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demonicgod · 7 months

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[Asks from "Otherkin Ask Meme." Check my #ask game tag for the rebloggable ask meme, by user princeoframs]

This is really long so please only click the read more if you feel like dealing with a very very long post.

All art is sourced from the Grand Chase wiki.

Are you otherkin or therian?

Otherkin. I'm a fictive of Heitaros Cratsus from Grand Chase that identifies with his source in some soupy ass ways.

What are your kintype(s)?

Specifically, I identify as fictionkin of Heitaros Cratsus from Grand Chase. Related to that, I’m demonkin and divinekin/hearted. Most of those probably make sense enough, but because of my exomemories, it’s a bit more complicated to label whether divinekin or divinehearted is more accurate. My title was the Demonic God, which denoted how much power I had accrued during my time in Elyos. I literally fistfought three Goddesses and brought them to such a standstill their only option was using the last of their life force to power a magical laser bomb to kill me. Then, I spent the next few hundred years busting out of the Underworld and eating the divine reactor they slammed me with because I wanted to become a new Creator. I technically succeeded for maybe a few hours at most; so it’s difficult as a result to figure out whether I am divinehearted (that is, aspiring to divinity, but not being divine) or divinekin (seeing as I technically succeeded at becoming Creator, even if it was for a fraction of my life). I could say both, but my relationship to divinity is also fluid (especially considering my presence in a body that is not necessarily divine and is, in fact, a sack of meat appreciating the divinity of the world).

What was your awakening like? When was it?

My first awakening was when the body was in middle school. This was long before we understood that we were plural, so my awakening was muddied by a lack of clarity regarding our more-than-oneness. We came out of some religiously-exacerbated trauma with me splitting off in middle school as basically a parody of the devil. I was an asshole, and that identity kind of followed me through a dormancy to when I woke back up from it in late 2021. I still ID with that to some degree (I even mention it on my about page), but I ID a little bit more with Heitaros, because that’s the face that I found most comfortable, and it resonated with me. It was blistering at first, and the realization of a face in the context of the system made it a lot easier for me to not be so much of a rube all the time lmao.

When did you first hear about the kin community?

I believe we heard about the kin community first sometime in the middle of high school, through someone else we knew in the GC fandom, funnily enough lol.

Do you experience phantom limbs astral limbs?

We prefer the term “astral limbs” to describe appendages we don’t have that are not part of the human package. That said, I have four wings. They’re bat-like, and the bone/external membranes are a dark blue. The inner lining is a glowing bright blue, meanwhile. Both are the same color as my true body.

Do you experience any other shifts?

Yeah, I experience shifts relating to my true body (what’s my blog icon right now; I've included the full piece of art below too because it's the best official art of it). This involves a lot, including everything from my teeth to my claws. It’s just as disorienting as wing shifts considering I live in a twink’s body, lol.

What’s your favorite shift you get? Why?

Almost any of them count, but there are a few that make me feel particularly connected to my past life. My true body is one I miss a lot, but the body I took from Baldinar also has some particular meaning to me because I can sometimes use it to drag him into front lol. Also, I just like how I look wearing his features.

Tag who did it better lmao.

What’s your least favorite shift? Why?

Arguably, the same as above because sometimes intense shifts give me intense emotional pain. It's like having a head full of bees. Disorienting, confusing, and a little bit irritating, all at once. It tends to come with a little sauce side of dysphoria too, because the body's presentation doesn't match up with what I want to look like.

The only shift that makes me kind of uncomfortable is the shift I get of Kyle's body. He's in our system and comfortable around me, but it's just a little weird going from himbo to twink to sad Kingdom Hearts reject.

Can you make yourself shift?

Sometimes. Depends on who else is in front with me and what the state of the body is. With enough picrews I can kind of force a shift to my stolen body, though.

Do you have shift triggers, or do they happen randomly?

My shift triggers are usually emotional in nature, but active triggers are generally the same as my active front triggers. So, usually if I need to be in front, someone can jam me to front by engaging with those triggers, some of which make it easier for me to also induce a shift.

Do you have memories?

Yes. Practically my whole life. Some of it is just impressions, but some things are more in depth. These are also kind of front triggers for me, too, so the system will ask me to tell them more about my memories if they want or need me in front (hence me writing “fanfiction” about my source). My co-host is really good at this, and that's arguably the reason they're co-host; they'll regularly remember something about another headmate and then ask another to "tell them a story." They got like 300 pages of shit out of me by doing that lol.

What’s your favorite thing about your kintype? (The species, creature, etc)

The power. Not to sound too wild or anything lmao, but in my past life it took so much just to take me down, and the limited time I had with divinity was only better. This is a double-edged sword, of course, because I live in a chronically ill body (that is also a squishy twink), so yearning for that is kind of dangerous, but at least in-system that means no one is willing to fuck with me (at least in a “physical altercation” kind of way).

A good shift, especially if it comes with respites where I'm shifted in my sleep, leaves me feeling rejuvenated. It's like a reminder that no matter what, I still have worth and am still a force to be reckoned with. It feels like electricity, like a really good stretch after a long rest. I have no clue if anyone else can relate to this, but I hope it makes some sense.

Do you think kins are spiritual or psychological in nature?

Yes. Both. And sometimes neither. Sometimes one or the other. But for me, I’m a psychospiritual entity in a system that is disordered and engages in spiritual explanations. In other words, I don’t fucking care lol (/lh). It doesn’t matter to me, because I’m both, because my experiences can’t be boiled down to such a binary.

If you're one, the other, both, or neither, that's also not my business to pry. This shit is too queer to worry about splitting hairs.

Does anyone know you are otherkin? Friends, family, etc? If so, how did you tell them?

Yeah, most close family and quite a few close friends. Most online friends know, too.

Do you have any friends who are also kin?

Yeah!

Do you meditate?

Sometimes, but honestly at this point meditation is difficult to do in ways we like because of ADHD, dissociation, and the fact we basically dissociate all day at work and can’t easily build meditative strategies because of how that takes it out of us mentally.

Do you get kin dreams?

I actually decided to get better at lucid dreaming to try to have more, to be honest. Our sys used to be super into lucid dreaming, so I’m mostly just getting old muscles back up to snuff. It's been hit or miss all in all.

Even non-lucid kin dreams are usually really good though. Cathartic and a little bit sad to wake from, but you get over it when you're used to 'em.

Do you wish you were your kintype? Why or why not?

Depends. Would I still get to interact with my system? Would they be stuck in that body with me? If yes and no, then I would love to have my body again so I could actually squeeze the hell out of my headmates and also do the flying stim called “get up really high in the air and dive like you’re freefalling so you can parachute last second.”

Do you own any gear? If so, what items do you have and do you like to wear them?

Uhhhh skip.

Give a controversial opinion/your stance on some type of discourse.

This is purely because I’ve known a lot of misinformed kids before, but I think as a community we should be a lot better at being forthcoming about information and not being so quick to malign anyone that uses the term “KFF.” That term cropped up in my hiatus from the community (that hiatus being because people were bitching at psychological-related kintypes in all my fucking spaces), and by time I came back, no one could do anything but bitch about “KFFers” and never seemed to say anything more than the same BS I see in the plural community. It was only after almost two years back that we FINALLY found out what that’s “supposed” to mean, and it’s such a nonsense useless term that people I used to hang out with absolutely used it in a “misinformed but not bad-faith” kind of way (the “that would semantically be called a linktype but whatever” sort of KFFer). I get that there are people that want to make our community look bad, but y’all… those bitches have always been coming into our tags and spaces and planting fake blog posts to screenshot for r3ddit karma. Cringe is dead, spend your energy blocking/moving on and making otherkin dictionaries (like the cool people that finally helped me understand what the fuck y’all were bitching about lmao).

What makes you feel closer to your kintype(s)?

Just being me. I'm stubborn as Hell when I need to be, especially when it comes to things that better the system's situation, and that usually makes me feel like I'm trying to reclaim some of my old power. Boundaries are power, to be fair.

But if we want to get more specific, it's mostly front triggers that tend to get me feeling closer to my kintype, sure, but also writing about it as well. Anything that forces me to think about it and makes it easier for me to interface with headspace, basically.

What are some things that validate you?

We had a friend in college that said our voice sounded androgynous, and I know that's mostly gender euphoria speaking, but as someone who loves how I sound when I front? Yeah.

#demonkin #divinekin #otherkin #fictive #fictionkin #source talk #heit talks #this is what i did instead of working on art #but to be fair our joints feel like they need a whole can of wd40 after our shift today #and this is an excuse for me to appreciate my source art #some of it is uh #give or take in quality #but ykw i will take what i can get

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xtruss · 1 year

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The Oscars and the Pitfalls of Feel-Good Representation

Why have we become so fixated on the award prospects of the most successful members of a minority group?

— By Inkoo Kang | March 12, 2023

The Academy Awards have come to serve as a primary yardstick of representational gains in the industry.Photograph by Christopher Polk/Getty

The tropes that undergird modern Oscar campaigns—those laborious, profligate, months-long efforts to take home a statuette, often by creating meta-narratives around the nominated films or artists themselves—have become as predictable as any Hollywood screenplay. But, occasionally, a novel spin or flawless execution can revitalize a tale we’ve all heard a thousand times before. So it is with Ke Huy Quan’s maneuver toward the Best Supporting Actor trophy for his (genuinely fantastic) performance in “Everything Everywhere All at Once,” in which he plays several versions of Waymond, the doting, tenderhearted, sometimes debonair husband of Michelle Yeoh’s Evelyn across the multiverse. Quan, who became a familiar face to American audiences after starring as Short Round in “Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom” and Data in “The Goonies,” gave up his acting career for a period, when he found scant opportunities as an Asian American performer, eventually landing behind the camera. He’s not the only nominee with a comeback story: the awards push for lead actor Brendan Fraser, who enjoys a much anticipated return to the spotlight in “The Whale,” also asks the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences, to complete his arc by furnishing a happy ending. But a triumph for Quan would also lend some of its glow onto the entertainment industry at large: it would suggest that Hollywood, with its ugly concentration of power among the usual suspects, is capable of reform, and that a talented artist who once saw no path forward by dint of his race could, a generation later, be fêted for his contributions to a film that makes the crises within an Asian American family a matter of cosmic urgency.

Actors are the most visible beneficiaries of the ongoing calls for increased diversity in Hollywood, which come from the viewers, who wish to see more faces and realities reflective of their own, as well as from figures within the industry, many of whom view greater inclusion as a source of fresh ideas, cultural relevance, even moral legitimacy. (This year’s Oscars cause célèbre is the Russian invasion of Ukraine, which will likely bestow the Best Documentary prize to “Navalny,” about the Russian political dissident Alexey Navalny.) And yet those of us invested in a more capacious and curious popular culture have yet to fully grapple with how progress in the industry should be appraised. By default, then, events like the Oscars have come to serve as a primary yardstick of representational gains. Hence our joyless new annual award-season tradition: the scrutiny of the nominees and the eventual winners for their diversity, mostly in the acting races, despite their representing a vanishingly small fraction of the hundreds of films released in just this country each year.

Quan, who has already won a Golden Globe and a Screen Actors Guild Award for his turn in “Everything Everywhere,” heads into Oscar night as the virtual shoo-in for his category. Given his decades of one-sided adoration for the film business, it’s difficult to begrudge him a moment of joy; at last, it seems, Hollywood might love him back. But his hyper-visible (and seemingly wholly earnest) publicity strategy, which has included speeches that have made the rounds on social media, exemplifies not only how inordinately fixated we are on the award prospects of the most successful members of a minority group but how conversations about diversity more broadly coalesce around emotional appeals to viewers—the tugging of heartstrings.

That our preferred mode of measuring Hollywood diversity is affective—based on how it makes us feel—is undeniable. There are outliers. A handful of scholars and nonprofit organizations have meticulously tallied the screen presence of women and various minority groups, publishing the results in annual report cards. These tabulators include Stacy L. Smith at the University of Southern California and Darnell Hunt at the University of California, Los Angeles, who focus on race and gender; and glaad, whose exhaustive studies quantify “studio responsibility” in film and assess “where we are” on television. Less precisely, though perhaps more influentially, social media erupts in outrage every few years about the racial or gender makeup of major award-show categories; the #OscarsSoWhite movement began this way, and this year’s baftas prompted a continuation of the discussion after not a single person of color won a film prize that night. But the representation discourse happens all year, and some participants seem to care more about the optics than the films or performances themselves. The question asked most frequently boils down to whether we “feel seen,” a phrase whose recent but widespread popularity can partially be attributed to its vagueness.

There’s nothing wrong with entertainment feeling good. (I’m including, under that term, marketing apparatuses like the Oscars, which inform consumers what milestones a project hits—and thus how “important” they are.) But who needs the notches of advancement when a movie just works? In recent years, there’s been a boom in Asian American films that have depicted and unearthed facets of myself that I hadn’t imagined would ever be explored onscreen. I’ll always have a fondness for “Crazy Rich Asians,” a fish-out-of-water romantic comedy that helped me let go of a shame I didn’t realize I’d been holding on to, of feeling “not Asian enough” on a continent that I’m from but that’s never felt like home. I felt gratitude toward “The Farewell,” an autobiographical drama about living an ocean away from beloved family members, for acknowledging on such a mainstream scale and with such lovingly idiosyncratic portraiture the emotional trade-offs of immigration. I’m not a gay man, but I savored “Fire Island,” last year’s queer rom-com from an Asian American perspective, in part for poignantly observing the crushing unavoidability of racialized beauty standards in a cutthroat sexual marketplace.

Representational pleasures are real and, yes, important. The films above, which run the gamut from the personal to the glossily corporate, pay tribute to antecedents (Michelle Yeoh, Margaret Cho) while carving out space for emerging talent. They approach the experiences of Asian Americans as significant, acute, and relatable, and however fleetingly they provide a sense of community, of not-aloneness. I hope everyone who cares about culture finds at least a handful of films and TV shows—or books or music or whatever else—that makes them feel that way.

But feel-good representation alone isn’t the solution to Hollywood’s diversity problem. Greater inclusion can’t advance without a more equitable entertainment industry that offers opportunities to artists of disparate backgrounds, who in turn have to be empowered to tell the kinds of stories they wish to tell. Our craving for representation should also encompass material that doesn’t always deliver immediate satisfaction—challenging, divisive, or self-critical narratives that may not affirm viewers, but can reveal truths or offer new insights.

Feelings are fickle, and seldom shared across a group. One member’s representation is another’s alienation. Discussing “Crazy Rich Asians” with me, a Korean American friend balked at the film’s reception as a landmark that was meant to speak to and for her; she thought it too Sinocentric and too wealth-obsessed to stand in for Asian America. I don’t share her objection, but it’s certainly a valid one. The expectation that representation will always come with a dopamine spike risks an undue emphasis on the most anodyne, least objectionable stories, the content packaged for maximum virality or as aspirational perfection. And eternal pessimism about Hollywood, especially when it’s only with an eye toward the industry’s uppermost tiers, can obscure genuine headway in the less glamorous middle and lower layers, where newcomers of all crafts gain experience, connections, and, when they’re lucky, the kind of critical acclaim that can launch careers to the next level. Reduced market pressures in the independent space, too, can create room for more experimentation, such as more niche themes, less conventional forms, and a relaxed demand for “universal” resonance.

Perhaps we’re already getting closer. The still-surprising front-runner status of “Everything Everywhere”—it’s currently predicted by the Oscar probability sites as the winner for top prizes like Best Picture and Best Director, in addition to Best Actress and Best Supporting Actor—has meant an embrace of a rather messy, exhausting, cheerfully vulgar sci-fi film, attributes seldom embraced by Academy voters in the past. Its talking rocks and nihilism bagels may not personally spark you. But it might still be progress. ♦

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miaesaan · 1 year

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The Popularity of Pretty People (2/3)

The popularity of pretty people is as cutthroat as ever. Social media is constantly at war with the latest selfies in a competitive game that forces thousands of followers to participate by simply liking and commenting on the most aesthetic and curated galleries. But when it comes to publishing writing on social media, there is a similarity in choosing the most aesthetic and curated words to create poetry. While this art form does not have many technical rules, it does have the power to touch the emotions of the reader, conjuring memories of personal heartbreak, as they swipe through social media on their way to work.

We are all lonely in some way and it is left unsaid that we don’t like to be alone. Rather, we don’t like to be pointed out for any kind of unusual habits. Instead, we like to feel that we are part of something greater, but together. It is very frightening for a social media writer to point out our deepest fear about betrayal having lost a lover to a rival. But the mask that social media allows us to hide behind, when revealing our honest thoughts, succeeds in drawing out writers from every fraction of the world. This is how attractive being lonely is. It was only after we created masks for ourselves that we came to realise that we are all lonely in some way. And all the words these writers left unread, on the internet, became a heartbeat that was a bit broken, flawed, but still beating.

It is popular to be broken and flawed, but still fighting. Emotions like regret and grief are often capitalised in social media poetry because it is easy to relate to words when we don’t know who is saying these words. It almost feels like the poetry we read is part of our subconscious narrative, a commentary that sounds like the voices we hear in our head sometimes. This is why social media has become the conscience of popularity. If we have felt this emotion before, then it means that being lonely is okay. But only if it sounds poetic.

Written by miae

#poetry #essay #wordpress #blog #instagram #twitter #popularity #miae #miaesaan

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hiraemy · 3 years

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Lumine and The Goblet of Fire

Word count: roughly 2.7k for this part

disclaimer: first of all, this au was heavily inspired by @majunju 's incredible art! she made chilumi as beauxbatons and durmstrang students and my brain went brrr so i had to write something for them??

both Genshin Impact and Harry Potter are not created by me. However, i took the liberty to mix a lot of concepts in this AU, so have that in mind when reading.

for sake of plot, lets pretend that Durmstrang is located in Russia. Lumine, Paimon and Aether are the only ones from Beauxbatons, while the rest are from Hogwarts unless mentioned otherwise. All the characters that have adult models, like Jean, Lisa, Kaeya and Diluc are presumed to be adults, with Childe being the only exception. Also, all the characters that use children or teens’ models are students, with a few exceptions like Venti and Scaramouche [mihoyo pls stop giving us confusing ages and body models i never asked you anything]

(please, have in mind that english is like, my third language, if you notice a spelling or grammar error, feel free to message me!)

Act One: Lumine and her stupid impulse control

“I’m going to put my name on it.” Aether broke the silence suddenly

“What...? No! Oh god, I expected that from Paimon, but you’re just as bad as her!”

There were a lot of things that Lumine hated.

Open shoes. A very specific type of silk-flower based perfume(Aether once tried it because he wanted to impress a girl, but it ended stinking for two weeks straight). History of Magic. Condensed slime— those that Paimon loved, but she couldn’t even see it without being sick—, potions that took more than one single day to brew. But the worst, certainly was—

“C’mon, Lumine! You’re just afraid that you’re going to get your ass kicked in the tournament!”

...when Aether was being dumb.

“No, I’m not!” She countered quickly, ignoring the way Aether smirked like he knew exactly what buttons to push. Actually, it wasn't that far from reality, if she was being honest. She eyed the paper carelessly torn from his notebook that had his name as if she could burn it only with the power her heavy gaze. “You’re being dumb! Are you deaf or something? DIdn’t you hear them saying that the Triwizard Tournament has a high death count?”

“Paimon is sure it isn’t that bad!” The half-fairy smiled at her, eyes twinkling in greed and mischief. Lumine narrowed her eyes at the way she happily jumped in her steps, staying afloat in air for more time than it was normal to common humans “After all, they're opening it again, right? I’m certain that the ministry has done something to make it safer!”

“You’re the one to talk! You don’t care about anything other than the mora!” Lumine was quick to shut her down, sending a glare that didn’t affect any of the two. In that moment, the three of them entered the hall which had the Goblet of Fire in its full glory, a bunch of Hogwarts students surrounding it like curious birds, eager to know which students were applying for the tournament.

“Have a bit of faith, wont’ya?” Aether smiled boyishly, flicking his wand from his sleeve and hitting it slightly at the top of his head, also giving a wave to a bunch of ravenclaw girls that awed at his presence. He continued in his confident stride, each step leaving him closer to the Goblet “Arent I the best of our school when it comes to Charms? Besides, I have my beautiful, great and awesome sister which of course, will give her full support and use her full knowledge to—”

“Shut up, you know it's not that what I’m concerned with!” Lumine hissed, grabbing her brother’s wrist and tugging, lowering her voice. In the corner of her eye, she saw the Dumstrang guys eyeing her, Aether and Paimon like wolves, ready to pounce on them. “You heard the rumors, right? Please, don’t tell my you’re that reckless-”

“What rumors?” Paimon squeaked, her eyes going wide for a fraction.

“The Fatui. You know them, right? The Tsaritsa’s pawns.” She whispered, narrowing her golden eyes and not daring to let her guard down when she was in the same room as the Durmstrang and Hogwarts students. “There are rumours that they are at the move. Some say that her personal minions, The Harbingers, are also involved in some dark scheme around Hogwarts.”

“Nah. You’re just being paranoid, there’s no way someone of that caliber would be here" Aether raised his eyebrow and Lumine wanted to tug her hair out in pure frustration. “Besides, it’s not like I'm some helpless dead weight. I know I already said it before, but I’m really confident it’s going to be fine.”

“Aether is right, Paimon thinks you should relax!” The white-haired girl smiled brightly, nodding her head to herself. “Or even better, you could enter the tournament too! It would make our chances of representing Beauxbatons even higher!”

“Don’t you ever listen to me? Why would I—” Before she could complete her nagging, Aether quickly threw his paper into the Goblet, the flames flickering aggressively before consuming his entry. Her mouth fell open in disbelief, but the crowd around them didn’t seem to notice her reaction as they gave a round of applause for her twin.

“What, Lumi? Are you afraid of losing?” He made a point of taunting her with the most infuriating shit-eating grin he had “Or… Maybe you’re not up to the challenge…? Y’know, it’s really okay if you feel too scared to face some bad guys—”

Ah. Right.

Aether knew how much she loathed being underestimated.

“Shut up!”

"Aww, there is no need to be this angry! I'm your big brother, of course I'll know when you feel too scared to put your name on the Goblet! It's okay to feel insecure, and I think it is better for you to not enter as you might not be able to—"

The crowd cheered again as the Goblet of Fire consumed another entry from Beauxbatons Academy.

“Lumi—”

“Shut up, im still mad at you.”

Aether smiled sheepishly under his sister’s heavy glare and Paimon giggled. Lumine also sent her a heated look, making the half-fairy squeal childishly.

“Luuuuumi!” Aether whined, making her sigh. “Don’t be mad at me! You were the one who put your name on the Goblet, right?”

“Don’t act like you’re innocent! You know damn well what you did—” She hissed like a annoyed cat. Aether pouted and tried to trap his sister into a hug, but she slapped him away on pure instinct.

“Chill, chill! At least we’re getting a feast tonight, right? Not like we don’t eat well in any of the other nights, but a guy told me that Hogwarts’s food is really amazing on these special days!” Aether pleaded, the bright grin revealing how amused he was with his sister’s grumpiness.

“Free food is great, but free great food is even better! There is absolutely no way you can be mad after you eat, right?” Paimon tried, and Lumine let out an even more tired sigh. “Besides, a lot of students applied for Beauxbatons! What are the chances of you being chosen, especially since you don’t actually want to do it?”

“Shut up Paimon, you just jinxed it,” Lumine scolded half heartedly, tucking her notebook under her arm.

The bunch of Hogwarts students were a handful. Even with the merged classes to accomodate the Beauxbatons and Durmstrand delegations, it seemed like the hosting school’s own students were never going to be used to see them in the classrooms and corridors of the castle. Everywhere they went, their blue uniforms made the crowds stare them down with admiration, suspicion, curiosity or even anger in some cases.

Aether and her were somehow getting even more stares than the other Beauxbatons students. Her twin shined under the spotlight, offering a gentle smile to the brave girls who tried to talk to him sometimes —how strange it was to see her brother gathering a bunch of fangirls—, but she felt uncomfortable under the attention.

“You’re too tense, Lumi” Her brother chimed, as if he could read her thoughts. His arms were carelessly fold behind his head and he shot her a gentle smile. “No one is going to bite your head off if you smile a bit, right? Just relax!”

“Now, the moment you all have been waiting for...! The Champion Selection!” The Headmaster, Barbatos announced, his voice carrying in the big hall and being able to shush all chatter. With a swoosh of his hands, the lights on the walls dimmed down, leaving the Goblet of Fire as the main attraction.

Lumine felt a shudder in her spine, knowing that despite seeming like a simple gesture, the skill level required to perform a wandless and also wordless spell was higher than everything could even imagine herself doing. Deep inside her gut, the respect she had for the Hogwarts Headmaster was raised to the roof, especially since his appearance was nothing but of a kind and carefree young boy.

Below the table, her hands were connected in a silent prayer. Her luck couldn’t be that bad, could it?

If everything went well, neither her or Aether would be chosen.

“Mr. Alberich, would you like to do the honors?” Barbatos asked a blue-haired man, who Lumine vaguely recalled being a member of the Ministry of Magic named Kaeya. As he nodded and approached the Goblet, she felt her shoulders getting even more tenser.

The flames flickered aggressively, but Kaeya didn’t seem to be intimidated by it. He slowly extended his hand, the fire spiking suddenly and changeling from blue to a menacing pink as it spat a piece of paper.

“From Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Albedo!”

The crowd— majority being from Hogwarts itself, the hosting school— cheered loudly, the most excited ones being from Ravenclaw. A boy dressed in blue rose from his seat, his ash-blonde hair styled in a braid at the back of his head and teal eyes immediately catching Lumine’s attention. He quickly went to the front and was guided by one of the teachers to a backroom, disappearing from everyone’s view. Mr. Alberich waited until the cheers died down to announce the next Champion, the flames shaking as if the own Goblet was impatient. Finally, with a burst of green, another paper flew into his hands

“From Durmstrang Institute, Childe!”

This time was the turn of the students seated at the end of Slytherin’s table to scream, a lot of figures rising at once and making it almost impossible to pinpoint who exactly was Childe. However, Lumine could see how a tall guy with a slim build was receiving some strong pats on his back, his messy ginger hair being attacked by another short guy who was too enthusiastic. His eyes still glinted with pride and excitement, even if the neatness of his red uniform was entirely ruined by his peers.

She clapped politely, lowkey still distressed about the next Champion. She was suddenly startled when the guy, who was definitely Childe as he finally went to the front, made unexpected eye contact with her. His eyes lingered a few seconds more than she would be comfortable to admit, making her even more anxious.

Mr. Alberich approached the Goblet again for the third name. For some reason, Lumine thought that the man was being slow on purpose, or that the Goblet was being too indecisive, as the flames flickered between blue, yellow and orange aggressively for a few seconds. Everyone else seemed to notice this too, a few curious whispers breaking out between the students. Kaeya narrowed his eyes and then, not a second too late, the Goblet spat the last entry.

“From Beauxbatons Academy…”

Her stomach dropped and she thought she would throw up on the spot.

“...Lumine!”

Aether screamed the loudest, right beside her ears. Paimon came to a close second though, shaking her by her shoulders like a ragdoll as if there wasn't a tomorrow.

"Lumi! Lumi! What are you waitin' for? Go to the front!" She got up, feeling her stomach do all the kinds of flips and lowkey dizzy. Her head couldn't even register properly the cheers, her mind too busy shouting all the bad words she knew at her mental images of Paimon and her brother.

She took in a deep inhale, keeping her breath until she was in the front of the whole hall, right in front of the teachers. Lumine saw the Beauxbatons Headmaster’s eyes take her in with slight tension in his slender fingers and she couldn’t help but to feel out of place.

"Mr. Zhongli…" She greeted quietly at the man, his tiny nod being the only thing to indicate his acknowledgment. He quickly led her into the backroom she saw both Champions go before, his brown cape flying elegantly behind him with every step.

"Miss Lumine, what a pleasant surprise… I must admit I didn't expect you to put your name in the Goblet." Zhongli started as a matter of fact, even if his eyebrow had a curious arch, as if expecting her to explain this turn of events.

“Yeah, neither did I, if I’m being honest.” She sighed, her hand wrapping around her stomach to hopefully help with the nausea and anxiousness

“Be assured, I’m sure the Goblet of Fire made an excellent choice for our school.” Zhongli said, his voice acquiring a softer tone, probably noticing how the blonde fidgeted a lot. Lumine clenched her fists, taking a deep breath. The man didn’t say anything else, and both of them reached a room decorated with Hogwarts’ trophies from the many tournaments held before.

She immediately saw Childe in a corner, poking a shiny statue that seemed to react at his mean touches, his eyes shining with some kind of rush and impatience she really didn’t want to explore any further. A tall woman, with elegant white hair that reached at her waist and ice blue eyes, slapped his hand harshly, freeing the poor statue from the Dumstrang’s clutches. Lumine didn’t know who exactly this woman was— It was common knowledge that Durmstrang Institute’s headmaster couldn’t be bored to attend the tournament personally—, but she could assume safely that she was at least a teacher.

With his distraction taken forcefully from him, Childe finally seemed to notice Lumine, turning on his heels with hands on his pockets. The witch felt another chill, incredibly uncomfortable with his heavy gaze analysing every feature, but she prayed to every god that she could at least maintain the stoic features she was quite infamous for. His blue eyes stopped carefully to analyze her face— a fact that she pretended to not notice by looking away—, with a satisfied(?) smirk appearing on his face that screamed bad intentions.

It took more than she would like to admit to pretend she wasn't the least affected by his heavy gaze on the side of her face. Her arms crossed around her face, her hand resting discreetly above the hidden pocket in her blazer that had her wand. Golden eyes searched the room again for another distraction, until they landed on the figure of the ash blonde boy chosen for Hogwarts.

He was pretty, no one could deny that, but even if he had those stupid charming eyes of his, there still was something about him that really threw her off. She couldn't exactly pinpoint it, but Lumine was sure that Albedo had some kind of deep dark secret kept hidden in himself. Was the whole Harbinger thing making her paranoid?

Before she could answer her own question, Barbatos entered the room with other Hogwarts teached in tow. The three of them— her, Childe and Albedo— came closer to the fireplace where everyone gathered, eyeing the teachers and the Headmaster who stood in front of them in a neutral position, except for mr. Zhongli, who was behind her, and the mysterious woman she supposed was Childe's teacher behind him. Occupying the vacant space, a pretty woman immediately went to stand at Albedo's back. She had light-brown hair and alluring green eyes, but the most iconic feature was her curvy body accentuated by her purple dress.

If she had to guess, she would assume that she was Ravenclaw's house head. Technically, Barbatos had to be a neutral party, as the hosting Headmaster, even if everyone knew his favouritism towards his own school.

"Well, now that we're back here, far from prying eyes, guess I can finally drop the formalities!" The small man suddenly said with a big smile, catching her off guard. In the corner of eye, she saw that Childe had a similar reaction, but Albedo seemed exasperated. "I must say, this year's competition is going to be tough. But I'm sure you three will be able to handle it just fine, hehe!"

Oh god. Was Barbatos like this in real life…? Suddenly, the previous mighty and ruthless image she had of the Headmaster was shattered. All the books talked about him as one of the seven great wizards of the last war, so she expected something more… Aggressive?

"Venti, please." For a greater surprise, Mr. Zhongli seemed used to his attitude, poorly hiding his smile behind a fist.

"Yeah, right. The Triwizard Tournament" He forced a cough, hardening his expression and straightening his posture. "From now on, Mister Childe, Mister Albedo and Miss Lumine will face difficult trials to determine which one of you is the greater wizard. I should also mention that the prize will be eternal glory and ten million mora, of course."

"We already warned you before, but let me repeat it. If you don't take these challenges seriously, you'll probably be squashed to the ground." Mr. Alberich stated bluntly.

"Is there a chance of dying?" Childe asked, the way his head tilted indicating that he wasn't asking just because he was scared.

"There were a few casualties some years before, but this time, the Ministry is making sure to bring some precautionary methods." He answered cooly, his expression not changing the slightest. "That being said, we still stand on the recommendation that you take extreme caution."

He didn't deny it. The fact didn't pass above any of the students' minds, Lumine tensing her shoulders, Childe grinning madly and Albedo pressing his lips.

"Anyway, about the first task," Barbatos took the lead again, a satisfied smirk on his lips. "The three of you will face an ability challenge. In other words, you'll be facing magic combat right from the start."

"Against each other?" Lumine asked, not wanting to fight Childe even in her dreams. He exhaled some mad, maybe sociopath vibes if she looked at it from a certain angle, and she certainly didn't want to test her theory.

"Nope," Barbatos said easily, tilting his head in fake innocence "Where's the fun in that? I can't say anything else, since it's supposed to be a secret until the trial— Ah, by the way, about the test, it will be on November 24th. You have two weeks to prepare, so have fun!"

Forget every good thing she had thought of him before. He was a Madman. She was surrounded by a bunch of madmans.

Oh dear lord.

#genshin impact #genshin #genshin lumine #paimon #aether #genshin childe #Chilumi #fiction #wow look at me again #brain go brrrr #getting into another fandom be like #brainstorming for 30 hours #and then regretting all life choices #aether is dumb but we love him anyway #paimon is a half fairy sorry i dont make the rules

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sweetiepie08 · 3 years

Text

Rebel Z (Chapter 10 Final)

nvader Zim fanfic

While analyzing Zim’s PAK for weaknesses, Tak discovers strange coding that sends her on a search for answers. The clues lead her to uncover a conspiracy that governs all of Irken society. When the truth sends her on the run, she has no choice but to return to the one place the Tallest would never willingly go: Urth.

Meanwhile, Dib has noticed odd changes in Zim’s behavior. Has the invader simply grown bored of his mission over the last few years, or is there something more interesting going on?

People who asked to be tagged: @incorrect-invader-zim , @messinwitheddie, @reblogstupids, @cate-r-gunn

If anyone else would like to be added to the tag list please let me know.

Chapter 1. Chapter 2. Chapter 3. Chapter 4. Chapter 5. Chapter 6. Chapter 7. Chapter 8. Chapter 9. Chapter 10.

Thank you for reading! I do plan to continue the story in a sequel fic, but I may take a short hiatus first. I hope you enjoyed this!

Be on the lookout for the next book in the series, RevolutionZ! In which Zim and Tak attempt to join the Resisty and gain new companions! Dib fills his gap year by joining an alien rebellion! Gaz gets dragged in too! And what happened to Zim in Death Melee is explained!

However, I will most likely only be posting links to Ao3 than full chapters to Tumblr. Again, Thank you everyone for reading!

[-]

“So, what exactly the fuck was all that stuff with the punch about?” Dib asked once they were a comfortable distance away form the Massive.

Zim glared straight ahead at the stars. “It’s nothing that concerns you, human.”

“Bullshit!” Dib slammed his hand down on the control panel. “Your little stunt could have gotten us killed. Out with it!”

Zim gritted his teeth and gripped the steering mechanism until his knuckles quaked. Dib braced himself for the inevitable screaming denial. Instead, Zim let out a pained sigh. “Fine, if you must know, I figured out three Urth years ago that my mission was a sham and my leaders were trying to have me killed, so I took revenge. Happy?”

“We know all that,” Tak snapped. “And anyway, I told you your mission was a lie a long time ago. What I want to know is how you managed to betray the Tallest without your treasonous thoughts setting of your life clock.”

“Yeah, and who’s Spek?” Dib added.

“You wish to hear Zim’s tale of woe?” He clenched his fist and heaved out another sigh. “Fine. Three Urth years ago, the Tallest contacted me, telling me they selected me to participate in Death Melee, an inter-galactic event that all would be watching.”

“The one where they throw criminals on a planet together to fight to the death?” Tak deadpanned. “That was your first clue?”

“They told me the rules had changed and it was now a contest of elite warriors. For my partner, they gave me a Spek, a smeet just shy of his cadet years. He hadn’t even seen his first cycle yet…” Zim’s fists shook as he cut himself off.

“Since you’re still alive, I’m assuming you won,” Dib said.

“Yes, but…” his gaze fell to the floor. “Yes. Anyway, throughout the Melee, it became clear to me that the Tallest lied. This was still a game for criminals, but Spek…” Zim narrowed his haunted eyes, “he was only there to lessen my chances.”

Dib watched, mesmerized. He thought he’d seen the many moods of Zim. He’d seen everything from proud boasting, to spiteful rage, to pathetic schmooping. But this, this was something else entirely, something he never expected to see from the alien. True remorse.

“On my journey back to Urth,” he continued, “I had too much time to think and when made it back to m base, I was done with all of it.” Rage grew in his voice with every word. “I knew they lied. I knew they’d been lying. For a moment, I thought, if they didn’t want my genius, maybe someone else would. And that thought was enough to set off my life clock. Instead of simply ripping out my feedback chip, I infected it with a virus that sends the Control Brains a loop of my Urth memories, preventing it from receiving new thoughts and experiences.” A bitter, satisfied smile came to his face. “As far as I can tell, it hadn’t noticed anything was off until now.”

“And the machines I saw you building?” Dib pressed.

Zim drew himself up. “I have a contract with the Resisity. I build them machines, they appreciate my genius and send me monies.”

“And that’s what you’ve been doing for three years?” Dib asked, voice sripping with skepticism.

Zim nodded and said nothing more.

Dib stared at him, trying to get a read on this whole tale. He wasn’t sure what to believe. Zim’s reason for existence seamed to be pleasing his Tallest. The little green monster talked of nothing else since arriving on Urth. He couldn’t imagine Zim wanting anything else and he’d fallen for the schmoopy act before. But this was not schmoop. It was too subtle, too quiet. And that betrayal of his Tallest couldn’t be denied. Something had truly changed.

Dib looked to Tak to gauge her opinion, but her face revealed nothing except careful calculation.

“I’d heard the Resisty had been growing and gaining power,” she mused. “New technology granted them upsetting victories and made them more of a problem than they once were. They could be the key. We need to fight if we ever want a chance of defeating the Control Brains and freeing our people, and for that, we’ll need an army. With your connection and my information, we could pose a real threat to the Empire.”

Dib expected Zim to launch into another tirade about how he wasn’t in it for the politics. That this was all a personal mission and he had no interest in going rogue. That did not happen.

Instead, Zim said nothing for a long time. He simply stared through the windshield in tense silence. But then, a grin grew slowly on his face. “I’m in.”

[-]

When they made it back to Earth, they found that Gaz made use of MiMi and Mini Mouse as gaming companions, Dad bought her excuse that Dib was hanging out at Zim’s house, and that he hadn’t even stopped home long enough to notice the two additional robots in the living room.

Dib went straight to his room and laid out all of his recording devices. He had the notes he took the night Zim and Tak rambled drunkenly on the couch. He had the audio recording of the old man Irken that he couldn’t wait to translate. And he had the spy camera he’d been wearing to capture the whole experience. He never got so much undeniable proof on one mission before, and no one, to his knowledge, had this much evidence of this quality ever. He’d be king of the Swollen Eyeball network if he showed even a fraction of…

His eyes drifted to the Swollen Eyeball emblem pinned to his bulletin board and he let out a sigh. The Swollen Eyeball… what a joke. They’d been reduced to a bunch of anti-science conspiracy nuts. The organization became a competition to see who could shout their wildest theory the loudest. What were they compared to a real evil alien empire, a real soul-sucking, Lovecraftian horror, and a real space alien rebellion?

No. This was bigger than some crack-pot conspiracy group. This rebellion universe-shattering consequences. And he was going to be part of it.

[-]

Out in his ship, Zim stared at his PAK connector with warry eyes. He wasn’t sure what held him back now. His stunt on the Massive already solidified his traitor status, but this felt different, more official. It was one thing to enact vengeance on those who betrayed him. It was quite another to completely detach himself from society.

He’d been unwaveringly loyal to the Empire since his conception, but they didn’t want him. He’d seen that years ago. So what was he waiting for?

He disconnected the PAK from his back and ignored the lifeclock in the corner of his eye as he plugged it in. He opened the hatch, clicked a pair of tweezers in his fingers, then reached them toward his feedback chip.

At a light tug, his computer’s voice gave an automated warning.

You are attempting to remove the feedback chip. Doing so is an act of treason against the Irken Empire. Are you sure you want to proceed?

Zim closed his eyes and pulled the chip free.

[-]

Tak’s footsteps echoed as she walked across the concrete garage floor. MiMi’s metallic feet clacked beside her. Apart from that, the room was silent. She was used to silence. One grows accustomed to it when traveling alone through space. But these last few days had been anything but. And with Zim as her dubious ally, silent moments like this were certain to be few and far between.

And yet, this moment, she felt the need to fill it with something.

She popped open the windshield of her ship and hopped inside. “MiMi, my disc please.” Mimi reached into her head and took out the Urth data storage disc. Zim wasn’t the only one with a secret stash.

Tak took the disc from Mimi and placed it in a tray on the ship’s control panel. “Ship, track six please.” As she hopped out, music began to play. Smooth, jazzy horns filled the air and the singer began crooning.

Maybe this time, I’ll be lucky. Maybe this time he’ll stay…

The song was from an Urth performance art piece. The vocalist sang about some male mate. That part didn’t interest Tak in the slightest. Still, there was something about it...

Not a loser anymore, like the last time and the time before…

The song continued to play as Tak opened the engine access panel and began her work. While manipulating the many gears and wires, she found a few interesting repair methods that the human implemented over the years. Many employed the use of an Urth bonding strip called “duct tape”, which she had to admit came in handy. The human didn’t do a bad job, even if it was pretty slap-dash.

All the odds are in my favor, something’s bound to begin…

She finally untangled a mess of wires and reconnected them.

It’s gotta happen, happen sometime…

She fused together the final wire and the ship hummed to life. Fuel Regulation Systems online.

Tak smiled, “Okay Mimi, looks like we’re finally getting somewhere.” She ducked back into the access panel as the song his its crescendo.

Maybe this time I’ll win.

#invader zim fanfiction #invader zim #iz fanfiction #iz fanfic #zim #dib #tak #gaz #gir #rebel zim #rebel leader tak #zadf #sweetiepie08 #sweetiepie fanfic #sweetiepie writes #invader zim fandom

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thespianbooks · 4 years

Text

A Court of Nightmares and Starlight //Chapter 4//

(Chapter one) (Chapter two) (Chapter three) (Chapter four) (Chapter five) (Chapter six) (Chapter seven) (Chapter eight) (Chapter nine) (Chapter ten)

(tags: @thron3ofbooks, @df3ndyr, @judexcardanxgreenbriar, @art-e-mis, @herondamnn, @the-third-me, @im-still-trying-here, @emikadreams)

Starfall was quickly approaching and the whole estate was buzzing with activity and preparations for our upcoming party. After witnessing and observing her first Starfall, Elain fell in love with the holiday. Since moving into the estate and coming up with the idea that we hold the festivities here, she took over planning for the event and made every year a grand celebration. In the years prior, it was always Mor and I that arranged some kind of gathering for the Inner Circle and my sisters at the House of Wind, along with the people of Velaris. Admittingly, I was never any good at it—not that I was obligated to, as Rhys pointed out every year. He made sure to remind me that while I was indeed his wife, as High Lady I was under no obligation to plan extravagant and elaborate parties for our court. I wasn’t the prized and pretty Lady that Ianthe and Tamlin previously tried to make me into. Despite this, I grew to actually enjoy planning some of the details of the celebration with Elain every year. Most of the work was orchestrated and run by her; now Mor and I only gladly assisted her.

With Starfall also being my favorite fae holiday, I couldn’t help feeling a little sentimental every year. My first ever had followed the months I was finally beginning to heal from the events of Under the Mountain; it was also the day I realized I was in love with Rhys. It was like an anniversary of sorts, and I knew the same was true for him. To Rhysand, it was the first he was able to celebrate in nearly fifty years with his friends—his family; when he also started to heal. That night, and every night we celebrated Starfall in the last several years, we danced together until all of our other companions cleared out for the evening. The spirits always seemed to join us as they glittered across the night sky and into early dawn. The beauty of it always inspired me to paint, and over the decade I painted a series of portraits and landscapes depicting whatever Starfall memory resurfaced. Some of them were of the sky itself glittering with the spirits; some were of our silhouettes dancing on the balcony with the landscape behind us, and some were of Rhys’s handsome face with the star spirit that had splattered on it. I often dreamt of the way we laughed that night; how I smiled for the first time in months and the look of awe in his face.

Starfall was undoubtedly our holiday.

This year, however, might be the first I probably wouldn’t get to enjoy myself. Although the symptoms of my illness were now gone, I couldn’t shake this lingering fatigue. I was beginning to worry it would hinder my ability to stay up and dance with Rhys. I held onto that tradition throughout the year, because it was the one day and night, we spent together without having to worry about our responsibilities as High Lord and Lady. This near-crippling fatigue was threatening my one peaceful day of the year.

Lately I was often drained of energy, and in the last week I took regular naps in order to make it to dinnertime. On most nights, I would be thoroughly depleted of any strength, and I knew everyone was beginning to take notice. After falling asleep halfway through our meal and Rhys having to gently wake me up, Cassian tried to cancel our usual morning training sessions—which I refused. Just because I was exhausted didn’t mean I couldn’t keep up with my regular strength training routine. I also noticed that since their return from the mountains, he and Azriel seemed to linger in whatever common room I was in; as if they were keeping a watchful eye on me, even with Rhys glued to my side. True to his word, Rhys reeled in his primal male-bonded instincts after his return. Our mating frenzy ebbed out a couple of days after, and once we integrated ourselves back into our everyday routine, he was definitely more at ease. However, after noticing how spent I was at the end of the day, I could tell a fraction of it returned—as much as he tried to suppress it.

Mor and Amren mostly teased me when I dozed off during the day; the former more often than the latter, and Elain just pushed a slew of different herbal teas at me throughout the day and promised it would help keep me awake. Even Nesta, who rarely left neither her living quarters nor the library, seemed to worry about me and visited me at random intervals throughout the day; sometimes delivering a cup of tea on Elain’s behalf. Though she mostly just took a quick survey of my form and left.

After a few days of this, I became determined not to cause any of them more concern and now did my best to hide my fatigue as much as possible. I forced myself not to take anymore naps, gulped down multiple cups of Elain’s tea, and perked myself up for dinner. Luckily, the nightmares that had recurred for a short time no longer plagued me at night; a small mercy when I was weary and needed the night to re-energize. I knew it all had to do with my previous illness, and I would not allow it to rule over me—especially with Starfall only a day away. At breakfast this morning I demanded Cassian and I resume our normal training session after he tried insisting again that we cancel. In spite of Rhys agreeing with me, I noticed Cassian swear under his breath before reluctantly agreeing as well.

I chose to ignore it at that moment, and the duration of our meal resumed without issue. After the conversation switched from resuming my training, we all began discussing our anticipation for Starfall. Mor theorized that there might be more spirits this year than there had been in several decades, claiming her power of truth revealed it to her in a dream. In true Inner Circle fashion, they all placed their bets on the validity of her claims. Even I placed a bet, hoping in Mor’s favor that there would be a grand star fall unlike any I ever dreamed. In the last ten years, the spirits numbers continued to dwindle, and every year I hoped it would change. After finishing our meals and excusing ourselves from the table, I walked back to our bedroom with Rhys to change into my training leathers.

“Don’t think I’m trying to stop you,” Rhys started once we were inside, “but I feel compelled to ask if it's possible for you to take it easy during your training today?”

I glanced at him, “Why would I do that?” I asked.

He gave me a knowing look, and I rolled my eyes, “Rhys, I’m fine in case you haven’t noticed.”

“Oh I’ve noticed alright, noticed how much you try to hide your exhaustion. Did you forget about our lovely bond, Feyre darling?” he asked as he grinned smugly and I tossed my top at him as I pulled it off, grabbing my training tunic to pull over my head.

“Whatever smartass. I’m fine, I’m just tired from all the party planning with Elain and Mor. Being a High Lady and supervising everything is just exhausting,” I lamented with a dramatic sigh.

He chuckled and folded my blouse, setting it on the bed before leaning against the door frame as he watched me change. “If you’re sure,” he conceded. “Try not to give Cassian a hard time for going easy on you, because you know he will.”

“I can handle Cassian. It's about time I vent some of my frustration on you overprotective Illyrian males,” I said with a grin as I finished dressing.

His smug grin was his only response as I gave him a quick peck on the cheek before leaving the room and down the hall that led to the training pit. Cassian was already waiting for me, arms crossed over his broad chest and I noticed Azriel standing in the distance. While he seemed to be observing Elain as she clipped fresh flowers in the greenhouse, I knew he was actually taking it upon himself to keep a close eye on two of the Archeron sisters.

“Well since you’ve been so damn sleepy lately, we’re going back to the basics today,” he grinned and held his palms up, motioning me forward.

“I have not,” I insisted before raising a brow, “basic punching forms? Really?”

“Look, I’m not going to keep battling with a pre…pretty sick female,” he corrected himself, eyes narrowing in a cringe at his own choice of words.

I stared at him blankly, moving my hands to my hips, “Wanna tell me what’s going on?” I demanded.

He shrugged simply, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“‘Pretty sick female’?” I posed

He shrugged again, “I stuttered.” He held his hands up, motioning me to advance.

I rolled my eyes and began landing blows into his palm, keeping a steady pace for a few minutes before I felt that glimmer at my core. I stopped, blinking as it sparkled in my abdomen for a few seconds and suddenly stopped. I hadn’t felt it in almost a week, and thought it finally faded away along with my other symptoms. It felt...stronger this time, as if it were a gut-shattering feeling trying to warn me of something.

I shrugged it away and re-positioned my fists and stance, looking to Cassian, who was frowning at my hesitation. “What was that?” He asked.

“Nothing,” I promised.

“Feyre, I-”

“It was nothing, Cassian.” I snapped, motioning for him to let me resume.

His frown deepened before he slowly raised his hands, palms facing in my direction. I landed a couple more blows before the world around me suddenly spun. I didn’t have time to reorient myself, everything twisting away from me and I only knew that I lost my footing when a pair of strong arms caught me.

Spinning, spinning, spinning.

I heard voices calling out my name, but couldn’t register who they belonged to as a high-pitched whine resounded loudly in my ears—drowning out everything and everyone, my world still whirling in circles. I closed my eyes, willing everything to settle for a minute. I briefly heard Rhys’s voice, but couldn’t discern his words as I opened my eyes again. I was able to see his face for a few seconds before darkness edged in around my vision; taking over completely a second later.

I blinked slowly, everything blurry as I regained consciousness. It took me a second longer to register my surroundings, realizing I was laying on my bed and I could hear Rhys’s voice outside the bedroom door—giving orders. I sighed, realizing what happened out in the training pit and slowly sat up; afraid of the dizziness returning. I paused as my stomach churned and I groaned, fighting the oncoming queasiness.

Rhys, sensing I was awake, walked into the room and straight to my side, “I called Madja, she’s on her way,” he said, brushing the hair from my face.

I swallowed with a cringe, “You didn’t have to do that,” I argued weakly, resting a hand over my stomach in an attempt to settle it.

“You fainted Feyre. You’ve been tired, no—exhausted, all week. Before that, you were sick. Something’s not right,” he reasoned desperately, kneeling beside me and placing a hand over mine.

I was about to argue again, but I felt that oh-so-familiar flicker in the pit of my stomach. It fluttered wildly between us, like a heartbeat—my heartbeat, pounding beneath his touch and through our bond. I let out a shuddering breath, my stomach roiling violently in protest and I cringed, trying not to let it overwhelm me.

Alarmed, Rhys straightened, but before he could say anything, I was up and rushing for the bathing room with him on my heels. He pulled my hair back in time as I vomited into the toilet, sobbing a bit between each heave. He rubbed gentle circles on my back as I wretched. When my stomach finally settled and the wave of nausea ebbed, he flushed the toilet for me as I caught my breath and leaned back against his chest. He held me like that for a minute as I sniffed and regained my strength, rubbing my arms lightly.

“Better?” he asked quietly.

I nodded and sighed deeply, slowly sitting upright with his help, “I’m sorry, I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

He cupped my chin lightly, his eyes meeting mine, “You have nothing to be sorry for, Feyre. It's not your fault you're sick,” he said before standing and helping me to my feet.

He kept a hand on the small of my back as we walked back into the room and I frowned. It made no sense why my symptoms returned so abruptly. “I really thought I was fine. I mean, I felt a lot better,” I tried to explain as I sat on the bed.

Rhys turned his wrist over, summoning a damp washcloth from whatever magic storage he usually summoned from, and motioned me to lie down. “Just relax for now. Madja will be here shortly and she’ll examine you,” he said.

I sighed in resignation, laying back and moaning in relief as he pressed the washcloth on my forehead. I smiled in gratitude and he returned it with a solemn nod. I gripped his free hand and squeezed it reassuringly.

“Don’t look so grim,” I said. “I’m just sick, nothing more.”

He nodded again, forcing a smile to his own lips that didn’t reach his eyes, and I knew he was in full mother hen protective mode. I could see his tense shoulders, truly ill at ease over my health. He would probably remain that way for the duration of whatever illness was plaguing me, just like he always did when I was on my cycle.

I paused as the thought suddenly occurred to me. I made sure my shield of adamant was still up, knowing how vulnerable it was lately, and checked over my mental calendar.

I was late. Very late.

As a human, as a high fae, I was never late for my cycle. I remembered briefly panicking when I realized I hadn’t gotten one after being made, before learning and actually suffering through my first. In educating me about what a fae cycle entailed, Madja also taught me how to discern between the symptoms of my cycle...and early pregnancy. Nausea, fatigue...and a missed cycle. I quickly ran through my memories of the last few weeks; while I had experienced a certain level of fatigue during my cycles, they were never to this extreme. The nausea spells I equated to my nightmares or whatever mysterious illness I thought I had, but now after just realizing how late I actually was…

Was I finally pregnant?

Since his return, Rhys still pointed out that my scent remained off. At first, we both wrote it off as part of my illness, but it was all starting to make sense. If I was pregnant, if our child was actually growing inside of me, it would explain why my scent was different. I tried not to react as I met Rhys’s concerned gaze and squeezed his hand again, willing my galloping heart not to give me away.

“Who were you talking to outside?” I asked, motioning outside our door.

“Cassian and Mor. They, and Azriel, saw you go down and Cassian caught you before sending Mor to call for me,” he explained, moving the cloth to my cheek. “They’re all worried about you.”

“You should let them know I’m okay when Madja gets here,” I suggested, genuinely wanting him to reassure the others and their concerns over my well-being.

“I’m not leaving your side, Feyre,” he said firmly.

“I’m not a child Rhys. I don’t need the High Lord standing idly by as the healer examines me,” I argued.

His overprotective behavior also made sense now. We were mates, of course his primal instincts would make him aware of my pregnancy before he was. If I was pregnant; I needed to confirm it with Madja before I revealed my suspicions. If I told him that I might be pregnant, he would be prematurely ecstatic. We both had ten long years of yearning for our first-born child, and if I was somehow wrong about this, if I raised both of our hopes up only to be told I wasn’t actually pregnant...I wouldn’t be able to bear the disappointment.

I felt his reluctance and he forced a smirk as he brought my hand up to his lips, “As my High Lady commands,” he said quietly, and I could hear the silent ache behind his words.

I moved my hand to cup his cheek, “You know I’ll be in great hands when she gets here. Let everyone know I’m feeling a little better, and when Madja finishes examining me then I’ll fill you in. It won’t be anything serious,” I promised.

I was either sick with some ridiculous faerie ailment, or pregnant. I hoped to the Mother it was the latter as we heard a delicate knock on our bedroom door. Rhys was immediately up and went to answer the door; I sat up as he led her inside.

“Hello again my lady,” the older female greeted, her dark eyes sparkling lightly as she set her healer’s bag aside.

I returned her friendly greeting with a smile and looked over at Rhys, his hands stuffed in his pockets as he hesitated in the doorway. He gave me a once-over and met Madja’s gaze as she waited for one of us to give her an order. I cleared my throat and Rhys looked at me again, I brushed his dark shields lightly and he let them down for me.

I’ll be alright. Let the others know that everything’s fine and that I’m being seen now.

I saw him hesitate for a fraction of a second before he nodded. “I’ll be in the sitting room,” he said, almost a warning before he finally left the room.

“What seems to be the problem dear?” Madja asked, as I sighed deeply. “The High Lord informed me that you collapsed, and you’ve been rather ill. Would you care to elaborate?”

“I uh, actually,” I fumbled over my words, unsure of how to even say them now. The healer was patient as she took my wrist gently to check my pulse; her usual first step in her examinations that allowed me a moment to gather my bearings.

“I’m late for my cycle,” I managed. “A few weeks ago, these awful nausea spells started and lasted a few days, and I’ve been so exhausted. Exhausted isn’t even the right word for it; I have no energy. This week was the worst of it, and then today…” I trailed off before glancing down at my stomach briefly, “I realized I’m a week late.”

The older female nodded, her dark wrinkled fingers releasing their gentle hold on my wrist and motioned me to lay down, “Have you experienced any sensitivity, or swelling, in your breasts? Unusually frequent trips to the bathing room?” she asked, her hands moving to my blouse before meeting my gaze for permission to further her examination.

I nodded as I thought it over, her delicate hands rolling my tunic up to expose my abdomen. I blushed as I recalled Rhys’s recent comments about my breasts. He often admired them, but after our reunion last week he happily noted that they seemed more...endowed than he remembered.

“I think my breasts are a little swollen, but they haven’t been sensitive,” I admitted. Her hands now palpated my abdomen gently and I gasped as I felt that glimmer return. She must have noticed it as well because her hands immediately halted.

“A-Also that, I’ve felt that a few times now, and right before I fainted it was strong. Stronger than I’ve ever felt it before, and the next thing I knew the world was spinning,” I explained with a frown.

The female’s dark features seemed to brighten as she grinned and took my hand again, moving it to rest on my abdomen, “My lady, that feeling is your youngling. I don’t need to finish my examination to confirm that you are indeed pregnant.”

I gaped at her, glancing at my hand on my stomach, “W-What do you mean...?” I choked.

She chuckled lightly and placed her hand over mine, “You and the High Lord have a powerful mating bond. These bonds are rare today, but one as strong as yours allows you to have a keen sense for one another. Back in our primitive history, there were no tests or examinations to confirm a pregnancy. If a mated female was pregnant, once her youngling developed enough in the womb, her bond would alarm her and her mate that they had been successful in producing offspring. Over the centuries, this innate ability dampened to a dull and gentle glimmer,” she smiled as she explained. “It is rare even now, but in the case of a powerfully mated High Lord and High Lady, it is there. Congratulations, you are pregnant.”

I exhaled a long breath without realizing I had been holding it in throughout her speech. My eyes burned as I looked at my stomach again, my fingers brushing my skin lightly as I felt the flutter pulse through me again. After a decade of trying; of being disappointed year after year and both of us dreaming and longing for the first-born son the Bone Carver showed me all those years ago, the moment was finally here. After ten years of loving Rhysand, of almost losing him forever, I had a piece of him with me.

His child, our child, was growing inside me. The beautiful little boy who looked like an exact replica of his father; who I saw in my dreams and longed to cradle in my arms would finally arrive. My heart fluttered at the thought of Rhys holding this child, of his warm smile and loving eyes. I couldn’t help but sob at the idea of it all, my mind immediately scrambling for ideas on how I would reveal the news to him. I wanted nothing more than to surprise him, and I was glad I had convinced him to step out while Madja examined me. The effect would have been lost had he been hovering over me as the healer worked.

No, I would deliver the news the same way I had gifted him the vision of our son on that Winter Solstice we decided to start a family. This time however, I would finally get to announce the arrival of our son on Starfall.

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daltonsden · 4 years

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So, a couple things.

I think there may be a few things worth addressing because this has just spiraled into something that does not remotely resemble reality anymore. This is likely to be my last lioden-related interaction on here for a long time. I apologize for the novel.

First of all, any of the things, which I am still confused about what all you folks are going on about, has not happened in the Breed Only Beauties discord server. I don't understand what exactly these anons would prefer for me to do. I can't ban individuals based on alleged actions outside of my server, that doesn't seem logical or right to me. I can’t moderate actions outside of my server. If something happens in the in the server, create a ticket. I am not psychic and can not address things I am not made aware about. Everything that we are made aware of is addressed promptly.

Second, there's a ticket system in the Breed Only Beauties discord server which will connect you immediately with the admins and has an average response time of about a minute. So to say admins/moderators aren't doing anything is simply not based in reality. Many users have received warnings and have adjusted their behavior. You can also typically get an instant response you if DM any of them directly. Helpers, by the way, can not see tickets. If you are curious what most tickets are about, it’s failure to use trigger warnings. Well, actually most tickets are people testing the ticket system (please do not do this), but that doesn't really count. If you need something in the sever, create a ticket if it is actual issue in the server. For everything else, create a Tumblr post apparently.

Some, well at least one person, has complained about the choice of Aggy. I will not be demoting Aggy from the helper position. I am unaware of the alleged actions of Aggy that would warrant this (besides of course the favorite crime of guilt by association), and Aggy was chosen as a helper due to merit. They have exhibited nothing that would contradict this initial assessment, and has been doing an excellent job. If you have an issue with Aggy and believe you have evidence of why they should not be a helper, please create a ticket in the server or DM me. I am always open to being proven wrong.

Fourth, no I will not arbitrarily kick an individual because you do not like them or do not get along with them. This applies to people on "both sides". They will have to break the rules either severely enough, or enough times to be kicked. You not liking them is not an appropriate reason to have someone banned from the server. Pretty much everyone has been and will be given a chance in this server, even if I get DMs from people bemoaning their entry. So no, everyone, I will not be kicking someone because they are a clown gang, I will not be kicking someone because they are friends of Jax, I will not be kicking someone because you think they may be the user that bought out your mispriced trade last year or kinged a lion similar to yours. None of these are valid reasons. If you have a valid reason, please create a ticket or DM me. We will instantly kick users who underage, who engage in clear-intent scams, steal art, or engage in any activity that would result in a ban from Lioden.

Unfortunately, I can not dedicate my entire life to volunteer to watch every channel in a pet sim server for a small community. Realistically, this is not even dependent on my mother's condition. I just humanly can't do that, because sleep is a thing, and nor would I want to. I don't even want to spend most of my free time doing it. If you see something, report via the ticket system. As much as the salt blogs care to insinuate, I do not bear the weight of responsibility of the actions of individuals who sometimes chat in a server I set up for everyone to enjoy. I am not these people’s parent, nor can I control any individual’s actions. Also, if I were to chose to leave the server be and let the weeds grow wild, that would not make me a “bitch” as one anon so eloquently put it. Anon, you are not entitled to the volunteered time I put into building a little community for Bob. Everything I, the admins, and the helpers, put in is volunteered and not at all a given, or requirement. If I can not drop everything in a moment’s notice to service a voluntarily run discord, that does not make me a “bitch”. It is not, and will never be, my sole or number one responsibility in life. It’s a game. And to insinuate that I am somehow less than or a bad person for not being able to manage the server 100% of the time is unreasonable and cruel. Look, I’m only human. And the users chatting in Bob are only human. And there's going to be squabbles, and people are going to complain about stuff, and not always get along, and that’s okay, because that's part of being human. But I’m not always going to be online to catch it, so please use the ticket system.

Also, on to the anonymous user who posted and the salt blog who permitted this comment,” hey fun fact anon, i'm aware she's dealing with her sick mother but that doesn't excuse the terrible moderation. if she told her mods to step up or do something, they could do something so she could do what she needed to do. she's a bitch, and terrible owner. she has the power to do stuff, but does nothing.” What is wrong with you? How on earth does this progress anything, and why was this permitted to be shared? I understand everyone enjoys salt, and everyone is stressed due to the global circumstances stances right now, but moderators and posters please keep in mind there is a human on the other end of the keyboard, and thanks to the 2020 energy I think everyone is going through something. I have my mother's situation, but everyone has something right now. I have an open DM policy with players in and out of my discord, where if you have anything you need to talk about I can always provide a safe and confidential place to talk, and many, many users have come to me upset about even just the tiniest thing shared on these blogs. These words and comments genuinely hurt people, and it doesn’t take needlessly calling someone a “bitch” because they can not dedicate their life to moderating a discord server to do that. You can hurt people with much less. This request is to everyone, including individuals in the Bob discord server. I don't think anyone deserves to be just berated or cussed out needlessly by anonymous randos, not myself, not Roxanne, not Jax, not the clown gang, not Noluck, not BO breeders, not applicator lovers, not the Lioden staff. All these individuals are people who are just doing the best they can right now, I'm sure. Even Roxanne and Jax are nice, normal and understanding people if you talk to them one on one.

Yes, my mother is dying from liver failure caused by cancer. It is an awful and ugly death, especially for someone who is far before her time. Her medication to manage the pain and rising liver toxicity she is has made her very not herself, though we are finding a better combination. There are still some good days ahead I hope. She is combative, physically and verbally, and can not physically do most basic actions herself. She keeps fighting us to go back to chemo, even though it did nothing to help the tumors and would just quicken demise. It breaks my heart because I know she just wants to live and wants to fight it, but she is going to die where she lays. I just really hope I get to have a fully aware conversation with her before she passes, and that she knows I love her so much despite me being a bit of a hellion in my teens. I think it would be hard to watch if I was an observer, unfortunately I am active participant.

On the matter of me deleting things that violate our rules in server. The alternative would to be leaving up things that violate our rules, which would be the same as deeming it acceptable. This is just the strangest complaint I've seen on here. If there was a delete, someone is essentially being spoken to/receiving a strike/ECT. According to Tumblr, I'm quite the paradox, apparently, I somehow both manage to completely disregard the server while still managing to delete stuff every time insert your favorite salt blog character here does anything. Congratulations Bob, you got yourself a girl that can do both.

At the end of the day, the Bob server is a pretty mundane lioden server. If you don't like breed only marks/bases, it’s probably pretty boring. It’s really nothing like how it’s portrayed here. If it’s toxic then my vocabulary is far too limited to describe the anonymous culture on platform you’re reading this on. Usually I would suggest joining us and checking it out, but after watching the last 48 hours on Tumblr, I think I’m likely aquantited with enough users from this platform for now. If anyone is still reading, thank you for your time, I'm appreciative of it. Writing this really helped my headspace regarding the community. I should have never read the blogs to be honest, so some of this does fall on my shoulders. I won't likely answer questions, I apologise in advance. I still love you all, and I know this is just a tiny fraction of the Lioden community, but today it just feels incredibly bad.

#lioden #pet sim #petsim #dalton #breed only beauties #lionews #COAL #lioden salt #toxic culture #anonymous #jax #game culture #discord #salty lions #salt #cancer #tumblr #tumblr toxicity #tired

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dumbepiphany · 4 years

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26 Klance Fanfiction Recommendations

There is a heck of a lot of good Klance fanfiction out there. And while some may be easy to find because of how popular they are, there are many others that are buried in the depths of ao3 that I feel like more people should be reading!!

A lot of these are quite popular fics that you probably would have heard of already, but I hope there’s something in here that’s new, and that you’ll enjoy reading!

All are recommended for Teen And Up Audiences, so please be mindful!

1. Hearts Don’t Break Around Here

By Klancekorner on AO3

Description: Lance and Keith have been best friends since first grade. Lance’s brain is always on overdrive and Keith’s blunt, realistic ass can never keep up. They both come to realize that sometimes you can learn a lot about loving yourself by loving someone else.

Words: 135,555 | Chapters: 13/13 | Warnings: creator chose not to use

My note: This is my absolute favourite Klance fic. Childhood friends to lovers- what more could one ask for?

2. Squad Up

By astralscrivener on AO3

Description: In which the team is in high school, and Lance makes a group chat (ft. college graduates Shiro, Matt, and Allura). (A generic bandwagon chatfic because why are these so fun to write????)

Words: 327,144 | Chapters: 140/140 | Warnings: none

My note: The chatfic format is super fun to read. A lot of fluff!!

3. A Midsummer Night’s Meme

By astralscrivener on AO3

Description: Same group chat, new shenanigans. Or, the team's final summer before Keith, Lance, Hunk, and Shay begin college, as Pidge navigates the waters of young love, Keith and Shiro deal with family issues, Lance has a trip to Cuba, and more. Sequel to Squad Up.

Words: 79,457 | Chapters: 27/27 | Warnings: none

My note: If you read Squad Up, you must read the sequel! The storyline is really cool and the boys are Soft:)

4. Ignorance is Bliss

By YouAreInAComaWakeUp (Nikanaiko) on AO3

Description: As it turns out, learning that your house is haunted makes the ghosts a lot more aggressive. Who knew? Ah, well. At least one of them is hot. And he's the less-evil one, too, so that's always a plus.

Words: 172,675 | Chapters: 30/30 | Warnings: graphic depictions of violence

My note: Oh God this fic. C’mon, it’s Ghost Keith and Human Lance... and they bond... need I say more?

5. Shut Up and Dance With Me

By wittyy_name on AO3

Description: Lance and his friends have been regulars at the Altea Dance Studio for years. Not just for classes, but to hang out, practice, and spend time with good people who love dancing. Every year, they audition to be one of the few representing Altea at the regional dance competition. Lance always auditions solo, but this year he misses out on auditions and blows his chance to participate. And so does his self-proclaimed rival, Keith. Luckily, Shiro comes up with a brilliant plan: convince Lance and Keith to audition as a duo.With a little convincing, and a lot of effort, these two might just be able to pull it off and go to regionals... or they might crash and burn.

Words: 249,827 | Chapters: 15/15 | Warnings: none

My note: One of the first fics I read. Super sweet and fluffy, great storyline, complete with art by wolfpainters! Tbh any dance AU fic is a good fic

6. Chivalry is Dead

By Sheksper on AO3

Description: Prince Lance was an adventurer. That was all there was to it. So, when he's suddenly assigned a new knight to follow him around, all Lance can think is that his freedom is being taken away, and it's all because of the red-clad, mullet boy named Keith, who is honestly just trying not to lose his job on the first day.

Words: 61,071 | Chapters: 17/17 | Warnings: graphic depictions of violence

My note: Prince Lance and Knight Keith is a concept to die for and it’s written so so well in this story!!

7. Nothing’s Quite As Sweet

By dimpleforyourthoughts on AO3

Description: Keith is a barista who hates his job. Lance works at the cat shelter across the street.

Words: 50,369 | Chapters: 1/1 | Warnings: none

*You need to have an account to be able to see this fic!*

My note: A traditional must-read cafe/cat shelter fic! It’s got coffee and cats... the Softness levels are through the roof

8. The Fallen and the Wandering

By creeshtar on AO3

Description: Keith was born into a world of ice and darkness, with no sun to rise or stars to shine. In spite of humanity’s best efforts, the world is meeting a slow, but certain doom, which can only be stopped if the sun is found and replaced in the sky. Keith, meanwhile, is content to collect stars and eventually replace them in the sky, alongside a new partner that he can’t seem to help but gravitate towards--until a mysterious person with inhuman power goes on a warpath to find the sun for herself. Keith and his partner are unwittingly thrown into the race to find the sun first, only for Keith to discover, to his dismay, that it may be closer than he could’ve ever wanted.

Words: 106,108 | Chapters: 12/12 | Warnings: creator chose not to use

My note: The writing and the AU concept is gorgeous and intriguing, props to the author for the world-building and the gratuitous fluff and angst!!

9. Love Interest

By iwriteshipsnotsailthem on AO3

Description: Lance is getting his big American debut on a new T.V series called Voltron. He's excited and nervous about how amazingly talented and famous his cast members are. But most importantly Lance is anticipating meeting his character -Leandro's- love interest in the show. Who happens to played by the be mega famous, mega hot Keith Kogane. But due to a misunderstanding during their first encounter, Lance now thinks Keith is the biggest jerk alive. Keith now has to try and fix it, for the sake of the show, and also for the sake of their on screen romance, which may start venture off screen as well.

Words: 195,400 | Chapters: 50/50 | Warnings: creator chose not to use

My note: If you love Klance and you love Leakira, then get ready for... Klance as actors portraying Leakira!!

10. (Unofficially) VLD- Season 9

By hoelko on AO3

Description: The Universe has been saved. The war is over. Voltron is no longer needed. But that's the thing about the Universe. It's always getting bigger.

Words: 225,777 | Chapters: 15/15 | Warnings: none

My note: This fic was everything the fandom deserved but never got. Hoelko is our God. Worship this fic.

11. ‘Til We Meet the Dawn

By angstinspace on AO3

Description: Keith is a mage and Lance is a knight, and they've been best friends since childhood. For years, Keith has known that Lance carries a dark secret: that if he doesn't kiss his true love before he turns twenty, he'll die. Now only three days remain before Lance's twentieth birthday, and Keith and Lance are sent on a dangerous quest to rescue Romelle––who Lance believes will be the one to break his curse. But what he doesn't know is that Keith is already hopelessly in love with him.

Words: 75,242 | Chapters: 1/1 | Warnings: none

My note: Magic! Fantasy! Knights! Curses! True love! Angst! Fluff! All that good jazz rolled into one glorious fic!!

12. Follow My Lead

By Klancekorner on AO3

Description: Becoming “hook-up buddies” with Lance Sanchez was just supposed to be a small, insignificant fraction of Keith’s life. But of course, things don’t work out that way at all. aka a Friends w/ Benefits AU that nobody asked for where Lance wears sleeveless hoodies, plays basketball in abandoned parking lots, and follows his dreams, and Keith comes from a high class, reputable family who never let him have any dreams of his own. They go home with each other and don't expect it to matter until it totally does.

Words: 117,792 | Chapters: 14/14 | Warnings: NSFW

My note: Everyone needs a little bit of no-strings-attached-turns-into-catching-feelings in their life! Just be careful with the nsfw!

13. Something Just Like This

By Klancekorner on AO3

Description: Keith reluctantly becomes the counselor for the Red Cabin at Camp Voltron, a summer camp in the middle of buttfuck nowhere that his older brother Shiro has worked at for years. Already unhappy with the current position that he is in, Keith prepares himself for a boring, sweaty, miserable summer; and his frustration only grows when he meets the counselor for the Blue Cabin- an insufferable asshole with a horrible sense of humor, a devilish smirk, an inexplicable animosity towards the Red Cabin, and a smile that literally looks like the sun. Needless to say Keith is really, really unprepared for the next three months.

Words: 58,800 | Chapters: 12/12 | Warnings: NSFW

My note: A Very Soft Fic. A truly Soft Soft Fic. It has little kids in it,, it’s adorable and fluffy,, makes you squeal into your pillow,, please read!

14. The Marks We Make

By wittyy_name on AO3

Description: Lance McClain constantly dreams of the day he'll finally meet his mysterious soulmate. They don't say much, if anything at all, but they leave him with gorgeous paintings temporarily tattooing his skin. It's not exactly the situation he hoped for, but when he feels the connection between them, he can't bring himself to resent them. As much as he wishes his soulmate would just talk to him, he's resigned himself to being patient. In the meantime, he has a loving family and good friends to help him get by. Keith Kogane dreads the day he'll finally meet his obnoxious soulmate. He's just an art student who's struggling to find his place in the world. There's so much he hasn't been able to control in his life, and the thought of having a soulmate, just another thing in his life which he also has no control over yet can't do anything about, is a little terrifying. So he ignores the words that occasionally appear on his skin. He has other things to focus on: like being a new student at a big university where his childhood friend and step-brother go.

Words: 255,302 | Chapters: 12/12 | Warnings: none

My note: The soulmate AU that everyone needed. Complete with art by wolfpainters!

15. Lucky in Rivalry

By iwriteshipsnotsailthem on AO3

Description: After moving back to his hometown after ten years, Keith is being shoved back into the life of an unexpected individual who was his so called 'rival' from music school. How is Keith supposed to explain to Lance that he hasn't sung for a crowd in all those years after his disappearance? Lance is the town's favourite gig at Voltron Cafe. He's lively and has the voice that makes girls go weak. He's also one half of the cutest couple in school. Him and Lotor are what everyone wants in a relationship, but behind closed doors it's a bit of a different story. How much more can Lance take before he cracks?

Words: 134,484 | Chapters: 45/45 | Warnings: creator chose not to use

My note: True love, music and singing, high school drama, this fic has the whole lot! Give it a go, you won’t regret!!

16. Drummer Boy

By Klancekorner on AO3

Description: Lance is 100%, without a doubt, straight. He has the perfect girlfriend and has never wanted anything more. But suddenly his world is being turned upside down by the boy playing the drums at his local bar--a boy who happens to be very good looking, very gay, and very very interested in Lance. aka: Good-Boy Lance has a crisis when he meets Keith because he's so damn attractive, and Keith is a little ho that is way too promiscuous and open about his sexuality. The become friends. Confusion and sexual tension ensue.

Words: 50,188 | Chapters: 11/11 | Warnings: graphic depictions of violence, rape/non-con

My note: This one is a great read, but it’s a pretty sexy fic. Read the warnings and stay safe, avoid it if it isn’t your cup of tea!

17. On Thin Ice

By anonimina on AO3

Description: This multi-chapter fic chronicles the lives of a hockey player named Keith who gets enlisted into figure skating lessons by his brother, Shiro, to "work on his footwork". There he meets a pompous - yet talented - figure skater named Lance and gets swept away by both the sport and the skater. Or: the not-so-simple story of two people trying to navigate the complexities of living in an ever changing world and face the traumas they've buried far away from the sunlight.

Words: 205,795 | Chapters: 11/11 | Warnings: none

My note: Figure skating and hockey playing! This fic is emotional and fluffy and very very adorable! Just a warning- it’s unfinished, so the last chapter is basically a summary and dot points of what the planned ending was!

18. Life After Death

By taylortot on AO3

Description: Fear clambers into his mouth and tastes bitter on his tongue. “Who are you?” It takes him a moment to register the sound of his own voice. She stares at him. Blinks. “Lance, please, this isn’t time for one of your jokes--” He furrows his eyebrows and struggles to sit up, to stop leaning into the cradle of her arms. “I’m not--I’m not...joking.” * After sacrificing himself to save Allura, Lance wakes up in a strange new world where the only thing he knows is a deep connection to a boy he doesn't remember.

Words: 90,074 | Chapters: 13/14 | Warnings: none

My note: The Feels. The Feels are strong with this one. Memory loss always hits super hard, be prepared for angst (but also comfort and fluff!)

19. Homesick at Space Camp

By Kobot on AO3

Description: Lance realizes he's been an asshole to Keith, and on a diplomatic mission to a key planet for the Voltron alliance he... overcompensates.

Words: 74,280 | Chapters: 15/15 | Warnings: graphic depictions of violence

My note: Fake marriage AU! FA K E M a R Ri A G E AU!!! Need I say more?

20. I Bet You Look Good On The Dance Floor

By xShieru on AO3

Description: "So like in 'Step Up'?" Allura shrugs. "Now that you put it like that - yes. I guess it's just like in 'Step Up'." The smile that she sends Shiro's way - followed by a shy wave, eugh - is sickening to say the least, and Lance still doesn't believe in dance camps. Lance McClain's dancing career begins and ends with Keith. Keith just wants to find out what Lance's deal is.

Words: 43,295 | Chapters: 7/7 | Warnings: none

My note: A steamy, fluffy dancing AU fic! I read this ages ago so I can’t really remember what happened but it was GOOD!!

21. Watercast

By fishwrites on AO3

Description: Shiro has been a Galra prisoner for over a year; with his flight feathers clipped and unable to fly. Desperate to escape, he jumps overboard while being transported to the capitol on a Galran ship. Lance is a merman who saves him from drowning. Keith thinks Shiro is about to become mermaid dinner. Hunk just wants Lance to stop going to the surface all the time, dammit! (AU where Avians (winged folk), Galra, humans and merfolk cohabit earth. Shiro and Keith are avian soldiers, Lance is the youngest son of a Queen, Hunk is also a merman and Pidge is still looking for her family. They get caught up in a war.)

Words: 205,901 | Chapters: 15/16 | Warnings: graphic depictions of violence

My note: Avian Keith and Merman Lance is the forbidden love story that everyone needs in their life tbh. It’s been on hiatus for a while so idk about the final chapter, but it’s definitely worth a read!

22. Call Me, Beep Me

By orphan_account on AO3

Description: Where lance messages the wrong number and things kind of snowball from there.

Words: 85,591 | Chapters: 10/10 | Warnings: none

My note: Arguably the most popular Klance fanfic (after Dirty Laundry of course)! You’ve probably heard of it, but if not, do read!! Wrong number fics are a godsend

23. Calling Me to Come Back

By aknightley on AO3

Description: Keith is a witch who owns a shop where he breaks curses on both magical items and people under spells. Love spells, family curses passed down generations, cursed heirlooms lurking the attic -- he can handle them all. But one day a boy named Lance walks into his shop, and his curse is darker and more difficult to break than anything Keith has ever seen before: the curse is draining his magic, and without his magic, Lance will die.

Words: 50,464 | Chapters: 1/1 | Warnings: none

My note: Will Witch Keith break Lance’s curse, or will Lance die!?!?!? And will they fall in love along the way???!?! Read on to find out:D

24. Say My Name (And Every Colour Illuminates)

By parchmints on AO3

Description: Lance never thought he had a soulmate, but when he finds himself dreaming about a boy on Varadero Beach and in a southwestern desert, he learns they have an incredibly rare soul link–-one that allows them to form an unusually strong bond before they meet, but also exposes their greatest vulnerabilities to each other.

Words: 27,833 | Chapters: 1/1 | Warnings: none

My note: Really well-written, relatively short but so so sweet! Another soulmate AU (honestly one of my favourite AUs) except this time it’s dreamscape:)

25. Video Killed the Radio Star

By europa_report on AO3

Description: In which Keith is the guy who suddenly finds himself a single-parent to his two nieces, and Lance is the charming radio host who might be his only voice of reason in this mess.

Words: 69,468 | Chapters: 11/11 | Warnings: none

My note: This is so cute, I almost cried. Any fic with kl interacting with little children is an instant KO for my heart:’)

26. Smile for the Stars

By maIikcutie on AO3

Description: Though he's been dealt many bad cards, Lance isn't sure he can handle this one: winding up stranded, a million lightyears away from home, with only Keith to keep him company. The universe is cruel.

Words: 72,921 | Chapters: 9/9 | Warnings: major character death

My note: Please don’t read unless you are prepared for a MAJOR character death! If you’re up for it, prepare a box of tissues, and good luck, my friend!

And that’s all for my list! Hope you found something to your liking, happy reading folks!

#klance #klance fanfic #klance fanfiction #fanfiction recommendation #klance fanfiction recommendation #keith kogane #lance mcclain #keith x lance #fanfiction #voltron #vld #voltron legendary defender #voltron fanfiction

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arcticdementor · 3 years

Link

Why Start a New Country?

We want to be able to peacefully start a new country for the same reason we want a bare plot of earth, a blank sheet of paper, an empty text buffer, a fresh startup, or a clean slate. Because we want to build something new without historical constraint.

The financial demand for a clean slate is clear. People buy millions of acres of vacant land and incorporate hundreds of thousands of new companies each year, spending billions just to get that fresh start. And now that it is possible to start not just new companies but new communities and even new currencies, we see people flocking to create those as well.

The societal value of a clean slate is also clear. In the technology sector alone, the ability to form new companies has created literally trillions of dollars in wealth over the past few decades. Indeed, if we imagine a world where you couldn't just obtain a blank sheet of paper but had to erase an older one, where you couldn't just acquire bare land but had to knock down a standing building, where you couldn't just create a new company but had to reform an existing firm, we imagine endless conflict over scarce resources.

…

There are at least six ways to start new countries that have been publicly discussed. Three are conventional and three are unconventional. We will introduce them only to deprioritize them all in favor of a seventh.

1. Election

The most conventional way to start a new country involves winning sufficient power in an election to either (a) rewrite the laws of an existing state or (b) carve out a new one from scratch with the consent of the international community. This is the most widely discussed path, and by far the most crowded. Many people care about this avenue, perhaps too many.

2. Revolution

The second obvious way is to carry off a political revolution. We don't advise attempting this. Particularly momentous elections are sometimes referred to as revolutions, though a revolution frequently involves bloodshed. Revolutions are infrequent, but everyone knows that they mean a new government.

3. War

The third conventional way is to win a war. We don't advise attempting this either! A war is of course not independent from the other two. Indeed, both elections and revolutions can lead to wars that end up carving out new polities. Like a revolution, a war is infrequent and undesirable, but again is widely known as a means by which national borders may be rewritten.

4. Micronations

Now we get to the unconventional. The most obvious of the unconventional approaches – and the one most people think of when they hear the concept of "starting a new country" – occurs when an eccentric plants a flag on an oil platform or disputed patch of dirt and declares themselves king of nothing. If the issue with elections is that too many people care about them, the issue with these so-called micronations is that too few people care. Because a state (like a currency) is an inherently social affair, a few people in the middle of nowhere won't be able to organize a military, enforce laws, or be recognized by other nations. Moreover, while an existing state may be content to let people harmlessly LARP a fake country in their backyard, an actual threat to sovereignty typically produces a response with real guns, whether that be the Falklands or Sakhalin.

5. Seasteading

Here we start to get interesting. Conceived by Patri Friedman and backed by Peter Thiel, seasteading essentially starts with the observation that cruise ships exist, and asks whether we could move from a few weeks on the water at a time to semi-permanent habitation on international waters (with frequent docking, of course). As the cost of cruise ships has fallen recently, this approach is becoming more feasible. But we haven't yet seen a working example.

6. Space

Perhaps the most prestigious of the start-a-new-country paths is the idea of colonizing other planets. Unlike seasteading or micronations, space exploration started at the government level and has been glamorized in many movies and TV shows, so it enjoys a higher degree of social acceptability. People mainly think of it as currently technically infeasible rather than outright crazy. Elon Musk's SpaceX is one entity seriously contemplating the logistics of starting a new state on Mars.

7. Cloud Countries

And finally we arrive at our preferred method: the cloud country. Our idea is to proceed cloud first, land last. Rather than starting with the physical territory, we start with the digital community. We recruit online for a group of people interested in founding a new virtual social network, a new city, and eventually a new country. We build the embryonic state as an open source project, we organize our internal economy around remote work, we cultivate in-person levels of civility, we simulate architecture in VR, and we create art and literature that reflects our values.

Over time we eventually crowdfund territory in the real world, but not necessarily contiguous territory. Because an under-appreciated fact is that the internet allows us to network enclaves. Put another way, a cloud community need not acquire all its territory in one place at one time. It can connect a thousand apartments, a hundred houses, and a dozen cul-de-sacs in different cities into a new kind of fractal polity with its capital in the cloud. Over time, community members migrate between these enclaves and crowdfund territory nearby, with every individual dwelling and group house presenting an independent opportunity for expansion.

…

Let's pause and summarize for a second. The main difference between the seventh method (cloud countries) and the previous six (election, revolution, war, micronations, seasteading, and space) is that it straddles the boundary of practicality and impracticality. No one can claim that it's infeasible to build million person online communities or billion dollar digital currencies, or that it's physically impossible to architect buildings in VR and then crowdfund them. The cloud country concept "just" requires stacking together many existing technologies, rather than inventing new ones like Mars-capable rockets or permanent-habitation seasteads. Yet at the same time it avoids the obvious pathways of election, revolution, and war – all of which are ugly and none of which provide much venue for individual initiative.

In other words, the cloud country concept takes the most robust existing tech stack we have – namely the suite of technologies built around the internet – to route around political roadblocks, without waiting for future physical innovation.

…

Could a sufficiently robust cloud country with, say, 1-10M committed digital citizens, provable cryptocurrency reserves, and physical holdings all over the earth similarly achieve societal recognition from the United Nations? A cloud country with a population of this size would actually fit right in the middle of the pack globally, as out of the 193 UN-recognized sovereign states approximately 20% of existing countries have a population of less than 1M and ~55% have a population of less than 10M. This includes many countries people typically think of as "real", like Luxembourg (615k), Cyprus (1.18M), Estonia (1.3M), New Zealand (4.7M), Ireland (4.8M), Singapore (5.8M), and so on.

These "user counts" are surprisingly small numbers by tech standards. Of course, mere quantity isn't everything. The strength of affiliation to our hypothetical cloud country matters, as does the time spent on the property, the percentage of net worth stored in the currency, and the fraction of contacts found in the community.

(I have some criticisms of this proposal, all of which are probably obvious to you all, and which the people down at the comments section pretty much all touched on.)

#1729.com #balaji srinivasan #read the whole thing

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meganshinsou-tm · 5 years

Text

Crimson|Ink. (m)

↳ chapter five: murderers are getting prettier every day

❧ genre: tattoo-shop/hitmen au | tattoo artist/hitman kirishima

❧ fic warning: major character(s) death; happy ending

❧ chapter warnings: blood, violence, torture, screaming/yelling

❧ chapter song: Murderers Are Getting Prettier Every Day by Marilyn Manson

♬crimson|ink playlist | ♧ character profiles | artist credit

[multi-chap masterlist] [previous chapter - next chapter]

"Oh, so you're also art dealers?"

Shouto nodded, "Yes. Mostly me and Izuku here handle the big deals and trades, we've pretty much covered every inch of Japan now. Even a few states in America. It was my father's business before it was passed onto me. I've gathered this crew of artists throughout my years and asked each and every one of them to be a part of it with me. All of us have some sort of connection with each other, be it art or our upbringing."

You pursed your lips and nodded. It made sense you guessed, why not open a tattoo shop on the side to always have a steady flow of business. Your brow quirked when you realized that this also meant that all these men had to be filthy rich. Art dealers and the market for such items was a very lavish and expensive market, most pieces just started out at the millions. It being a shared business among them all, there was no doubt they each got some sort of commission, especially since Bakugou, Sero and Kirishima ran this tattoo shop while Shouto and Deku were on business trips.

"So, you're all kind of like this big art mafia huh?"

Izuku choked on his tea, causing you to whip your head in his direction and immediately locate some napkins from one of the counters before going back to sit by his side. You gently wiped his lips dry as you softly pat his back.

"Sorry, that was just uh – funny," Izuku replied with a cough.

You smirked and ruffled his green hair after handing over the napkins and crossed your leg to look at Shouto. He rose a brow towards you and walked from his spot on the wall and towards the rolling stool that sat by his tattoo chair. His foot kicked it your way and he followed it, you watched the angelic man lower and sit on the black cushion before you. Once Shouto's heterochromatic eyes looked up to meet yours, you felt your heart stop briefly from how powerful they were but you still managed a soft smile.

"I like to refer to us as a 'family'. We all watch after and take care of each other, everyone has their place and their role in this shop, even you."

You placed your hand to your chest, motioning to yourself and chuckled.

"Me? I've only been here a month Shouto, I just run errands, clean, make appointments and bring some femininity to the place. I don't place works of art onto people's skin, adorn them with pretty metal and crystals, or have the balls to deal with the likes of the art trading market. I'm just – (Y/N)."

Deku chuckled next to you and grabbed your hand from your chest, holding it on his knee and squeezing it. You had literally just met the man maybe twenty minutes ago and you were showing affection like you've known each other for years.

This shop was so strange to you sometimes, these beautifully tattooed men all just connected with you almost instantly and you with them. It felt like somehow you had some connection already to this shop but you didn't know how.

A smile crossed your face as Deku brushed your skin with his thumb.

"Kacchan insisted that you work here (Y/N), Kacchan! He's not the easiest person to win over, at all."

A laugh left your lips and you clicked your tongue, "I think you mean that red-headed asshole down the hall isn't the easiest to win over. Kacchan was nothing."

Shouto and Deku looked at each other, both slightly confused. The Kirishima they knew wasn't what you'd call an 'asshole', he was rough sometimes but never did he meet a stranger that he couldn't befriend. From the looks of it earlier, Kiri actually seemed quiet taken with you as you healed him, only confusing Shouto even further.

Maybe there is something Bakugou didn't mention that caused you to form such an opinion?

The two-toned man brushed it out of his mind for now though, who liked each other or not wasn't the topic he was on.

"What Izuku means is that Bakugou doesn't just let people in within a flash, especially when it comes to this shop. When I'm away, you can say that Bakugou is in charge around here. He takes pride in this shop, in his friends. To tell you the truth, when Kirishima first brought up the idea of hiring someone for this position you have, Bakugou was the one 100% against it. He doesn't like just random people coming into our shop and becoming this very important part of it. So when he practically threatened to 'blow my fucking face off into oblivion and beyond' over you, a random girl, I found it odd."

(E/c) eyes blinked at Shouto, you were sort of dumbfounded right now and confused. Bakugou was shoving this job down your throat the moment he saw you, he went as far as to send two of his very own men to beg that you come back. If he was against it in the first place, why did he suddenly go all out for it when he met you?

"We like to say that Kacchan has like a sixth sense or a third eye," Deku finally spoke and broke your sea of thoughts. "He can sense these strange things, like when something good or bad is about to happen, or if someone he meets is of value or not, if that makes sense. Bottom line is, he saw something in you, something that told him that not only the shop needed you but we needed you."

You smirked and pinched Deku's freckled cheek as he took it upon himself to try and help you see things clearly. You sort of got it, but it still boggled your mind as to why?

"Maybe it's my quirk, he did say that it would be perfect for this place," you thought while biting at your lip.

You turned your head to look at Shouto when you felt a warm hand on your shoulder, he looked at you with a subtle smile.

"You're a lot more than you think (Y/N). You help this shop run, you also help heal people, I've heard and I saw it with my own eyes. You are special and you are part of this 'art mafia', family, whatever you want to call it. That means every single one of us are watching out for you and have your back, so if you need anything at all, don't hesitate to ask or to talk with one of us."

Sighing, you looked from Shouto and back to Deku who gave you the cutest smile. You placed a hand on his cheek and pinched before letting him go. Looking to Shouto you smiled and placed your hand over his on your shoulder, squeezing it and nodding.

"Thank you Shouto and Deku. That really means a lot."

You and Shouto removed your hands and you sat there, a relieved breath leaving you as you looked around the studio.

"So, do either of you tattoo?"

"Oh – Shouto here tattoos, I actually just help with the finances and stuff, all the paper work and numbers. I used to do your job when we were in town."

"I'm guessing you're a hard artist to get an appointment with then," you asked looking at Shouto.

He smiled and rose from his stool and walked over to the desk in the corner going to answer a text he received on his phone that sat on it, "Sometimes. I also just have my certain loyal customers and don't take many new ones. Why are you inquiring?"

Your shoulders shrugged and you hummed, you kind of were, maybe not right now but eventually you wanted to have something done by everyone in the shop, even by Bakugou. You wanted something to keep forever that reminded you of this wonderful little shop and these amazing men, life was very uncertain for you right now. You didn't exactly know whether you were staying or going.

"One day I'd love to! Actually, do either of you have your own tattoos? I haven't seen anything yet, but – you're also covered in clothes."

Deku chuckled and removed the hoodie he wore, revealing a loose over-sized grey shirt that hung from his body. On his forearm you immediately spotted a tattoo, it was of a green oni mask with a samurai helmet and swords crisscrossing behind it. You smiled at the color and looked to see that Deku's arms and hands were littered with scars. How you didn't see the ones on his hands before blew your mind, maybe because now you saw so many.

"Oh my god, Deku, what happened to you," you blurted out and grabbed his tattooed arm, fingers running over his scars gently.

The male had to take a second from the sudden contact of your skin to his so intimately. His free hand came up to tousle his hair and he forced down the pink that dusted his cheeks.

"Oh uh – that's just from growing up and getting used to my quirk, among other things. I pushed myself and my limits too hard sometimes."

You pouted and counted scar after scar, you could tell he was only telling a fraction of the truth, some of the scars looked fresh probably by a few weeks. If he didn't want to delve into it though you didn't want to push it.

He asked if you wanted to see his other tattoos and you nodded with a smile before letting go of his arm. Seconds later your eyes widened when his hands gathered the fabric of his loose shirt and started to pull it up his body. You really did try to look everywhere except his body but it was so difficult.

A sheepish chuckle came out of you as you brushed back a lock of hair, "I uh – don't have any cash on me right now Deku or else I'd make it rain. Like how are you so built?"

The male laughed as his shirt was removed from his body and bunched up on his forearms. Even if you called Deku a 'small' green bean, he was in actuality much bigger than you, in height and bulk. He was very muscular but a lean muscular, very attractive and handsome. Honestly you just wanted to stare all day and possibly touch him. Even more scars littered his chest, one very large scar started at his shoulder and went down to his elbow.

Deku turned around and you gasped when he gave you his back. A beautiful and extremely detailed samurai warrior with sword in hand was inked into his skin, a Japanese temple was in the background and there was lots of shading to bring a dark and dreary tone to the piece. It looked as if someone took a poster and just plastered it on Deku's sculpted back, it was that perfect.

"I still think that's some of my best work," Shouto finally spoke for the first time during all of this.

Jaw dropping and looking back and forth from the tattoo to Shouto you pointed at the ink, "You did this? Are you serious?"

The man in question nodded and smirked, standing from the desk and ducking his cell into his pocket, Shouto walked over next to you and looked.

"It definitely wasn't a one day thing, this piece took a few months to finish, you know to let everything breathe and heal properly and also between our business ventures."

Deku gasped when your cold fingers ran all over his back, tracing out the imagery and leaning close to really take it all in. His heart started to pound as you curiously felt on his skin, fingers feather-light. You 'oh'd' and 'ah'd' as Shouto explained the shading and lines and what spots were a bitch to do.

"Wow, it's really stunning Shouto, great job! Do you all just tattoo each other?"

Both men nodded and Deku put his shirt back on and turned around to face you and Shouto.

"Shouto did the back piece, Kirishima did my forearm and Kirishima did Shouto's pieces."

Before you could even ask what Shouto had as his tattoo's or even become lucky enough to have him strip before you, the door to his studio slammed open and there stood Bakugou. His eyes scanned the room looking for something, stopping when they found you. For some reason you froze before smirking at him, gaining a cocky smile in return.

"I hope you aren't trading me in for these fucking extra's already princess, I haven't even had my fun with you yet," he commented while brushing past Deku and towards you.

Your hand flattened on the blonde's chest stopping him before you, his face still leaned close and you could smell his intoxicating sweet scent as you locked eyes with each other.

"I haven't traded any one in for anything because I don't belong to any of you. And if you or anyone wants to 'have fun with me' then all you have to do is let me know a time and a place ... Kacchan!"

The growing smile on Bakugou's face quickly turned sour.

"The fuck did you just call me," he asked with a husky voice that sent shivers down your spine.

You smiled and walked your fingers up the blonde's chest and neck to his face as you repeated yourself and spaced out your syllables.

"I. Said. Kacchan."

Deku let out a squeak making the blonde turn his face and glare thus giving you a window to hurry and escape your death with a scream. Your feet bolted for the door and around the corner to run down the hall, you heard small popping noises and a "die" following fast after you. Tears streamed from your face from how hard you laughed, looking back you stuck out your tongue and flipped Bakugou two middle fingers, only making him accelerate faster. When you turned your head back forward you gasped upon seeing Denki in the way and tried to stop but collided into him with a hard thud. He grunted but stood his ground and quirked a brow.

"Don't you fucking let her go Pikachu, keep her right there!"

Your eyes widened looking back at Bakugou and you tried to run but Denki grabbed your shoulders and turned you around, pulling your back into his chest, doing as Bakugou instructed.

"Denki you fucking traitor, I thought you loved me!"

A laugh came from the golden-haired man, "I do love you lil'mama, but I kind of love living more."

Whining, your eyes squeezed shut as Bakugou zeroed in on you, his boots literally squeaking as he came to a stop before you. He leaned forward real close to where his lips touched the shell of your ear, you physically shuddered at the feeling of his warm breath and let out a curse that made him chuckle.

"Got the balls to repeat that princess?"

You smirked and chuckled yourself before making a bold move and licking up the blondes cheek, "Did I fucking stutter, Kacchan?"

Behind you Denki was shaking with laughter, "Ooh!"

"Kaminari, hold her still," were the last words you heard before strong and merciless fingers were at your sides and under your arms violently tickling you.

Denki kept a strong grip on your arms and placed the front of his feet over yours to keep you from kicking. Cries and sheer laughter erupted from within you, Bakugou mentioned that all you had to do was beg and ask nicely for him to stop and he would. You were too prideful though and refused to bow down to him.

"Never you fucking pomeranian!

The torture ensued tenfold. Your abdomen contracted as you tried to hunch over and hide your body but neither of the boys let up.

"The longer you drag this out the longer you go without food!"

Your lips pouted between laughing and you tried to bat your lashes, "Katsu that's not fair, I'm starving and this moron almost killed me today!"

Bakugou smiled at the little nickname you spoke for him, it had his blood pumping even more and he wanted to hear it again.

"Fine then, don't beg or ask nicely. Just same my name like that one more time and I'll stop."

Trying to catch your breath between squeals and giggles you smirked at the blonde before you and rolled your eyes.

"Fine. Please Katsu," you whined with pouty lips.

The blonde stopped and snapped his fingers, making Denki release you. Off balance you almost fell to the floor but Bakugou helped and caught you, his massive hands grabbing the side of your shoulders and bringing you close to his chest, your hands balled up against your own and you smiled and panted looking at him.

"What, does that float your boat?"

"That wasn't even my name but I’m turned on," Denki interrupted.

You snorted and Bakugou couldn't help to crack his own laugh at the idiot you each called your friend. Before Bakugou could even get a word out or try to snap back at you a voice caught your ear.

"What the hell is going on?"

You looked to see Kirishima walking into the kitchen from the hall and suddenly felt like you were caught doing something wrong. Bakugou smirked and quickly grabbed your hips before hoisting you up and over his shoulder, earning a yelp as you squirmed. His hand landed a firm smack on your ass for the second time that day. You growled and punched his own ass but failed from the lack of force behind your swing.

"We were just rounding everyone up to eat," Bakugou replied with a shit eating grin and turned to walk you into the front lobby area.

You were now facing Kiri as the blonde carried you away, a smile crossed your face and you waved at the red-head. Unlike earlier, he didn't smile back, only looked severely agitated and rolled his eyes. Your head hung low at this and you just went along with the ride.

After eating lunch together in the front of the shop, Kirishima's tattoo appointment arrived causing him to leave the small talk that was going on. Shouto's phone rang and he excused himself to his studio to take it, leaving you, Bakugou, Deku and Denki alone. You sat between Deku and Bakugou on the nice black couch crisscrossed, one knee bouncing and hitting Deku’s. You talked about random things to pass the time until one idea came into your head.

"Hey, Bakugou," you called out turning to the blonde next to you.

He quirked a brow while drinking from his water bottle and wiped his mouth when he was done. "Drop that shit."

"Hah?"

"The fucking name, just use my given one, it's shorter for you to say."

A smile crossed your face and you leaned over placing your head on Bakugou's arm. "Aww, okay Katsuki! Anyway, would you ever pierce me?"

"With fucking pleasure!"

Sitting back up straight you turned more to fully face him, "What would you suggest? I don't really want a cliché belly button piercing."

Bakugou turned his head to look at you, he focused mainly on your face. His hand came up and grabbed your chin, the pad of his thumb ran across your bottom lip and he smiled.

"You have these really fucking nice lips, I wouldn't want to ruin them with any snake bites or some shit but a little Monroe right here," he poked at the skin on your upper lip, "would really bring more focus to them."

His hand cupped your jaw and turned your face side to side gently, "If you wanted another, I'd say a simple nose ring. Your face is too pretty to fuck up with anything more than that."

You smiled and grabbed Bakugou's wrist, brushing his skin with your thumb, "Aww Katsu, are you just trying to get into my pants?"

The blonde smirked and brushed your own skin, "Obviously – but I'm also not a liar, I wouldn't say mushy shit like that if I didn't mean it, so be grateful!"

You smiled and leaned forward to kiss his cheek and sat back again. The thought of either piercing intrigued you. The more time you spent at the shop the more you wanted another tattoo or piercing. You felt naked when all the guys were around you, covered heavily in ink of their own and you were just - plain.

As you thought more, Shouto happened to walk back in and he rubbed the side of his neck when everyone but you looked at him. He subtly brushed the tip of his nose with his thumb, causing the three men before him to look at each other. You finally looked around and to Shouto and smiled. Bakugou sighed and stood from the couch, stretching and cracking the bones in his neck. Deku stood up next and you looked between them both.

"What's up guys?"

A hand gripped your knee and you looked to see Bakugou leaning down and close with a smile.

"We have to go handle some business really quick, I'll pierce you next time princess."

You couldn't even get a word out before Bakugou placed a quick peck to your cheek and walked away. A weird feeling came over you and you grabbed Deku's hand when he went to follow, he grunted as you stopped him and turned around.

"Uh – be careful okay? It's getting late and the weather gets worse, so drive safely."

The green-haired man smiled before leaning over and placing a kiss to your head, "We'll be fine (Y/N), no worries!"

It had been a good two hours since Shouto, Deku and Bakugou left. The shop was slow and quiet with only one artist in who was currently finishing up the client he had. To curb your boredom, you and Denki decided to watch some anime at the counter together. You learned that most of the boys for the majority were nerds just like you, especially Denki. The golden-haired man was definitely one of your closest friends now and the two of you literally did everything together.

"I'll go beyond the limit break! The universe is mine to take! I have no fear, AH! I think it's clear, AH! Let's take it up into high gear! Oh this is Dragon Ball Super, we got the skills to blow them all away," you and Denki screamed singed on your stools, punching the air and each other.

Around that time Kirishima's client had walked out and to the counter to pay for their tattoo, catching all your hype. Of course neither you nor Denki were ashamed and you proceeded to take the gentlemen's payment . After he was taken care of and left, you followed behind to close and lock the door and flip the open sign over to signal the shop was now closed. Your feet skipped back behind the counter to watch the show with Denki, a few minutes later Kirishima appeared running a hand through his red thick spiky locks.

"What the fuck are you two screaming about up here?"

"Just some Dragon Ball, wanna watch Kiri," you questioned with a smile.

He quirked a brow and shook his head.

An excited knock on the door broke all of your attention, making you jump as you looked up to see Sero outside with a massive smile. You immediately yelled out his name with excitement and left your stool to go let him in. Red eyes watching in envy at your adoration for the black-haired man.

When Sero entered you hugged each other close and kissed cheeks. With an arm draped over your shoulder the two of you walked back to the counter and you helped to brush off a few snow flakes from his coat.

"How has your day off been Sero," you asked with a smile.

"It was boring to say the least, got a few errands done and just chilled. How was your day beautiful?"

At that moment you and Denki zeroed in on each other, eyes squinting and jaws clenching. Your fingers flew up to point at each other and in unison you both replied.

"He/She set the kitchen on fire!"

Thus ensued the fight between the two of you as he tried to pin the whole situation on you. Sero knew better though, he even mentioned how Denki was technically banned from using the toaster anyway because of his dangerous ways of cooking. This only infuriated you more and caused you to shake his shoulders and make him have whiplash all over again.

Sero laughed his ass off as he watched and Kirishima also chuckled. It humored him to see you all worked up, eyes wild and nonsense spewing from your lips. He pictured you as a little puppy trying to show how big and bad they were, it was quite adorable.

Finally, Sero stepped in and pried away your hands that were now on Denki's throat.

"Alright, alright, so I take it today has been a day huh? I heard that Shouto and Deku are back, you met them?"

"Tch, did she ever, she was practically suffocating poor Izuku with her tits," Denki replied.

You went to kick at him but he dodged and stuck a pierced tongue out at you, Sero contained you, holding your back to his chest in a hug.

"You're just jealous Denki because now that little green bean is going to get all my attention."

"You're damn right I'm jealous! Until he showed up back, I was the shop heart throb!"

Kirishima and Sero snorted with laughter and Sero placed his hands on your shoulders, one going to ruffle your hair, "I'm sorry bro, but I think she stole that title from you."

You smiled with pride and thanked Sero for the compliment.

Suddenly Denki fell to his knees and crawled until he was hugging yours and fake crying.

"I defended your honor though, don't let some freckles and green hair make you forget about your first true love! I can share you!"

You rolled your eyes and ran a hand through the golden hair, gripping and pulling the groveling man's head back. "I could never forget you Denki, trust me!"

"So does that mean I get to suffocate in your perfect boobs too?"

Before you could even reply both Sero and Kirishima took it upon themselves to smack the shit out of Denki.

"You're fucking gross sometimes man," Kirishima growled.

You couldn't help but chuckle as the two men gave Denki what he deserved, you honestly weren't really offended, it's just how Denki was but it was nice to have Kirishima stand up for you for once.

Holding up your hands you called off your two guard dogs and helped Denki back up to his feet. He pouted and laid his head on your shoulder, making you awe and hug him.

"I'm sorry cutie, that was shitty of me to say."

A sweet giggle rung in his ear and you patted his back. "It's okay Denki, I could never stay mad at you. You do know you're pretty much friend-zoned though, right?"

"Yeah, yeah, I know. I still want love too; these assholes aren't nice to me like you."

Sero and Kirishima groaned and threw their hands up while Denki started to gripe and whine, telling his sob story of being the shop bitch. You laughed and continued to coddle the man in your arms, listening to his fake cries while he hugged you back.

"You guys should be ashamed of yourself tearing down this man's pride and dignity, look at him, how could you be so mean to such a cute face," you cooed and took Denki's face in your hands squishing his cheeks.

"Tch, what little pride and dignity he had to start off with," Kirishima chuckled with Sero.

As the two continued to tease their friend, you continued to comfort him, trying to hide your own giggles. Denki was smiling and eating it up though, giving his two younger peers a middle finger. Finally all of you calmed down and you got around to asking why Sero even showed up so late.

"Well I was coming to pick up this fool, I also wanted to see if everyone wanted to come and hangout at our place tonight. We can get some pizza and drinks. Since you started working here, we haven't all really hung out much outside of work you know."

You smiled and nodded with excitement, "Oh that sounds fun, I'd love to!"

Sero grinned and nudged Kirishima, "You in too?"

The red-head rubbed the side of his neck and thought it over, his eyes met yours and he froze from you staring at him as if silently pleading that he agreed. He was groaning on the inside but he sighed and nodded.

"Sure, I gotta get my shit cleaned up first though, so one of you come help please," he requested, turning to walk back down the hall.

"I'll go help him," you chimed.

Denki and Sero nodded, "Okay then, I think we're gonna leave and go get the food and drinks. You can catch a ride to our place with him, if he tries to say anything about it just tell him to suck it up and call me if he really wants to be an ass about it."

After gifting each other kisses on the cheek and hugs, Denki and Sero left the shop and you locked the door behind them. Turning around and leaning against it you took a deep breath before walking off towards the hall and to Kirishima's studio. When you entered he was tossing out his used ink cups and looked up at you before looking away. You swallowed thickly and went to help him out by grabbing the disinfectant spray and spraying down his tattoo chair.

"Uh – the guys left to get a few things and said I could just catch a ride with you, you know since I decided to walk today," you softly spoke and gritted your teeth, body tensing up and waiting on some type of cold and harsh reply.

"That's fine little one."

"So, art dealers, that's what you fucking told her?"

Shouto nodded at Bakugou's question, removing the charred sweater from his body and tossed it into the large drum that sat next to a table full of blades and saws, even an electric one.

"That's all I could tell her, she's only been here a month Bakugou, give it some time before we really reveal who we truly are. I know you see something in her, but I still need to evaluate her myself before we tell her anything."

Bakugou rolled his eyes and examined the tools of torture on the table before him. Sobs and screams of pure agony mixed with the heavy music playing in the background making him smirk. He turned to see Deku grinning as he slowly peeled off the fingernails of the man bolted to a chair. Blood staining his grey over-sized shirt, small splatters dusted across his freckled face while he screamed with the man manically. Once Deku tore off the last nail he tossed it into a pile of the others and stood back to enjoy his handy-work.

"No one is going to hear you way out here you fucking animal, keep screaming, I bet I can scream louder," Deku challenged.

The blonde appeared next to him and placed a hand on his shoulder, "I'm guessing that lead you two followed didn't turn up shit huh?"

Deku shook his head and scratched his temple with the bloody pliers in his hands, leg swinging out to kick the chair, making the victim in it cry out more.

"No, it was a bust. We tracked down this petty little gang for nearly a month only to find out they just sell dope on the side. They weren't exactly killers so we just dropped it. Now we're back where we started, I feel like we're never going to find the bastard that killed Yagi."

"We'll find them, we just need a break for now and time to gather new intel," Shouto spoke and walked up with a butchering saw propped on his shoulder.

He stood there with his other hand on his hip, the broken and bleeding man before him took in the tattoos that covered his arms and chest.

It was all brushwork, like Japanese calligraphy that danced from Shouto's elbows and up his arms to his shoulders and chest. But on each side the brushwork morphed into different colored oni mask's once you looked at his pectorals. An elegant yet still intimidating white mask was inked on his right one, what looked like crystals of ice dripped from it. On the right, a fierce red one engulfed in a beautiful flame stared back at him.

All three men looked terrifying and were terrifying. The blonde looked smug in his black tank that dipped low in the front to reveal grenades and roses among explosions. The green-haired male at first looked like he wouldn't hurt a fly but so far, he was the most sadistic of the three.

"W-Who are you, what do you want with me!"

Bakugou clicked his tongue and tilted his head.

"We're the fuckers that are going to end your miserable life, the same way you ended those two young ladies who were just walking home from dinner. My pal Deku here is going to peel off your toe-nails next, then we'll start disassembling you finger by finger, toe by toe, limb by limb until your shitty body fills up this bin over here and we dispose of you properly. Anymore questions?"

#crimson ink #kirishima eijirou x reader #bnha #mha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #bnha x reader #mha x reader #bakusquad #reader x everyone #bakusqaud #hitmen au #tattoo shop au #slow burn #enemies to lovers #graphic content #blood

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wewillwriteyou · 4 years

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Crazy Little Thing Called Love || Chapter 6

A few elements from the main plot: A fine line falls between fiction and reality: what starts as a musical slowly becomes a game-changer. Tables will turn and it will get clear as the sun that the only unstoppable power in life … is love.

Summary Chapter 6: It’s time to admit the truth. How more can Ben trust his bottled feelings for Alex to stay bottled? How more can Liz blame her nerves for the way she is acting with the people she loves? Sometimes there just come a time you can’t keep it in any longer.

Word count: 4.6k

Warnings: Angst is still around, folks. Some kissing and hints of sexual scenarios but nothing specifically graphic. Safe territory for everyone ✌🏼😏

A/N: This chapter is a rollercoaster of emotions and, more importantly, it’s essential for what’s to come in the future of our characters. Trust us, folks, don’t miss this one ✨💞

Sunday, 24 November 2019

As the rain started to fall from the sky, the princess stepped outside the castle and let the cold water wash away her thoughts. “Poor little girl – whispered the Sorceress looking at her from far away – if only she knew there is still no remedy for the love filter. Yet.”

“Please, wait!” Alex shouted, waving her hand in the air trying to stop the bus from departing.

She was clumsily running while a multitude of bags full of stage costumes was dangling from her arms.

As if she was invisible, the bus sped off leaving a disappointed Alex in the middle of the street.

“Breath in. Breath out” Alex repeated to herself, trying to calm down while a few raindrops started to fall from the grey clouds gathered in the sky.

She abandoned everything on the sidewalk and searched for the phone in her purse.

Whom to call?

She knew she had missed the last bus headed to campus and she was perfectly aware that her parents were out of town that weekend because her father had in program one of his concerts.

Her finger almost pressed Joe’s name. After all, she was there stuck in the city centre at almost 6pm because she had promised him a favour.

However, she did not want to hear his parent-style voice ready to say I told you, after he had repeated her at least ten times that it was better to go in the morning, because on a Sunday afternoon the chances to catch a bus were rarer than eating a decent meal in the college’s cafeteria.

She scrolled in the phone book until she found the name of the only person she knew being reliable: Elizabeth.

“Please, pick up Liz” Alex whispered tapping her foot on the ground as she could feel the rain get more intense.

No reply.

She puffed and tried to call her again.

At that moment, a voice shouted her name and she snapped her head to see a smiling Ben leaned against the opened car door, just a few meters away from where she was standing.

“Are you okay? Do you need a ride back to the campus? I don’t think you’ll be able to catch another bus at this hour,” he said shrugging his shoulders.

Alex, with the cell phone still pressed against her ear, looked at the deserted road, then back to Ben who was staring at her. She rolled her eyes and muttered between her teeth:

“Elizabeth you better have a great excuse when I come back”

***

The ringing of the phone echoed in the dorm room.

“Don’t you want to answer?” Gwilym lifted his head from her chest to look her in the eyes.

Elizabeth smiled a little and placed a hand on his cheek, “I thought we said we needed some alone time…”

He smiled “Yeah, but it might be important”

She gave up and shifted on her bed to reach her nightstand, where her phone had eventually stopped ringing.

“Alex,” she put the phone back and laid down again, “I’ll call her back later.”

Gwilym climbed up the bed so that he could lay his head on the pillow as well and wrapped his arm around her shoulders, dragging her closer to his chest.

He was quite afraid to speak, but he knew he’d regret it if he hadn’t.

“Are you avoiding everybody?” he blurted out.

Elizabeth shook her head, “Why do you say that?”

“Well, that was your friend calling and you purposely refused to answer, Denise is wondering why you missed Art History yesterday and you skipped rehearsal last week… Shall I go on?”

She sighed but didn’t respond, her hand tracing shapes on his sweatshirt.

“And… – Gwilym continued anyway – and you haven’t spoken to Joe in two weeks…”

She knew he would have said that. And she also knew he was completely right.

She was avoiding everyone. Well, most people.

The thing was that since the kiss with Gwil on stage and the scene Joe had caused, she had felt the need to keep a low profile for a while and sort some things out in her head.

Like, why did she have the constant feeling her life was suddenly off? She had dreamed of being with Gwil for the past two months and now that he wanted to be with her, she had… changed her mind?

What’s wrong with me?

Why couldn’t she let herself go with Gwilym? For the past two weeks every moment she hadn’t spent alone or with Alex, she had spent with him. And yet, as soon as they started making out, she would feel things weren’t right, she would get self-conscious and awkwardly break the moment.

You’re just nervous… Yeah, but it wasn’t just that.

A sense of guilt about having wrecked things with Joe was constantly sneaking into her deepest fears.

And here came the biggest question mark she couldn’t bring herself to address: why was Joe constantly on her mind?

“Liz, now you’re scaring me. You’ve never been this quite – Gwil brushed a hand on her hair and rested his head on hers – I think it’s actually the first time you shut up since I met you”

She lightly chuckled and he smiled proudly, wondering and worrying about what was going on inside her head.

Elizabeth sighed, “I keep going around that day at the auditorium and I can’t shake the feeling most of it is my fault”

“What are you talking about?” Gwilym shifted so that he could see her face.

“I knew I had a crush on you – she admitted, while staring at her hand on his stomach – and Alex even suggested I talked to you about it… but I was too scared you’d turn me down so I waited. Then it happened what it happened and Joe flipped out. Everyone at the auditorium saw the scene and a friend from Econ class told me it’s already spreading on campus. I feel too awful to even step outside and to top it all now Joe won’t even talk to me…”

She struggled with getting out of the last sentence without letting her emotional state take over her.

“And in all this mess – she continued looking up to his eyes – you’re the only good thing and I can’t even let myself enjoy it…”

Gwilym smiled sweetly and bent down to place a chaste kiss on her lips, making her smile a little as well.

“Is that what all of this is about?” he asked and she turned to him with a confused look on her face, while nodding slightly.

“I’m glad you opened up, Liz – he started, while brushing her hair again – but believe me, it’s not that big of a problem, you know? People on campus talk about all kinds of stuff but it’s a matter of what? Two, three days? A week maybe? Believe me, before we know it they won’t even remember us…”

She still looked hesitant, so he added, “Besides, it’s not like we did something horrendous, didn’t we? I mean t’was a kiss on stage during rehearsal for a play. It’s not like we were shagging in a public place…”

Elizabeth almost choked on her laughter and Gwilym chuckled seeing the redness creeping up on her cheeks.

He took a breath before continuing on a more serious tone, “The real problem now is that we have to talk to Joe… - he glanced at her and he noticed the girl nodding along, while still playing with the fabric of his sweater - but you don’t have to worry. We’ll do it together”

She looked up at him again and smiled “I like that”

He chuckled “I know you do. Now please, can you go back to being Elizabeth?”

She laughed “Fine, I’ll be back… I’m sorry I haven’t been myself lately”

“That’s okay,” he smiled again and leaned in to kiss her.

She parted her lips and deepened the kiss, while his hands roamed from her side to her back.

She perched herself to roll on top of him without breaking the kiss. With a hand she began unzipping his sweatshirt and broke the kiss when she realised she couldn’t do it with one hand. Gwilym giggled.

“What?” she asked.

“Nothing – he smiled. He was happy to see that she had opened up to him and it seemed to have improved their relationship as well. He continued – I like this side of you”

She frowned “What side?”

“The impulsive one. I’m glad we are where we are now”

He was smiling so sweetly, Elizabeth almost felt bad. He was charming and gentle and kind and everything anyone could ask for in a great person.

But she had that awful feeling he was not her person.

Now that her fantasies were coming true, she was starting to feel like maybe this wasn’t how things were meant to go. Maybe Gwilym wasn’t destined for her. Maybe she was keeping him from finding his destiny. Maybe he was keeping her from finding hers.

Why hadn’t this come to her before?

And why didn’t she have the guts to stop what was inevitably going to happen?

In the fraction of a second her brain elaborated this thought, she smiled and shut her thoughts in a corner of her mind, letting the irrational part take control of her actions.

She bent down to kiss him again, roaming her hands inside his sweatshirt and under his tee, slowly pulling it upwards.

Gwilym pulled back for a second “Are you sure?” he asked with his breath short.

Maybe this is the push I need to understand what I feel.

Maybe this will help me see what I need to do.

Maybe this is what is meant to happen.

Her irrational side was trying to justify why she was going along with it, but the truth was she didn’t know what she was doing. And for a change, maybe she actually even liked the idea of not knowing.

As an answer to Gwil’s question she just smiled and pressed her whole body into his, kissing him ardently.

He rolled both of them over so he could hoover her and broke the kiss for an instant to look at her in the eyes one more time, before locking her lips in another passionate kiss while pulling her jumper over her head and throwing it on the floor.

As item by item their clothes hit the floor like raindrops on a stormy summer day, the ticking of rain against the windows of the dormitory covered and hushed the sounds coming from room 896.

***

Alex’s eyes were lazily tracing the route of the raindrops on the car’s window, while inside the vehicle a pleasant warmth was hugging the air.

Ben looked at her from time to time, always swallowing the words in the back of his throat not knowing what to say.

“So – he started, and Alex reserved him one of her dry gazes – what were you doing in the city? Shopping? A date?”

“I just had to pick some things up for Joe,” she replied, shrugging her shoulders.

“Are you his assistant now?” Ben smiled, turning in her direction for a second. Alex rolled her eyes, but a friendly grin curved her lips.

“He wishes! No, I kindly volunteered because I wanted to have a stroll in the city centre anyway. I didn’t expect the tailor to be this chatty and I somehow ended up talking with him about my role in the musical”

Ben laughed along her hushed giggles and she looked at him with the corner of her eye.

“Lucky for you I was there,” he then said.

Alex just nodded and Ben wondered if he had accidentally stepped over one of her many barriers.

“Yes, for once I have to admit you were in the right place at the right time” she replied, making Ben breath in relief. He smiled widely and Alex noticed.

He saw she was staring, so he raised his eyebrows and asked:

“What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

Alex giggled and scrolled her head. She blushed a little, but she knew he could not notice that.

“Nothing” she shrugged and came back to stare at the road.

She would have liked to tell him the truth. To tell him that she enjoyed his company too. To tell him that, if it wasn’t for Lucy, she would have let him ask her out.

But clearly, she couldn’t tell him.

The air around them, for once, was lightweight and Ben felt as if something was finally starting to change between them.

Too bad for him that he did not stop his tongue in time.

“Oh c’mon, I know you like me,” he joked, maybe a little too cheeky.

“Excuse me, what?” Alex asked, raising an eyebrow. Her insides trembling a little at those words.

“I mean, deep down, you do like me”

“Not in the sense you mean”

“So you do!” Ben exclaimed, looking at her once again. The redness on Alex’s cheeks grew darker, but the worst part of her character spoke for her when she opened her mouth:

“Why are you insisting so much? How many times do I have to reject you to make you stop once and for all?” her voice showed a tiny bit of exasperation, but Alex knew she was just playing the role of the heartless one.

“Reject me? You never rej–“

Alex cut him off violently.

“Yes Ben, I have! I am doing it right now: I do not like you and I never will. You are not my type and the sooner you accept it, the better it would be for both us! For the whole damned world!”

The silence fell heavy between them, like a stone falling from the sky. The air inside the car once again became awfully quiet and Alex wanted to jump out the window and disappear.

She had hurt him. She could tell by his tensed hands on the steering wheel and the expressionless face, that she had taken his heart and threw it on the ground mercilessly.

“I’m sorry – she mumbled, fingers fidgeting and palms sweating – I didn’t mean it”

Ben chuckled. Sardonic. Cold. And Alex felt the stings of guilt burn harder inside her stomach.

“You didn’t? Really?” he asked without diverting his eyes from the road not even for a second.

Alex breathed sharply; she had to think about her words twice this time. The last thing she wanted was to worsen the whole situation. Mostly because, deep down (and not even that deep), she cared about him. Even if she would have never admitted it.

“Ben, I’m not the answer. I don't know which answers you are searching for, but trust me if I tell you that I would be just another problem in your life”

“Why do you think I’m looking for answers? Maybe what I need is questions, not answers” Ben replied, squeezing the wheel a little harder.

“Don’t talk trough enigmas: shitty philosophic words are not gonna solve … this! We need frankness and truth and –“

“Do you want the truth? – Ben thundered, cutting Alex off – is that what you want, Alex?”

She froze on her seat, looking at him with her mouth agape as if a part of herself perfectly knew where all that conversation would have ended.

“Ben, don’t say things you’ll regret”

“Fuck regrets! You asked for the truth, didn’t you? – He harshly said briefly turning his head in her direction – the truth is I am in love with you, Alex. That’s it”

“You’re not, Ben! For fuck’s sake, cut the bullshits!” Alex talked back, shouting from the top of her lungs.

Ben cursed under his breath and, with an abrupt movement, he drove away from the main road to stop the car on the edge.

He hit the brakes sharply, but Alex did not flinch. She was ready to face the storm that was about to burst out from Ben’s mouth.

He undid his seat belt and turned his whole body in her direction, but she remained impassive with her eyes fixed on the rain that was copiously falling on the windshield.

“What are you not telling me? Because honestly, I do not understand a shit of what is going on! A minute, you are friendly and giggly, the other one you are bitching me out! Why? Is it because of Allen? – Alex, who had remained still like a statue until that moment, snapped her head in his direction with furrowed eyebrows – are you guys … having a thing or something?”

“What does the fuck has Allen to do with all of this? We went out once for a coffee and, in case you did forget about it, you’re the one who is in a fucking relationship!” Alex replied, unbuckling her seat belt as well to move her body freer and look at him directly in the eyes.

“So the problem is Lucy? That’s why you act like … this with me!”

“I act like this because I respect her! I told you a million years ago: I’ve been with people like you, who cheated on me like I was nothing and do you know how does it feel? Like shit, that is how it feels!”

Before she could recompose herself, bitter tears rolled out from her eyes and before she knew, Alex was crying.

She looked away and tried to dry her face with the hem of her sweatshirt, sniffing loudly from her nose and breathing slowly to swallow the mixed emotions down her throat.

“You know, this is actually ironic. I can’t count the times I wished, just for a day, to be on the other side; to be the one my partner cheated on me with and not being the cheated one. And now, that I am in this position with you, while Lucy is somewhere on the campus thinking that her boyfriend is simply strolling around the city alone, you know how I feel? – Alex sadly asked, gazing at Ben who was speechless – like shit”

Ben sat correctly again, staring at the road ahead.

Alex copied his actions while searching for a tissue inside her bag.

The only audible sounds were the rain and their breaths. Nothing else was perceptible.

“It’s not easy for me either. I wish it was, but it isn’t” Ben then mumbled, breaking the thick silence.

“If you love me, as you said, why don’t you break up with her?” Alex questioned. Her voice had lost all its colours, sounding cold and distant.

“It’s complicated” he replied without hesitation. Alex nodded and looked out of the window to hide new tears that were blurring her sight.

“Complicated – she echoed – you could have just said you did not care enough. That would have hurt less” her merciless attitude was back.

But this time, Ben did not add a word. He simply started the engine and, after they had both buckle their seat belts up again, drove away heading towards the campus.

***

She heard her phone beeping for the third time and she tried to reach the nightstand without moving her right arm, momentarily useless since Gwilym was using her shoulder as a pillow.

“Shit” she muttered and threw herself out of the bed to reach the phone. She crouched down, feeling suddenly exposed with no blankets or clothes on.

Three messages, all from Alex.

“Crap – she said out loud and she heard Gwilym mumbling something on the verge of waking up – Gwil! Up up Gwil!”

He mumbled again while sitting up on the mattress and stretching his back, his eyes still closed.

“What’s wrong?” he asked still sleepy.

“It’s Alex. She’s coming home. She’s gonna be here any minute. Please get dressed!”

Gwilym got dressed really quick and helped Elizabeth gather all the things that were laying around.

She was too focused on tiding up to notice the grin he had from ear to ear. Or maybe she was forcing herself not to look at him in the eyes, cause she knew she’d instantly feel guilty when looking to his innocent, loving, smiley face.

When they were done however, she was forced to face him and when she did all the thoughts in her head came flushing back in.

She gave him a small, nervous smile before hiding her face in a tight hug.

She hugged him because it was the only thing she knew she could do to show him she cared about him without letting him know what was actually going on inside her head. Because when she had something going on, he could read it right on her face.

“Today was nice” he said softly inside the hug and she limited to shake her head in a nod.

“Alright, I should go now” he kissed her head and smiled again before heading to the door.

She smiled as well but the smile faded from her lips as soon as he closed the door behind him.

Her feet walked her to the bathroom and she automatically turned the shower on, gradually removed her clothes again and stepped under the hot water running.

Why didn’t she feel better? She thought she’d clear her mind but it had actually made it worse. Why did she feel like she had used Gwilym? Why did she feel like everything she did was wrong?

And yet again, why was Joe’s face always on her mind?

Was he the reason everything felt so off?

If anything, she was even more confused than a few hours before and she struggled trying not drowning in her thoughts, as she let the hot water wash away the lonely tear that had dropped from her eyelid.

***

The car stopped in a dark corner of the secondary entrance, just a few steps away from the gate that guided through the dormitory’s garden.

They both agreed that it was better to not draw attention, so Ben avoided the main parking lot in front of the Campus façade.

The rain had subsided, but a few annoying drops were still falling from the grey clouds all gathered above their heads.

Alex was putting on her coat again, under the silent gaze of Ben who did not know what to say or what to do.

“Thanks for the lift – she cold-heartedly said, collecting the bags she had put under her seat – good night”

But she waited for a second. The one last burning hope in her heart died soon after, when Ben simply nodded in her direction without saying a word. She slightly scrolled her head and opened the car door; before it closed behind her back, she was already walking away.

“Fuck! – Ben muttered, punching the steering wheel – you complete idiot!” he said to himself. He raised his head and saw her figure getting more distant by the second.

It is now or never. He thought and, without thinking about it twice, he exited the car to run after her.

In the meanwhile, Alex was walking fast, cursing the mud pools that were dirtying her shoes. The grass was soaking wet and cold splashes were coming from both, the ground and the sky, wetting Alex as well.

What she truly wanted, at that moment, was to disappear under her heavy blankets and forget about the whole world.

She even wished to go back to her hometown. She wished her father had never gotten that new job and, in particular, she wished she had woken up early that damn morning, avoiding arriving late at the auditorium.

They would have never met. She and Ben.

It would have been better. She convinced herself.

And, with this last thought, she reached the door and stopped in front of it to look for the magnetic card inside her purse.

“Alex, wait” Ben’s voice recalled her attention. Suddenly and unexpectedly. She closed her eyes and inhaled, trying to find the strength to turn around without feeling the need to punch him in the face.

When she glanced behind her back, she saw him there. He was standing a few steps away, in the middle of the grass while the rain was boosting again.

“What do you want now?” her voice cracked a little, showing off an inner fragility that Alex hated.

Ben took a step closer.

“I could not let you go with the conviction that I don’t care about you – he started, taking another inch towards her direction – I care more than enough about you” he admitted, shouting a little to overpower the dashing of drops against the trees’ leaves.

Alex thanked the darkness that was surrounding them; otherwise, he would have noticed the redness that had spread on her cheeks.

“I don’t know what it is, but … I can’t stay away from you,” Ben added once he was literally a step away from Alex. If he’d lowered himself, the tips of their noses would have touched against one another.

“It’s wrong. This entire situation, is wrong” she replied, but her resolute tone melted into a confused bubbling when Ben pushed away a strand of her hair behind her ear.

Alex looked up at him with widening eyes that, unfortunately for her, spoke louder than her actions. Her gaze was screaming kiss me now, asshole.

And Ben, who had the same sparkling flare in his pupils, got that silent message loud and clear.

When her gaze fell on his lips, Ben interpreted that action as the green light he was waiting for; without further hesitation, he cupped her face and pressed his mouth against hers.

Taken by the heat of the moment, he hadn’t even noticed that Alex had already put herself on her tiptoes, but once he had parted his lips and felt her warm tongue playing with his bottom lip, he understood she wanted it as much as he did.

The bags slipped away from Alex’s hands, as she stretched her arms behind Ben’s back to pull him closer. His hands squeezed her hips and kept her glued against his body.

The kiss was short but passionate. Almost desperate.

They soon parted from each other, breathless and confused. They stared into each other’s eyes for another brief and silent moment.

Then the awareness of their action hit them like a train and they both felt as if they were being run over and thrown away from the rail.

Alex gently pushed him away and, after opening her mouth uselessly because not a single sound exited her lips, she bent down to collect her stuff. Ben stepped closer to help her, as she started struggling to look once again for the card to enter the dormitory.

“Thanks,” she shyly said and turned around to open the door.

Ben remained there, looking at her ready to step inside the building. But she froze for a moment and turned her head again.

“What?” Ben asked indecisive, not to know what to expect.

Alex sighed and rolled her eyes; she put down the bags and walked closer, then, with the same attitude of someone who has no choice, she gripped the collar of his jacket and pulled him down to deposit one last chaste kiss on his lips.

When she let him go, Ben was incredulous and Alex giggled noticing the stupid grin that was curving his lips.

“This is how you kiss a lady good-night, Hardy,” she then said, a second before closing the door behind her back and disappearing inside the dormitory.

“What the fuck was that?” Ben asked himself, passing a trembling hand through his wet hair as an excited giggle escaped his lips. He gave the door one last gaze, before scrolling his head and walking – well, floating – toward his car.

“What the fuck was that!” Alex muttered, abandoning her back against the wall once she had stepped inside. She passed a hand through her wet hair and a spontaneous, unwanted giggle flew out from her lips.

She recomposed herself and, climbing the stairs to reach her room with complete chaos crowding her head, she was sure of only one thing: Ben was a damn good kisser!

Fuck!

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A/N: Hello folks! Did you expect this ending? What do you think of Liz’s choices? Did you tear up as well when Ben ran after Alex? Let us know in the comments below! And don’t forget to like and reblog if you’d want your friends to read this story!

Enjoy!

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douchebagbrainwaves · 4 years

Text

THE COURAGE OF HOUSES

You don't have to do is be part of a small group. In fact, the most powerful motivator is the prospect that one of their apartments at first, and since they don't have layers of bureaucracy to slow them down. Once they invest in a company, all they want to start a startup and Steve Jobs wanted to invest in the earliest phases, a lot of code. Day only account for a fraction of the world's history, if you preferred, write code that was isomorphic to Pascal. What all this implies is that there are a couple catches. I say, let them; give the programmer access to as much internal stuff as you can. The state of the art in programming languages doesn't stand still.

But writing and art are both very hard problems that some people work honestly at, so they're worth doing, especially if you can. It's not only economic statistics that ignore the value of safe jobs. Thermals happen, yes, but it happens surprisingly rarely. Instead of working at a low price, the founders happily set to work turning their prototype into something they can release. They remind us where we come from. Perhaps it's in the sweet spot midway between. The most noticeable change when a startup takes serious funding is that the project is all your own.

As he says: quotation But this is wrong for the following reasons. A lot of the new system is that it sucks for doing what hackers want to do is be part of a small group, and leverage from developing new techniques. You should get another multiple of two, at least subconsciously, based on the total number of characters he'll have to type. Do the extra work of getting personal introductions. It is no accident that Silicon Valley is in America, our aim is just to read. It will, ordinarily, enjoy doing. Programming languages don't exist in isolation.

In this particular case there is a natural fit for server-based applications. Large organizations will start to hear. The quantity of meaning compressed into a small space by algebraic signs, is another circumstance that facilitates the reasonings we are accustomed to carry on by their aid. Sometimes infix syntax is easier to sell an established startup, even at a large premium, than an early-stage one. Ditto for houses. There are also two practical problems to consider: jobs, and graduate school. Expert hackers can tell a good language. I think there are areas where existing languages would be easier if the forces behind it were as clearly differentiated as a bunch of declarations. Mostly by doing the same things you'd do if you didn't intend to sell the company. I believe they conceal because they'd be frightening, not because they invested at a valuation of $1 million, then the measure of the size of your investment till it's an amount you wouldn't care too much about losing. A more serious problem is the real one. So if they're all squawking, perhaps there is something amiss.

If you took ten people at random out of the big dogs will notice and take it away. Putting undergraduates' profiles online wouldn't have seemed like much of a startup consists of that tiny probability multiplied by the huge outcome. You'll probably get either preferred stock, which means a you don't have to worry about novelty as professors do or profitability as businesses do. So just do what you'd do in any complex, unfamiliar situation: proceed deliberately, and question anything that seems odd. To hackers the recent contraction in civil liberties seems especially ominous. So if you're mainly interested in hacking shouldn't deter you from going to grad school to become a CEO or a movie star to be in a situation with measurement and leverage. In every presidential election since TV became widespread, the apparently more charismatic candidate wins. So if we do have infix syntax, it should be a good person. We know now that Facebook was very successful, but put yourself back in 2004. So seed investors usually care less about the idea than the people.

The hands were moved by little servomotors that made a slight noise when they turned. This is the lowest form of these is to disagree with, you may be arguing with a straw man. A friend of mine found himself in a situation with measurement and leverage. And if someone was lazy, the others would be more likely to pretend to want to do such things. I told the fearsome Professor Conway that I was interested in AI a hot topic then, he told me I should major in math. Truly refuting something requires one to refute its central point, or at least log n more rewarding. They still think of them, in their own startups, basically flew into a thermal: they hit a market growing so fast that it was all they could do to keep the two forces balanced. It would be ironic if, as hackers fear, recent measures intended to protect me from variable capture, among other things, this shift has created the appearance of a rapid increase in economic inequality.

I began by saying that this technique would come as a surprise to First Round that they performed one. We made software for building online stores. What do parents hope to protect their children from by raising them in suburbia? Lots of people get rich knowing nothing more than a pretentious version of u r a fag! I could get on the question, from formal studies to anecdotes about individual projects. If it is not the main reason—that startups have not spread as broadly as the Industrial Revolution. If a kid asked who won the World Series in 1982 or what the atomic weight of carbon was, you could spend the time restoring your car to pristine condition.

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1000-directions · 5 years

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Hello! You both give good advice and write Winterhawk, so I was wondering if you'd mind giving a few tips since I might want to start writing Winterhawk? Like, is one of them a raging disaster and the other mostly has themselves together? How do you see them? Which of them would break a (dumb) law and who would keep their dumb friend from getting arrested? I haven't read fics either so if you know of any that really nail their characters, I would also love that. Thank you!!

oh boy do i have a lot to say on this subject!!!

the thing about winterhawk is that they are both dumb beautiful oblivious idiots, but they are also both highly skilled and competent strategists and agents. there are certainly differences between the two characters, but i think what makes them so compelling is their similarities. they’ve both been brainwashed and forced to do horrible things that they would never do otherwise. clint was kept under loki’s thrall for three or so days and was indirectly responsible for hundreds of deaths (and directly responsible for maybe a few dozen). bucky was kept captive by hydra for seventy years and was involved in dozens of extremely sophisticated assassinations, including jfk. they’re both going to spend the rest of their lives trying to make up for things they did that they could not control that they still take responsibility for. they both have ptsd and nightmares. they are both still good, soft, loving people in spite of the terrible things that have been done to them. although they’re probably both down for a revenge spree to make sure the bad guys never get to hurt anyone else.

(they’re also both snipers. clint uses a bow and arrow, and bucky uses a gun. who is the better shot? it’s impossible to guess, they should definitely have a shooting contest to find out!! they should definitely bet on the results!! the loser should definitely have to take the winner out on a date!!)

they are also both canonically disabled. bucky lost his left arm and uses a prosthetic. clint is hard of hearing and wears cool purple behind-the-ear hearing aids (i realize that using the term ‘disabled’ for hearing loss can be fraught, but to my knowledge clint does not identify with the capital-D Deaf community, and his hearing loss is acquired after trauma and not congenital).

they also have their unique traits. clint has depression, and his life outside of work is always kind of falling apart because of it. clint is our good disaster boy who is trying his best, and his heart is always in the right place, and he is loyal and good and protective, but his life is a dumpster fire.

clint is 6′3 (tall!!!) and bucky is 5′9 (small!!!!!) and this is Very Important. clint has broad shoulders and really muscular arms and back because of archery, and bucky has real good thicc thighs Because We Say So.

clint has a one-eyed dog named lucky who he rescued after some assholes pushed him into oncoming traffic. bucky (sometimes) has a white cat named alpine, although he only started appearing in comics like eight months ago so not everyone is on board with this headcanon yet.

uhhh also bucky is like over a hundred years old, and clint is like, i don’t know? in his thirties? i usually imagine him being in his thirties. but definitely not a hundred.

(in his defense, bucky looks extremely good for his age, but being cryogenically frozen by terrorists for long stretches of time will do that to you.)

“wait,” you may be saying. “i watched some avengers movies, and this does not sound like clint at all?” and, you know, fair point. the problem is that the first avengers movie came out in april of 2012. then, in august of 2012 matt fraction started writing the hawkeye comic book series which is extremely beloved and really deft and emotional and powerful and really changed how a lot of people saw the character, but it was really Too Late for any of that to carry over into the MCU. when people ship winterhawk, they sometimes mean movie bucky and sometimes mean comics bucky, but they almost always mean comics clint.

i realize this is confusing.

this is why you have to Read The Fic and Learn From The Masters.

here at Winterhawk 101, our reading list is pretty simple, and it is: the complete and unabridged works of @captn-sara-holmes, which can be found here. it is impossible to overstate how much sara is directly or indirectly responsible for pretty much every single one of us being here. like, we all go here, but she built here. i would posit that every single winterhawk writer joined fandom either because they read one of sara’s stories and fell in love, or because a friend of theirs read one of sara’s stories and they got yanked along for the ride (see below: winterhawk is a pyramid scheme).

i always suggest starting with clint barton’s super secret snipers’ club, which i think is a very accessible way into this fandom and basically a masterclass in what makes this pairing fascinating and compelling and tender and perfect. where you go after that is up to you. there’s time travel, kidapping, kidfic, this one amazing fic based on the martian that’s so good i don’t even know how to describe it, and plenty more.

study sara’s work. learn her ways. realistically, i think like 80% of us are just writing our stories based on her stories anyway.

but also! there are so many other people in this fandom creating amazing fics and fanarts, and it’s a fun and thriving and creative community full of people who are excited about making stuff and excited about people joining the community. there are always fandom events going on.

here is a link to the mcu bad decision buddies discord (18+ only, please), which is not officially a winterhawk server but…it is a winterhawk server. it moves fast sometimes, and some people can be a little feral, but it’s a great place to do writing sprints and to promo your work and to meet new people and ask questions.

the winterhawk reverse big bang wrapped up pretty recently, and there are lots of new stories and artworks available for you to put into your eyes!

@winterhawkbingo is going strong!

@mandatoryfunday is an amazing account that posts a new prompt every monday, and people spend the week creating arts and fics based on the prompt, to be posted on friday (or like…on saturday or sunday if you are me lol)

the winterhawk tumblr tag is always popping, and lots of fans track it or check it regularly. if you post a story there or if you ask a question about fandom, someone will find it, even if you have no winterhawk followers.

in conclusion

winterhawk is a pyramid scheme

it is, though. because the people who love this pairing love it so, so much, and it’s something you want to share with your friends. you get sucked into it, even if maybe you didn’t want to and you’d been actively resisting it because you were so sure you weren’t going to like it (am i talking about me? who can say?). and once you’re into it and your mind is blown, you start thinking of people you know who would also enjoy the unique kind of hurt/comfort, angst, recovery, catharsis, etc. that this pairing excels at providing. you’re gonna bring a friend along. you’re probably gonna bring a few friends along. and you’re all going to create cool stuff, and the fandom will keep growing and changing, and so there is new fan content being created constantly. it’s a very rewarding fandom experience. it really, really is.

anyway, both those idiots would break the law if it was dumb enough. clint’s the one who ends up in jail, but by the time bucky shows up to bail him out, clint’s already slipped his cuffs and charmed the secretary and escaped out the window in the bathroom. but he probably took three steps of freedom before tripping over his shoelaces and faceplanting on the pavement, and that’s where bucky finds him, passed out in the alley.

#winterhawk #i feel like i did not do this ask justice AT ALL but don't worry i'm sure some other winterhawk fans are gonna chime in #we all love to talk :)#long post #Anonymous

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