#this could very well have been comments that the animators themselves made

[amber-angel]

So I was curious... and looked through Taika Waititi's tag... and people will really just hop onto any excuse to turn him into a bad guy, huh?

#stupid flighty bullshit #bro people have been making fun of marvel cgi for years why is it different when he does it #2. this is a list now ive decided anyway 2. he's not transphobic you morons #do you really think vico ortiz. proud nonbinary legend. would silently work with someone transphobic #and circling back to my first point #none of us know what goes on behind the scenes ok? #all we see is the public face that gets presented to us #this could very well have been comments that the animators themselves made #they could have okayed it #if i worked on a marvel movie and got paid shit i would want to make fun of it too #also.. this weird fucking obsession with seeing people be humbled just because they were popular for a while is so weird #like i promise you that it doesnt matter ok? if you dont like that people like taika waititi #log off of tumblr for like two weeks #i guarantee you in that time people will start talking about something else

[missmonsters2]

—OPIA | FOUR

Pairing: Wednesday Addams x OFC/Fem!Reader

Summary: You've been avoiding Wednesday's gaze lately.

Warnings: Angst. Protective!Wednesday. The Addams Family reunion. Larissa is exasperated. Enid, the gossip queen. Thing, the chaperone. Xavier, gets no breaks.

Series Masterlist | Library Blog | AO3

Reminder there’s no taglist but you can follow my library blog for notifications 💘

Note: I rewrote this chapter so many times but I think it definitely explores the most intimacy so far. Likes, comments, & reblogs appreciated 🥺💘

Part Three

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Opia: Noun. The ambiguous intensity of looking someone in the eye which can feel simultaneously invasive and vulnerable. 

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Wednesday is agitated. 

To succinctly summarize, you have been refusing to look Wednesday in the eye as of late. 

It took a while for Wednesday to notice, perhaps because your back was always turned to her when she met up with you nightly to apply the medicine on your wings. And when that was finished, you kept your eyes focused on the pond while you talked. 

And for a while, your witty banter and intriguing anecdotes had kept Wednesday distracted. The more time she spent with you, the more she began craving something she couldn't quite place. 

Wednesday found herself enjoying listening to you talk about your life before Nevermore. Of course, she could tell you were avoiding talking about anything serious, but there was a small relief that there were good moments in your life as well. 

In turn, Wednesday shared anecdotes of her own childhood, tales of the times she had to rescue Pugsley because he was weak, squishy, and sensitive. Whereas other people had looked at her disturbed and passed judgment on her, you had grinned and laughed. 

Wednesday never minded the judgment from others, but she quietly admitted to herself that it was also pleasing to have someone enjoy her morbidity and harsh penchant for revenge.

So, maybe that's why Wednesday began to notice. Her discovery to see what your face looked like as she told her stories had led her to realize you've been avoiding eye contact. 

You made it seem like it wasn't on purpose, fiddling with flowers until they've been weaved into crowns or giving Thing manicures—he's been getting much too pampered between you and Enid.

But even when Wednesday called your name, you looked at her, but you weren't looking at her. It was like you were looking past her, like Wednesday couldn't even be seen by you, and she despised it. 

Wednesday detests people who can't look her in the eye. It was a sign of deceit, guilt, and secrecy. 

And Wednesday will be damned if she'll let you keep any more secrets from her.

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"Oh my god, did you hear?" Enid leans her head forward at their table in the quad. 

Wednesday was reading her spellbook, her eyes occasionally trailing across the quad to where you sat with the faceless outcasts. You seemed very intrigued about learning how they communicated. 

"Hear what?" Yoko asks, adjusting her sunglasses. The vampire has taken to joining their table lately, and sometimes it would grate on Wednesday's mind to hear Enid and Yoki incessantly talk and gossip. 

"Ajax was telling me all about it this morning," Enid grins as she looks over to the stoners. "Apparently, someone changed one of the girls' bathrooms near the Gorgon rooms to nothing but mirrors. I heard that two gorgon girls walked in this morning and were stuck stoning themselves over and over."

"Shit, that's awful," Xavier frowns.

Wednesday smirks behind her book. 

"I wonder who would do that," Yoko casually comments.

They all look at Wednesday. 

"So, why'd you do it?" Xavier asks, resting his chin in his hand.

"Even animals know to have evidence before accusing someone," Wednesday flatly speaks, her eyes never leaving her book. 

"So," Eugene tilts his head with confusion, "you didn't do it?"

"I never said that," Wednesday's reply was uninterested.

Because Wednesday did do it. 

The investigation took longer than it normally would with her being distracted by you.  But finding out something so trivial, like who had hurt you, was child's play.

Wednesday had debated long about what to do. The idea of filling their rooms with tarantulas or poisonous snakes had first come to mind, but she knew it was almost guaranteed that Weems would discover it was her if the girls died. 

While she did save the school last year, it would be unlikely Weems would allow her to stay here if she did kill someone, as tempting it would be. 

Wednesday sighs lightly through her nose. It would've looked lovely on her record. 

But expulsion would mean being very, very far from you, and Wednesday couldn't have that.

At least—not before she at least found out why you've been refusing to look her in the eye. 

"Hi, everyone." 

Everyone's attention turns to you as you begin walking up to them. They greet you back, and Xavier, Enid, and Eugene are already throwing out the nicknames they came up with that week. 

"Tinker Bell!"

"Winx Club!"

"Bloom!"

"Eugene, that was literally just a rip off of mine," Xavier laughs. 

"Those are all terrible," you laugh along, shaking your head. "Are you guys just thinking of all things faerie-related only?"

"Well, yeah," Xavier blinks as if there couldn't be anything else. 

"Well, continue on then," you gave them a lopsided smile.

"Really? None of them?" Xavier sighs as he moves down his seat to let you sit between him and Wednesday. 

"Can you blame her?" Wednesday comments while turning the page.

"Oh, yeah?" Xavier raises his brow. "Let's hear what you've got then."

"And let you idiots ride off my coattails? I think not."

Xavier starts grumbling, and you chuckle. 

"Hi, Wednesday," you say softly, looking over at her. 

Wednesday looks up at you, but you start staring at her bangs as soon as she does. 

She glares. 

"Oh, hey, I think you've got some dirt on your back," Xavier says, his eyes squinting as he stares at your back. "Here, I got it."

Xavier lifts his hand and starts to descend upon your back when Wednesday reaches over and grabs his wrist, twisting it back. 

"Ah!" Xavier grunts. "What the hell, Wednesday!?"

Wednesday is holding up her book with one hand while holding Xavier's wrist in the other, glaring at him. "What are you doing, you oaf? Are you trying to dislodge her lungs from her chest?" She flings his wrist away, glaring at him while he shakes off the sting in his wrist.

"I was just trying to help," Xaiver mumbles, looking confused. 

Wednesday doesn't dignify him with a reply as she inspects your back carefully and does find dirt on it. "Were you rolling around in the grass?" Her tone is flat, but her lip is curled in distaste. 

Still, she carefully begins to brush the dirt off your back. It's a far cry from the hard pats you would've gotten from Xavier. 

"Maybe," you sound amused. 

"Christ, Wednesday," Xavier huffs. "Morgan le Fay over here isn't made of glass."

"It's a no to that one too," you shake your head. 

"C'mon!" Xavier groans. "You're not going to pick anything at this rate."

"You never know," you shrug, smiling. You look at your watch on the palm side of your wrist. "Class is starting soon. I'm going to head out." Turning your head to Wednesday, you tilt your head. "I believe your class is on the way. Do you want to go together?"

Wednesday nods jerkily, packing up her things. She doesn't say anything to the group other than giving a look and walking off with you. 

The walk down the halls is quiet, as it usually is. It's something Wednesday can appreciate that you never feel the need to fill the silence. But halfway through, you break the quietness. 

"I heard the bathroom near the Gorgon's dormitory was changed to mirrors," you say nonchalantly. 

"I see," Wednesday's tone betrays nothing. 

"My usual lab partners were absent as they were apparently stoned all day—over, and over, and over."

"How lucky."

You stop walking, causing Wednesday to stop as well. You face each other, but once again, you are staring at her ears.

"I told you it was an accident," you sigh. "She doesn't know my wings are hidden inside my back. No one does."

"Accident or not, she still slapped your back—and I don't care that it was meant to be jovial—hard enough to reopen your wounds," Wednesday snaps and then sneers, "What? Were her hands partially stoned when she patted you?"

You seem unsure of what to say to Wednesday. In the end, you sigh.

"Even though it was unnecessary, thank you." It's soft and sincere, and the gruesome butterflies are eating Wednesday's insides again. It probably would've been worse if you had actually been looking Wednesday in the eyes when you said it. 

"You're welcome," Wednesday says stiffly, and you turn to walk again. 

The silence resumes, and Wednesday is nearly so fed up that she's about to just ask you if she's done something wrong. But what actually comes out of her mouth is, "Are you looking forward to Parent's day?"

There's an internal frustration rising within Wednesday.

"I'm ambivalent," you reveal, your tone even. 

"I assume your parents won't be coming?" 

You chuckle. "Unlikely."

"Will you spend the day with Weems, then?"

"Maybe," you seem pensive. "But she'll most likely be busy talking to other parents. Are your parents coming?"

Wednesday sighs. "Unfortunately, yes. They'll want to know how I've suffered so far."

You chuckle. "They seem like horrible people."

"Thank you, they are."

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

"Oh, my little storm cloud, how have you been doing?" Gomez coos as he walks towards her.

"Wednesday, you look positively pale," Morticia comments. "It suits you."

Wednesday brushes off the comment, feeling awkward but nods at her mother to acknowledge it. Her eyes then focus on Pugsley, and she accesses him.

"Pugsley, you look feeble and squishy as per usu—are you sniveling again."

"I missed you, too, Wednesday," Pugsley smiled. 

The four of them sit at a nearby table. Wednesday's eyes skim the quad, catching her various friends with their families. Enid seems to be getting along better with her mother, but Wednesday will always despise that woman. 

"Who are you searching for, Wednesday?" Morticia's voice drags Wednesday's attention back to her family, who are all staring at her curiously.

"No one," Wednesday answers flatly.

But her mother only smiles as if she knows Wednesday's secret, which utterly irks her.

"So, how have you been faring?" Gomez asks, his face genuinely eager to hear.

"Dreadful," Wednesday replies. "Not once has my life been put at risk, nor have I been accused of any murders. Not even a single stalker."

Morticia and Gomez gaze at each other for a moment before back at Wednesday placatingly. 

"It's...quieter than your first year here, but not every year may be filled with mayhem," Morticia smiled. "At least, not in the way you expect."

"What do you know about faeries?" Wednesday asks, changing the subject as it was intruding on a topic Wednesday herself wasn't prepared to talk about. 

Morticia and Gomez seem lost in their thoughts as they contemplate Wednesday's question.

"Why do you ask?" Morticia finally answers. "Is that who you've been looking around for?"

Wednesday doesn't answer her mother's question, but the lack of an answer is an answer in itself. Luckily, her mother is merciful and only gives Wednesday a knowing smile. 

"Not much," Morticia answers. "I believe we had only one ancestor who has ever visited a fae realm. They might've documented it somewhere in a diary."

Wednesday's eyes sparkled with interest. "Is that so? Do we still have it?"

"Perhaps," Morticia muses, her voice dragging at the end, and Wednesday felt herself tense. She knows that tone and already begins mentally bargaining.

"Alright," Wednesday says evenly. "What do you want in return for sending me the diary?"

Morticia tilts her head to the side, a black widow-like grin on her lips. "Larissa let me know that the next Parent's day will be when students get to go home for the weekend. I want you to bring your fae friend."

"Why?" Wednesday demands, her eyebrows furrowed in displeasure.

"Because Wednesday," Morticia leans into Gomez, who puts her arm around her. "You rarely show interest in other people. Enid is a lovely girl, and I hope to host her one day as well, but she didn't have you sitting here asking your mother what I knew about werewolves."

"What makes you think my 'fae friend' will be available to come?" Wednesday shot back. 

Morticia doesn't chuckle in consideration for her prickly daughter, who was more likely than ever to say hurtful words now. 

"You've been looking around the quad, but your eyes haven't landed on anyone. If they're not here, then neither are their parents. And if that's the case, they'll be unlikely to show up for the second Parent's day," Morticia looks around the quad and then back to Wednesday. "It would've been nice to meet them today."

Wednesday says nothing about the last comment but contemplates her options. The idea of introducing her parents to you was dreadfully...uncomfortable. But the diary...Wednesday sighed an internal breath of defeat.

"Fine," Wednesday concedes. "I will ask, but I cannot control the outcome of the answer. I want the diary regardless."

"Agreed," Morticia nods.

"Alright," Gomez claps his hands together. "Why don't I catch you up on what Uncle Fester has been up to?"

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Wednesday feels a casual headache forming. 

The day was long, and her family had been one of the last few to go. While her relationship with her mother improved after resolving the Garret Gates case, there was still a limit on how much time she could spend with her before feeling like she was on edge. 

Although, Wednesday was pleased that her brother was faring better in school and no one was torturing him in fear his killer sister would come for them. It made her smirk a little. 

But now that the day has ended, Wednesday finds herself craving something—craving you. She checks her watch, but it's still too early in the day to meet up with you for your salve treatment. 

Wednesday runs her tongue against the back of her teeth in contemplation. 

Friends...you were friends, weren't you? 

Enid had confirmed it. With the consistent hangouts, shared stories, and occasional walking each other to class...that was friends, wasn't it?

So, if Wednesday wanted to see you earlier, she could. With that, she turns in the direction to start looking for you. You were nowhere in the quad, so Wednesday began to look for you in places you usually were. 

In the end, Wednesday could not find you. 

And she was angry.

First, you were avoiding eye contact, and now, you've hidden somewhere without saying a word.

When she finds you, Wednesday promised herself repercussions.

"Enid," Wednesday calls out evenly when she spots the blonde dragging her feet through the halls.

"Oh, hey, Wednesday," Enid says tiredly and then smiles. "Survived Parent's day, did we?"

"There was never a doubt."

"What's up?"

"Have you seen..." Wednesday drags and then shakes her head. "Did you happen to see—"

"I saw Faerie Canary a couple of hours ago with Bianca," Enid cut in to spare Wednesday. "Bianca's parents didn't show up either."

"Back to the rhyming, are we?" Wednesday doesn't hold back the unimpressed tone.

Enid only makes a face.

"Are they still together?" Wednesday asks.

Enid shakes her head. "I don't think so. I only heard bits of their conversation when I passed by with my family earlier."

Wednesday tilts her head, waiting for Enid to continue. 

Enid looks mildly uncomfortable as she rubs the back of her neck. 

"Enid," Wednesday's eyes narrow threateningly. 

With a sigh, Enid mutters, "This isn't the type of gossip I'm into." But then she focuses back on Wednesday and looks at her seriously. "Don't repeat what I'm telling you. Not only do I think Bianca will stab me with her fencing sword, but I don't think Fae will talk to me if this spreads around."

Wednesday nods, and Enid looks around. Satisfied that there's no one in sight, she leans in closer to say quietly, "Bianca was talking about how it was unlikely her mother would visit again after last year. Their relationship is strained and complicated, but Bianca said she knows her mother does love her and wants the best for her. Bianca said how every mother wants the best for their kid, even if they have a fucked up way of showing it, although it was between her mother and mine for winning an award for the way they went about it." Enid scrunches her nose at that.

Wednesday nods, unsurprised by the comment. 

Enid pursed her lips. "Well, then—" Enid huffs. "Fae just laughed, and then she said, 'Unless your mother's best for you is your demise, I think my mother has both of you beat on that.' I don't think she elaborated on it and left shortly after."

Wednesday was silent, her face furrowed as she thought about Enid's words. There was something uncomfortable nagging at her, and it was going to result in something Wednesday would despise.

"I see."

Enid nods. "If you find her, you didn't hear it from me, okay?" Enid gives Wednesday a look. "I also might not come back to the room tonight. I'm going to hang out with Yoko and Ajax."

Wednesday nods. "If you don't provide me an update at night, I will assume the worst and their murders will be the reason for my second expulsion here."

Enid smiles widely, doing her best to refrain from hugging her friend. "I will let you know I'm safe."

Without saying anything else, Wednesday turns and begins to head somewhere else.

Principal Weems's office.

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"Principal Weems," Wednesday calls after she knocks once and then proceeds to enter without waiting for a reply.

"Wednesday," Weems sighs deeply when she sees the gloomy girl. "How lovely to see you in my office. I assume your parents' visit went well?"

"It went fine. My mother was delighted to hear you weren't murdered and made a full recovery during the summer," Wednesday says bluntly. 

Weems tries not to roll her eyes, especially when she remembers Wednesday's concerned face hovering over her when she had been injected with nightshade.

"Yes," Weems says dryly. "Surviving was the highlight of my summer." Then Weems sighs. "What can I do for you, Wednesday? Are you looking for our resident faerie? I've been told about the contest for coming up with a nickname. So far, I've heard some...interesting suggestions."

"She told you about that?" Wednesday narrows her eyes.

"Fae tells me about most things," Weems reveals. "But as her legal guardian, it's also my job to know."

"You call her Fae?" Wednesday frowns.

Weems smirks. "She actually quite likes it. I believe outside of her own amusement, Fae had her own hopes about the results of the contest." 

"What does that—"

"What can I help you with, Wednesday? It's getting late."

Wednesday clenches her jaw in annoyance but tries to relax, remembering her objective of coming here in the first place.

"I want to ask you something and I want you to tell me the truth."

Weems nods. "I'll do my best."

"I'm aware that her parents couldn't visit today for her safety," Wednesday looks at Weems expectantly, who nods. 

"But I was under the impression that it was their judgment that it was too dangerous," Wednesday's face was impassive. "That's not exactly true, is it? She had said the more in contact they are with her, the more it exposes her location—which is true to keep other faeries away, but the full truth is this place is meant to guard her against her parents too, isn't it?"

Principal Weems sighed, looking both annoyed and impressed as she looked at Wednesday. "Well, since you've already figured out this much from what she's told you, I assume you'll find out soon enough because you're incessant and nosy." Weems rolled her eyes. "And I would prefer you don't alert the entire school as you do your investigations, so I trust what I'll say remains between us."

Wednesday felt her jaw tightening, her position staunch as she waited for Weems to come out and say something that would irrevocably change things. 

"Yes, it is too dangerous for her parents to visit," Weems confirmed. "But not because they deem it so, but because I do. I wasn't offered guardianship because her parents brought her here and requested it, but because she escaped and found me."

So few little things make Wednesday's heart beat faster. Usually, it's from excitement, but Wednesday doesn't feel the excitement from the words, 'she escaped.'

Wrong.

Wednesday had been wrong.

Wednesday is filled with dread, rage, and vengeful thoughts—promises. 

"As you know, night faeries are outcasts within their own group. Many people dread their existence, and some are even violent enough to take matters into their own hands before they believe calamity ensues," Weems's hands were tightly clasped together on her desk. "I will never allow her parents to step foot on these grounds because her mother was the one to try to cut her wings off." 

Wednesday turns and leaves the room, slamming the door behind her.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

There's nothing like the frustration of not having your number when you're nowhere to be found. Wednesday considers coming up with some ridiculous nickname and forcing you to accept it the next time she sees you. 

There's only about an hour before she usually sneaks out to see you for your salve treatment, so Wednesday decides she'll play the cello to get her mind off things. 

It'll be difficult with the hot rage that beats furiously inside Wednesday's chest. Her emotions dictate she avenges you because that's the only way she knows how to show she cares. 

Wednesday opens the door to her room and finds it empty, as expected, with Enid not returning tonight. But when she looked out the balcony, she could see a silhouette of someone sitting on the railings. 

Immediately, Wednesday made her way over and opened the window to see you gazing at the sky, swinging your legs as Thing sat next to you. The noise makes you turn around, and Wednesday can't explain the immense relief at seeing your face.

"Where have you been?" You ask with a tilt of your head.

"I could ask you the same," Wednesday asks with a clenched jaw. 

"Around," you shrug your shoulders. "But I wanted to see you earlier than our usual time, so Thing let me in about half an hour ago."

"So, you've been here for half an hour?" Wednesday glares.

You nod.

She was going to break Thing's fingers, but the disembodied hand looked confused at Wednesday's irate behavior, and she had no choice but to let it go. 

With a deep breath out of her nose, Wednesday steps out onto the balcony and joins you in sitting on the railings. It was quite a far drop-down that guaranteed either a lifetime of being a paraplegic or death. 

It was kind of nice. 

"How was parent's day?" You ask softly, staring out into the view.

"I survived."

You smile. "Your parents and brother are refreshing. It looked fun."

"It was not," Wednesday immediately corrects you. "You saw?"

You nod. "For a bit."

It was silent for a bit before Wednesday spoke up again.

"I talked to Weems before I went looking for you." Wednesday looks at you, but you don't look at her. "She's spilled all your secrets."

You laugh, and Wednesday frowns.

"I told her she could tell you if you asked," you reveal, a quirk on your lips but still refusing to look at her.

"Why?" Wednesday demands. "Why didn't you just tell me?"

"Because somewhere along the lines, you stopped asking me."

The words hit Wednesday in the gut, making her feel unwell and breathless. It was true, and Wednesday can't even remember when she stopped asking and started assuming. 

It was so unlike her. 

All of this leads towards something Wednesday knows will make her face a revelation she's not sure she's ready to. 

Still, Wednesday needs to ask because that's how mysteries are solved. 

"Why have you stopped looking me in the eye?"

There's silence, and despite how much Wednesday has loved it all her life, she wishes you'd say something now.

You grant her wish. 

"Do you know what I think about why you stopped asking me questions?" You ask instead of answering her question. You don't give her time to answer it, though. "Everybody has told me you've got an obsession with solving mysteries. But somewhere along the lines, you knew deep down your interest would continue even after you got your answers. That would mean you're vulnerable—and you don't want to be."

Wednesday felt herself clenching her jaw and fists so tightly she could draw blood from her palms. 

"So, when you asked me why I stopped looking at you in the eyes, it's because it’ll push you towards being vulnerable." As if to prove your point, you finally turn and look at Wednesday—really look at her, like she's been wanting for weeks.

You look at Wednesday, locking gazes, and Wednesday feels like she sees galaxies and constellations in your eyes. It's opening her up to your bottomless, gleaming pupils. It's invasive and vulnerable, but the thing is—Wednesday can't tell if you're looking into her or if she's the one who's looking into you. 

Wednesday thinks she sees something in you that you didn't mean to share, just as you saw something in her. 

You turn your head, almost ripping your gaze from Wednesday's. 

"Unpleasant, wasn't it?" You say with a self-deprecating smile. 

"Yes," Wednesday answers, swallowing. 

You nod stiffly. "Then, for both our sake, stop—"

"But in a way that I favored," Wednesday cut in. 

You slowly turn your head back, catching Wednesday's intense gaze. 

Wednesday's face somehow softened, her brows less tense and eyes less narrow. It was minuscule, but you noticed.

"I'm not good at this—whatever this is," Wednesday says quietly. "I will most likely devastate you at some point but for now, all I can vow is to ask you questions if you stop avoiding my gaze."

You stare at Wednesday, analyzing her face, and she wonders exactly what you're thinking. 

In the end, you chuckle. "Deal, but no questions tonight. My wings are sore, and I hear you're an excellent cellist."

PART 5

#wednesday addams x reader #wednesday addams imagine #wednesday x reader #jenna ortega x reader #wednesday addams fanfiction #wednesdayedit #wednesday addams x you #mm: my fics

[tzilatza]

NATLA Review - spoilers

Woke up today still feeling annoyed after finished the Netflix ATLA remake last night, and I think I've figured out the core reason.

It's the fact that: If they had held truer to the original source material, we could have had a truly great show. I disagree with those calling it a complete disaster. The acting was good, great in some cases. The effects were very well done, the bending looked about as good as it can in a live action media. The scenery was lovely.

But what happened in the writer's room?! The way they just reveal all the back stories up front EVERY TIME is honestly insulting to the audience. It's like they're so terrified that smartphone culture has made the public so accustomed to instant gratification that they have no faith we will stick around and keep watching if they make us wait for anything.

They're also clearly terrified of complexity. One of my biggest gripes with this remake is Jet's story. They completely took out his plans to murder a whole town of innocents in order to get a few enemy soldiers. Now, Jet isn't my favorite character, but his story is so important. Because it is real. The world is full of people who have been so brought down by injustice that they lose their sense of right and wrong, and we need to see that on screen. If Jet is too complex for them, how will they handle Ba Sing Se in the second season.

This goes along the same lines as removing Sokka's sexist moments. They felt they had to do it to make him more 'likable.' Yet the writers themselves went full sexist on Katara's character. They've taken out so much of her spark, her righteous and justified anger, and they've done it because even in 2024, people expect women to be more passive to be palatable. Enough people have already commented on them removing Aang's choice to run away. Heaven forbid the main character not be an absolute paragon. Did y'all notice that they even made Hahn likable? Hahn?! What reason do you have for making Hahn likable Netflix?! His role in the narrative is to be an example of toxic masculinity that is clearly the bad choice compared to Sokka who has learned and grown out of his own.

Don't even get me started with what they're doing with the fire nation family, I'm not ready to tackle that. In general, I have no problem with Azula getting a little more backstory and humanizing, but why season 1? Throwing in all these extra scenes just sacrifices screen-time where they could've actually fleshed out the real season one plots instead of rushing through things at breakneck pace. (ex: Aang escaping Zuko's ship in about 2 minutes flat)

At the end of the day, the scenes I most enjoyed were those that held true to the original like the Blue Spirit sequences. They could've easily done more of this, held onto the important plot points and even more important character complexity, while maturing it for an adult audience. I'm not disagreeing with every change they made. Go ahead and take out the silly Nickelodeon gags, add cussing and more realistic violence to get your mainstream viewers. Go ahead. They could've easily made a darker more mature version of the show and still held onto all the old fans in my opinion. But claiming that you're making a 'more mature' version and then removing the complexity and subtlety because they didn't think viewers could handle it...

What makes me most sad is that there are a lot of people who will experience ATLA for the first time through this show. There are a lot of adults who are not willing to watch original ATLA because they refuse to acknowledge an animated series can be anything other than a kid's show. Those people will watch this and think it's the real deal, and that just makes me sad.

If you've read this far, a very sincere thank you for listening to my rant. If you're an OG fan who enjoyed it, I have no problem with you. It was a fun watch, I was just hoping for more. If you are a new viewer who has never seen ATLA before, I sincerely want to hear your opinions. Is it a great show to someone who isn't holding it against the context of the original? And do you plan to watch the original now?

#natla #natla spoilers #live action atla #live action avatar #netflix avatar #netflix avatar review #avatar the last airbender #atla

[yuurei20]

Comment on Adaptations (continued) from Yana:

“It makes me sad that if I say, ‘I have never been disrespected as an artist by an adaptation—the terms of my contracts have always been adhered to,’ I am met with, ‘It’s gross how you’re trying to make yourself look good.’

If people are going to say that the artist is the sole owner of a work, it would be nice if they didn’t go after artists who are willing to accept modifications with, ‘They have no love for their own work,’ or ‘They are betraying their readers.’

The terms of my contract stipulated that I would not be able to participate in the casting of the actors for the live-action adaptation of Black Butler. When I heard that Ciel was going to be female, I asked that they please not introduce a romance plot between her and the butler. It was only a verbal agreement, but they still kept their word. To this day, I am still grateful to Mizushima-san, Gouriki-san, and everyone who was involved.

I have only met Gouriki Ayame-san once, after the wrap-up of the live-action movie. She was wearing a lovely, chic black dress, and I said, ‘It suits you really well. It would be great to be able to see you wearing such fashionable attire sometimes.’ Her fingers were trembling as she shook my hand, and she looked so happy. She really was beautiful.

A lot of the other actors, too, including Mizushima Hiro-san, were trembling when we shook hands. Realizing how much those glamorous, beautiful people were battling with their nerves and with the pressure—it was beyond description. I am so incredibly grateful for such an invaluable experience.

For the first season of Black Butler, the very first question I was asked was whether or not they could kill Ciel in the final episode. I was surprised, but I told them that if it meant the (mostly) original anime would be able to end on an interesting note, then they could go ahead. Thankfully it became an entertaining anime, and a sequel was made.

For the second season I requested an ending that was completely different from the first season and the direction of the manga.

The anime, live-action, musical, and game adaptations have all involved many astonishing, infuriating, depressing, and delightful experiences. I do not regret anything about any one of them, because they are all part of 'my story.' It is not a story where there is someone to dictate what is right and what is wrong. Though I did tell people to take breaks so that they wouldn’t overwork themselves.

That is all I will say on this topic. Many people expressed concern for me in the wake of the tragic incident, so I wanted to share. Readers are, of course, free to express their thoughts. I am me, and you are you. I would be glad if we are able to come together in enjoying the things that bring us happiness."

#twstyana

[amysgiantbees]

Dead Boy Detectives Cat King Spoilers

I ADORE the Cat King and I'm really fascinated by him and I just love how detailed everything about him is.

A few thoughts on him...

I love that he's living at Empire fish company to harken to his royal status.

I adore the head-cannon that he's Desire's child. With his golden eyes that remain no matter his form. Desire's actor even tweeted about it!

He asked which boy put the spell on his cat. Also, the cat's comment in the murder house ep that "the Cat king won't like this" and the implied rest of that sentence I feel is "when he finds out, when we report back." But at the end of the Dragons ep we can see the cat's eyes glow, implying he's magically looking through them. I know I'm assuming a lot but he seems to let the cats do their thing most of the time and report to him if they feel like it. It might even be a two way thing where they allow him to look through their eyes, he can't force it. I just think it's interesting what powers he has. Also it's interesting how his relationship with the cats work. Knowing cats, they have to want to report back. They don't just do it out of obligation. So, I'd like to think he's a pretty decent ruler. Or even my head-cannon that he doesn't really rule them more protects and acts as their go between, between themselves and other creatures.

His powers so far: Personal resurrection. Teleportation (but maybe just to pocket dimensions). Shapeshifting. Binding spells or just magic in general much like Edwin can practice magic from books. All very indirect kinds of magic which really suit his trickster spirit vibes.

I love that his loneliness is tied in to almost every interaction he has with Edwin. From insisting that he likes to keep things consensual then putting a spell that forces them to be closer. To watching out for/stalking Edwin with his cats. To forcing him to tell the truth but only a little bit in a kind of desperate attempt to get Edwin to see he cares about him and embraces him for who he is. Edwin calling him lonely really doesn't come from nowhere to humanize him which I love. It's great that even the minor character's motivations are well thought through in the show.

I feel like he took to Edwin so quick possibly just out of pure desire. But also people love to say animals are great judges of character, especially cats, they're discerning. So I love the idea that even if Thomas was repressing the fact that he is lonely a part of him knew it and recognized that loneliness in Edwin. As well as what his actor's mentioned in interviews that Thomas is so free and has so few inhibitions and thus just enjoys messing with stuffy old Edwin so much.

Me enjoying Thomas' moral greyness does not mean I'm condoning his behaivour. But it certainly doesn't bother me for multiple reasons. Firstly, his actor is SO charismatic. It really does make a difference that he's just SO fun to watch. Also, not that I've never been harassed by a queer guy before, but him being not straight does help beat the creep vibes in my mind. Also, the way that he will push a boundary but say or do something that softens what he's done helps. Like ranting and raving in the woods that Edwin will regret this but instead continuing to try to protect him from Esther. I think he clearly cares enough about Edwin that if Edwin was REALLY that uninterested in him and uncomfortable he would of just have given him a different punishment. Also, it's a fair punishment. He binds Edwin just like Edwin bound that cat. He's an ambiguous trickster fantasy creature, I'm willing to let a lot slide due to the fact that he clearly has an important role in the story and people's lives as a disrupting and mischievous influence.

I also am not particularly bothered by any potential creepiness from the Cat King as the way in interviews everyone talks about him is that he had a very specific role to play. He was made to be Edwin's sexual awakening. Yes he could have just been a guy that like always seems to be obliviously shirtless going on runs or something like that and it would have been less problematic. But, for one, I'm sure Edwin's seen that before and just looks away when it happens. Two, Edwin is SO repressed I think it makes a lot of narrative sense that he needs someone SO pushy and desperate in return to wake him up. And also he then contrasts against the purity and sweetness of Edwin's love for Charles. I don't see this as condoning this behaivour because real people aren't deeply repressed Edwardian ghosts that couldn't access therapy even if they wanted to on account of being dead.

Furthermore, as I'm sure many people have seen in recent popular discourses media does not need to be morally pure. I don't think that should be a get out of jail free card though. Or that creatives should be allowed to make whatever offensive shit they want and then say but "it's art" or "it's satire". Context matters. It's important how you frame something. And sure the Cat King is not punished for his bad behaivour but he is framed in such a way that I feel like he is not supported for it either. He doesn't get "rewarded" with Edwin in the end. He's not even guaranteed to have his company in even a platonic way since they're heading back to London and he, presumably, has to stay in his kingdom (he calls himself A cat king so I'm assuming there's others elsewhere so he probably can't go to London and intrude on another's territory. Or maybe he's A cat king in that there's just one at a time but there's a history of them).

Also, I've seen some people be uncomfortable at the age gap between Edwin and the Cat King, but to quote one of my favourite YouTubers Kennie J.D. "They're brooding hot 25 year old teenagers". They're both actors in their 20's. They could both theoretically be playing immortals frozen in their teens. I get that Thomas looks older but none of them look like teens. Edwin's actor has a 5 o'clock shadow. The most info we get about Thomas' age that he's meant to be appearing as is that he says "he's not a daddy type" according to him. Admittedly his actor says that when he was imagining a backstory for him part it was that he thought he and Esther were ex's. So that does lend to the idea of him being frozen as an adult. So I'd definitely say it's a grey area. But also people arguing it's not weird because they're all kind of ageless anyway, I do disagree with. As a TikToker, Babbity Kate, I like pointed out just because Edward is over 100 years old doesn't mean Bella dating him isn't less weird than her dating Carlisle. There's a difference, it matter's a person's maturity.

I just hope we get a Season 2 and the Cat King sticks around for it. Hope Edwin misses him XD

Other people with great takes on him: https://www.tumblr.com/weareinastormoffuck/749853517024559104?source=share

#dbd #dead boy detective agency #dead boy detectives #dead boy detectives spoilers #myanalysis #the cat king

[riise-my-anngel]

Idk i just think theres something to say the brothers all realizing what time period you are trapped in and the way they fall apart.

Lucifer and Belphie understand the others fear. Both of them came close to, or succeeded in killing you and they know that time period they WILL try again and thats terrifying. They've done a lot to personally grow from their actions towards you.

And they both have nights where they sit in Lucifers study, drinks in their hand, discussing if they could live with themselves if you are killed by their past selves. And also what happens if you come back, but sre scared or lost trust in their present selves.

Its the most honest the two of of them have been in a long time. Their unique out of the brothers. Their violence towards you was unforgivable but yet you not only forgave them but now love them. Lucifer and Belphie are powerless to protect you from their past selves and they hate themselves for being such violent demons that they know hurting you is probable.

Satan, well, no one understands. He barely does. His room is a wreck. He hasn't been like this in centuries. He has no idea what his past self is capable of towards you all he remembers is his hate for his brothers and no amount of magic would spare you from his wrath tearing your body into peices.

Everyone at RAD is terrified of Satan, everyone who isn't the brothers, angels, or the royals refuse to bring your name up. He's already had to pay for damaging quite a few walls and doors because lesser demons would comment to him about him "finally losing his dumb little pet".

It isn't lost on Satan that the very fact that you're trapped in a time period where his wrath is dangerous and unpredictable, and that has led his present self to cope by being dangerous and unpredictable. He just isn't himself without you anymore.

Levi is lost in a fantasy world. Its easier to pretend you're just in your room if he hides away to his anime and his video games. He can just pretend everything is fine but the second he remembers your not there? Well the HoL isn't the only place that has had issues with Lotan being summoned. A lesser demon made a comment about the "human finally moving on from the lord of losers" and whoops guess that demon and quite a few others drowned to death. Over and over again until Diavolo had to step in and make Levi stop.

Beel can't figure out if he's ravenous or if he never wants to eat again. He fluctuates, some days he destroys whatever kitchen he's in, be it HoL, RAD cafeteria or just whatever restaurant he happens to be nearby. Other days he spends hours in the kitchen making your favourite devildom food, trying to recreate the human world food you two made together, but once its done he feels sick to his stomach that you can't just be there cooking with him and he can't see that shy smile you hide behind your hand when you have something you love. So he just tosses them onto the dining table for the brothers and goes to Fangol practice instead. At least he is more allowed to be aggressive there.

This is worse then losing Lilith, because he might never know what happened to you. Protecting people was his JOB and if he couldn't protect you, then its worse then having to choose betwern siblings lives. It means Beel failed before even trying, in his eyes.

Asmo doesn't recognize himself. He didn't realize how much time his vanity was actually spent with you in his chair and him draped over you behind him constantly doting on you. He buys things he thinks you'd look stunning in or things with your favorite scent and as soon as he gets home? Well not much gets kept. He throws the bottles at his tub until its a scattered mess of liquids that needs to be cleaned and clothes he bought you get torn up. Why should he keep them if you never come home, they would just be a reminder of what he can never see again. He doesn't recognize his reflection without you. You love him for who he is not what he looks like, but all alone he can never see the good you saw in him and he hates that all is left in his reflection is a bitter, miserable demon who lost the only person who loves him for his inner self.

No one even tries to sleep with him, he didn't fool around once you two shared your feelings but now hes offended at even being propositioned. These demons, succubus and incubus, they all just see his face and body and want a peice. You looked him in the eye and fell in love without any charm or magic. Who do these people think they are assuming they could ever live up to you? Many nights he goes out, he ends up physically attacking people who dare get too touchy with him.

Mammon tried. He really did. He wanted to keep his brothers together, but it just isn't working. No one knows if you're alive anymore and Solomon has stopped bothering trying to send word through time to update on your status. Once Solomon stopped? The brothers couldn't stand listening to Mammon being calm and rational anymore. No one knew if you were ever coming back and Mammon didn't know how to make them believe otherwise when he didn't know himself.

He's not in the house a lot anymore. He spent too much time with you in that house he can't stand the sight of it. Ironically he's never been richer. He doesn't see the joy in schemes or ploys without you to scold yet indulge him, you're not around to spend it on, so he just gambles. Wins more, has nothing to do with so he gambles.

In a winning streak, he'd either pull you right to his side or just haul you onto his lap to show off his pretty little good luck charm. Now he's winning all on his own and he doesn't give a shit about any of the people around vying for his attention or time. They ain't you, but he'll take their money cus what else is he going to do. You're not there and no one has the right to even think they could replace you.

They all know one thing though. If you never come back, Solomon better never come back either because they'll take out every single bit of pain on him for as long as the sorcerer could survive it.

#obey me #obey me nightbringer #obey me luficer #obey me mammon #obey me levi #obey me satan #obey me asmo #obey me beel #obey me belphie

[musicfeedsmysoul12]

I just read a bunch of Owl House Criticism and have to say… a lot does make sense. I still rate the show very high and honestly I blame the pacing for a lot of the issues we DO have with the show. I also think people are taking this way more seriously then they should and some do the complaints feel nitpicky.

One thing a lot of people brought up is Luz’s character and how the first episode showed her casual dismissal of others and their safety occurs. Then there was a few comments on how Vee is right to call her out on running away and other things.

I don’t fully disagree. Luz fucked up big time her first episode where she brought live animals and fireworks to school. It’s just… no. I don’t deny people should have punished her for it. I vote that the Shakespeare play and the cheerleading thing aren’t worth punishment though. Because both are honestly just quirky kid things. She wanted to be cool so she did something she liked to try and impress others. They thought it was creepy and reacted to it. Good reasons for her to be kind of shoved aside by some people. The spiders and snakes though? Yikes.

But to just call her a bad character puts a nasty taste in my mouth because I think she is one that is a good character and whom I think would have been fun to explore. It’s just… she’s kind of a concept that was tried but fell flat.

I think the summer camp thing was handled badly and I would have liked to be explained why they never tried to talk to her about what a reasonable amount of creativity is in her school work. If it turns out they had attempted to do so multiple times but she never listened: the camp is probably a better idea then not. More so given her actions could have gotten her arrested. Honeslty leaning on that idea would have been interesting. Luz being told she had to go to camp or face probation or something would have been an interesting hook.

My friend said she felt therapy would have been better and yeah that’s a good point: but what if they did try and it didn’t work? What if they felt a camp was less expensive ? (Which it probably was.)

I would have liked more evidence that Luz was an outcast. I saw a lot of criticism on this because if you just look at the show face value: Luz does seem like she’s whining about a lot of stuff. Her mom turned out to be like her and only wanted her to not get bullied as Camila did in school. She could have made friends at camp. There’s just so much there that does make Luz seem like a bad person for being upset. And honestly it would be interesting to explore that to, to really pick apart the dramatic ‘me against the world’ mindset of teenagers who see themselves as outcasts. But the show is supposed to be about weirdos and found family.

So: I would actually nix Camila being a nerd. Manny was the nerdy one who loved fantasy, encouraging it in Luz. I would have had him be the one who was more open about Luz’s everything while Camila was more wary and put off. Sure, she could still laugh at the snake skin incident, but I would want her to be less accepting of the other stuff. I said that the first episode reminded me of my mom when I got my diagnosis of autism and she didn’t understand it. I would want to lean in.

Manny and Luz should have been canonly neurodivergent. Camila is neurotypical and she constantly compared her two family members because Manny could mask very well. Luz couldn’t. But I would have Camila struggle to understand that her daughter’s own brand of autism/ADHD is vastly different then her husband’s because it’s so common. I can’t tell you how many time people are like: oh you’re lying about being this cause you don’t act like BLANK.

Camila and Luz then have a conflict which makes it more understandable why Luz is willing to lie to her mother about not being at camp. Because Camila is set up to not understand Luz and possibly she would be pushing her daughter to act ‘normal’ because she doesn’t understand. Again this is inspired by my mom. I have vivid memories of her worrying about appearances and how others think of us, with her pushing me towards things I didn’t like. Some of it was out of concern for me, but there was a huge lack of understanding that drove a wedge between us for a while.

I would then have the idea that Luz is bullied be obvious. Luz would reference it or recall incidents. And I would have them be unpleasent. Being ditched by so called ‘friends’, name calling and mocking. Maybe having her things stolen or random crap dumped in her locker. I would have her be the outcast from the start. I would also address her being a POC person in a small town. Luz could have met Masha or the other two kids: I want a reason why she didn’t connect.

I grew up with almost no friends but people generally didn’t hate me. I got bullied a bit but most of the time I was ignored and happy about it. When I was a kid I was very particular and drove people off due to this. When I made friends I was with other weirdos: some of whom were alone because they were just… I can only call them very weird and slightly disturbing. One of whom was a girl who’d flip on a dime if she liked you or not.

Masha in canon is goth and is there to be the ‘cool goth kid’. I would have had them be dismissive of Liz’s fondness for the Azura series and possibly the type to mock her for liking a ‘gushy girly book’ because take it from this enby: a lot of us go through the phase of shunning anything feminine and romantic to be ‘cool’. I would have a reason why two people who could have totally been friends weren’t.

Luz would be an outcast among outcasts. Just that shade of different.

I want her to have suffered in school. I want her to have to explain that it’s true no one understood her. I want her to be able to look Vee in the face to go: you know nothing. Because Vee only sees a surface and not the full sum of it. Vee who isn’t into Azura and thus gets Masha being: oh you matured cool. I want to hang now. Who goes to Camila who is thankful her baby seems able to mask now.

I want Camila to be able to mistake Vee for her own kid because ‘oh god yes she’s finally normal’. And I want Luz to point this out. I want Luz to point out to Vee the other kids said camp was prison. And that ‘you might have liked it for some reason but can you say I would have? Masha thinks I’m a freak for liking Azura. They told me I was a loser for it.’

I want there to have been a damn good reason more then we got for WHY Luz stayed in the isles.

Not to say I don’t want Luz to feel bad about lying or anything. I just want the whole outcast thing to be more apparent. Luz feeling awful about lying and about resenting her mom who does love her versus the fact she never felt safe in the human realm is an idea worth exploring!!

#the owl house #owl house rewrite #luz noceda #camila noceda #vee the basilisk #toh critical #I guess #more ‘I still liked the show it’s just that this would have been interesting’

[ddejavvu]

mvm! maybe poly!maraudeers with a wispy, cute, fae-like reader! mischievous but well meaning, sly and sweet; reader definitely tries to trick one/all into giving their names all the time, so she can keep hardcore courting them and they can belong to each other. its a fae thing, and faes like coveting pretty things :] mainly thinkin abt slyly courting them in ways they absolutely do not notice at first, till like, remus decides to read up and study on fae behaviour, and he has an ‘oh’ moment

cute little tidbits that i love :) - shes notrious for managing to steal away pretty little trinkets, and its well known how much faes love and protect their treasures, so as a courting tactic, she gives (im thinking more along the lines of james) some really pretty blueish seaglass because it matches his eyes! sirius definitely flirts cheesily, saying he can be her treasure/pretty thing, she could steal HIM away, and readers just like.. “thats the plan :]”. another little thought.. she definitely manages to actually, genuinely, physically fluster even sirius sometimes, like, she'll make an offhand comment about like, how cute his babies will be if they get his nose! or his pretty cheekbones! and sirius sits there like :]

okay so we all had a tinkerbell phase as kids right? the animated movies of pixie hollow? well, thats how i imagine reader dresses too, however out of place it may seem - like how adults go disney bounding as their fav character, she`ll do that in public but she still has a very fae-ish outfit and look about her. and i cant begin to tell you how obsessed remus is with this. like, hes got his scars that are usually one of the first things people glue their eyes to, but with you next to him? they focus on the suspiciously authentic bag made of large green leafs, or the numerous flowers braided into your hair constantly, or the way you smell so divine, like lavender and honey, or vanilla and forest wood, or the way your eyes are so captivating that they cant help but feel a pull towards you (fae characteristics <3). on another note, you CANNOT TELL ME that big, sweetheart, ‘sometimes head empty brrrr’ james potter does not stare off into space sometimes, lip between his teeth, eyes glazed over and a bit widened, lazer focused on how your thighs look spilling out of your leaf dress (maybe a dress like tinkerbells - short and earthy and sweet, as a little visual aid :) ) the man just wants to bite, like actually bite the fat and grip your hips with his big hands and let his brain go dead. this phenomenon is made especially apparent when you discover lingerie and how pretty so much of it is!! the sweet lace and the cute cups and theres so. many. designs. you must get opinions all round on every single piece. probably wind up with them all suddenly being marvellously busy though, theyll walk through the door, spot the store bags from victorias secret on the couch, and beeline right back out. they physically just.. cannot. they cant put themselves through that and come out unaffected on the other side.

maybe she gets a bit worried/downtrodden one day and ofc they notice. the issue? “why arent you guys accepting my courting?? am i doing it wrong? its my first time so idk if im doing it right :((“ james definitely was clueless up until this point, no matter how many times both sirius and remus have hinted that shes been doing this, but for some reason, hes the only one who knows how to properly navigate this situation. he, quick as a whip, snags a pair of his old, broken, beaten up glasses and presses em into her hand - an offering, a courting recipricant, a trinket!!! - with the biggest smile on his face. the glasses have so much tape around the middle, one of the legs are hanging off, and the lenses are almost smashed entirely, but one mans trash is another mans treasure :DD readers just like “oh :)) thanks :))”, probably a little breathy and shy but with a beaming smile to match because give the girl a break, its her first time recieving a courting trinket of all things!! its like, the human equivilent of snogging someone before holding their hand!!

i only know little things about fae from stuff ive read in the past, but this is just an interpretation based on common things i can remember about them, if any of it is inaccurate im sorry!

(any time i send any of these little paragraphs in, i dont expect anything in return btw! its mainly just like, emptying the trashcan of thoughts in my head into a space where someone else might enjoy em! like, yk, here u go! read this like its ur a 1950s husband reading the newspaper in the morning! lmao makes no sense but then at least the little imaginations and ideas dont get lost into the world of my brain and someone else can have at em :) )

baby!!! i am not educated enough on fae aus to write one (at least, not yet) so i will be more reacting to this than i am adding to it but let me just tell you that i loved reading it!! i mean it when i say that every time you send something into my inbox i thoroughly enjoy it, i swear you write me your own little fanfictions and they're the highlights of my day no matter who they're about <33333

SGSNDF THEY'D BE SO SMUG IF THEY FOUND OUT THEY WERE 'PRETTY THINGS' TO YOU... they keep all of your little gifts tucked into their pockets except they might need a new home because you're just always giving them more and they can't fit them all in their pockets!!

YES REMUS AND HIS LITTLE FAIRY GF :'))) UGHHH he definitely spoils her with pretty jewelry and things to wear and bags to carry and he'll learn to make flower crowns just for her :'))

SGSDNFNSF YES fashion show!! you twirl around and show off the skimpy little sets you'd bought and everyone needs a very long, intensive cold shower after the fact </33

AWWW JAMES'S GLASSES :')) he blames it on the fact that he's overly sentimental that he even still has them, but he's so glad he never tossed them as he watches your eyes shine and your breath hitch when he presents you with them :') sirius probably gives you a guitar pick of his and remus lets you have a pretty bookmark of his with a little golden tassel on it :')

i want you to know that i fully plan on answering every single ask you send/have sent me, they are always so fantastic and i know i still have a few but i just reread two of them the other day and got all giddy and excited to expand on it so trust me i know there's no pressure but i want to do them anyways!!! seriously you make my day with these they're probably my favorite type of asks to get is like full stories :')) thank you for being so sweet all the time and thank you for sharing your ideas with me!!!!

#poly!marauders #poly!marauders x reader #poly!marauders imagine #poly!marauders scenario #poly!marauders oneshot #poly!marauders one-shot #poly!marauders one shot #poly!marauders headcanon #poly!marauders headcanons #poly!marauders hc #poly!marauders hcs #poly!marauders fanfiction #poly!marauders fanfic #poly!marauders fic #poly!marauders blurb #poly!marauders drabble #poly!marauders dialogue #poly!marauders fluff #poly!marauders x reader fanfiction #poly!marauders au #poly!marauders x fae!reader #fae!reader #ddejavvu's multiverse mondays #multiverse mondays

[redrobin-detective]

Iruma-kun, the Six Fingers and Humanity

I have been mulling over this idea for days as I devoured the Iruma-kun anime then manga and am still struggling to articulate it. The best I can boil down to is the whole goal of the Six Fingers and the return to origins is, unbeknownst to them, a desire to become more human.

I can understand, in a way, their frustration. Demons used to be merciless killers, where the strong surpassed the weak and magic, aggression and power won the day. Now we see they have idol concerts and theme parks and silly games to help demons safely purge their “wickedness” which is, in reality just another part of their nature. The majority of modern day demons deny a large part of themselves. The whole idea of a wicked cycle is endlessly fascinating to me, like this species has compartmentalized themselves so much that their pent up darker impulses periodically spring out and require them to be handled gently or hidden away. I can see how this practice is insulting and incredibly restrictive of what a demon is.

Now, right from the start, Iruma has stood out in the demon world for a few reasons. First and most obviously, he lacks any practical or cultural knowledge of demonic society. We see Iruma ignorantly stride past social norms and boundaries he didn’t even know existed. If it weren’t for his upbeat, people pleasing attitude he’d be written off as a delinquent but instead he helps foster an environment of change in a bunch of slackers and misguided students. And change is a radical concept in a society that hasn’t replaced the demon king in centuries since the old one disappeared. The effect of Iruma’s very presence, his enthusiasm and attitude and cooperative abilities can be seen so strongly on the Misfit class that its no wonder he’s become such a stand out student.

So I had heard of Irumean when I first started the series and had high expectations of him being a full on bastard. And he simply wasn’t. He was arrogant, reckless, rude at the worst but even those around him commented that his innate, unnatural kindness was still there. I argue because Irumean was never a true wicked cycle. It was Ali-san’s attempt to induce a demonic ritual onto him. But humans aren’t like demons, Iruma is a good, kind, patient boy due to his trauma and strength of character. At any point he could lash out in the most horrific fashion and leave everyone stunned because he is not bound such such strict rules of personality and conduct. His humanity is as much a strength as it is a weakness.

So according to recent chapters, Iruma has traces of Delkira’s energy. My first thought was that it was emanating from Ali-san, which is a distinct possibility but why was the ring attracted to Iruma in the first place? My next theory is that Delkira had some connection to humans as well. Either he’s a hafling or a demonized human or spent a significant amount of time in the human world. Either way, this human perspective is what made him so powerful, such an irreplaceable leader that his throne has remained empty for so long. One could even argue that the energy that the Six Fingers identify as ‘Delkira’ is actually just ‘human’ since the King’s energy is familiar while a human’s is not.

My whole round about point I’m doing a very poor job of explaining essentially boils down to, demons want to return to their origins to have more control over their baser instincts. Instincts and free will that humans, such as Iruma, possess naturally. But while Iruma has the capability for great evil, unrestrained by a set cycle, he also has such an overflowing well of love in him. Delkira, what little we’ve seen of him comes across as brash, fickle and cruel. You may note those are human traits as well. But Iruma also leads with kindness, dedication and teamwork. He will make a marvelous King because the humanity he brings to the table will help all of demonkind.

I do believe as the manga progresses we will see Iruma’s humanity become a  game changer in the battle against the Six Fingers. How he sees the world (both human and demon), how he interacts and inspires others, how he fights. Reaching a point where not only does Iruma stand up for himself but he is forced to cause harm (and by consequence addressing his people pleasing trauma) and behave in a manner not seen by demons outside of their wicked cycle. When he does, years down the road, become King, I believe he will address the concerns of factions like the Six Fingers. Demons are not meant to be fully contained but cannot be allowed to run rampant. With his feet in both worlds, I believe he will be able to balance both opposing views and ‘heal’ the underworld as the prophecy states. Not just from the instability of the Six Fingers but from this bizarre evolutionary cycle demons have fallen into over the centuries.

#mairimashita! iruma kun #welcome to demon school iruma kun #iruma kun spoilers #not sure how to tag this?? #the wicked cycle is fascinating to me #so youre saying i can compile all my bitchy evil energy into a few day cycle?? #its absolutely insane if you think about it #and Yes wtds is a lovely lighthearted series that I adore but sometimes I think 'gosh this is tame for hell' #and i argue that its not supposed to be like this! #how they got stuck in this cycle is up for debate if it pre or post dates Delkira #the point remains that Iruma can and absolutely should go feral at some point #bc he is a human and his personality and actions are managed only by himself #I want all his people pleasing meek adorableness to backfire on him and we see a hint of the rage beneath #I want him to maim even kill in a rage bc the indignities done to him have been simmering for years and now someone is threatening his new h #*home #The six fingers want him bc of delkira yeah but also his ability to transcend the limits of being a modern demon #something something humans are the true demons the latter having managed themselves so tightly they no longer resemble demons of old #that Iruma even as good and pure as he is is still more alike Delkira than any modern demon #Ive kind of lost the bubble on this but things Ive been thinking about #Im all caught up and I feel Extreme Stress over the Diverticulum #i cant wait!

[inuhalfdemon]

Dirty Dealings (6/21)

Word Count: 6,508 Words

Chapter 6: The Confession

“Adeline…dear Adeline….I believe that I,” He flourished his hand, pressing it to his chest “…am fucked up.” - Alastor

New Orleans, Louisiana

June 25th, 1976

One year later - on a warm sunny early afternoon - Alastor came back to New Orleans to find Addie staying in a cabin outside of the city. It was small, but quaint – especially to someone for his taste of aesthetic. It was surrounded by marshland and well away from any neighbor within a mile. He paused briefly at the door, appreciating the rustic-ness of the sturdy, old building. He had come this time already in his form that was his norm as the radio demon from Hell. Adeline had made a point of really not being bothered or overly concerned by this appearance and he favored it anyway. Turning one large ear toward the swamp, he listened to the familiar sounds of the bog. It was all very nostalgic for him.

He knocked at the old wood that was the door and Addie soon was there opening it.

“Happy Anniversary, Adeline,” He bowed at the door, smiling widely. “I’m quite surprised to find you here. I thought you might make me travel somewhere terribly ungodly…Sweden, perhaps.” He chuckled at his own joke. “But, instead, I find you here. Seen it all already, have you?” His voice playing to her as if someone had cranked on an old radio.

Addie stepped back so that he himself could step into the cabin. “Not even close.” She told him with a small laugh, smiling back at him. “I just knew you would be by to visit and I wanted to make sure I was here to meet you. You haven’t been out to the cemetery yet, have you?” She asked him. 

Fiddling with his monocle, he was surveying the interior of the cabin: noting the old kitchen and stove; a small dining area that was really just a very rickety table with matching chairs; the short hallway that branched quickly to one room and another, likely a bathroom and one lone bedroom.

“Not yet.” He told her, appreciating some antique furbearing animal traps that were hung along one wall.

“Well,” She told him. “I was in town earlier…I picked up some things for a quick supper and I found a beautiful bouquet of flowers that I thought you could take with you when you went.”

“Ah!” He said happily. “I thought I could smell shrimp and grits! You are too kind, dear Adeline.”

“I hope that’s ok,” She said, “I’m not the best cook…”

“I’m sure it will be splendid.” He assured her, his smile as large as it had ever been.

They took their supper out on the small back porch that was attached to the cabin. Along with the shrimp and grits, she had made a lemonade which they both continued to enjoy following their meal. They sipped at cool, sweet drinks chatting and enjoying each other’s company underneath the warmth of the sun.

Addie told him about her traveling; how the documents worked perfectly and how she already had gotten to see so much more than she ever could have imagined possible. He was curious about the history of the cabin. She told him that it had been left abandoned for some time and she had found that there was a rather messy paperwork battle ongoing for the land surrounding it. Addie figured it might take some time to get sorted so she was squatting upon the property for the time being.

“Hm,” He commented. “Rather resourceful of you. That a girl.”

“Thanks.” She smiled. “I…really appreciate it.”

Soon following, Alastor was taking his leave. Addie gave him the flowers – a beautiful bouquet of sunflowers - to take with him to his mother’s grave; without touching the flowers themselves, he snapped his fingers and they disappeared in a cloud of green. “I’d carry them along with me if I could, of course.” He told her. “But, I’m afraid they’d wilt at my touch. Best that I take them this way. It will be nice to have something much more colorful to bring than one of my…hellish…roses.” He chuckled, happily enjoying another one of his own jokes.

“Your cooking was delectable, darling, and very much needed.” He thanked her.

“I’m glad.” She said, going with him to the door.

“Forgive me,” He paused at the door. Reaching for her, he lightly took her right hand, pulling it more into the light. “But, I only just noticed that you are wearing your ring. I don’t recall seeing you with it before.”

“I was afraid I might lose it…” She admitted. “I was very careful with it and ended up losing it anyway…twice. Both times, it came back. It would be gone and then…it wasn’t.” She was looking at the wooden ring, a small smile touching her face.

“Well, it looks lovely on you, Adeline.” He gently let her hand go. “Before I go, I offer to you another anniversary gift. Should you ever need me, should you ever require my presence – twist the ring around your finger, any finger. Three purposeful twists should do it.”

She looked at the ring, wondering if she would ever actually dare to do it. At the surface, it was a kind gift for him to offer but she worried too, that like anything, it would come at a cost.

Then she realized, “You haven’t asked me.”

He stood smiling at her, saying nothing.

“Every year you find me and you make a point of asking me if I’m ready to give up yet. If I’m ready to give you…my soul.” She explained.

“My, dear…” He grinned back at her. “I meant no rudeness.” He told her. “I simply assumed to know what your answer would be. It would be a lie for me to tell you that this is the first time that I’ve made an ass of myself.” He cackled.

When he had stopped, he regarded her more seriously. “Have I been terribly…mistaken?” He asked her, obviously expecting no real surprises from her.

“No.” She said. “It’s just…something I noticed.”

He turned a long ear slightly at that and she wondered what he must be thinking.

“Well, I do have one more matter to discuss with you before I take my leave, dearest Adeline.” He told her. “I’m afraid our yearly anniversary celebrations will have to be….less frequent from now on. I’ve become rather busy and these visits are becoming quite…tedious for me to attend to each passing year. Now, now, my dear – please- don’t fret too much,” He was saying, though she hadn’t really reacted to his news at all. “I will still be popping by from time to time, of course; purely to check in and see that you haven’t yet changed your mind in regards to your...answer.”

This was something she - in fact - had anticipated for some time. She fully expected him to grow bored with their yearly visits. If anything, she was surprised he had kept up with it as long as he had. “Sounds good to me.” She told him.

“Fantastic!” He exclaimed. She was watching his expression closely this time; not his smile – that never went away but his eyes and ears often told a different story. She read nothing in them now, but she suspected that he had been hoping for a much different response from her.

“How does our 30th sound?” He asked her.

“Four years…” She said. “Yeah, that’ll work.”

This time both ears shifted position, ever so briefly.  Laughing, he said, “It’s a deal then.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

New Orleans, Louisiana

June 25th, 1980

Nearly 15 years came and went. True to his word, Alastor did not find her again until the year 1980; marking 30 years since Addie LaRue made her deal with the radio demon. He found her again, staying within New Orleans; this time in a rather high-end apartment within the city. He visited her during the day again – coming true to his form- and she had a crawfish pie waiting for them to lunch with.

“Can I make a request?” She asked him as they ate. “I mean…for my gift this year. Is that allowed?”

He smirked, taking a sip from the lemonade she had made to go with their meal again. “Perhaps…but it will depend on what it is you have in mind, of course. Rather bold of you to assume you’d be getting a gift…” His voice crackling behind a filter of radio.

“Shut up.” She told him, “I want..” She paused, trying to decide how to approach it exactly. “I would like…” She began again. “I would like for us to spend some time together.”

His smile curled oddly across his face, his head tilting at her…odd request.

“I mean, I’d really like some company…and I could tell you about all of the traveling I’ve gotten to do in the past four years. I could get wine, we could play games… I don’t know.” She stopped, sighing. “That probably sounds really boring to you.”  

“It sounds horrendously boring.” He told her. “Do you, by chance, own a radio?”

“Yes…” She told him, unsure of why he might be asking.

“Well, if nothing else.” He speared a bite of pie with his fork. “I could stand an evening ‘in’ listening to some good jazz - of my choice - of course. And, if you’re promising alcohol, well, I suppose it will be somewhat bearable.”

“Really!?” She hadn’t actually thought he would entertain her idea. “Would you have some time tonight?” She asked him.

“Actually, yes.” He told her, going for another bite of the food. Finishing it, he told her, “I just have my – errand – but, after that I’m all yours.” He snickered.

“Oh, yes!” She said, remembering he would be visiting his mother’s grave today. “I got you some more sunflowers to take…I mean, if you want to. I’m not even sure if those are ones you even want-“

She really was needing some company, he noted. She normally wasn’t so worried about what he thought.

“They will be perfect, Adeline.” He assured her. “Sunflowers were her favorite.”

 “Oh,” Addie smiled. “Good.”

They finished their lunch and Alastor left with the sunflowers to visit the cemetery. They planned to reconvene later that evening at her place, him telling her not to worry about preparing another meal for them as he had…other…dinner plans. Addie briefly remembered the very first form she had found him in; remembered hearing the sharp cracking of bones from somewhere in the darkness; the sounds of something gnawing on soft, wet flesh. She shivered. She still hadn’t figured out what she made of him quite yet.

That evening, Alastor arrived to her apartment promptly. He came, in human form, with a bouquet of red roses and was dressed rather handsomely in a fine black pinstriped suit.

“Good evening, Adeline.” He told her as she opened the door.

“Good evening, Luc.” She offered him inside.

His spectacles caught the light of the room, his head tilting sharply as he eyed her coyly.

She ignored his carefully veiled look of disgust, asking him “Wouldn’t you rather a more comfortable…ensemble?” She herself, was dressed in casuals but she also was just surprised to find him not in his strange tall, red demon form.

“I felt like cleaning up a bit for tonight, I hope that’s alright.” He told her, going to a small coffee table, he produced a vase like he had back at the hotel in Lafayette years ago and began arranging the flowers.

“Fine with me.” She shrugged. “I’ll go get the wine.”

When she returned he was seated comfortably at one of the sofas within the living room, her radio playing soft jazz.

She filled two glasses of wine, handing one to him, she then curled herself into one of the lounge chairs across from him. They spent the remainder of their evening in that fashion; she telling him all about the traveling she had gotten to do since they last saw each other; he listening and enjoying the soft tones of music playing from the radio. Later, they chatted amiably about things that really held no great importance, simply enjoying each other’s company.

Adeline couldn’t have expressed – even to herself – how much it meant to her to have this. To have someone here that she could spend time with…someone that knew her. Someone who remembered her. Someone she could have an actual conversation with without ever having to worry about them turning away, even for a moment; where she did not have to carefully and meticulously navigate a single interaction, forcing it to remain completely intact and stretching it for as long as she possibly could before…inevitably…it was broken. 

When the wee hours of morning came and Addie found herself starting to fall asleep from the wine and fine music, Alastor politely excused himself. They planned to meet again in 5 years, their 35th anniversary.

Their 35th anniversary was very much a repeat of the 30th, almost exact in many ways. Alastor found Addie again in the same apartment, in New Orleans. They lunched, Addie provided him with more sunflowers for his mother’s gravesite and she requested that he spend the evening with her. He agreed - willingly enough - and arrived just as he had years before, coming as a human and dressed handsomely in the same black pinstriped suit; carrying a bouquet of roses. He again played jazz from her radio as they drank wine and spent their evening catching up and getting to know each other a little more.

It’s no surprise that in 1990, their 40th anniversary, Addie made her request to him again; that he accompany her that evening at her apartment for them to spend time together. Alastor willingly accepted. This evening, however, when he arrived; it was as the red, radio demon. Addie wasn’t sure if she should be surprised by this or if it just was that he was becoming more…casual…with these evenings they were spending together.

Her radio immediately tuned to a smooth jazz station and she left to get wine. When she returned he had made himself comfortable, his long body stretched across the sofa leisurely. She brought out two wine glasses and a bottle of pinot noir. “So, dearest Adeline, what wild tales of adventure do you have to share with me this evening?” He asked her. 

“Actually,” She said. “I wanted to see if you’d be interested in playing a drinking game tonight?”

“Ugh,” He groaned disgustedly. “I am NOT playing that wretched game of ‘Never Have I Ever’ again.” She laughed at that. She learned quickly that she held the upper hand in that one the last time they had played; there wasn’t much he hadn’t done and he wasn’t very good at finding the right questions to ask her in order to win the game.

“Well,” She sat down in the lounge chair beside the sofa. “I am NOT playing 20 questions with you ever again. You made me work through 5 whole separate rounds just for me to be guessing for ‘a dead man’s left kidney’.”

He shrugged. “So, what do you have in mind?”

“One I thought of…” She shifted in her seat, hoping he had an open mind tonight. “One of us asks a question. The other can either; answer it and the person who asked the question has to take a drink OR they can skip the question but then have to take a drink themselves.”

“Eh…Why not.” He sat up and she reached for the bottle of wine.

“If we are doing this though, I may need to actually be drunk.” He snapped his fingers and a whiskey glass filled with a liquid appeared upon the small table. “A nice rye, I think.” He reached into his suit jacket, retrieving a flask and promptly poured another type of liquid into the glass. “Don’t think me impolite, I’d offer you a taste but if you consumed merely one drop…well, it would kill you.” He stirred the drink with one long, clawed finger. “Mortal liquors don’t quite have the kick that I’ll need tonight.”

“Wow, are you really planning to let that loose?” She asked him, only half-teasingly.

“Honestly, Adeline, I could use it. I have had quite an aggravating time of it lately” He began muttering, “…obnoxious…pompous...piece of shit….television...”

When she didn’t have anything to say to this he continued, “Tonight, I think I will properly let myself become completely and utterly sloshed. I don’t have anywhere I have to be, anyway. Depending on how the night goes, I may need to take up residence somewhere…maybe that corner of the room over there. I promise, you won’t notice me. The shadows will just seem darker over there until I’m gone.”

“I guess I should have gotten more wine.” She glanced at the bottle. “I could run out quick and-“

“No need, my dear.” He told her, already nursing his whiskey. “It’s not just holy hands that can turn water into wine, after all.”

She starred at him. He sipped again at his whiskey, then setting the glass down, “What? Do you think that I’m kidding?”

“You won’t…you won’t put any of that-“ She nodded at the flask that was still on the table. “In it…will you?”

“Heaven’s no!” He told her, lifting one of the empty wine glasses from the table top and handing it to her. “Here, fill it with water and bring it back to me.” He reached down and returned the flask that was on the table back to where he regularly kept it within his jacket.

When she came back, he took the glass. Holding it by the round bottom; the stem between his fingers; he swirled the glass with a smooth, gentle motion. The clear liquid within spun into a small whirlpool before turning a vibrant red. Stopping the movement, he offered the glass back to her.

She took it tentatively, watching him watching her. She raised the glass to her lips and sipped. The liquid was pleasurably cool but a soft, radiating heat followed it down as she swallowed. The taste was inconceivably delectable upon her tongue, and she could already feel the promise of a buzz coming as she drank more.

“This is…amazing. Is-is there more?” She asked, worried she’d want more than just the one glass.

“Oh, yes.” He told her, going back to his whiskey. “Drink as much as you like, the glass will not empty.”

She shook her head slightly, still baffled by his small surprises.

“The lady may ask her first question.” He told her, stretching back out onto the sofa, his whiskey glass in hand.

“What year was it when you died?” She asked him.

“1933.” He told her and she sipped from her wine glass.

“What year were you born in?” He asked her.

“1918.” She answered and he drank from his whiskey.

“Did you have any siblings?” She asked him.

“No.” And, she drank again.

“Did you have siblings?” He asked.

“No.” She said and he tilted his glass.

“What music do you prefer?” She asked him.

“Jazz, usually.” He answered and she tipped her glass.

“How about you?” He asked.

“Now, hold on.” She said, “You can’t just keep asking me my questions.”

“I can’t think of any! And, you’re actually asking some good ones…”

She laughed.

“Jazz, naturally.” She answered his earlier question and he drank. They continued for some time, going back and forth. Soon, the effects of the alcohol started to make their appearance.

“Ok,” He sat up, seemingly serious now. “I want to know…have you ever thought about murdering someone?” She started to answer when, he stopped her, “Now, mind. I don’t mean in a this guy has a very disagreeable personality, I should get him drunk then push him off a building and tell everyone that he simply tripped and fell.... No. I mean like truly and actually wanted to string them up by a meat hook - using that white cotton butcher’s twine for wrapping meats so that they can’t get away; but all circulation is cut off  slowly and painfully from their hands and limbs; and you can hear their joints and ligaments popping and pulling from the weight of them just hanging there and you take a sharp knife, slowly and purposefully cutting through and into the cavity of their soft belly, spilling their warm and wriggling guts into your open hands before you take a slice at their jugular, their blood raining hot and red onto you and the concrete below while they scream and struggle into violent and jerking death throes…?” He was almost out of breath, his smile entirely gleeful as he asked her this.

“Um…no.” She said.

“Oh.” He said, disappointed and they were both quiet for a moment.

“You could ask me if I-?”

“I think I know that answer, thank you.” She told him and he chuckled darkly.

She swirled her wine glass, trying to think of her next question. On the sofa beside her, his chuckling had turned into a fit of giggling. She was holding back her own laughter at his sudden antics when he told her, “Adeline…dear Adeline….I believe that I,” He flourished his hand, pressing it to his chest “…am fucked up.” He burst into another fit of it.

She watched him, amusedly, knowing she wasn’t very far behind from being in the state he was in. As promised, no matter how much she drank, the wine glass never emptied; never dwindled in volume in the slightest. It was impossible to tell how much she had drank already but she could feel the alcohol singing through her veins; a comfortable, consuming buzz pressing in on her and draping a warm, but pleasant fogginess around her.

“So, what did you find to do for fun while you were alive?” She asked him.

“You mean besides killing people?” He asked her.

“Yes, besides that.” She told him, briefly wondering if he actually had killed anyone while he was alive but then deciding it was an area best not to delve into.

“Hm…” He thought for a moment. “I was quite a good dancer, back in my day. Why, I could really cut up a rug…and not just one soaked in blood.” He laughed.

Yep, he definitely had killed some people, she decided.

“Ah, yes,” He went on. “I could waltz and jitterbug like nobody’s business. I could sing too. Hell, I could dance and sing; both at the same time.” He was smiling softly to himself. “The Charleston…however, that one was a personal favorite of mine.”

Addie sipped her wine, “I can’t say that I can appreciate what any of that really means. I’ve never danced before.”

“WHAT!?” Her radio erupted in static loudly from across the room and he appeared suddenly just to the opposite side of her, his face very close to hers as he leaned over the arm of the cushion, his eyes wide. A crackling static was emanating now from him as well.

She gasped, startled, nearly falling out of her chair.  She had inadvertently fumbled the wine glass, it turned end over end briefly before she caught it back by the stem. Miraculously, the glass neither broke in her hand when she caught it back much too firmly; nor did any of the liquid spill from the rim.

“How does one be raised in the early, roaring 1900’s…in New Orleans, of all places-no less, not know how to dance!?” He demanded, rather sharply.  

“My family was poor.” She told him. “We never made it into town to do things like that…My father worked as a carpenter, so we only really went into New Orleans for jobs and supplies when we needed to.” She explained and he continued to stare at her, as if he was having trouble comprehending this concept. “That counts as a question by the way…” She pointed. “You’re supposed to take a drink now.”

He stood up straight, ignoring her last comment. “Well, that simply won’t do,” Pulling at the lapels of his jacket and straightening it he smoothly shifted into his human form; his red suit fading into black, the antlers and ears disappearing completely, his dark brown eyes glinting behind spectacles.

“I am much too drunk to go out-“ She started.

“Who says we are going anywhere?” He asked her; the radio filter completely gone from him now that he had changed his appearance. Snapping his fingers, a lively jazz number started playing from her radio now.

“I don’t thin-“ She was blushing deeply now, both from drink and embarrassment, realizing he meant to actually dance with her; here and now.

“I hold your soul within my possession, Adeline.” He told her and she wondered if he really was going to use that against her, when he continued, “Knowing said soul never got to experience – to appreciate - the true absolute passion of the fine art of dancing greatly decreases the value to me. I can’t have that.”

“I guess you could always cancel our contract.” She told him, not moving from her seat.

“Nice try.” He smirked. “Now, come here.” He was standing in a more open area of the room, offering his outstretched hand to her.

“Well, you sobered up quickly. Were you even ever actually drunk?” She asked him, annoyed.

“Adeline…” He said it in a low, warning growl. A smirk still across his face.

Sighing, she carefully stood up from her chair. She never wobbled but her head was swimming from the wine. She tentatively took his hand and he immediately began pulling her into a swinging dance with him around the room.

He took both her hands in his, and with smooth movements, he had her stepping with him through a quick routine. She slipped and stumbled into him and out of the rhythm several times but he patiently guided her through the awkwardness until she found somewhat of a flow to their movement. Her steps were clumsy and hardly in time with whatever this was supposed to look like but he led and spun her about with such ease that she actually felt like – had they really gone to a club - they wouldn’t look half-bad.

Soon though, the spinning and dipping was too much and she stopped him, “Ok…I really am too drunk for this.” She admitted, the room still spinning slightly despite her no longer moving now.

“Hm..” Not letting her go, he kept one hand in hers as – again, with a snap of his fingers – the radio shifted into playing a new song.

“Perhaps, something slower,” He told her, pulling her against him and starting her moving slowly into an easy, swaying Cajun two-step. With their left hands clasped together, he led her with his right hand pressed to her waist; her own right hand resting on his shoulder.

The jazz playing from the radio was soft toned but still had a kind of swing to it. The steps were easier for her to find this time and on they went, working their way about the room. She was pressed close to him; she noticed his eyes were closed as he visibly enjoyed the sounds of the music that were playing with the movement of their dancing.

“I still haven’t heard any of that singing you were bragging about.” She told him.

He laughed, spinning her with him as the music shifted slightly, soft vocals coming from the radio. Matching the tones perfectly, he sung along:

“Careless…now that you’ve got me loving you,

You’re careless. Careless in everything you do

His voice melded into their dancing so richly; the vibrations of his chest sending gentle, muffled vibrations into her own.

You break appointments and think you are smart.

If you’re not careful, you’ll break my heart.

Careless. Now that my bridges are all burned,

You’re careless. Careless in things where I’m concerned.

Are you just careless, as you seem to be,

Or do you just care less for me?”

              “Careless” – Tommy Dorsey (1939)

The smoothness of the jazz continued beyond the vocals of the song and they continued their way around the room. When it had ceased playing, he deliberately stopped their steps; their dance ending perfectly with the music.

He opened his eyes, smirking.

It was her turn to have her fit of the giggles. Whether it was the wine, the brief embarrassment of learning to dance for the first time or just her being completely unable to fathom anything about him; laughter was bubbling from her.

He assessed her mood briefly for a moment before erupting into another fit himself.

They wobbled back to the chair and the couch together; their laughing growing more uncontrollable.

Addie pulled herself into the lounge chair, pulling her legs up into a ball as her body shook with her laughs. Alastor – shifting quickly back to his red demon form – collapsed, still laughing, back onto the couch, his long legs draping over the top cushion, he slid so that his head was hanging off of the seat cushion, the tips of his ears folding flat against the carpet. Through the tears of her laughing, Addie saw how stupid that he and his smiling face looked in that position and her laughter went into uncontrollable guffawing. They both were in absolute hysterics.

After a time, they slowly regained some composure. Alastor had moved himself back into a comfortable lounging position against the arm of the sofa and Addie stayed curled in the cushion of her armchair, wiping the streaming tears from her face. The muscles in her face and her chest ached painfully from her merriment. She about decided she really shouldn’t have much more to drink this evening. Alastor, however, had his whiskey readily in hand again.

“More questions?” Addie asked.

“If you wish.” He shrugged complacently.

“Hm.” She thought. “Were you ever married?” She asked.

“Never.” He answered. She reached for the wine glass to take a drink.

“A toast…to your annoyance,” He said, lifting his glass in gesture before tilting it to his lips. “But, I’ll ask you the same.”

“No, never.” She answered and then she thought of a very interesting question to ask him. “Have you…- did you ever have sex?”

The radio, still playing the soft notes of something jazz briefly rattled with an irritating static, before tuning back in clearly to what had been playing. He was holding his glass, still close to his smiling face, but his eyes were sharply on her.

“Isn’t that a rather…distasteful question, Adeline?” He held one eyebrow raised.

“What?” She wasn’t really sure why he seemed so bothered by it, but he was almost glaring at her despite the grin he held in place. “You could just skip it…” She told him. “And, I really only meant to ask if you had while you were human. Is it really that big of a deal?”

He slumped into the couch, taking a dragging swallow from his whiskey, all the while holding his other hand up, giving her one raised long and very pointed middle-finger.

“Oh, wow.” She said, laughing. “You really didn’t like that question.”

“No.” He said darkly. “I didn’t.” The radio filter completely absent from his voice for a moment.

“Ok, well, your turn.” She gestured, expecting him to ask her the same question and ready to give him her honest answer.

“Do you regret the deal you made me with me, Adeline?” He almost purred wickedly.

“Fuck you.” She said

“Well, that one struck a nerve…” He noted.

 Setting her wine glass down on the table, she told him. “I was playing nice.”

“Were you?” He hissed.

“Yes!” Her voice rising now. “How was I supposed to know that that would bother you so much?” She demanded. “And don’t you already know the answer?” She demanded. “With you, ‘holding my soul within your possession’ and everything?”

“It doesn’t really work like that.” He snapped. “Our contract makes it so I know more about you, yes, but I don’t know everything.”

“You know when I’m in danger.” She pointed out. “So was that trick with the ring you told me completely pointless?”

“I mean…” He really was drunk enough that he was having trouble keeping his thoughts straight, here. “I should think that I’d know you’d need me there well before then.”

“What a fucking joke.” She was growing angrier, somehow completely unafraid of any truly threatening consequences from him from it. “This is all just one big game for you. What else did I expect?”

‘Is it really that big of a deal’ He mocked her. ‘You could just skip it-‘

“Fine, you know what.” She was well and truly pissed now. “Yes. I regret it. I regret it every fucking day. Does that make you happy? Happy to hear me fucking say it?” She asked him.

His smile was stretching in response, giving her the answer to the question she was asking now.

“I don’t age. I can’t die.” She told him. “I have as much time to live by as I could ever fucking want; I can travel the world, see things and do things I never could have dreamt to in what was supposed to be ‘my lifetime’. I have all of this ‘freedom’. But, what is the actual fucking point of any of it if I can’t really, truly talk to anyone, know anyone or have any kind of an actual relationship with anybody!?  I’m so fucking lonely, all of the time. Forty years. Forty years without anyone to know or care about me. There is no one. No one that I can share any part of my life with now.” She could feel the heat of angry tears, just barely brimming her eyes. She hated knowing that he damn well knew the only one that she could say was the exception to this – of course – was him. 

He was laughing again now. His smile stretched to the fullest.

“Oh, Adeline.” He laughed. “You must see the irony in all of this?” He jeered at her.

“Please, do tell me.” She seethed. “What exactly are you finding so funnily ironic in all of this?”

“Why,” He had stopped laughing now but was obviously more than happy to share this with her, “Do you think that I believe that you came to the swamps that night just to strike a deal with a demon like me on a whim? You, my dear, were running from something. Something that made you completely and utterly…desperate.” He was telling her this in a kind of sing-song-ish tone, enjoying himself immensely.

“So desperate, in fact…” He continued, a shadow casting over him now; his ears curling and his antlers lengthening long above his head; his voice taking a deep, dark and demented tone. “You were willing to sell your soul.”

“And, how incredibly lucky for me.” The shadow dissipating and his appearance going back to what it was, as he continued on happily. “Otherwise, I doubt I shall ever had found such an easy claim for something with so much….potential”. He said the word, greedily.

“So,” He went on, taking a drink from his whiskey and setting the glass down beside hers at the table. “What were you running from, dearest Adeline? An abusive boyfriend, perhaps? Or, even, an arranged marriage – not as common back then, mind you but-“

“I was pregnant, asshole.” She told him, darkly.

He stopped talking. The smile never left his face, but his eyes were wide; watching her.

“Wow. You really can’t stop smiling, can you? Weren’t ready for that?” She asked him, the hot, angry tears spilling down her cheeks now. “And, I was actually kind of excited about it too. For a little while. But, the guy…he skipped town. My dad was gone and my mother she…well, she told me the gators could have their way with me next for all she cared.”

“I had made a mistake…” She went on, when he hadn’t said a word or moved an inch. “I was desperate.” She admitted. “I-I didn’t know what to do. So, I made the deal. Like I said: I can’t age, I can’t die… But did you know that I also can’t get pregnant? That I can’t maintain a pregnancy...”

She thought she saw him tense visibly; but she also couldn’t be sure if it wasn’t just her trying to humanize him.

“It doesn’t really make a difference.” She told him. “I’d have found a way to…to deal with it anyway.”

She looked at him, brushing the tears away now. “Yes. I regret our deal. But it’s just another regret that I have. Regrets on top of regrets. That’s what my life has become.”

Both of them were silent for a moment; jazz still playing continuously from the radio.

“Ugh…” She exclaimed, her hands cupping her forehead. Her head was pounding painfully now. “I’m sorry…This isn’t how I wanted this evening to go.” She told him. “I shouldn’t have pressed you earlier. It was a very personal sort of question, and I can understand why it upset you. I’m sorry that I asked it.”

“Yes, well,” He cleared his throat, finally visibly relaxing. “I suppose I was…rather ‘careless’ myself tonight. You have my apologies…Adeline.” His smile had become much smaller, his eyes much softer.

“I think I’m done for tonight.” She told him. “I understand if you don’t really wish to stay here tonight though.”

“Do you want me to leave?” He asked her.

“No, I-“ She hated how honest this was. “I really don’t.”

“Then I’ll stay.” He promised.

He sent away their glasses while she got up to change into more comfortable clothing and get blankets. He politely turned down the one she had gotten for him but offered her the couch to stretch out on so that he could have her armchair, nearer to the radio. She noticed it had just begun to rain outside; going to the window, she lifted it open; the sounds of rain and thunder rolling in from the very early morning darkness. The smell of a warm, summer rain filling the room. She climbed onto the couch, pulling the blankets close as he reclined beside her in the chair.

“Luc?” She asked him after some time, listening to the radio and the rain outside.

“Hmm?” He responded to the name with no sounds of disgust or comment.

“Would you-?” She started to ask, a little shyly. “Would you sing to me? You do have a very lovely voice.” She told him. “If you don’t really want to though, I’d understand.”

He laughed lightly, clearing his throat. The radio shifted, an eerie music melding smoothly into the sounds of rain and thunder. With no accompanying vocals this time he sang: 

“I can feel you sweet song of summer

Your music comforts my lonely reign

I can hear you in evil darkness

That empty feeling, I’m near you again.

I am your forever and this I emphasize

Your never ending hurting and criticize

We are friends forever and this is emphasize

Your never ending hurting and criticize”

             “Sweet Song of Summer” – Bee Gees (1972)

And with his voice, there within the darkness, she drifted off.

______________________________________________________________

Chapter 7

#hazbin hotel #fanfiction #hazbin hotel fandom #alastor #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel fanfiction #dirty dealings #my fanfic #addie larue #the invisible life of addie larue #dirty dealings fanfic #hazbin fanfiction #hazbin fanfic #funny #comedy #humor #angst #alastor x addie #alastor is an ass #frustrating alastor #friendship #confrontation #confession #fluff #soft alastor #human alastor #demon alastor #the radio demon

[thornedarrow]

AX Bungo Stray Dogs Premiere Panel Notes

Hello~ I tried to take notes while at the panel for the premiere of BSD Season 5. I did my best to transcribe what I could of the answers but there may be mistakes so please take this info with a grain of salt.

Note: Please do not repost this anywhere especially on twitter and if you mention anything listed here elsewhere, I would appreciate a link back to this post.

The three guests for the panel were Asagiri Kafka, Studio Bones President Minami Masahiko, and Kadokawa Producer Kurokane Chiaki.

Opening Talk

Before the episode aired, the host asked what they enjoyed about LA and Asagiri mentioned the view? and how kind the fans have been. I believe Minami talked about how he was here last year? but I did not go to AX last year so I'm not 100% on that info. Kurokane mentioned how the humidity is awful in Tokyo so LA was much nicer in that regard.

I think they also answered another question but I did not write it down rip.

Also they played the S5 trailer for us and it was really fun to watch in a live audience the screams at particular parts were funny.

[EPISODE PREMIERE]

- if you’re interested in details of the actual episode feel free to ask, I am omitting any info from this post though. It was not a light novel adaptation it went straight into the main story <3

Q&A post-premiere

At some point Minami pointed to his shirt and was like is no one going to comment on how I changed my shirt? It was now a shirt of Rocket from GOTG because he heard how many people liked Poe in the episode lmao. It was very cute

What is the process of working on the Bungo Stray Dogs anime like? [i apologize my notes rly sucked for this question]

Asagiri: (He said something else I did not catch) I often think about how to make the story even more interesting and engaging. If you noticed in the episode we just watched, the ending is slightly different from the original manga, because the director had asked me to add an additional catchphrase.

Minami: BSD has a strange charisma. I remember when Kadokawa came to me with the series and I read it before sharing it with Igarashi-san and Enokido-san.

He also mentioned how usually the anime production staff works on the scripts for an anime but for BSD, Asagiri-sensei is very hands on and involved that he almost feels like a staff member of Studio Bones.

Kurakane-san mentioned the role of supporting and promoting the series but I forgot to write down the details.

This question was for Asagiri-sensei and asked about how he comes up with abilities for the different characters, I think?

Asagiri, initially: I try to focus on making them mysterious (lmao).

He also said he waits for inspiration to strike. Then he mentioned specific examples.

For Atsushi and Beast Beneath the Moonlight, the inspiration comes from the Moon over the Mountain. In the original story, the friend who has transformed into a tiger tries to save the other character from themselves. Asagiri was inspired by the relationship between the heart and the tiger in the story to come up with Atsushi's ability.

For Dazai and No Longer Human, he mentioned that the original work has a strange allure of making the reader doubt the act of living. From that, he came to think of the idea of the ability to nullify all abilities.

For Fyodor...it's a secret.

Guests' thoughts on working on season 4 and 5?

Asagiri: Being able to make it until season 3, I could sense that the passion and fire from the fans.

Minami: We wanted to deliver Bungo Stray Dogs to more people who didn't know about the series. One big change we made was to the main visuals for the new seasons. The older seasons tended to have more calm and but we chose more action-oriented visuals for season 4/5 to better capture attention.

Kurakane: We also wanted to focus on attracting the attention of a broader audience (new fans) and so for season 4, we made a 3 minute video that recaps seasons 1-3, which was received very well. Currently, we are running a campaign where we post highlight clips of all 55 current episodes. This was also targeted at fans who may have drifted away from the series, so that it would be easier for them to return to BSD.

What to look forward in season 5? (to Asagiri)

Asagiri: Everything (said in English.)

Then he went on to say I would like the viewer/fans to specifically think about the relationship? between justice and terrorism. What does justice mean? What does it mean to be the enemy? If you were justice, what would you do? If you were the enemy, what would you do?

What was your reaction to Season 4 and 5? (also to Asagiri)

Asagiri: Amazing (also said in English.)

They have made an phenomenal series. Five seasons. There are few people who can say their work has been adapted into five seasons of anime and it is all thanks to you guys (the fans) for your passion for the series.

What future projects would you like to work on together?

Asagiri: Season 6! A movie? I will continue to do my best to continue to deliver an interesting series to you.

Minami: (turned to Asagiri-sensei and said in a dramatic voice) Please let me read more material!! If you don't give me anything to adapt, I can't proceed!

Kurakane: The stage plays that have spanned six and a half years just ended last night. With that, I do feel a bit of relief on the workload. But I will continue to find new forms in which to deliver Bungo Stray Dogs series to you all.

---

Final note, all three of the guests were so enthusiastic and passionate about this series it was really lovely to see. I cannot capture the intonation of specific comments from Asagiri-sensei but he was rly funny. The episode was incredible and I genuinely am so excited for the new season! If anything sounds awkward I apologize; that’s on me and my translation skills.

#bungo stray dogs #bsd #eri: tn #asagiri kafka #bsd anime expo #not sure what else to tag this with but hope this is helpful!

[httpsbearily]

☆*: Lost Time

[D.C.]: @thepathofpain

[Tags]: brutus x reader | GN reader | fluff & smut

Minors Do Not Interact

[Author’s Note]: I absolutely loved writing this piece, I had to cut some parts out because it was becoming a whole ass book…rip. Anyways, reader displays physical characteristics of a kit fox because I needed a desert animal [mauler] for the plot and I just so happened to have written a research paper on these guys a few months ago. two birds, one stone. too easy!

A life in the desert was not for the weak or incapable. This was a lesson you had learned the hard way when growing up. You were born into a clan of fierce warriors, strong fighters, and battle champions. To the members of your clan, dueling was the highest honor, only triumphed by victory of said duel. Strength, prowess, skill…these were all qualities that were revered by your clan and any who didn’t sport all three would be lucky to be considered decent at the very least.

It was with the luck of being born on a red moon that had you lacking two of the three characteristics. While you weren’t weak, you couldn’t be said to be strong, not when you considered a victorious battle to be one you found your way out of. And your prowess…even you could admit that it was a good thing hunting for a meal was old school, taken over by vendors and restaurants who did the work for you. Skill was the only trait you could said you had more than enough of. You hosted a cunning mind that fostered curiosity for and interest in creation. It was perhaps the only reason why you had stayed put in the desert; Where there were warriors, there were weapons.

Of course, you didn’t find this path of life until you were much older so your childhood was filled to the brim with frustration. There was one memory in particular that stuck with you even to this day:

You were years younger than you were now—still a kid at the time, only having just celebrated your birthday where your age finally reached the double digits. At this age, the clan held a tradition of introducing battle mechanics to the children in hopes that they could foster warrior spirits into their young hearts. So you were sent off to spend an hour or two training at the area the really just looked liked an oversized playground. Along side you there were three other kids who’d just tuned of age same as you, so together the five of you trained and sparred.

In reality, this is when your struggles had begun. With the clan favoring the strongest, naturally a friendly competition had settled amongst you and your group mates. Or, well, as friendly as shaping a fighter could get. Only after half a year, your peers had already seen a big jump of improvement in their abilities. Quite quickly you realized that you were already being left behind…the others noticed it too.

“Why dont you go help the cooks make us a meal instead of trying to learn that skill set. You’ve been doing the same practice for months and still haven’t moved up, ha!”

At first, they’d only tease you like that. Telling you to just go home because you would never become a warrior at your learning pace. And you wanted to, you really did, but you worried how that would make your parents feel. They weren’t exactly frontline warriors themselves, but they were still warriors nonetheless. They excelled in sneak attacks and underground movement, an art that had actually allowed them to meet each other. You on the other hand, had wasted six months practicing basic defense moves.

It wasn’t due to your inability or some lack of skill, really, you just didn’t really care. Why advance to harder levels when the basics were good enough for you? You were honestly more drawn to the wooden sword you practiced with than the movements it made. It seemed that none of the others could relate to you, or even understand you, though because they made jabbing comments and snickering remarks.

By the time a year had passed, they had taken to asking you to spar with them knowing full well you didn’t have the training. You were always quick to dismiss them, instead focusing on whatever it was that you were doing, but on one particularly day, your peers had taken their teasing a step further. All it took was for one of them to pull your arm to encourage the other two to get involved. You felt one flick your ear while another tugged your tail, the third one pulling your arm. Unused to their physicality, you tried to push yourself away, more caught of guard than in actual pain. But they only gathered closer around you.

You told them to go be a bother elsewhere, that you weren’t in the mood, but they didn’t seem to listen. Or care. Poking and prodding, they messed with you relentlessly and you had fought the urge to cry as they ganged up on you. When you resulted to closing your eyes and protecting your ears with your hands, their touch fell away suddenly. You heard their surprised cries and opened your eyes to see the three kids struggling against another.

“Beat it,” the kid growled, “bullies have no business becoming a warrior.”

You recognized the intruder, you’d seen him with the group that was two or three years older than your group. It seemed the other three recognized him as well because they scrambled to get themselves together before rushing away, not even daring to taunt you as they passed. You watched their backs until they disappeared behind one of the training walls before turning to look at the older lion before you. His face appeared stony, his arms crossing over his chest imposing a strong presence. You lowered your hands from your ears slowly, not sure if he meant for you to go away as well.

“Thank you,” You said awkwardly, “for helping me.”

The older lion tilted his fluffy head, “are you okay?” he asked with more concern than you’d anticipated. A stark contrast to his appearance, his voice could almost be described as gentle. It reminded you that he was still a kid too, not just the strongest warrior of his age group and two above.

Nodding your head, you dusted yourself off, “I’m okay. They didn’t do much aside from tugging at me.”

“Why didn’t you fight back?” he asked, “Isn’t that the whole point of training?”

“Oh…I’m still learning. They’re more advanced than I am so even if I tried, I don’t think I could beat them,” you responded honestly.

The lion boy gave you a confused look, “you don’t seem upset by that.”

You smiled, giving him a small laugh and another nod, “yeah, cause I’m not. Not really. All this fighting, winning, and losing is boring! I’d rather get it over with than participate whole heartedly, I could go back home sooner that way.”

His expression flattened, as if he were suddenly disinterested in you. “Oh, you’re just lazy.”

“Hey! Just because I don’t like punching people around doesn’t mean I’m lazy.” You huffed, copying him as your crossed your own arms over your chest, “I’d just rather be doing other things. Cooler things. Like making my own axe. Look at this dagger—I made it myself.”

You held out a dully sharpened rock out in your hands with a mischievous grin, looking down at it with pride and joy. The lion boy was…unimpressed to say the least, but he wouldn’t say anything. He didn’t need to, really. He moved his hand to take the rock knife from you, lifting it up to inspect it in the light.

A few moments passed with him turning it over in his hand before he returned it to you, saying, “why do you train if you don’t have any interest in fighting?”

You shrugged, “I wanna make my parent proud.”

Pocketing your beloved knife creation, you didn’t elaborate any further making a silence fall between the two of you. Shuffling your feet, you look over the lion’s shoulder.

“Won’t you get in trouble for skipping lessons?” You finally asked.

The boy looked back at the direction of his training area before turning back with a nod; “Only if I have no good reason. But I do. I’ll be heading back now.” He waved goodbye to you as he turned to leave, getting a few steps in before looking back at you, “if those kids bully you again, come look for me. I’ll set them straight.”

And with that he jogged away. You waved at him enthusiastically, even if he couldn’t see you, making you take a few seconds to realize something. “Wait,” you yelled out to him, “What’s your name?!”

“Brutus!”

That encounter led the two of your together from that moment on. Unexpectedly, your group mates hadn’t given you any more trouble—physically that is—so you hadn’t had reason to seek out the lion boy. Luckily for you, that opportunity had come with tournament week. The two of you reunited amidst the competition and completely hit it off. The more time the two of you spent together, the closer you became, growing together until even the clan recognized the two of you as best friends.

Eventually, you quit battle training all together, much to Brutus’ dismay, but you promised him that you guys could still hangout after he was done with his. In the mean time, while he trained on the field, you had taken to becoming familiar with weaponry. Your parents were much more encouraging of you becoming an artist rather than a fighter than you’d expected; Their logic had been that every warrior needs a weapon. So quite soon after, you begged the old iron worker to let you apprentice under him. When he finally agreed, it felt like your life was finally on track.

It went on like this for years: you learned how to forge a blade from raw materials while Brutus honed his skills on the battle field. When evening fell, the two of you would meet at the stack of boulders overlooking an oasis a small distance away from the clan grounds. Stories were shared about both your days, what you learned and who he beat. You spoke about the future and how you would make him the best of the best colossal sword, sharp enough to cut through rock yet light enough to carry around. He would only chuckle at your demonstration of how easy it would be to swing the weapon, telling you he looked forward to that day the most, and promising he’d never use any-other’s forged blades.

Alongside each other, the two of you grew—him growing much taller and much faster than you but you accounted it to his laborious daily training. If he noticed that you never reached past his shoulders, he didn’t mention it. You tried to ignore it too, but it was much harder to do when he could quite literally cast a shadow over you whilst standing. As a rule, you made it so that he could never stand within three feet of you while you worked. You had once thought him to be a wall in your peripheral vision, so you tried putting a searing red sword on him. This experience was all it took for you to make that rule. But aside from height, Brutus developed into a strong, capable warrior with a soft heart that did not match his appearance. You often joked that he’d scare his own children to tears with just his stoic expressions, and end up crying with them. On the other hand, he’d consistently remind you how much you’ve changed as well—in a good way. You were no longer the “weakling puppy” he’d first met you as, but now a sly fox. Of course, you’d push him for calling you a puppy, complaining loudly as you did.

“I’m not some dog! Put some respect on my genetics you overgrown cat!”

“‘Overgrown cat’?! Do you want to fight?!”

You two got along great. Really.

But eventually the day came where Brutus was needed for battle. You knew that it’s what he’s been training his whole life for, and that he was the best warrior in your clan, but you still got hurt when he made the announcement to you.

“The northern clan needs our help. They say hypofiend activity has increased, even stone golems are invading their lands. We have to stop them before they find themselves here,” he explained to you as the two of you sat in the traditional spot on the stacked boulders overlooking the oasis.

You didn’t know what to say. One part of you was supportive of him and his desire to be out protecting those around him…but the other part was deathly worried. Other mauler opponents were one thing, but hypofiends? Stone golems? An army of the two together?! The chances of not only defeating them, but surviving the process as well, were lower than you’d wanted to bring up. He called out your name, and you turned to him with a blank look. How could you ask him to stay? How could you tell him to go? How could you be okay in either situation?

“I…” you started, blinking rapidly as your tried to gather your thoughts, “don’t know what to say…”

Surprise filled his expression, “I thought you’d be a little more happy.”

“Happy?” You repeated, “How can I be happy when you’re literally going off to war against unliving beings? I’m nothing but scared.”

Brutus furrowed his eyebrows, crossing his arms over his chest as he usually did when he was standing his ground. “Living or not, I’ve been fighting battles since I was 10. I’m more than capable of keeping myself alive.”

You turned away from him, looking down at the oasis beneath your dangling feet. You didn’t mean to offend him, or to make him think you doubted him. You were just worried, and you didn’t know how to express yourself. Fighting was never your strong suit, disinteresting you to the point of avoidance. That included fighting with Brutus, emotionally. Your fingers clutched the stone dagger you had made all those years ago, dangling on your chest as a necklace that Brutus himself made. It was his contribution to the best friend tokens that you suggested the two of you did, just for fun. Your token was one of the beads he wore in his mane—a lighthearted joke that was an insider between the two of you.

A sich left your lips, and you hugged your knees. “Alright then,” you said, “be safe.”

Brutus didn’t know how to respond. He hadn’t expected you to behave so detachedly, but it put him off anyways. Why did you seem to believe he couldn’t do it? He though you of all people would know his strength and congratulate him for his upcoming battles. After all, the pride of the lions was the victory of duels. Just as it was for the clan. Wearing a cold expression, Brutus didn’t respond as he turned to head back to the grounds. That was his biggest regret.

The next morning, the clans fiercest warriors were gone, including Brutus. You were still sore from your argument last night, but there was nothing you could do now. All that was left was for you to hope and pray that your best friend would make it back.

You were left praying for 8 months. During that time, you immersed yourself into your forging; Day and night you crafted creating metalwork after metalwork to distract yourself. In working so hard, for so long, it was inevitable that you soon became one of the most highly skilled blacksmiths in the clan--not that there were any to begin with, aside from your teacher; Another reason why your work had soon become sought after. There were many reasons behind all the passion you poured into each individual piece you made but regret was never one of them. While you dearly missed your best friend, you were more dejected by the realization that the two of your paths were fated to run parallel to each other, never crossing. Where you were uninterested in the heat of a fight, Brutus only cared about his weapons when he was using them to strike down his opponents. There really wasn't any space for the two of you two to walk together.

So, you devoted your every breath to chasing the one pleasure you knew would never leave you. And it was worth it--almost. Your handcrafted weapons grew in demand, even the most notable of warriors wielded your art. It had gotten to a point where custom requests were given to you to forge a weapon unique only to its master. Over time, your old teacher weened you off his guidance until you were able to run his shop on your own. Of course he was still around, stocking resources and keeping records, but he had all but given you ownership. All things considered, you would almost deem your life perfect.

Now, during the winter, the amount of orders you had lessened slightly as compared to other seasons. You had closed shop early to work on commission designs. As you made your way to the stack of boulders overlooking the oasis, you couldn't help but let your mind wander.

Where was Brutus? Was he okay? When would he return? Would he return?

Your ears twitched on your head as you walked and you reached a hand up absentmindedly to rub it soothingly. Reaching the spot, you silently sat down, dangling your feet over the edge, and pulling out the blueprints of ideas you had for some customers. Digging out a pencil from your pockets, you went to work, filling the silent atmosphere with scribbling noises. You kicked your feet without much thought unconsciously releasing the stress that blanketed your body. It wasn't unusual to find you here, alone, doing nothing but drawing plans or staring up at the sky. You enjoyed the peace that came with the isolation out here, but there were times when you couldn't help but reminisce that company you once had. Another twitch of your ears had you poking them with your pencil to get them to settle down.

"The purpose of reflexes is to keep you aware of your surroundings," a deep voice spoke from beneath you. You startled at their words, immediately perking up as you looked around. "They keep you alive."

Looking down to your right, you finally saw him. He stood tall, taller than you remember...bigger than you remembered too. The leather body armor he wore before had been replaced by metal; A shoulder guard protected his left while a fur pelt adorned his left. On his wrists were metal goblets colored brown with gold accents. Only a leather strap covered his bare chest, but his bottom clothes remained the same. His mane was wild, fully undone with only two braids--one of which was held together by a familiar bead. You were speechless.

It felt like minutes had passed in silence before you jumped up and hurried off the rocks. Like some old married couple, separated by a war, you ran to him and leaped up throw your arms around his shoulders (you feel short quite a distance, but it didn't matter. Brutus had picked you up with strong arms).

"You're back?!" You shouted rhetorically, face burying itself into his coarse fur, "When did you get back?!"

"Not to long ago. When I didn't find you on the grounds, I figured you would be here."

Suddenly you pushed yourself away from him, making you land on the ground, " You asshole! What took you so long? It's been almost a year--was the battle too seductive for you to look away long enough to at least send me a letter?!"

Brutus sighed, his lion ear twitching as he did so, "I had no time. There were more enemies than we anticipated, and they seemed to continuously pour out from the earth. If it wasn't for a mage we encountered, I would still be out there fighting."

You sulked, crossing your arms over your chest as you regarded him. Angrily, your tail swished behind you.

"I apologize," he finished after a momentary pause.

At that, your resolve crumbled a little, enough for you to let out your own sigh before you leaned into him for another hug. With his front exposed as it was, his fur tickled your face lightly making you pull your head back slightly.

"I like the new look," You told him, "you look really different."

Both his arms wrapped around you, engulfing you in an embrace that consumed your. "Bad different?" He asked.

"No," was all you said. Relishing in his grasp, your mind raced as you processed that your best friend was back--he was right here, standing Infront of you after almost a year. A million emotions ran through you and you struggled to find just one to focus on. Brutus didn't say anything else either, just allowing the two of you to grow reaccustomed to the other. You were surprised you hadn't started crying.

When you pulled away once again, Brutus said, "So...I've heard your smithing skills are a clan pride."

A shy smile appeared on your face, "You could say that. I think I still have a lot to live up to in comparison to Teacher Arlo, but my work is out there."

He made a thoughtful noise and turned to eye his colossal blade that he had stabbed into the ground. "I could do with a new blade. This one is dulling."

Out of habit, you had noticed his large blade immediately after spotting him from above, but only now did you have the chance to fully inspect it. He was right, all along the edge of his weapon there were chips and dents in the metal--the metal itself seemed of lesser quality but you figured he didn't have many purchase option out on the battle field. The handle was well worn, the fabric that lined the grip slightly torn and miscolored. It was...a pretty sad sight to see. Letting out a click of your tongue, you poked the metal with your finger; "I think dulling might be an understatement...But no worries. I haven't forgotten my promise to you when we were kids. I already have something back at the shop."

Brutus looked shocked, "you remember that?"

"Of course, I didn't forget everything just because you ran off to war--still upset by the way, you didn't even say bye to me. Jerk."

Your words made his surprise morph into a soft expression, his normally stone expression tainted with something you couldn't recognize. It made your heart flutter, and just like that you were reminded of the old times. Turning away from you, he uprooted his blade--his arms flexing with strength but you definitely weren't looking--before looking back, saying, "On my honor, I will make it up to you."

With that, the two of you set off on the path back to blacksmith shop you lived in. Stories of all that happened were exchanged between you two, catching the both of you up on all the important life events that transpired in the other's absence. If you let yourself feel it, you could almost swear the two of you were a year younger acting like nothing would ever change. It scared you to understand that a few things had.

You would never, ever, tell Brutus, but during his time away you had been forced to sort through things on your own...including your understanding of why his departure had left you so sore. It took weeks of not hearing from him to realize that you were so worried, much more than a friend. Why? Because you didn't just love him, you were in love with him. Needless to say, that made you spiral, but on the bright side, some of your best weapons were created during that time. Your teacher had praised you saying he had never seen such a balanced arrow before. Admittedly, that made you feel a little better. However, now that you knew the fluttering of your heart whenever you were with Brutus wasn't because you were just having a happy time but because he was your happiness.

This much couldn't be said to be the same for your best friend though. He had never shown any signs that he reciprocated your feelings. Right now, you were too focused on the excitement of having him back to face the struggle of keeping yourself sane around him, but you knew later on would be different.

"It took me a while to perfect the ideas I had in my head, but I was so proud of the way it came out. I hope you'll like it because you never gave me any ideas to go off of. I was basically going in blind!" You warned him when you finally reached the shop and lead him to the back room.

"It'll be fin--omph"

You whipped around at the thud that resounded, reaching out in the darkness to light up a lantern. Brutus held his forehead, bending down as he walked into the room after you.

"It's lower than I remember..."

Laughter bubble out of you once you registered what happened, "Haha, no. You've just grown. Inflated like a muscle balloon. Seriously, what happened. Oh look, here it is!"

Using all your strength, your pulled on the large wooden box that rested vertically on the wall. Grunting wit effort, you dragged it to the lion who walked crouched to meet you halfway. Taking it from you, Brutus lifted the container on the table and dropped it with a thud. Impatient, you lifted the lid for him with a 'ta-da' and exposed the giant silver blade inside. It was silver in color, and double edged with an opening along the middle as if you had stuck two swords together. The end of the blade flattened out into a curved geometry that would allow easier swinging motions. The handle was covered in a thick leather that was wrapped around sturdy metal, allowing for a secure handle that would never break. You explained all your designed choices to the lion as he took out the weapon to examine it in his hands.

"It's even--whoah! Don't swing it in here, you're going to cut off my tail!" You yelped, taking a step back to avoid his movements.

Brutus admired the craft, flipping it over and looking it tip-to-end with a sharp gaze; Then he looked back to you, his tail flicking side-to-side intensely. "It's marvelous," he commented.

You preened, putting your hands on your hips with a big smile, "Of course it is! I promised you the best, didn't I?"

"You did," he agreed, slowly putting the blade back in its case, "And you honored your promise. Please, let me honor mine."

He stepped towards you, reaching his hands out to gently pull your body into his. You gladly accepted his invitation, letting yourself fall against his large body. This really wasn't safe for your infatuated heart, but you couldn't help but nuzzle into him, taking great pleasure in the way he oversized you. If new fantasizes arose from this, you couldn't be blamed. Wait, what were you thinking?! He was your best friend! Your body tensed at your thoughts and you moved to pull away, but Brutus' strong hands kept you in place. His face leaned between your ears atop your head making them tic as his breath fluttered over them. Out of your control, your tail flicked behind you with a mind of its own but responding to your emotions. All you could do was hope Brutus didn't connect the signs.

Your fingers buried themselves into his mane, scratching lightly and received a tightening grip around your waist in response.

"The battles I fought were easier than this," Brutus grumbled into your hair. Why did he sound...disgruntled?

"With them I knew what to expect. I've never been defeated in a fight," he continued. You made a sound of agreement with your throat to show him you were listening. "But now, I only expect defeat."

"Defeat in what?" You were confused, wasn't the war already over? Unless this was a dream, there was no battle that he was currently fighting. Did all that sparring with stone golems mess with his head...

"Us."

You chuckled, "Us? What, are you breaking up with me?"

He didn't respond for a second making you think your joke might not actually be a joke, but then you remembered you weren't even in a relationship. So you called out to him, "Brutus?"

Suddenly, he pulled you away enough to look you in the eyes. "No. The opposite actually," he said vaguely, a cold expression on his face, "If this spurs you, then I have twice as much to ask forgiveness for."

Before you could question just what on earth he was talking about, he leaned down and kissed you. Stupidly, you froze, completely stunned by the turn of events. His kiss held force which was reasonable for him but at the same time it was gentle, cautious. You didn't process the situation until he was already pulling away from you; Pulling on his mane, you lured him back to you in a chance to redeem yourself. Overflowing emotion filled your lips as you tried to convey your emotions to him. His hands covered your back as he held you tightly, pulling you flush against him so that he could kiss you harder. It felt like months--no, years--of repressed emotions were drowning the two of you and it was enough to make your heart break.

His rough tongue lapped at your lips as the kiss quickly heated causing you to open your mouth to grant him entry. Just like the rest of him, his tongue was sizeable and quickly filled your mouth as he tasted the inside of it. Desperation was quick to settle amongst the two of you, stroking both of your hearts as you took, and took from one another. Seemingly making up for lost time, Brutus picked you up effortlessly and guided your legs to wrap around his hips. He didn't move away from his spot despite what you thought, acting rooted to the ground as his hands began kneading your body. You could feel his sharp claws through your clothes which made a shiver run down your spine, the danger he held in his body made your heart race with thrill. Careful not to hurt it, Brutus gripped you tail with one of his hands, stopping it in its wagging movement to tug at it lightly.

You moaned softly into his mouth, squeezing your arms around him as a bolt of electricity shot through you. When you felt that the small barbs of his tongue were licking your mouth sore, you pulled away from the kiss. Brutus was displeased by this and let out a faint rumble in his chest before moving to lap at your neck. You could feel his ears twitching at the sound of your soft moans near them, and you almost felt bad that you were irritating them, but then Brutus flexed his claws out to tear the back of your shirt.

"Brutus!" You scolded, turning your head to see your naked back. He only licked a stripe up your cheek as he pulled your shirt away to toss on the ground. Like this he was able to access the skin on your shoulders and chest so the end justified the means. Unlucky for you, that top was the only thing that had been separating you from skin to fur contact; With it gone, and Brutus shifting your body around to lick at different spots, your nipples were vulnerable to the friction against his coarse fur. Stimulated by his tongue lapping your skin, his hand tugging your tail, and your nipples rubbing against him, your moans increased in volume. You began to rock your hips against his unconsciously. He growled lowly again, using the hand that tore your shirt to grip your ass tightly.

From your peripheral vision, you saw his own lion tail restlessly flicking behind him and you yearned to pull on it the way he pulled at yours. Instead, you moved your arms to undo the armor he wore on his shoulders. He let you work, too busy nipping his sharp teeth into your neck and groping your behind. Your moving hips only encouraged his to rut up into you faintly.

With a disruptive clang, his metal shoulder guard fell to the ground, soon followed by the pelt he wore. Like this, you had much more access all around his completely bare chest and experimentally scratched your fingers through the fur. Granted, you weren't sure how much pleasure he gained from your exploring movements, but he seemed content enough as he didn't stop you. Instead, he hoisted you up higher, no longer interested with the skin of your neck, to drag his rough tongue over the erect buds on your chest. You moaned out loudly at the sensation, arching your back to push your nipples further into his face to chase the feeling.

"I've spent nights just imagining what you would sound like," He spoke, voice just above a growl. He took one of your buds into his mouth, grazing his teeth over it before sucking on it harshly, releasing it with a pop. Mimicking his actions, Brutus did the same to the other, finishing his thoughts, "My dreams could never amount to the real thing."

Breathlessly, you considered his words to understand what he meant, "How long," a sigh of pleasure, "how long have you felt this way?"

"Years, maybe. The teenage ones were the worst. I'll never understand how you never realized how much I craved you."

Another tug at your tail and a rut of his hips into yours made your head fall onto his shoulder. "You never said anything," you mumbled into his mane.

But he was too busy to respond. With one last harsh lick to your sensitive nipples, he raised his head again to kiss you. You felt his hand leave your rear to push down his pants and you had a moment of clarity; "Don't tear my--"

The sound of ripping filled the room. You lifted your head to give the lion a highly unamused look but he only, once again, licked your cheek to soothe you. Cats, you thought pettily. Just like with your shirt, Brutus--quite literally--tore away the remains of your bottoms to leave you completely bare. Not wanting to waste any more time, he held his member against your entrance. You sucked in a breath; It made sense to assume that he would be big...but this seemed too big. You squirmed against him and he placated you with a kiss on the forehead.

"Be brave, little fox," he said. Then he was pushing into you. The deeper he went the more it felt like air was punched out of you; Stretching out your walls like you'd never experienced before, you held onto him tightly, gasping for breath. Much like the rest of him, his tip was was a sharp point with a bulbous ridge, but still slimmer than the base. Mercifully, he gave you a few moments to adapt to the intrusion, nipping and lapping at your jaw as he waited. Once you no longer struggled to breathe, you tugged at the fur around his head to signal him to move; He lost no time in accepting your sign.

A deep purr like rumble vibrated in his chest as he began to move inside you and you could feel it with your own. His hand returned to your ass you grip it tightly, guiding you as he lifted and pulled you down with it in rhythm to his thrusts. Muffled cries fell from your lips and he stuffed you with his cock, doing nothing but already hitting your G-spot with his thickness. When he pulled on your tail again, the sensitivity mixed with the pleasure and you leaned back in an arch, convulsing with gratification. Brutus shifted his weight, spreading his legs a bit so that he could push better inside you standing up; Pretty quickly, wet noises filled the room, accompanied by measured slapping. As a warrior, Brutus was firm by nature, and as a lion, he was lead by pride--both of these together were a dangerous combination for you.

His sharp canines sank into your skin, making you cry out and tug harder at his mane. His tail whipped to his side, wrapping around your waist and making you feel completely engulfed in his grasp.

"You asked why I didn't tell you," he grunted out with shallow breaths, "But you never told me either."

He gave a particularly hard thrust into you, making his balls press against you, and he gruffly huffed. Your mind was reeling from the pleasure of it all which made you take more than a few moments to respond.

"I--was afraid," you confessed with a shudder as the tension in core core built. You gyrated your hips shakily to match his movements and whining out loud when it only served to add friction against your sensitive groin.

"I never gave you reason to fear me," Brutus complained, squeezing your ass, "I've always protected you."

"Th--This is dif--erent..." You wished this conversation hadn't come up during this time. Seductive pleasure was wracking your body, destroying your ability to think clearly which only barred you from properly communicating with him. Brutus lifted his head, enough so that he could take the tip of your ear into his teeth in a light bite.

Your ear twitched in his caging nip, but he didn't let go, fully riding out the possessive feeling that drowned him from consciousness. When the base of his cock began swelling, stretching you even further, you took it as a sign that he was close. Trying your best, you rocked your weight against him, expending the last of your energy in your legs that helped keep you hoisted up on his hips. But the extra movement helped. With you slamming down onto his cock over and over and over, Brutus growled loudly, and you felt the way his knot moved inside you to lock you in his hold.

With a final tug at the base of your fail, and a tight grip on your rear, Brutus came inside you. His seed was hot and plentiful, effectively warming up your gushy walls and plugging you full to make sure you accepted everything he gave. His hips were pushed impossible deep into yours, the head of his dick making a bulge appear on your stomach. You moaned out wantonly, going stiff in his arms as his orgasm triggered your own; You came hard, contracting around him is sporadic motions as you coped with the large mass sitting inside you, still pressed against the oversensitive bundle of nerves. You hadn't realized how hard you were pulling on Brutus' mane until seconds later after your high faded to a reasonable level. With sore fingers, you released his fur and slugged against him, letting him do all the work in holding you up.

"It's not different," Brutus finally said, his voice much deeper as the lust from essentially breeding you flowed through his veins, "I am your warrior. I'll always stand by your side. Either as a friend, or as a partner."

He then kissed the top of your head, softly releasing his hold on your tail, and moving to find a spot to rest with you still in his arms. You were too gone to garner a reply, already feeling beyond sleepy as you nestled into his warm chest. You mentally promised him that the two of you would talk properly once you rested; Brutus seemed to understand as well.

"Rest. I'll take care of you."

As you dozed off into a sleep still tied to the lion with his knot inside you, you felt him murmur: "I love you".

#afk journey #afk journey x reader #afk journey brutus #afk journey brutus x reader #brutus x reader #brutus

[zeibei]

how do you think freeze's life would have been different had he known ice from the moment he was built? what if they knew each other from the beginning and experienced learning about the world together for the first time? ice's first ice cream experience being with freeze...

That would be really sweet actually… The idea of them being able to meet very early on, before they could properly establish a personality for themselves and being there for that process after being activated… It's a bit romantic actually…

It would be more of the build up just the idea of being able to form that bond early on and be there together to experience the world together. So Freeze wouldn't have felt that shy early on when getting to know Ice but comfortable enough to do things together and enjoy each other's company.

Like to think that Freeze got paired up with Ice since both were Ice-type robots but since Freeze has an experimental energy source, he'd have some issues occur early on and need peer reviewing on what could be changed/repaired. But as well having someone who was similar in a way but also was still extremely new that they could be independent and learn about things within society is to get acquainted.

Someone who he could experience “firsts” with such as seeing snowfall while at a colder climate area or things change over a period of time while stationed together. Really would be truly inseparable rather than always next to each other because of how much it really would impact their relationship and truly being able to know each other from the very beginning.

also the ice cream part got me thinking of this little writing in mind, Korn writes something? let's play??? Woah

Something about two guys probably out in the park trying to enjoy the day outside and kinda mostly just people watch and just walk a little.

Freeze and Ice are sitting down on a bench in the park near Light Labs, they had made their way here before, so it wasn't the first time. The two have gotten accustomed to coming here regularly (due to trying to interact with some of the animals- that didn't end too well).

Today was different, since they just wanted to go out after having to run multiple tests on their processing and internals before having to go out on their first assignments. It was just nice to get out of the labs for once.

Both of them are just laughing and watching people pass by, seeing birds and squirrels interacting with the environment.

Freeze lets out a sigh, “I felt like today wasn’t ever going to end, but I’m glad I am getting to spend the time with you, Ice Man..”

Ice laughs and is like “Aw it's nothing, Freeze… Plus I told you already, just call me Ice, you don't have to be so formal about it!”

Freeze can't help but laugh as well. “Well pardon me thennnn, Ice.”

Ice turns away and rolls his eyes, puffing up his cheeks from the comment. “Oh god, just because you learned sarcasm doesn't mean you have to use it on me, huh?”

Freeze can't help but smile under the mask he has built in, “Would it make you feel better if I got you something?”

Ice can't help but look over his shoulder. “What is it?”

“It's a surprise, that's what it is!” Freeze exclaims.

“Hmph… Okay fine…” Ice turns back over.

“Great! I shouldn't take long!” Freeze says, as he gets up from his seat and walks off to go get whatever he was talking about.

“Wait? You're leav-” Ice is unable to finish his sentence before Freeze is already out of view.

The smaller robot kicks his feet as he sits, hoping the taller one would come back soon.Ice still isn’t used to being left alone for long.

“Iceeeee, I’m back!” Freeze returns with two cones in hand, nothing too big, but rather a simple vanilla scoop for the both of them.

Freeze sits down next to Ice before handing one of the cones to him. Ice takes the cone before looking down to hide the water in his eyes, “Thank you. Um, next time, just don't walk off like that, okay?”

Freeze can't help but feel bad in the situation, and he apologizes, “Ah, I’m sorry about that Ice… I’ll make sure not to next time.”

Ice wipes his tears away, and he looks down at the ice cream cone in his hand, and looks back at Freeze. “...What is this by the way?”

Freeze chirps up a bit, “Oh.. It's ice cream… Vanilla flavor I was told, some of the scientists that were working on me said we should treat ourselves once in a while to it.”

“Huh…” The smaller robot says before taking a bite out of it.

“Wait- Ice I don't think you should do-” Freeze says, trying to stop Ice.

“Oh! It's cold and sweet!” Ice’s eyes brighten up after the first bite, helping himself, but eating up the rest off the cone right there on the spot.

“I hope you know that you're usually not supposed to eat it all in one go…” Freeze awkwardly chuckles.

“Wait? You're not supposed to???” Ice looks at Freeze with sad eyes after finding out about that.

“No… you're supposed to savor it, but I should also warn you that it does melt after a while..”

Ice stares at the cone, then he stares back at Freeze.

Freeze, taking notice of this, says “I’ll share with you as long as you don't eat it all, Ice.”

Ice can't help but laugh, “Pfft- well I know nowwww, you don't have to remind me.”

Freeze laughs as well, “Well let me at least try some first before you get your turn.”

The taller bot takes off their mask before taking a lick of their ice cream. Ice can't help but stare at Freeze as he does.

“Huh, you look so different without the mask..” Ice comments, kicking his feet a bit.

Freeze is surprised by the comment, scratching the side of his face a bit, and he says “It's not too weird is it?”

“I don't think so? I think you have a pretty nice face actually, Freeze!” Ice smiles as he says that.

Freeze blushes from the comment, and he clears his throat before handing the cone off to Ice. “Here, just have it before it melts.”

#mega man #mega man classic #megaman #freezeice shit #megaman classic #freeze man #freezeman #ice man #iceman #freezeice #my fics #fic #fics #whatever this is new to me #but anyways ty cris and poppy for looking at my shit #esp my dear partner poppy who is sooooo cool and awesome by making some awesome corrections on my writing teehee!

[anime-grimmy]

Guess who got their ass up and actually wrote a fanfic. No, Im not a writer, this is a stream of conciousness which I cannot promise doesn't have obvious flaws, but I wanted to write one of my prompts from here. (it's the "Vash has soft hair" one)

Based in the '98 anime, Vashmeryl-centric.

______

As triste and unforgiving the land of planet Gunsmoke was, the festive atmosphere in the many saloons showed the bright sides of the hard lives of its populace. Meryl and Milly found themselves in one of the most joyful saloons they have been in a while.

The town they were in was barely on the map, just a small cluster of buildings that held maybe a few dozen residents. But as Meryl had gathered from fleeting conversations, despite all odds the small settlement was experiencing a small economic boom. She could have guessed as much, considering all the construction sites they’ve passed just at the outskirts of the town, or the fact the number of thomas in the stables and the cars blocking half the streets seemed out of the ordinary for such a small residency.

So it was no surprise how lively the people were. The saloon was basically glowing, the small lamplights reflecting off the many risen pints of beer. The atmosphere was so joyful with all the shouting, laughing and singing.

Meryl could not care for any of it.

Milly and her were cramped at a small table in the corner of the room, Meryl slumped back in her chair, hands idly turning her whiskey glass in circles without taking a sip. She was just so, so tired, the exhaustion weighing heavy in her bones.

Their few days long travel through the desert felt like it had taken weeks. From encountering sandstorms and bandits, to one of their thomas running off, everything that could have gone wrong, had gone wrong. When Milly and her had arrived at the inn and finally taken a much deserved shower, Meryl had been ready to flop into bed and not open her eyes for at least 11 hours.

To her dismay, the warm water had seemingly energized Milly to the point where she acted like they hadn’t just spent days full of sandy torture. Meryl really had wanted to decline, maybe even let Milly go by herself, but she just knew that the nagging feeling she’d get wouldn’t let her get a wink of sleep.

So, 30 minutes later found them in the brightest saloon for iles, Milly already downing her third drink while Meryl just stared off into space.

It really wasn’t too bad, actually. Milly was having a blast and Meryl was too tired to care for even the rowdier patrons. She just kept on watching the people with mild interest.

Maybe then it was her exhaustion that didn’t make her instantly panic when a very familiar broomhead made his way towards their table. Milly immediately waved Vash over when she spotted him, patting the stool next to her in invitation. Vash was all grins and drunken blush, probably having a big deal to do with the busty brunette slung under one of his arms.

Usually by now, Meryl would be filled with dread, disgust and a lot of other harmful words, but she found her mind was a bit too zoned to get riled up. Instead, she was honestly surprised Vash had managed to land such a woman, knowing how terrible he was at flirting.

It didn’t take too long for her to figure out how though.

The way the brunette was totally playing into his schtick, clanking drinks with him and even complimenting him, yet also keeping him at a physical distance, screamed gold digger to Meryl. She opted not to comment, it was weirdly enjoyable watching Vash dig his own grave.

A little flirty whispering here, some more coins clanking on the table there and a well-manicured hand brushing through the straw hair of his with barely disguised disdain over the woman’s face, Meryl was quite enjoying the show.

Ah, but then Vash got greedy, or too drunk to understand his companion’s signals.

His hand kept sliding too close to areas the brunette didn’t see fit, and after his third attempt, there was palm on his face and a second later, the seat next to him was vacant.

Meryl pulled her glass to her mouth, if only the hide the smile on her lips. The absolutely shocked and longing look he threw after the brunette was so sad that it was hilarious.

Milly, in comparison, didn’t have Meryl’s filter, especially not four pints in. Milly’s laughter was both sweet and boisterous which made Vash turn his hurt gaze onto her. With a loud whine he slid onto the tabletop, crying dramatic tears as usual. Milly slapped his back in comfort (a bit too hard if Vash’ wince was anything to go by) and shouted for another round of drinks.

Half a glass in and the whole escapade seemed to have been forgotten.

With her immediate show now over, Meryl let her eyes slide back over the crowd. Milly, despite being way too deep into her glass, seemingly had Vash under control. As long as the two of them just kept drinking together they’d stay out of trouble, probably, hopefully.

Meryl sighed. She was honestly too exhausted to care much.

The moments ticked by without anything really catching Meryl’s attention. She tuned into some conversations she could overhear or watched people lose at poker, but most patrons seemed to just drink and enjoy each other’s company. With nothing interesting to focus on, Meryl felt her eyelids grow heavy. She really didn’t want to fall asleep in the saloon, not when Milly was too drunk to find her way back to the inn, but the shouts and laughs soon turned into a low buzz in Meryl’s mind.

She was sure she was about to lose her fight against sleep when something blonde popped into her vision.

Meryl jerked back slightly, quickly blinking the drowsiness from her eyes, and turned to look at Vash.

He was leaning forward in his chair, closer to her, staring at her with squinted eyes. Meryl rose her brow at his…accusing? No, maybe puzzled look? She couldn’t quite describe his expression, but he sure was concentrating hard on her.

They spent a few moments like this, Vash just staring intently and Meryl waiting for him to speak what was on his mind. His head cocked to the side and Meryl swore she could see his eyes adjusting. A second later, they flew wide open.

“Holy crap, insurance girl, were you here the whole time?!”

Meryl pinched the bridge of her nose. He couldn’t be serious.

Vash laughed loudly, his chair scraping on the floor as he scooted closer to her. Meryl couldn’t help but lean back a bit when his beer breath hit her nose.

“Wow, you were so quiet, I didn’t even notice you! Wait, is that a new technique so you can watch me from the shadows?!”

Oh boy, he was being so serious about this. This time Meryl was sure his squinted eyes were supposed to be accusatory. She shook her head with a sigh.

“No, Vash, I just really don’t have the nerves today to pity you for being a terrible flirt.”

Vash gasped in offense, his hand flying to cover his heart. Meryl only rolled her eyes.

“Excuse you, that girl was all over me.”

Meryl gave him a deadpan look.

“More like all over your wallet.”

Vash’ hand slid from his chest to his pocket, protectively cradling the bag inside as if Meryl was the one trying to steal it. He held her gaze for a moment, before he cleared his throat and rebutted with way less confidence.

“I might have tried to appeal to her with some of my funds, but I know that my good looks sparked her interest.”

Meryl scoffed. The way the brunette had tried to cuddle up to him with as little touching as possible spoke more of aversion than attraction, which, if Meryl was being honest, was kind of surprising. She may call Vash a lecherous creep sometimes, but he was relatively harmless and not to mention far more handsome than most drunken patrons. Not that she’d tell him that.

“Really now, Vash? You really think that girl was into you? She bolted the moment you tried to make a move on her.”

Meryl was pretty proud of herself how little contempt and judgement clouded her voice as she said this. Still, Vash dramatically recoiled.

“She was just intimidated by my handsome-ness!”

Meryl sighed.

“Yeah, sure.”

Vash gave her the stink eye before leaning in close. Meryl wasn’t entirely sure what he was going for, but any seriousness was off the table with the way his lips pulled into a childish pout.

“She said my eyes were pretty.”

“Aha.”

“She also said my smile was nice.”

“Oh, how original.”

“She ALSO said my hair was great.”

At that, Meryl laughed.

“Vash, that girl barely dared to touch your hair! Not to blame her, I wouldn’t want to stick my hand in a haystack either.”

Vash’ jaw actually dropped at that. Meryl was taken aback how the look on his face wasn’t his usual theatrical performance but looked actually offended. A disapproving noise came from Vash’ throat as he jabbed a finger at her.

“How dare you! My hair is perfectly fluffy and stylish to boot! I will not allow you to insult my soft locks!”

Wait, fluffy?

“Fluffy? You can’t be serious.”

Vash slid the palms of his hands along his hair and then went to frame his face with a hand under his chin. He gave her a dazzling smile.

“Why yes, my dear insurance girl, my wonderful hair is the smoothest silk known to man.”

Meryl’s brow twitched. There was no way. No way in heaven and hell was that broomhead of his anything but dried grass. She’s seen it in action, it never lost form, and even when drenched to the bone his hair managed to look somehow spikey.

“There’s no way.”

“Yes way.”

“I don’t believe you.”

With a huff, Meryl fell back against her chair, crossing her arms in the process. She glared up at Vash, who was only staring back with just as much stubbornness.

Ugh, why was she arguing with him. Her body was almost melting into the chair from how drained her muscles felt, and here she was spending energy bickering with this idiot. And by the way his eyes shone with a challenging glint, she knew their argument was going to go on for hours at this rate.

Even while mulling over how to easily diffuse the situation, Meryl herself didn’t drop her gaze, therefore keeping the tension between the two alight. Vash’ own eyes flitted about, seemingly also analysing the situation, when he suddenly bent forward.

Meryl jerked back at the sudden movement and watched him angle beneath her eyelevel and then turn his face downward.

“Try it.”

Meryl stared at him for a moment.

“Excuse me?”

“Touch my hair.”

Again, Meryl recoiled, thrown off kilter by the sudden demand.

“What, no!”

Vash turned his head to pout up at her.

“Hey, you said you don’t believe it! This is the easiest way to prove it!”

Meryl held his gaze, seeing the dangerous mix out stubbornness and determination written all over his face. She really did not want to touch him, but at the same time, she was just so over this argument.

So, with a defeated sigh, she gave him a small nod.

“Fine, fine, I’ll do it.”

A big grin broke out on Vash’ face before he bend downwards again, presenting her the crown of his head.

Meryl was still hesitant. Somehow, this felt way out of bounds of their relationship, not that she was even sure where the two of them stood on an intimacy basis. But getting a bit flustered being so close to him beat bickering with him for another hour or so.

Swallowing another sigh, Meryl slowly raised her hand to the top of Vash’s spikes and gently took a strand between her fingertips. She rubbed them together slowly to properly feel the texture of his hair, and felt her eyes widen.

There was no way.

Meryl brushed a few more strands between her fingers, still doubting what she was feeling.

The hair felt soft.

Too stunned to accept this fact just yet, Meryl turned her palm towards Vash, gingerly pressing the hair down atop his head. It gave way immediately, bending down with the pressure she put on it and bouncing back up straight once she removed her hand.

Meryl could not believe what she was seeing, could not believe what she was feeling. Of all the impossible things she’s seen Vash do, this somehow felt like the most implausible. It just seemed so out of the laws of physics. After all, she had seen how his hair behaves. Once it was spiked up, his hair never seemed to stray out of its shape. While moving or being caught in the wind, his strands always seemed to move as one form.

But this, this looked and felt like something that should not be happening. Meryl bunched a bit of his hair in a fist, again evaluating how it felt. It wasn’t exactly silk like, how Vash had claimed, it reminded her more of finer, more strand-like thomas down.

Meryl released his hair and pulled her hand back slightly. Eyes still glued to the blonde mess in front of her, Meryl could hear a small voice in the back of her head screaming at her not to do what she had in mind, but her curiosity was too strong to not overrule her logic.

So, tentatively, she let her fingers comb through his hair. She let them slide from atop his forehead into his hairline until all her fingers were submerged in a sea of blonde. Meryl cringed slightly as she could feel some sand and grit in between his strands, but she kept kneading through his locks, untangling some knots she came across.

Meryl hated to admit how fascinating this was. She had always assumed such a dry and rough texture from Vash’ gravity defying hair, and yet, her fingers glided through even smoother than through Milly’s hair after a fresh wash. This blew all of her expectations out of the water, so she couldn’t help but marvel at the experience.

Meryl was only dragged out of her little trance when Milly’s giggling caught her attention. She turned her head towards her colleague, raising a brow in question.

Milly was trying to hide her highly audible laughs with a hand to her mouth, but Meryl couldn’t judge her as the poor girl was swaying in her seat from her buzz. The tall girl was also struggling to get a sentence out between her uncontrollable giggles.

“Aww, Mr. Vash looks like a kitten getting pats!”

Milly burst out into more laughter at her own quip, but Meryl immediately froze as reality caught up to her. With a hammering heart, she looked down towards the man whose hair she’s been toying with for the last few minutes.

Vash, for his part, looked to be in absolute bliss. There was a big, content smile on his face, body laying on the table with his arms serving as a pillow for his head. He had his eyes closed and was humming a sigh every few moments, bright cheeks getting even rosier as his smile grew.

Meryl only noticed now her hand was still scratching at the back of his head.

Flustered, Meryl jerked back her hand, instead opting to press it against her pounding heart. Vash wailed in protest, looking as if he had been ripped out of a cozy dream. Milly only laughed harder.

Oh god, what had she been doing? Was she really that zoned out that she was giving Vash, the absolutely insufferable Stampede, head scratches? This exhaustion must be making her delirious. Yes, that’s what it must have been, the exhaustion.

With a resolute slap on the tabletop, she rose from her seat.

“Ok, that’s it, party over. C’mon Milly, we’re going.”

Twin whines met her ears, but Meryl only glared at the other two.

“No, enough is enough. It’s late, we’re exhausted, and the table is filled with almost a dozen pints. It’s time to turn in.”

Now having her resolve back, Meryl whirled on Vash and flicked him against the nose.

“This also counts for you, Mr. Fluffybuns.”

Resolute on finally getting her well-deserved sleep, Meryl slapped some double dollars onto the table, grabbed Milly by the arm and Vash by the ear, and headed out the saloon.

Sweet bed, here she comes.

______

That was easier said than done, however.

As fate and circumstances would have it, the small size of the town only provided one inn for the whole town, so Meryl found herself dragging two drunken giants along with her.

The inn was a mere five minute walk from the saloon, but the sheer difference in size, mass and drunkenness made it an ordeal for Meryl to keep her two friends on track. She felt like she was running after children that tried their hardest to run off. Only the kids were over a head taller than her and probably could throw her around as easily as a sack of potatoes.

So, it took them a good twenty minutes to finally arrive at their five-minute-away inn, and Meryl all but slumped against the counter. She was just about to ask for their keys when two heavy weights barrelled against hair, squashing her against the table and knocking the air out of her lungs. With a loud groan, she pushed them off of her, shoving them in the direction of the stairs.

“Off with you two! Let me get our keys in peace, geeze.”

Meryl turned with a huff, trying not to look too disgruntled at the man at the counter. Thankfully, if anything it was amusement crossing his features. He offered her a laugh.

“Rough night out?”

“You don’t even know. The keys to room 104 and…”

Meryl noticed she had never asked Vash for his room number. As she turned to yell after the two drunks, a small jingle caught her attention.

“And 107.”

Two pairs of keys were dangling before her eyes. She met eyes with innkeeper who only smiled at her.

“Your buddy came in just a few hours ago, and I wouldn’t forget such a gaudy get up for a while.”

A nervous laugh made its way out of Meryl’s throat. So far no one in town seemed to even have an inkling that Vash was, well, THE Vash the Stampede. Still, comments like these unnerved her just a bit.

“Oh, yeah, he just really tries to stand out, you know. Thinks it’s going to land him some points with the ladies.”

Meryl bit the inside of her cheek. Even to her that explanation sounded kind of fake, but to her relief, the innkeeper’s chuckle seemed sincere.

“Well, just make sure that he doesn’t do anything stupid. The women here are vicious. If he makes the wrong move, they gonna put a bounty on him and come for his head!”

The man cracked up at his own joke, Meryl laughing only to hide how much this unsettled her. She knew it was meant as a joke, but from experience, things always liked to end badly.

So, as not to spill something she didn’t mean to, Meryl yanked the keys from the man’s hand with as much restraint as possible and hurried after her friends.

Milly and Vash were struggling up the stairs as she approached. For a moment, her heart almost jumped out of her throat when the two of them bent backwards at an alarming angle, but they managed to readjust themselves with a loud thud on the stairs, breaking out in drunken giggles.  Meryl moved to shove them up the stairs, trying not to hurry them too much as to prevent them from falling over.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity to Meryl, they arrived at their room door. Meryl had to grab onto Milly and Vash so they wouldn’t mindlessly keep wandering down the hallway. She spun them to face her and thankfully caught their attention. Dangling the key in front of Vash’ face, she placed it in his palm, turned him around and pointed down the corridor.

“Just three doors down from here, alright?”

Vash blinked slowly, moving his eyes from the empty hallway to the key in his hand, down to Meryl and back again. Meryl waited with waning patience as his fuzzy mind processed her order, but not too long and he gave her a lazy smile and an even lazier salute and went to trudge down the corridor.

Sighing in relief, Meryl turned to her own door and unlocked it with a swift movement. The door was barely open a fraction when Milly squeezed through, making a straight beeline for her bed. Meryl could only smile, Milly really had the right idea. Collapsing in bed seemed like the best course of action right now.

However, just as Meryl moved to close the door, a nagging little voice in her mind made her hesitate. With apprehension, Meryl leaned back to see beyond the door and down the hallway.

Vash had, thankfully, found the correct room and was currently trying to push his key in the lock. Emphasis on trying.

With Vash’ glasses on, she couldn’t really read his expression but by the way his brows furrowed and he kept missing the keylock entirely, she was pretty sure his eyes refused to focus. Meryl watched him miss the hole sometimes by an inch, other times barely even striking the metal of the doorhandle. When one miss sent the key clattering to the floor but Vash kept repeating the hand motion still, Meryl groaned in resignation.

She threw a quick glance into her and Milly’s room, only to find her colleague passed out on the bed. Meryl closed the door and locked it, just to play things safe, then quickly crossed the small distance between her and Vash’ room.

Vash, for his part, had finally caught up with the fact that the key was not in his hand anymore. The way he flexed his fingers and frowned down at them were enough to clue Meryl in. When she came up to his side, she gently pushed him back a little.

“Move a bit, will you?”

Meryl noticed him startle, but as soon as recognition settled in he smiled and took a step aside. Meryl bent down to retrieve the fallen key and smoothly unlocked the door. Just like with Milly, the moment the door was open just a slit, Vash pushed his way inside. Meryl threw a glare after him but ultimately let her shoulders slump with a sigh. At least he was safely in his room.

Sticking the key on the inside of the door, Meryl turned to Vash to remind him to lock it after she left, when he suddenly stunned her into a pause.

Instead of flopping into bed, Vash had his duffle bag over his shoulder and was currently pushing open the window. Meryl only managed to startle herself out of her stupor when Vash swung a leg outside the window. With a few quick steps, Meryl bound across the room, grabbed him by the bag and dragged him back into the room. Vash fell flat on his ass, the momentum bringing his feet up in the air, and Meryl used the short moment to slam the window shut.

She whirled on him with an incredulous look on her face.

“What the hell are you doing, Vash?!”

Vash sat up with lighting speed, eyes so big they peaked out from behind his glasses.

“What does it look like, I’m bailing! They’re already after me!”

Meryl felt her heart drop down to her knees. Vash was being pursued? Why hadn’t he said anything until now? Wait, if he was being followed why had he even stopped here? And how could he let himself get this plastered knowing there was danger?

Shaking her head wildly, Meryl quickly dispelled the mounting questions from her mind. Now was not the time to fall into panic.

“Vash, what are you talking about? Who is after you and since when?”

Vash was back on his feet again, trying to edge closer to the window, but Meryl planted herself as a barricade, not allowing him to leave before she got the answers. With an indigent whine, he met her eyes.

“Didn’t you hear the innkeeper? They’re already out for my head! There’s no telling how long it will take ‘til they get me!”

Air tight in her lungs, Meryl’s eyes widened as realisation hit her.

Then she smacked Vash upside the head.

Meryl rubbed her face tiredly as irritation burnt through even her strongest haze.

“Vash, you idiot, the guy was JOKING. Now stop acting stupid and get your drunk ass in bed.”

When Vash still looked resistant, Meryl’s patience was worn too thin to talk him into doing anything. Instead, she just yanked the bag from his shoulders, grabbed him be the suspenders at his back and dragged him over to the bed. With a strong shove, she pushed him onto the bed. Vash landed with a pained grunt, but the moment he realised the softness he found himself in, his body went lax with a content sigh.

Feeling a headache come on, Meryl rubbed her temples as she thought about what to do next. With a longing look at the door, she debated whether to just leave and finally get the sleep she so desired, but Vash was hanging halfway off the bed, still fully clothed and with a gun strapped to his leg. Against her better judgement, Meryl went to close the still wide-open door and go help Vash properly get into bed.

She returned to him no 10 seconds later, and his hip was already sliding off the mattress. With a result huff, Meryl grabbed him by the belt of his coat and dragged his body fully onto the bed. She made quick work of the clasps of his boots, sliding them off and arranging them next to the bed. Next followed the knee protectors and his gun, which she decided to keep on the nightstand to still be in quick reach for him. Once again, Meryl pulled him up by the suspenders that connected to the back part of his coat, and settled him against the wall to more easily open the buttons of his coat.

She took a moment to read his expression, mostly to see if he was still awake. The reflection of his glasses didn’t give her any insight on what he might be thinking, but when his lips slowly stretched into a smug grin, she was at least sure he wasn’t asleep.

“Oh my, insurance girl, didn’t peg you for the handsy type.”

Meryl just rolled her eyes at the overly suave tone and slapped him against the chest.

“Oh, shut up, you. Don’t spout such nonsense, rather help me get this off.”

At her comment, Vash’ grin only grew but he did as he was told. With practice ease the last few buckles and buttons popped open and he slid out the form fitting coat like it was no problem. With a little shift of his hip, he tugged it out from under him and let it crumple to the floor. Apparently satisfied to be freed from excess weight, Vash let himself fall back onto the bed with his hands behind his head.

Meryl just shook her head at his antics and retrieved the coat from the floor. She was honestly surprised his coat was in such good condition with how little care he seemed to handle it. She hung the coat up on a chair and took the time to right the discarded duffle bag as well. Stepping back to Vash’ bedside, Meryl reached down to eventually pluck the glasses from his nose.

To her surprise, an arm snaked around her waist and pulled her down. With a startled gasp, Meryl tried to retrieve her balance but ultimately found herself sat down the edge of Vash’ bed. He was grinning up at her with a mischievous glint in his eyes, but Meryl only graced him with a huffed sigh. She placed his glasses by his gun before trying to peel off his hold on her.

“Come on, Vash, let go, I wanna get to bed as well.”

Meryl bit her lip, believing she might have given him just another sentence to easily turn into a tease, but Vash only laughed softly and secured his grip on her waist.

“Aww, come on, insurance girl, just until I’m asleep? Don’t wanna get nightmares. It will be real quick, I promise.”

Now, that was an unusually honest sounding request. Meryl peered down at him. Vash’ looked and sounded rather sincere, which perplexed Meryl a great deal. Even if drunk, since when did he act like this in front of her?

Still somewhat taken aback, Meryl gave a slow nod and let herself relax against the bedside. Vash looked content, small smile turning gracious, and closed his eyes with a sigh.

As he promised, he slipped off into sleep only a few moments after. Meryl couldn’t help but watch him. His little smile soon turned lax, his jaw even hanging open slightly. The arm around her loosened its grip until Vash’ hand lay slack on her lap. She could easily unwind herself from him now, leave and finally get to her own bed, but something in the carefree, calm and dare she say, vulnerable expression on Vash’ face made her so mesmerized she couldn’t get herself to move.

Then, a little twitch of the hand in her lap. Muscles tensing in his arms up to his shoulders. His jaw clamped shut and his brows furrowed. His dreams seemed to turn sour.

Meryl watched him still, apprehensive on what to do. Had he actually known he’d experience a nightmare? Was it something that had happened, or was it the alcohol that made his mind turn dark?

Either way, he seemed to have anticipated it even in his drunken stupor, and he had asked Meryl to stay.

Slowly, with her own hand trembling, she laid her thumb on the crease of his brow. With gentle strokes, she tried to ease the tension, staying attentive on how his body reacted to her touch. His muscles relaxed just a bit, the arm around her not clutching at the fabric of her shirt anymore. But the furrow in his brow and the downturn of his lips wouldn’t leave his face.

The image of a goofy smile and feeling of feather-light texture beneath her fingertips rushed through her mind.

Ever so slowly, her fingertips glid across his forehead until they met the base of his hairline again. With one smooth motion, Meryl buried her fingers in his hair. She let her nails lightly scrub against his scalp and once again carefully loosened any tangles she could find.

The effect was instant. She had not brushed her fingers through his hair three times when a heavy sigh left him, and so did the tension. The knit of his brow immediately evened out and his mouth popped back open in tiny breaths. His body basically melted into the bed after only few moments of her combing through his hair.

Vash was doing fine, he was fine. She could leave.

Meryl really didn’t want to leave.

A humourless laugh left her. She felt so selfish, enjoying an intimate moment like this even though Vash was so vulnerable underneath her hands. Meryl couldn’t deny the happy buzz beneath her skin to see him so content, so at ease. She also couldn’t deny the thrill it sent through her as smooth locks glid in between her fingers.

She wanted this, she wanted this so badly, but she also knew she couldn’t for so many reasons.

She knew Vash. No matter how big a flirt he was, intimacy was just something he seemed to deny himself at any cost, be that physical or emotional. Not that she was any better. Meryl had to bitterly admit that she was not ready to act truthful to her emotions either, she was too prideful and scared to do that.

So, sharing such a calm moment together, while one half was in drunken, sleepy daze, felt both exhilarating and awful at the same time.

But still, Vash had let her close, had requested her presence, even if he was drunk. So even if it was egocentric of her, if only for a few moments more, she wanted to be self-indulgent and enjoy the quietness and intimacy she could only dream of.

Vash was drunk out of his mind, he wouldn’t remember this.

He would never have to know.

______

Except when opening her eyes the next morning, an aquamarine gaze was staring right back at her. There was surprise, confusion, realisation and some kind of excitement sparkling back at her, and Meryl couldn’t stop the thrum that went through her body.

Oh, she was not ready to face these feelings just yet.

So a scream, a slap and a flustered march back to her own room would have to do for now.

#trigun #trigun anime #trigun 98 #meryl stryfe #vash the stampede #vashmeryl #fanfiction #yes i actually wrote sth #procrastination for the win #i really just wanted to give vash head scratches ngl

[princeanxious]

are you out of the TSS fandom for good, do you think? just burned out on lack of updates?

I mean, it's complicated.

Edit: pressed answer instead of save to drafts while trying to back out, tumblr what the fuck

Anyway, it's complicated. I've become burnt out creatively lately, and I've been part of the sanders sides Fandom since 2018, it's been a big portion of my life, I'm not letting it go that easily.

However, this is my main blog, and I cant really shift everything to a new side blog, so I do feel bad for those who followed me exclusively for sanders sides are now seeing a v distinct lack of it.

But for the most part, yeah, I'm burned out on a lack of updates, I was a fander creator doing as much as I could to create content to entertain myself just as much as for others in-between the hiatus-gaps while awaiting updates. I love these characters with all my heart, but every gap in between has gotten longer and longer, I can't keep waiting for a year at a time for one single update even if the finished product is grand and *absolutely worth* the time it took to make. I was scrambling, bc I no longer have the time I used to to create my own fanart and fanfiction and animatics for this fandom, and I can only reread the library of my favorite saved works over so many times before I feel hollow and under-stimulated.

It'd be one thing if the rest of the fandom was as active as it used to be, I bounce off others creative energy far easier than single handedly manifesting my own inspirations all the time. But it's not, and interaction with my own content slowed way down. (Not to say that I'm leaving just bc of this or anything, but its become a struggle to feel motivated to keep going when there's literally nothing new from Canon to keep riffing from.)

I have the want to finish my remaining fics, specifically The Lost Guardian in particular at the very least, but I just can't solely be a sanders sides blog like I used to be.

I'll be here when that season finale comes out, but at this rate of progression, I think Thomas has overestimated the fact that this could very well be a series finale, not season finale. And I've come to peace with that, if only Thomas would be more transparent abt it.

Sure, Thomas has other content, but funfact, I've had very relatively low interest in getting super into it, there isn't the same level of comfort in shipping characters of a single person with the versions themselves when other characters played by other people are involved, especially when u know that they are alot of his v close friends. I don't ship real world actors together, especially if they play a character very close to representing themselves. The characters they play, maybe, but that's why I'm far more entertained and comfortable with animated media.

In short, I'm tired and burnt out and for now-for *whatever* reason- the silly lanky clown jesters from fnaf have more of a grasp on my brain than sanders sides does. I'm following the serotonin.

I may still create sanders sides content in the future, but getting maybe 100-500 notes on a piece when u have a fandom following of roughly 11.5k followers from over the years has spoken volumes on how active the community is rn. I'm not leaving, but I can't be stagnant and hyperfixate on this anymore after doing so for almost 6 years straight. Yknow?

And for those who have always left a comment, shared my work, interacted with me in any capacity over the years in this fandom, and have made my time in this fandom worth while, thank you. I love you. U have made every second worth it💜

#luka answers

[leefi]

The Flower That Bloomed Nowhere Read-through | Part 1: Chapters 1-14

Part 1: 1-14 | Part 2: 14-22 | Part 3: 22-34 | Part 4: 34-64 | Part 5: 64-80 | Part 6: 81-90 | Part 7: 90-100 | Part 8: 100-127 (caught up here)

Hi!!!! I've been reading through this webnovel after seeing @ot3's pitch for it and started writing down some thoughts on the characters and worldbuilding and imminent murdering. This story is very, very long and I only reacted up to about chapter 33, so most of my thoughts will involve the worldbuilding and less the murder mystery aspect -- so if you're looking for theorizing you won't find much of that here. Since I'll be continuing eventually, I wanted to post what I did make note of to revisit later!

Most of these are not marked by chapter/section because I was lazy and I'm not sure how easy it will be to follow as a result, but everything is chronological.

everyone here is hijabi mashallah

The visual I'm getting of the solar system/local system/dimension they inhabit is kind of a blend of steampunk and fantasy and uhh some secret third thing. With the walls of their "universe" painted in that puella dollhouse witch lair style. Does the sun bounce around like a screensaver. Does it orbit their earth or is it on a fixed axis flung out into “space”? Does “space” even exist anymore? I’m assuming they’re in an enclosed area that they've created. Do they actively use arcane resources to keep objects (ie star and planets) sustaining themselves, or have they made them self sufficient?

everyone is so mean to Ptolema leave her alone what the fuckk let a bimbo live i want to kill you all you’re so annoying. Ptolema I WOULD be your friend and not ask all these weird ass questions. and we would hold hands and skip and giggle

Yes shes an airhead nepo baby but you guys could try doing anything other than snickering and rolling your eyes whenever she says stupid shit. If she starts arguing back about government war crimes during the Revolution or something then you have my blessing to beat her ass!

I HATE kamsurepa i HATE her i HAYE Her and her stupid ass name

Ran and Su have no chemistry its insane that theyre always hanging out every conversation is like uhhh (awkward silence) (rude comment from Ran) *Su voice* wow she gets me so well. every time they talk im like what the fuck just happened.

Su’s internal narration is too self aware for me. it’s like she talks like she knows she’s a character? or something. it's self-deprecating in a very bizarre way

im sorry i don’t know if i can continue with this. i know too many med students irl and these characters are literally pissing me off. compliments to the author for realism you knocked it out of the park

Oh, thank you very much!" Kam said, reverting back to her smiley-diplomatic form for a moment before stepping away from the counter and continuing as she handed us the cards. "...as far as it seems to me, the desire to reproduce is essentially an immature form of pursuing life-extension - this idea that you'll 'live on through your children' that's patently pseudo-mysticism justifying what is ultimately an animal instinct." ⬇️ I’m going to grab her ginger head and swing her around like bowser in mario 64. SHUT UPPPPP SHUT UP please tell me shes the one that dies

You know," I mused idly, my eyes wandering. "I think this is actually the fourth glass ceiling I've seen today." "Mm, it's true that you don't see a lot of women working in Aetheromancy," ⬇️ I know this is a small nitpick but aren’t we really far into the future why do they keep using terms like this 😭 gendered stuff like this still exists billions? trillions? of years into the future?

Why has the disco elysium skill tree randomly started talking to su. Is this her future self nagging her. Is she pulling a han sooyoung. when do we get to the various utsushikome ego deaths

"prosognostic overlap"…do ppl repeat faces? Are most people cloned at this point? What triggered the need for cloning surely medicine is advanced enough that childbirth or test tube babies are feasible? Can bodies be cloned and reinhabited to inhibit aging? Is there some disturbing psychological element to seeing someone with the same face as you? Does it make your brain short circuit? Kam mentioned having children earlier which I assume means people still give birth or have test tube babies, so i don’t know if it’s the result of cloning…but it does sound like a sameface sort of thing. What else would it be if not that though?

Actually, if they’ve figured out teleportation (whatever it was called when they went up the aetherbridge) - let's say they can atomize a body and reforming it elsewhere (though we don't know for sure yet, could also be a fold in spacetime) - transferring consciousness to an empty clone of yourself (and therefore effectively doing away with aging or death wholesale) sounds a lot more efficient and technologically practical than maintaining an organic system that naturally decays. Why keep on finding ways to push the human body past its limits when you could simply transfer a person to a new, identical vessel?

I feel like the key to immortality isn’t maintaining an organic body, which naturally tends towards systems of entropy (being a biological thing, entropy=decay), but rather delineating and separating human consciousness from its host and replicating its original environment perfectly. I’m not talking about making a copy of consciousness, which is just glorified cloning - I’m talking about *transferring* a consciousness.

You could almost call dementia itself the mind's tendency towards its own kind of entropy?

Though if you transfer a consciousness to a younger body, the dementia issue could still potentially remain. Depends on if it the author sees it as a solely physical phenomena (atrophy/buildup of inhibitors of the brain) or there's some metaphysical anomaly about amassing too many memories/"existing" too long in general

The way spellwork is described is really cool and feels super believable. Optimizing multiple concurrent spells into one “function” is intricate and sophisticated, and you have to dedicate a lot of brainpower to doing the math in your head. It’s like they’re coding the real world. I love the way lurina describes this it's awesome.

#tftbn #woof #the flower that bloomed nowhere