrolling below her. They’ve been much more active lately, ever since the conformatorium incident, which gave her ample opportunity to embarrass the Emperor’s most elite witches. How fun for her!

And how unfortunate for them.

The witch and her palisman gracefully let themselves fall from the sky, arms outstretched and falling head first, like a bird shot out of the sky. Though it resembled more a cluster of sparkling stars plummeting freely towards the ground with no sign of stopping. Just as they were supposed to hit the ground and most likely meet their untimely end, just short of a few meters behind the scouts on patrol, they disappeared into the earth, absorbed into the shadows with barely a sound, nothing to show for the disappearance act except for little particles of magic sprouting from where the earth swallowed them whole. One scout stopped in their tracks, turning their head to look back, but upon finding no one there, decided it must have been the wind playing tricks.

The scouts continued on their nightly patrol, unaware of the vigilante in the shadows, following closely behind.

“Hurry up, Selkie, get a move on.”

“I’m coming!” The one scout who staggered behind quickly joined their group “I thought I heard something, is all.”

“What, you scared of the dark?” the third scout sounded off, teasing.

The first one who spoke seemed annoyed. “Stop it, concentrate on the mission.” she cut them both off. “We are not going to be shown up again by Abra and her team again.”

“Yeah, how do they even find all those wild witches, anyway.” the second one scoffed “Feels fake, chief.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if they just imprison any suspicious witch whether they’re wild or not and just pump up their numbers.” The one named Selkie joined in, pouting “The paperwork to get them released takes forever, too.”

“Oh! Oh!” the second one cut in again “You know what would totally show them?! What if we caught Midnight ?!” his enthusiasm took a hit when the other two laughed almost instantly at his idea.

“Be real, Noir. Midnight? Really?” Selkie giggled

“Yeah, for real, not even the Golden Guard was able to track Midnight down.” the leader tried suppressing her cackle “He kept running in circles for so long, he zeroed in on some baker as his main suspect - you know, I heard that’s why he got moved to the position of head of the Emperor’s Coven. Emperor Belos personally took him off the Midnight case, apparently.”

“Do you think it was the same baker that delivers to the palace?” Selkie asked

“You know, I’m pretty sure it is.” Leader answered, scratching under her mask “Steve has been recently put on escort duty for her, I think.”

“That would make it so much cooler though!” Noir still remained focused on his idea from before “If we caught Midnight before even The Golden Guard did, we’d be able to rub it into Abra’s face forever !”

Selkie put a hand on his shoulders “How about we start with some…less dangerous witches. Bossa said she heard some rumors of rebellious bards!”

“Pfft, bards, come on, who cares about some bards?” Noir scoffed, holding out his arms like a ghoulie to appear bigger and scarier “Wild Witches is where it’s at! Don’t tell me you’re scared of ‘em, Selkie!” he laughed before puffing out his chest “Don’t worry, I’ll protect ya from the big bad Midnight!”

“Well if she’s scared of them, she might be the smartest out of you lot.” 

The three scouts stopped dead in their tracks at the new voice cutting into their conversation, unnaturally distorted and layered over itself, making it sound even more eerie. They instantly clamoured together, backs pressed against each other and staffs raised up in alarm, scanning every inch of the dinky dark street they were in.

 “Because when it comes to wild witches, you should be scared .”

They pressed closer against each other as the shadows on the ground grew darker and bigger, creeping closer to them at an alarming rate. “Coward!” Bossa called out “You don’t scare us, hiding in your shadows! Show yourself!”

"Oh? You're not ?" The shadows reached their feet, cornering them in a circle as the rest of the world seemed to grow even dimmer. "I should rectify that, then."

And she went quiet, as did everything else . Unnaturally so, to the point that silence was deafening, the three scouts anxious and waiting for the intruder to make their move. Noir turned his head just enough to check on Selkie from the corner of his eye, missing how the shadow rose, bubbling up from the ground and taking a tangible form just out of his sight.

"Boo!" 

Noir screamed bloody murder when he turned and was face to face with the white mask of Midnight. His body jerked back on instinct only to bump straight into Selkie and Bossa, the two quick to steady him, stopping him from falling over.

"It's Midnight!"

"Get her!"

The figure of Midnight which stood as if she hadn’t a care in the world turned into inky black the moment Bossa’s magic missile hit her. Splitting into two, which split into four, which split into eight, and so on until the shadow clones surrounded the three completely, forming an impenetrable wall around them.

“One of them is real, the rest must be illusions! Take them all down!”

Midnight laughed, all at once, the voices echoing over each other. Before the scouts could react, the wild witch(es) made a spell circle each, one pressed up against the next until they resembled a chainlink of gold. The sight alone was enough to make anyone freeze in fear - so many magic circles pointed at them, threatening with spells unknown. 

Bossa was the first to fall. The leader screamed as the shadows from below finally closed in, spiralling up her legs, knees and thighs, and starting to pull her under. Selkie dropped her staff to grab at her arms, trying to keep her above ground, to keep her afloat. Noir was quick to help as well, adding extra leverage.

“We got you, boss, we got you!”

The duo watched in horror as, despite their efforts, Bossa went under, disappearing into the shadowy void. The visions of Midnight which surrounded them wavered for a second while the two despaired, disappearing into sparkles of magic until only one remained. And the one remaining zeroed in on the next scout - Noir. The wild witch appeared next to them in a blink of an eye, neither having the time to react before the palisman staff met Noir’s head with an audible “thwap”, sending the man flying into the nearest wall. He slid down, slumping over as his vision faded in and out of consciousness.

"Noir!" Selkie gasped and reached out for him, only for Midnight to teleport right in front of her.

"You're the scaredy cat right?" She mocked "A funny little title for an Emperor's dog. So, scaredy cat, are you gonna run?" The wild witch cooed, leaning in so her mask was taking up all of Selkies vision "Or are you going to be dumb like your friends?"

The scouts chin quivered as she held back tears, yet despite it she still held a defiant expression. She quickly ducked and picked up the staff she dropped earlier off the ground, swiping it across Midnight's feet and knocking her to the ground. With her down, Selkie made a dash for Noir, kneeling down and gently holding up his face.

"Hey hey, Noir, can you hear me, you okay?" She begged urgently, giving his cheeks a couple of gentle slaps under his mask. And it worked, the scout shaking his head as he woke from a daze. Unfortunately, instead of greeting her, he looked at something behind her, gasping and pointing in alarm. Selkie managed to turn around in time just for the abomination projectile to hit her helmet and knock it off, the impact making her ears ring.

Midnight paused, arm freezing in the middle of a spell circle. As Selkie put herself between her and Noir, she held up her staff, ready to defend him from harm. "Come at me, wild witch, I'm not afraid!" She barked, even as her legs shook.

The wild witch lowered her arm "You're…young." Selkie could just barely hear her mutter.

"Don't underestimate me just because I'm younger!" The scout's voice shook "I may be the youngest and -and I may not be the bravest, but I'm not gonna let you hunt my friends for fun!" 

Wrong choice of words. Selkie realised, as the atmosphere changed, turning sharp and heavy on her chest. Oh, she angered her. And if that wasn't enough of a sign, the fireball just narrowly missing her face and hitting the wall behind sure was.

"Hunt you for fun?!" The wild witch hissed "And what were you and your friends doing just now?! Cracking jokes about hunting wild witches like we're nothing but common beasts! Treating your fellow witches like pests to be removed without any regret, and you have the gall to accuse me of being cruel?!"

The scout shook her head, not wanting such heresy to influence her "Wild witches are traitors to the will of the Titan, a-and to the Emperor, who-"

Midnight laughed "Oh, did your master tell you that? Do you bark when the Emperor orders too? He trained you so well~"

Selkie didn't answer, just pursed her lips tighter, hands clenching around the staff even harder. Midnight sighed, holding up her arm and summoning her staff into her grip. Selkie's face scrunched up in confusion when the witch turned away from her, walking away as the shadows retreated and followed after her. "W…wait, where are you going? Aren't you going to-"

"Kill you?" Midnight cut her off "Please. Have you ever heard of me killing any one of you?" She asked sincerely, and Selkie frowned. Had she? She couldn't recall any Midnight incident that ended with death, just beat up and shaken up scouts. "I'm not in the business of killing children, anyway. The Emperor may be heartless, turning out sisters and brothers to stone, but I am not." She made a spell circle with her fingers, and the wall against which Noir was leaning against turned darker for a moment, magic bubbling over the surface of the bricks, before spitting out the scout leader it swallowed up at the beginning.

“Bossa!”

“Boss! You’re alive!”

"Go home. Tell others of how you lost." Midnight mounted her staff and took to the air "And remember, I'll stop hunting the Emperor's dogs as soon as you stop hunting us."

~*~*~*~

Selena woke up late the next morning, feeling more exhausted than when she went to bed. It was hard to explain, but it was like exhaustion had just invaded every bone in her body, finding its home in her chest and weighing her down. Her lidded, tired eyes gazed with little to no focus at the painted ceiling above, the colours and shapes mixing together as her thoughts travelled elsewhere; the events of last night playing on repeat in her head.

By the Titan, the scout was…she was so young. She was barely 20, if even that old. She was still more child than adult, and she was terrified of her.

Sometimes…sometimes, when she was Midnight, when the mask was securely in place…

Without the fear of being recognised, of being known, she acted like someone else. The mask would go on, the sigil would come off, and suddenly the anxiety ridden Oracle was gone and buried - she spoke loudly without stuttering, without hesitating to offend or hurt, she was braver, bolder, she wouldn’t cower under anyone's gaze.

And she was…cruel. Unwavering. Gleeful at the fear she instilled in the scouts.

Sighing, she turned to her side, curling up on the bed. Hearing her move, Pip woke up as well, hopping out of the nest on the bedside table next to her, cuddling up into her neck. Selena smiled briefly, but the little show of affection wasn’t enough to stop the dark thoughts from clouding her.

 “Am I…even a good person?”

What is a good person, anyway? She mussed internally. They’d hunt her back, just as gleefully, if given the chance. So was she so wrong to partake in some form of sadistic pleasure from seeing their fear? Even if they were young…so, so young, and so brainwashed. Wasn’t most everyone brainwashed, afterall, to trust the Emperor, so how could she fault them for doing what they believed was right? What right had she to play liberator, that no one asked for?

Selena let out an agonised groan - early mornings weren't the best to have a personal crisis of these proportions, maybe it would be best if she busied herself in whatever way possible to avoid thinking further. Time to get up and face the day in order to forget her own insecurities! As soon as she sat up, however, Pip started loudly objecting.

“Come on, Pip, stop mucking around.” she stretched her arms above her head, arching her back until there was a satisfying ‘pop’ “Time to get up! Gotta get everything ready for tomorrow!” The crow gave her an indignant huff, feathers puffing up briefly in protest, and then plopped over to his back, raising his little feet in the air. Selena let out a little giggle and gently took his little talons between her fingers, moving them up and down “Oh you silly old bird! Lazybones! Layabout!” she moved in and planted many kisses on the soft feathers on his tummy 

“Fine! I’ll go do all the work, as usual! ”

Pip did agree to move downstairs with her, on the condition he got to stay in a warm basket with blankets to laze around in while she baked. A hard bargain, to be sure, but Selena accepted it, valuing the company of her beloved palisman despite him being such a lazy bag of bones (wood?). 

The two made their way down after Selena had breakfast and coffee, and tidied up the apartment area a little bit. And packed away the journal and placed it in a place she would make sure to bring it along with her tomorrow, when the guards came to pick her up.

Good manners were way too strongly  ingrained in her, as even if it were the Emperor, for whom she had no words of praise (well, maybe some words of praise, after he borrowed his absolutely amazing journal to her, but she was not about to admit that), there were certain ways you went about when returning what you borrowed.

When you return a borrowed thing, make sure to do so in the nicest bag you own.

Give a token in return for the kindness shown to you.

And always return it in a better state than you got it.

Finding a bag was easy - she had a habit of hoarding any pretty paper or tote bag she got from stores, so there were a lot of very fine ones in a cupboard somewhere. She found one that matched the golds of the palace. A token, also very easy, the next delivery was just going to be on the house, so it counted as a gift in return. The last one, though, gave her some trouble. There weren’t any creases in the paper to iron out or old dirt to clean from the covers, the journal was pristine when she got it, it was perfectly loved and cared for.

So, on a whim, she took the half-empty bottle of her perfume and spritzed it above the open book (she wasn’t daft to spray it directly onto the paper, that would ruin it!). That should be it, right? It smells nicer than before, that counts for returning it in a better state, it must! Selena nodded proudly, mom would be proud! She wrapped it up loosely in brown paper and placed it in the nice tote bag she had, before placing it near the hatch door to make sure she didn’t forget to take it tomorrow.

Even if he was a tyrant, that doesn't mean she had to act uncivilised in his presence.

And she had promised him to surprise him tomorrow with a new recipe, which is why she and Pip were in the downstairs kitchen.

She was thinking savoury for tomorrow. A bit of a change of pace, and she was sure it would impress the Emperor, too. If she cared about such things, that is. Not that she’d admit it even if she did - that a part of her felt excitement every time she got praise from the most powerful witch of the Isles, a man she opposed for years and caused nothing but mayhem and misery to his elite guards, and yet here he was, unknowingly enjoying the works of his enemies labour. It made her feel…almost powerful, somehow, like a super spy playing the long con right in front of the nose of the Emperor.

No chance, no way, she won’t say she found it exhilarating.

“Come on, Pip, smile for penstagram!” Selena coaxed the bird, but he paid her no mind, too cosy in his basket of blankets. Despite his grumpy efforts, Selena still took a cute selfie, flour on her face, and the sleepy crow behind her, scowling.

~*~*~*~

“Oracle_Baker: Trying a new recipe today for a secret client! No help from this lazybones hehe :3c #theoraclebakery #humanenthusiast #topsecret”

It was a very sweet picture, a wide smile shining brightly, apron and face lightly covered in flour, and her free hand holding up a peace sign.

Darius felt his lips twitch into a half-smile for a second, but he pushed it down fast as he gathered his thoughts with this new information. She’d be at the palace tomorrow morning then, if this was anything to go by (he felt a bit bad, he had to admit, when he realised she had been following him on penstagram for a while and he hadn’t returned the favour, quite rude on his behalf, not to mention maybe he would have realised something was awry earlier). With a bit of eavesdropping on the scouts (and maybe some gentle intimidation), he managed to get the schedule mostly down, apparently the guards sent to escort her changed every time, and only recently had she been assigned a consistent one.

All deliveries happened early in the morn, usually within the first hour of the bakery opening. Guards would escort her to the palace, where she’d stay for anywhere from as little as 15 minutes, to as long as an hour (which is how long she stayed last time).

The conjurer scrolled further up Selena’s feed, a calling crow placed on his shoulder as he waited for the other line to pick up. It was very nicely curated, matching in colours, with good angles and nice lighting. A picture perfect depiction of her life for others to see and marvel at.

Darius straightened up in his seat when he heard a voice finally answer. Ah, finally!

“Good morning, Fortuna.” Darius chimed “Tell me, when will you be at the palace tomorrow? I have something I wish to discuss with you…”

#the owl house #the oracle bakery #philip wittebane #philip wittebane x oc #emperor belos #emperor belos x oc #fanfiction #reader insert #self insert

[private-bryan]

WIP Wednesday

So, after "In Their Thirties" rewired my brain the other day, this fic idea moved in - this is your fault, areseebee. When/If it's done, it'll be a companion piece for chapter 13 of MQRB (assuming I make it that far for that fic, too), and this also is a prequel explaining James and Erin's living arrangements in my fic "To Travel", set ~5-6 years beforehand.

It's not alluded to yet in the draft, but this fic will show the main difference I have in my headcanon for Future Jerin compared to most of my mutuals' - that is, I think Erin would be the one to leave Northern Ireland, not James.

He's found a home with them, which is something he was missing with Kathy IMO, and I think he'd stay in Belfast for a bit after Uni, then later move back to Derry. Erin wants to be more worldly, but she does have a habit of looking before she leaps...

He should have gone. It was stupid, really. She was his best friend, the person he'd call every week to spend hours chatting to, and she'd email him every day to check in. Even with all the wedding planning going on, she had still kept it up. He'd lost track of which excuse he'd told which person. He was sick. No, he was working. No, he'd lost his passport (which even Michelle had said was a stupid excuse, considering he could have travelled over on the ferry using just his driving licence). Whatever anyone believed, she was over there, no doubt being whirled around on the dancefloor by her new husband under the loving gaze of her friends and family (could he still include himself in that, now?), while he was sitting in his depressingly empty new home, surrounded by still packed boxes and unassembled furniture. He tried not to think about the fact that he'd made sure the bottles of wine were near the top of the kitchen box. The only light was from the front hall, the previous owner having removed the rest of the bulbs when they’d moved out; he’d not bothered to move it over to the living room, knowing that he’d just have to go out and get more the next day anyway. He thought there was a bedside lamp tucked away in one of the boxes nearby if he needed it, but right now the darkness suited his mood. A quiet buzz sounded from the other side of the room, and the walls were briefly painted a pale blue as his Blackberry received another text message. He’d been getting them, on and off, all day; Michelle had been gently teasing him at first, saying how all the English were rides and that he’d obviously pulled the short straw looks-wise, but then she had texted him. I hope you’re OK. I wish you were here today. I need you here. That was her to a 'T', ever the stickler for correct spelling and punctuation. He’d tossed it into the corner after that, his stomach giving sickening flips, and had resolutely ignored every text and call that had been sent since. He didn’t need the play-by-play of what was happening, about how the ceremony had gone, about how happy she was. A car drove past, its lights briefly illuminating the room and catching the half-filled glass in his hand, before the evening gloom returned.  He’d wanted to get drunk all day, the knowledge of what was going on across the Irish Sea preying on his mind as he shifted things from the rented van into the house, but even this late he was still only on his second glass of rosé. Maybe that was the reason she’d never made another attempt at them getting together over the last nine years; he was too safe, too boring.  She’d had ample opportunities to make a move if she’d wanted to. They’d been together often enough, thick as thieves all the way through the last years of school, through Uni and beyond, until she’d found her match and they’d drifted apart a bit. He’d never seen her more enthusiastic then, and she didn’t need him hanging on when she was getting a serious relationship off of the ground. So he'd stepped back, still being good friends but not as close as they'd once been; it had almost come as a relief when they became separated by the ferry journey. A clock chimed from one of the boxes, muted and faint, and he checked his watch.  11 o’clock, and all was “well”.

#wip wednesday #as yet untitled fic #my fic #jerin #james x erin

[silverdragon-imagines-blog]

Distorted Reflections - Chapter 1 - Waking Nightmare

[It's finally here and ready! This fic takes place pretty much immediately after Counter Clockwise. In this fic, I will try really hard to list every possible warning at the start of each chapter with any spoilers related to the tag/chapter summaries at the end of each chapter. That’s gonna be more the case with AO3 than Tumblr as this site is not super easy to use. I can't promise perfection tho, so if I make a mistake in tagging here or on AO3, feel free to correct me. With all that said, I hope you enjoy this chapter ^u^]

Read it on AO3

Warning(s): referenced character death (from Counter Clockwise), referenced/implied claustrophobia, referenced/implied violence, some spoilers for Phantom Hourglass, Dark Link being creepy and manipulative, some more major spoilers for Hyrule Warriors, and the antagonist for this fic is creepy and implied to have done messed up shit. The antagonist is the whole reason that this fic is going to be far darker and more intense than Counter Clockwise.

For a more complete version of tags and content warnings for the whole fic, see the AO3 link at the top of the post.

Warriors could feel the change in the air as he exited the portal, the way it pressed down on him and made him tense. He looked up to see a sky full of stars, though it brought no comfort. All around him were Keep walls and the smell of dust and decay from a familiar battlefield. He stood near the entrance, watching as his companions exited the portal and curiously looked at the decrepit walls. No one spoke, Warriors only acknowledging each hero as they appeared. Minutes passed, and he almost assumed that the portal would close and leave three of their companions behind, but as soon as the thought entered his mind, Hyrule and Four stepped through with Time close behind them. 

The Smithy didn’t say anything, just kept his eyes fixed on the cracked ground, but that was fine. He had gone through a lot. Warriors cleared his throat, most of the group flinching and then looking his way.

“We’re in my Era. I recognize this area,” he explained, looking over the group, “unfortunately, we aren’t safe here. This Keep is too open.”

“Is there a better place for us to set up camp for the night?”

Warriors looked out at the barren wasteland that made up the valley, mapping the battlefield in his mind. Most of the keeps had three entryways, and it would be difficult to protect the camp adequately and allow the others ample opportunity to rest and recover. Only one was easy to defend from inside, though the chances of the Great Fairy letting them seek refuge inside her fountain was very low. At least, it would have a cost he was unwilling to pay. They were in the now-abandoned allied keep, the next safest one was hours away at most, but it would be safe.

“There’s a Keep to the Northeast that may suit our needs. It has two entrances, easily defensible, but we’ll need to double up on watch shifts,” he explained, fidgeting with the strap of his sheath, “it’s a bit far, though.”

“Wars,” Time spoke up, the Captain snapping to attention, “we’re all exhausted. How long do you think it would take to get there?”

He paused at this, going over the map in his head again.

“It would take maybe two hours to reach. If we hurry, we could cut that time down, but,” Warriors bit his lip, glancing at each hero’s face and how they practically sagged with exhaustion, “I don’t know if we’d be able to make it there fast with everyone dead on their feet.”

“We’ll have to try.”

There was no argument over the long trek; everyone gathered their belongings and made their way out of the abandoned Keep. Warriors stayed behind, counting heads as they passed. Two, then four, then six, then eight, and he followed behind as the ninth. He made his way to the front, leading the way to the safe place he had mentioned. The battlefield was just as he remembered it, dusty and barren fields with weapons strewn about in a mockery of a gravesite. He led the way past the gnarled and decaying trees and over a rickety bridge that spanned a small canyon, purple mist concealing the bottom. A second bridge was across the small expanse of land where a few small patches of grass clung to life. He tried not to pay attention to how the other heroes whispered amongst themselves as they observed the oppressive land around them.

Everything was near-silent, only adding to the uneasiness they all felt in the air. Each step through the dusty red ground echoed, leaving some heroes to pause and listen for foes. It was eerie as Warriors recalled the massive numbers that had once littered this area, and the lack of even a footprint kept him on edge. No monsters ever appeared, not even a grunt or groan of the bokoblins or bulblins that had been here, and it left everyone on edge and tense as they trekked onward. A sudden weight settled on Warriors’ shoulder, the hero flinching as he reached for his sword and faced the threat.

“Whoa, Wars, relax, it’s me,” Time stepped back, holding his hands up in surrender.

It took a minute to register the absence of a foe, and Warriors thanked whatever deity was listening that he hadn’t fully drawn his blade. He glanced at the rest of the group, making sure that all was well, then fell into step beside Time.

“Are you alright? You seem on edge.”

Warriors sighed, fully expecting that question at some point. 

“Later, okay. Not now,” Wars spoke quietly, inclining his head toward the rest of the group.

Time nodded, and they continued in silence. They crossed through a dilapidated tower, inside hollowed out and flattened, and to a Keep near the bottom of the looming valley temple. The heroes all filed into the space, some immediately beginning to set up their bedrolls for the night. Warriors counted heads again, first two, then four, then six, then eight. Everyone was accounted for, and relief filled him. He glanced at the open gated entrances, hinges rusted from a long period of neglect. He wasn’t surprised, but he had hoped there would have been a way to make the camp easier to defend, but this was bound to be the outcome. As he looked toward the tired heroes beginning to set up camp, he came to a decision.

“I know everyone is tired, but we’ll need to set up watch shifts. I’ll take the first one. Who wants to join me?”

No one answered, exhaustion weighing them down as they only spared him a glance. Time approached him then, armor still on and sword drawn in front of him, the end of the blade stuck into the ground. With no one else standing, Warriors nodded.

“Time and I will take the first shift. Who wants to take the next one?”

“I’ll take it,” Twilight spoke up, raising a hand slightly as he set his belongings down near his bedroll with the other.

“I can take it with him,” Wild responded.

Warriors took up position next to the open gate leading out to the open field in front of the stone structure. He listened closely as the heroes’ breathing became heavier as sleep pulled them down. It was relieving knowing that despite the difficulty they had faced back in Termina, they could all still sleep relatively peacefully. As time passed, Warriors could feel Time’s focused gaze on the back of his neck as time passed, making him fight the urge to make himself smaller. 

He knew that the older hero wanted to talk about what was happening, and he usually would be okay talking about what was happening so that there wouldn’t be any surprises when there was information that could help them all. And yet, being here in this place only weighed him down, binding his tongue and unable to speak. Truthfully, Warriors was sure that Time knew more than he let on if he had been there during the war. The hero approached, standing next to Warriors and leaning against the gate’s hinge. It was quiet between them for a moment, only the wind kicking up dust and the soft breaths of their sleeping company.

“Do you think you’d be able to speak about what’s been bothering you, Captain?”

He didn’t reply, watching the field before him as the wind threw red dust into the air. The shapes they made in the air created scenes from the past. He could almost hear screams of soldiers and monsters, weapons clashing, and their foe’s laughter from the highest point in the valley. He shivered, dragged out of his reverie by a hand on his shoulder. Time held a question in his eye, though he seemed concerned as well. Warriors sighed, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand.

“Sorry, got caught up in memories.”

“Nothing happy, I imagine.”

He chuckled humorlessly.

“You’d be correct. This place only holds bad memories for me, unfortunately. Normally I’d have us head for the nearest village or city, but I’ve had a bad feeling since we’ve gotten here like there’s something we need to do or see further in.”

“I see…” Time trailed off, and Wars glanced at the elder to where he was looking toward the sleeping heroes.

They stood silent for a while, watching the other Links sleep. Sky and Legend were further away from the group, almost propped up against the wall, but angled toward them, hands never far from their weapons. Wild and Twilight were similarly faced toward the others on the opposite side, closer to the group and each other with weapons not far away. Wind was near the middle, with Hyrule and Four behind him. Wind was curled up, small, and closed off from the others, far from how he usually slept sprawled near one of the other heroes. Hyrule and Four cling to each other in their sleep, offering comfort to keep the nightmares at bay. Warriors tried not to pay too much attention to the swelling and red-colored skin under the Smithy’s eyes.

“I know I did wrong by him,” Time spoke, almost reading Warriors’ thoughts and breaking the silence between them. Warriors saw how the older hero looked guilty, slumping over slightly as he continued, “But we had very few options. I just chose what I knew would work. And he paid the price.”

It was quiet again as their conversation ended. Time returned to his post by the other entrance, standing stalwart facing the outside of the keep. Warriors stood at attention, keeping his focus on the field. His ears twitched every so often, catching small noises that weren’t the white noise of the wind shifting dead plants and dirt or the quiet breaths of the slumbering heroes. He glanced over his shoulder, a frown making its way onto his face. A soft whimper met his ears, and he abandoned his post, carefully making his way toward the sleeping heroes to find who was having a nightmare. 

“It was a bad situation. I don’t blame you for that. You did what you thought was best.”

A louder cry and the shifting of fabric led him to Wind’s side, the Sailor trembling as he was caught in his nightmare. The Captain kneeled, gently placing a hand on the Sailor’s back to rouse him from the night terror, to no avail. He could hear the mumbling of a name, but he ignored it, trying once more to wake the youngest hero.

“C’mon, Sailor, it’s just a dream. You gotta wake up.”

Warriors could feel helplessness building as he failed to wake the other hero, frantically looking between the heroes for someone to help him, to tell him what to do. Time stayed in his place, seeming to be equally unsure what to do. At that moment, a soft groan met his ears, whipping his head around to see Legend starting to sit up and make his way over to him. He said nothing, but Warriors moved out of the way, watching as Legend leaned over Wind and gently ran his fingers through the sleeping boy’s hair.

“It’s just a nightmare, Bambino; it’s not real,” the Veteran spoke quietly, patiently as he continued his gentle motions, “Come back to us. Everyone is safe, I promise.”

Wind slowly came to, opening his eyes yet not seeing what was in front of him. He reached for Legend’s hand in his hair, holding it for a moment and feeling the rings on his fingers. He breathed in, moving his hand up Legend’s arm as if searching for something, then breathed out when his hand met the other’s shoulder. He sat up, blinking as tears fell from his eyes and looking at Legend’s face. The Veteran looked at him softly. Gone was the usual snark and sass that often appeared on his face; instead, a kind smile took its place.

Wind seemed to regain awareness, rubbing his eyes with one hand and moving the other on Legend’s shoulder back to his hand now at his side.

“Everything’s okay now, I promise,” Legend said.

Wind shook his head, moving toward Legend and wrapping his arms around him as tears trailed down his face. Legend ran his fingers through Wind’s hair again, keeping the young hero close to him. Warriors could only watch as Legend was able to do what he couldn’t. He could feel something building in his chest at the sight, jealousy perhaps or envy at the ease that Legend was able to wake and comfort the youngest of their group. Legend looked up at him briefly, face not betraying whatever he thought before he looked back to the Sailor.

“I’ll take the next shift.”

“What?”

“I have a feeling that I’m not gonna be sleeping anytime soon, and I’m sure the same is true for our Sailor as well,” Legend nodded toward the Sailor, the hero tucked under his chin, “You can tell whoever was supposed to go next that they don’t need to anymore.”

“If you say so…” Warriors trailed off, looking up at Time as the older hero started to approach, “Our watch shift is done. They offered to take over for us.”

Time nodded, starting to take off his armor and putting the Gilded Sword within reach of his bedroll. Warriors sighed, leaving the two heroes where they were and setting up his bedroll in the corner of the Keep. He lay on his back, staring at the red sky, knowing that sleep would not come easy. 

So he listened to the hushed conversation between the two on watch even if he couldn’t make out their words. They created a lull, whispers mixing with the whistling wind outside their small safe space. He could feel himself drifting slightly, and he tried to fight it, to stay at least somewhat awake in case of danger. But he was fighting a losing battle as his eyes closed and his thoughts went quieter.

The darkness was comforting, quiet. He felt safe for the first time in what felt like so long. He wanted this moment to last forever, to simply be . Away from all the responsibilities of a hero, away from the heavy burdens of an army leader, and away from the thoughts that invade his mind and memory. He was safe here, and it was the best feeling in the world. 

Of course, the darkness couldn’t last forever, and a sudden feeling of being watched forced him to his feet. He was in a void, yet he could feel the ground beneath his feet. At first, nothing seemed to be near him, yet he could feel eyes on the back of his head.

“What do you want with me?”

“Feeling nervous? Powerless?” Dark's voice echoed.

Dark appeared before him, smiling.

“You’re in your own era, aren’t you happy about that? Finally home after so long. Don’t you just love how all the memories start rushing back?”

He stiffened, images and memories flashing before him. Feeling claustrophobic as glass walls restrict his movements. Looking over his shoulder every night when traitors started to show their true colors. The smell of fire and brimstone mixed with blood as he fought for his life. The vile taste of dark magic as he watches dark mirrors of himself rise from the ground. The sounds of screaming, yelling, pleading for their lives as he killed those who wanted him dead and countless others who did not.

Warriors bent forward, heaving for breath as the assault on his senses faded. He flinched when a hand met his back, stumbling back and onto his rear as Dark stood over him.

“Aw, I thought you would’ve enjoyed a trip down memory lane. Maybe it wasn’t to your liking? Here, I have something you might enjoy more.”

Dark smirked as he waved a hand in front of Warriors, new images flashing in front of him.

The stage of his greatest downfall was before him, doors opened to a dark void, yet it beckoned toward him. He was drawn to it, though all of his instincts screamed at him to run away. Hands came from within the dark, encircling his wrists like shackles. He tried to pull away, back up, and tear their hold on him, only for them to grow tighter and start dragging him into the darkness. He felt fear pool in his chest, the urge to scream for help building and building. Cries and screams that sounded all too familiar echoed as the hands dragged him inside.

Warriors woke up with a gasp, shooting upright and reaching for his blade next to him. He had fallen asleep, yet he felt the need to go back to bed, pulling at his limbs and beckoning him back down. He shook it off, standing to survey the campsite and see where everyone was. Wild had set up a small fire in the center with wood that he must’ve had previously, cooking fruits over a low flame. Twilight was standing near one of the entrances with Time, though the two didn’t seem to be talking. Wind and Legend sat together, leaning against the wall and looking through their bags. Hyrule and Four were in a corner, not talking but enjoying each other’s company. Sky was approaching him, rubbing at his eyes as though he had just woken up himself, and Warriors stood up from his bedroll to meet him.

“You alright, Captain?”

Warriors grit his teeth, steeling himself and burying the lingering fear and unease that clung to his mind. He tried to seem calm, as though he hadn’t had a nightmare.

“I’m fine. What’s going on?”

“Wild is trying to cook us something to eat before we head out, but there isn’t much left stored in his bag, according to him. We might need to stock up the next time we get to a town or village.”

Warriors nodded, making his way over to the cook.

“How are you holding up?”

Wild glanced up at him, smiling slightly.

“Doing okay so far. Food supplies are a bit lower than I’d like, but we should be fine for a few days.”

“That’s good, at least. Once everyone has had their fill, we should start heading out.”

Wild nodded, pulling bowls out of his bag and spooning portions of the fruit into them, handing Warriors a few to pass out. It was a quiet affair, giving Hyrule and Four one each with quiet thanks from both. The other heroes gathered by the small fire, taking their bowls from Wild and beginning to eat in silence. When everyone had a bowl, Warriors took his meager meal to the gate leading out to the large field, leaning against the post as he ate. 

Truly, he couldn’t feel the slightest bit hungry, thoughts swirling in his mind about the strange nightmare he had the night before. If it even was a nightmare. There was a reason he felt off as soon as they ended up here, and he had a feeling that what he saw while he slept had to have something to do with it beyond just bad memories. He was trapped in a way, with no good options and worse outcomes if his fears of the past were to be realized once more. He snuck glances at the group, and images of what could happen to them all filled his mind. But she was dead. She had to be. So then, why did he feel as though they were all in danger? It was maddening, and yet, it was necessary. Dark was crafty, and he would bet that they would not be able to leave until they made their way there, even if every instinct screamed at him to stay far away. 

As the meager meal finished in silence, Warriors stood and cleared his throat, gaining the attention of everyone present.

“I have a feeling that we’ll need to reach the Temple of Souls that is past this valley. While we haven’t run into any enemies thus far, stay vigilant. I wouldn’t be surprised if we met resistance on our way there.”

“Any idea what we might run into?”

“Bokoblins mainly, but there have been Moblins, Lizalflos, Dinoflos, Darknuts, and Stalfos previously,” Warriors listed off, starting to reequip his sword, shield, and other gear, “Stay on your guard.”

There were nods of understanding, and then Wild started the clean-up process, taking everyone’s bowls and scrubbing them down as best he could. They figured they would wash them properly when they got to a patch of clean water. Everyone quickly gathered their gear, equipping swords and shields as they left the Keep. Warriors led the way through the open field, dust swirling at their feet as they trekked onward. Past tall twisting trees, strange lights settled in their branches, and strange formations of rock resembling hands poised to grab any moment. 

Out of the corner of his eye, Warriors could see the entrance to the fountain, doors ajar with a brazier burning away near the mouth of the small cave. He shuddered as he passed, though no one seemed to notice as they looked all around the barren battlefield and began to climb the first set of stairs that marked the entrance to the Temple. It was still unbearably quiet as they passed through the open gates, only the wind causing a howling noise to echo through the neglected stone sculptures around them. He directed the group left, across the worn brick path, and up another set of stairs that led to another empty Keep. Warriors noted that not even the bomb flowers that had once surrounded the Keep had grown back as he led them out and then up another set of stairs to the right. Then he led the way to the right again up a final set of stairs. He chuckled a bit as a few group members started panting as they climbed.

“What’s with the stonework?” Warriors flinched at the sudden question, looking behind him to Wind, looking up curiously at the arches above the top of the Temple, “Why does it look like an eye?”

“I’m not sure, to be perfectly honest,” Warriors shrugged, falling into step with him, “When the war was happening, and we fought here, it was just sort of like this. It could have something to do with magic and focusing it, but that’s just a guess.”

Wind hummed, glancing at the area around them as they reached the top. It was quiet once again as they all stood in the center of the central room, looking around on edge at the still quiet area. Legend cleared his throat, shifting uncomfortably as he observed the site.

“I would’ve thought there’d be something at least.”

“You and me both, Vet.” Warriors sighed.

There wasn’t much at all at the summit, not that Warriors was complaining. He was relieved that it had been easy to get to this point, but he was still on edge despite that fact. He pushed on, gesturing for everyone to follow him as he walked past the center of the eye and toward a series of small mountains. There was not much of a path, but they made do with Wild and Twilight helping others along over the more challenging terrain until they came to a pathway between two rose bushes.

And then they caught sight of the statues.

The statues of a younger Sky, sword raised in a skyward strike, and an even younger Time, posed with an ocarina raised to his mouth, came into view as soon as they crossed through the bushes. He could feel questioning gazes on his back as he led the way through the garden. He knew that the others could tell that something was off about this place, and he was thankful that none approached him to ask about what they saw. But Warriors still braced himself as the statue of Wolfie came into view. When Twilight caught sight of it, he could hear a quiet gasp and a pause in movement. He could hear the whispered words of Wild checking to see if Twilight was okay. He didn’t wait to listen to what the others had to say, instead leading them up the stairs. 

The Temple was just as he remembered it. However, without the presence of corrupted magic, it seemed more like a several-stories-tall mansion than a jumbled mess of buildings. It did little to calm his racing heart as he stood before the doorway, his hand twitching with the instinct to have his sword in hand as he approached danger. He resisted, and as the group joined him at the door, he took a deep breath and opened it.

At first glance, the entryway looked the same, a portrait of himself placed front and center at the base of the staircase leading up with a single light from above illuminating it. Hallways that led to different rooms were on each side and what little Wars could see of the upper level looked the same. Warriors motioned for the group to enter, and as he stood in front of them, he felt a shiver run down his spine. The door slammed shut behind them, and he knew something was wrong.

A figure he hadn’t seen at first moved into view, the light above the portrait catching the silhouette and causing Warriors’ blood to run cold. She looked the same as she had before, dress hanging off her in a way that would have been seductive if not for the slightly unhinged way she stared at him. Warriors acted on instinct then, unsheathing his sword and dropping into a readied stance.

“Well, isn’t this a surprise,” Cia laughed as her eyes moved over each of them, taking in the sight of the group.

“You were dead,” Warriors spoke, fighting the waver in his voice. 

Cia laughed, covering her mouth with a hand.

“Oh, dear hero,” she sighed, smiling as she stepped closer to the group, some of them drawing out weapons, “I hate to disagree with you, but I am very much alive.”

She summoned her staff to her side, twisting it around and opening two portals. Nine dark links stood at her side, and Warriors felt himself move as she extended her staff to point at them. He rushed at Cia, dodging the dark reflections that moved to attack him and bringing his blade down upon Cia. She easily blocked his strike with her staff, the force and weight behind the attack changing nothing. Warriors bared his teeth at her, forcing his weight to move the staff away from him, but Cia only smiled. He could hear the sounds of fighting behind him, but he didn’t turn to help, intent on ending the problem at its source. But when the clashes turned to cries, he knew they had lost, and the sorceress’ smirk only further confirmed his defeat. 

A hit from behind caused him to gasp, and Cia smiled wide as Warriors fell to his knees before her. His sword was knocked away, arms pinned behind him and a hand keeping his head still. She leaned down to tilt his face up toward her, forcing him to face her with a predatory grin on her face.

“Now then, isn’t that better?”

Warriors was stuck looking at her, fear threatening to overwhelm him as he was held in place. She seemed satisfied, and Wars could see her looking over the rest of the group as though she had won the greatest prize. He wouldn’t be surprised if that was exactly what she thought. She stepped past him then, and he craned his neck to look back, fearing for them all, making him watch his mistakes unfold.

She stood over Wind, the Sailor glaring up at her from the floor. He had been knocked on his stomach, his sword just out of reach, and pinned by one of the Dark Links kneeling in his back. She hummed, turning away from Wind to walk toward Legend, the Veteran hero laid out on his back with a blow to his head, rendering him unconscious. Then to Hyrule, who had been forced to his knees and restrained in much the same way as Warriors. And finally, Four was on his back with his sword out of reach, and a Dark kneeling on his chest and holding his arms in place. She huffed, twisting the staff in her hands to point toward a hallway, the dark links responding by moving the four heroes at her command.

“I have no use for damaged goods. Take them away.”

Wind started yelling and cursing immediately as he was hefted up to his feet, his arms pinned behind him in a way that made Wars wince. Hyrule and Four made no sound as they were herded away, though Hyrule kept glancing at Legend, worried now that he had not reacted to being dragged along. 

Warriors saw Wild struggling to tear his arms away from the dark at his back, growling and kicking at the shade as much as he could. The rest of the heroes struggled then, trying to break free and follow after them, but a loud slam of Cia’s staff on the ground stilled their movements. Warriors held his breath, worried she would take out her anger on them. Instead, she walked between the heroes, making her way to Wild and tilting her head at the sight of him. 

“L-let them go!”

“I’ve never seen you before, but you must hold the Hero’s Spirit as well, correct?”

Wild opened his mouth as though to speak, but no noise left him. He looked frustrated for a moment, then tried again.

“W-what’s it t’ you?”

“Hm,” she looked at him consideringly, then waved him away, gesturing toward the same hallway where Four, Legend, Wind, and Hyrule had disappeared. 

Warriors tried not to focus on how the Champion didn’t struggle as he was led away. She then walked between the heroes, humming to herself as she looked them over. Sky cringed under her gaze while Twilight glared harshly. Time’s face betrayed nothing but stoic silence, but Warriors could tell he was masking his true emotions as he was appraised like an object. She nodded to herself, pleased with whatever she found.

“Well, I don’t think I care much. You can go.”

“Very good,” she smiled and gestured with her staff to the other hall, the Dark Links following unspoken orders to lead them off.

Warriors felt the air grow tenser, and he couldn’t help but shiver as Cia turned to look his way.

“And now it’s just us,” Cia chuckled as she sauntered over to Warriors, glee casting her face in an unsettling light, “Did you miss me, my love? I can tell you can’t keep your eyes off me.”

“Not even the Wind Fish would grant you that dream.”

“Hm, pity. I thought we’d be able to spend more time together, but no matter. We have all the time in the world now,” Cia smiled wide at the thought.

“You should go get ready, dearest. I wouldn’t want to be late to our first dinner together after so long apart,” Cia hummed, directing the Dark Link pinning Wars’ arms to his back to lead him away toward where Cia sent Time, Sky, and Twilight to, “But don’t worry, the others will be allowed to join us too.”

Her delighted laughter and humming echoed in his ears as he was led away, a pit in his stomach as he mulled over her words.

All the time in the world.

He hoped it wouldn’t come to that.

#linkeduniverse #linked universe #implied violence #violence #tw: emotional manipulation #tw: claustrophobia #mentioned/implied death #nightmares #referenced character death #trauma from previous adventures #dark link being creepy and manipulative #HW Cia #linkeduniverse fic #linked universe fic #threatening darkness #distorted reflections #distorted reflections fic #silver writes

[techycatartist]

Shellraiser had already considered the possibility that Sandy had been permanently “lost” within their Charging Station. He had also considered the possibility that repeating Sandy’s actions would cause him to become lost, forever searching for them— or for an exit.

But as he laid in his Charging Station, a far darker possibility crossed his mind.

“Are they even alive?”

For all of the criticism Timmy had about his choice, it didn’t occur to her that there wouldn’t be a body to find— regardless if it was just Sandy, or the potential dozens who tried to recover them.

“Even if they survived the initial incident, how long would they be able to last, if at all? Would I meet the same fate?”

It would be reasonable for Shellraiser to back out from his decision, perhaps giving more thought to how he and the others could go about rescuing Sandy. With how things had been going, it was likely that Shellraiser’s coaster would remain shuttered—giving him ample time to brainstorm.

Acting “reasonable” wasn’t why Shellraiser was willing to put his life on the line, though.

“No. I can’t stand around and wait for them. Not anymore. If this isn’t the solution, if this ends up costing me my life…let it be known that I did it for the right reasons. Some may be unwilling to go this far, but I am ready to sacrifice myself to keep my family safe”.

The last thing Shellraiser saw was a blinding flash.

Most assumed that an afterlife awaited Coasterdroids who passed away, but without concrete evidence (coupled with the fact that Coasterdroid bodies dissolve into pure energy shortly after death), it remains a coping mechanism for those who lost their parkmate far too soon.

Shellraiser would have expected to meet those who he only knew through second-hand accounts, such as Moonsault Scramble, whose coaster’s land was now partially occupied by his twin sibling.

But the first thing Shellraiser noticed was how warm it was— as if he had fallen asleep with a heavy blanket on.

“Is this…is this it?”

Shellraiser tried to stand up straight, only to find that there was no ground to stand upon. He glanced upwards, hoping to locate anything that suggested a ceiling.

“Perhaps it was foolish of me to assume anything about its appearance. Still, I expected to be more…welcoming”.

Shellraiser glanced at what should’ve been a horizon line.

“Sandy!”

He was taken aback.

“Am I not being loud enough?”

Shellraiser tried again, making an effort to really shout; “SANDY”!

It was like someone had shoved him underwater. Regardless, Shellraiser had to try.

“SANDY!”

“MOONSAULT!”

“GIANT”!

“ZOLA!”

If this truly was the afterlife, they had to be there.

“CAN YOU HEAR ME?”

“GIVE ME A SIGN, PLEASE”!

He tried calling out for Sandy again, but to no avail.

“IF ANYONE IS AROUND, SPEAK UP!”

“I AM IN SEARCH OF SANDY. THEY WEREN’T SUPPOSED TO END UP HERE SO SOON. I WANT TO MAKE AMENDS…”

Before Shellraiser could say anything else, he began to cough.

“Have I exhausted myself already? My throat…”

Suddenly, he came to a realization.

“My throat! I can feel the dryness, the pain from screaming—I lived! If I survived the blast…then so did Sandy. But if my current location isn’t our afterlife, what is it…?”

Suspended in the “air”, Shellraiser was met with a near-featureless space. A cool white compromised most of the scene, adorned with a seemingly uncoordinated pattern of purplish-gray, semi-transparent rectangles.

Without a floor to stand on, trying to walk in this space seemed like a daunting task at best.

“I’ll have to use my launch once more…”

He took a deep breath, then closed his eyes. But that familiar “buzz” wasn’t there. Shellraiser clenched his fists, hoping that it would somehow jumpstart the launch.

He opened up his eyes, relaxing.

“Did I relinquish that power to get here?”

Shellraiser was running out of options. He looked around frantically, hoping to come across anything that even suggested that it could be stood on. However, Shellraiser could only turn his head so far— he had to shift his entire body if he wanted to see what was behind him. Fortunately, the restrictions imposed on his movement didn’t apply for this action; it wasn’t anything substantial, but Shellraiser had finally made some progress.

Then, he noticed something.

Enclosed within a rectangular space was none other than himself, seemingly asleep.

“How can this be…?”

Though he was close enough to recognize his own face, Shellraiser was still a good distance away— and had no idea what to do about it.

Even if it was likely to be ineffective, he tried to reach out towards his “body”; this told Shellraiser that he was more than an arm’s length away.

“Maybe if I…propel myself forward?”

Shellraiser extended his arms in front of him, repeatedly swinging in a quarter-arc motion; it did nothing to move him forward.

“Perhaps I need more reach”.

Shellraiser moved his arms behind his head, tilting back slightly. Despite this change, he got the same results; “I guess…I have to try a steeper angle? No, no…I’m not getting anywhere with this”. He let out a frustrated sigh. “I know I can’t walk forward, if at all. But I can twist myself around, so perhaps…”

Like a dog chasing its tail, Shellraiser began to spin around; he used his arms to keep up the momentum. “If I’m trapped”, Shellraiser thought, “I have to put this trap to the test”.

He continued to spin, gradually getting faster— but if it wasn't for the lingering effects of his entrance into this space, the lack of any obvious directional pointers made it even more disorienting than it normally would’ve been.

Shellraiser yelled as he lost his balance, flailing wildly; he had no way of knowing how this would affect him, as he was no longer “standing” upright.

Suddenly, Shellraiser felt himself move forward.

“Huh?”

For a moment, he was unsure if it had really happened, as Shellraiser was still feeling the effects of all the spinning he did. He closed his eyes, waiting for everything to catch up.

“Have I been deceived by my desperation? What was I doing differently? Twisting around only kept me in place, but losing control has tilted me forward…”

Shellraiser was now “lying” on his chest, his legs positioned behind him.

“When my legs buckled, I tried to reorient them. But I was unsuccessful on that first attempt, so I tried repeatedly…”

He brought his legs in slowly, then extended them back out.

Shellraiser moved.

“That’s it”!

As if he were trying to outmaneuver an oncoming wave, Shellraiser entered a breaststroke.

In just a few seconds, he made it to his target. Though its contents were visible from the outside, Shellraiser was met with a solid surface when he laid his hand on it.

“No reaction. I was led to believe that a part of my soul had remained inside, that I could be reunited with it”.

Upon further inspection, Shellraiser’s “body” was not contained within the rectangle— like an old CRT monitor, his likeness had been “burned” on the surface.

“This is what we were seeing with Sandy— an afterimage left in the wake of their powers. But if this is my Charging Station…”

He looked up at the nearby “rectangles”.

“Each of you…belongs to a Coasterdroid”.

Shellraiser swam upwards, reaching the top of his Charging Station. Knowing that he could choose to rest on these makeshift platforms, he let out a sigh of relief.

“Though our stations are programmed for individual use, they provide the same functions for all; it only makes sense that it comes from the same source”.

Shellraiser began to swim towards the closest Charging Station.

“If one theory was correct,” he thought, “I have another to test. If my Charging Station is here, then the others must be close by”.

While Slime Streak had been without access to her station for a while, Shredder and Timmy could be residing in their respective stations at any given moment. Unfortunately, Shellraiser was greeted with a face he couldn’t put a name to.

“You’re not even a Coasterdroid who lives in our state…”

Shellraiser swam back down to his Charging Station, sitting on its top.

“If I couldn’t get back through my own station, there’s no way that Sandy would have. But it’s not like they wanted to return”.

While Shellraiser was surrounded by thousands of Coasterdroids, he knew that he and Sandy were the only ones who managed to break the boundaries.

“It won’t be hard to spot Sandy among a sea of geometric shapes”.

He stood up, making sure to be thorough in his visual scan.

“But I don’t know when I’ll find them”.

Shellraiser pushed himself off, ready to embark on his search.

“As daunting as it is…it can’t compare to the crushing weight of my guilt”.

He began to kick his feet in a rhythmic motion, propelling himself forward.

“I have to find Sandy”.

But back at Nickelodeon Universe…

“They never came back”, she said in a hushed whisper.

For the first time in two months, Sandy’s Blasting Bronco was open to the public. Though it still had some minor periods of downtime, it was a welcome sight for those who happened to visit that day.

That couldn’t be said for Shredder and Timmy.

“I don’t think they could come back, Shreds”.

“But you said that when their coaster reopened—“

“That was before we knew that Sandy wasn’t in there”.

“So they’re gone forever, then? What about Shellraiser, is he gone too?!”

“No, God no”!

“How do you know?”

“I—I don’t. Not for sure, at least. But…”

Timmy looked at Sandy’s Charging Station, which still displays Sandy’s silhouette.

“If they and Shellraiser ever walk out of their Charging Station looking slightly different, then we’ll know”.

The mere implications of this outcome brought great sadness to Shredder.

“Timmy, I really hope Shellraiser was right about all this. That they all link together, and that he’ll find Sandy”.

“As much as I hate to give him credit for doing something so stupid….I can’t help but agree”.

The pair sat together in silence for a bit, watching the last handful of guests leave the area.

“Shredder?”

“Yes?”

“You know how my coaster was closed today? Well…it’s going to be closed for the next three weeks”.

Timmy had given the park’s website a quick glance beforehand, having a feeling that this would be the case.

“No. Not you. I’ve lost enough this year…”

“I’m not going to hibernate, Shreds”.

“Really?”

“Yeah, I’ll just take the aches and pains as they come. ‘Course, this means that you’re technically going to have to lead this park on your own”.

“What do you mean by ‘technically’…”?

“Well, I’m still gonna try and do what I can. Might just sit around for most of the day, though”.

“Guess that makes sense”.

“Plus, I…like being in your company, y’know? Yeah, I could just sleep through it, but that’s boring. I’m never bored when I’m around you”.

“Oh, same! We make for some good co-leaders, don’t we?”

“Yeah…”

“Though if I’m the one in charge…I recommend you get some rest tonight! Then report back to me tomorrow, ‘cuz we’re gonna meet with Slime Streak and spend the day at Great Adventure”.

Timmy let out a small laugh; “I’ll be sure to follow it, Shreds”.

Slime Streak looked up at her parkmates; “So Sandy’s coaster didn’t bring them back…”

“I know you didn’t want to hear that, but…it’s the truth”.

She turned away from Shredder and Timmy, sitting down on the concrete.

“Chiquita, you don’t have to come back to the park if you don’t want to”.

“Good. I like it here better anyways”.

Shredder’s heart sank.

“You don’t really-”

Timmy gave her a non-verbal “cut it out”, nudging her arm into Shredder’s side.

“We just wanted to let you know about Sandy and Shellraiser, nothing more. We’re worried about them too”.

Slime Streak turned her head slightly; “...and there’s really nothing we can do to help?”

“We can only hope that they’ll come back”.

About a week-and-a-half later, Shredder received news that she had been dreading ever since Shellraiser went missing.

“...I’m so sorry for your park’s loss. We were all hoping that Do-Dodonpa would come back. Shellraiser would talk to me about them, how infectious their energy was. Makes me wish I had gotten to know them better. I’ll make sure to send over something”.

“Oh”.

“You want Shellraiser to be there in-person”.

Shredder paused.

“I…He’s…He can’t make it”.

“No, his coaster hasn’t re-opened yet. The website now says April 30th”.

“I know this is a special case, but…”

Her throat tightened.

“Shellraiser’s gone, and I don’t know when he’ll be back”.

“We lost Sandy when they launched while inside their Charging Station, and once he realized it…Shellraiser did the same in hopes of finding them”.

“I’m sorry, I…”

“He’s not dead, I promise”.

“I never wanted this to happen. I tried my best to convince him to stay but-”.

“You’re right. This is my fault”.

“I’m sorry”.

#techystory #techycharacters #techyocshellraiser #techyocnickss #techyoctimmy #techyocshredder

[healinghoneybee]

Let’s go on an acid trip together

Have you read and signed the waiver and do you understand?

Negligence of care - failure to take all reasonable steps to protect someone from harm /failure to use reasonable care that someone else would have used under the same circumstances / acting in a negligent manner which results in someone getting hurt

I understood the high consequences with myself and the inherent risk

But I did not see how HIGH the probability of risk was with you. Beyond inherent - risk was not established, communicated, managed.

The pre-trip info was not comprehensible.

Be honest with the trail conditions. Keep it real. You were never ready. We came on this trip unprepared.

High consequence + high risk = stop, don’t go

Consent violations include emotional and relational boundaries - I have expressed my trauma and wrongly assumed you understood my terms for a safe trip and the hazards - I cannot thrive and heal in casual relationship. I did not consent to the way you loved and left in a burst of intimacy. My body feels it was being used for short-term pleasure and not being treated with longer term care and aftercare. My body feels even when I reassure my body you cared.

You do not understand this need so you may not have heard it fully. I feel ya. We might need to read the waiver before we just sign it next time. Yadda yadda let’s climb this thing. Take a kick at the can

I hope you forgive me for working through my anger while I learn to do my part in setting boundaries. I accept my half of responsibility for breaking my own self-trust (honestly kinda already got used to carrying the burden of shame anyway… he mightve fcked it into me)

The other half you can leave on the table, if you don’t see value in what we might have to teach each other. But I would like to reflect on what went wrong to make the next trip better. And it’s not “guilt” or “shame” this time, just a little sadness, just learning. We did what we thought was right at the time. And when you know better, you do better. We don’t have to get it right the first time.

When I was young I understood that my voice would hold no power. My soft spoken voice is not heard, my assertive volume will be labelled irrational. The combination of being a sensitive woman with trauma gives ample room for doubt within. So it is highly likely my voice would shake if I tried to take the stand. I think there will be no doubt in the defendants voice. So I choose not to report anything. I don’t want to make it worse. I cut my losses and go West. I do not care so much to ever see this irredeemable person.

With you, it is different. I am not trying to sue you for emotional damages. Could you treat me as a kid on the playground- the teacher says I gotta say sorry for hurting your feelings. I get it - If you apologize you could be liable, so don’t admit you were negligible. But empathy and compassion go a long way. Maybe that is all I can ask for.

It would be easier to just say he sucks and move on, but I do see you as innocent. I have hope for all of your good qualities and what you are. So I kept fighting for reconciliation, friendship, out of court settlement. I want to see you again. Maybe even boogie one last time. I think I forgive myself for trying so hard for repair, it is a compliment that speaks to your character. I kept holding onto so much hope for you.

For my integrity’s sake, please don’t make me water down what I deserve until it means nothing. My voice was already shaking. I was asking you to meet in a middle place.

When my tired legs recover and I’m thinking about the next trip, I will assess if UNSAFE + FUN is worth the risk.