#but I've seen more and more people drawing him with BOTH eyes being blue and I'm like : | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

thestrangestthing89 · 3 months

Text

Catching up on some of the behind the scenes stuff. My take on what we have seen so far...

Mike having a similar look to season 1 is so good for him. I think it shows he is more comfortable with himself. He's going back to his roots when he was the character everyone loved. So I think we will get a more authentic Mike and Paladin Mike back right off the bat.

I like the blue polo with the yellow collar. And it looks like his jacket is a little green in the video with him and El (like a sage green/greyish green color). It reminds me a bit of the color block polo he was wearing in S3 which makes me wonder if Will is going to have a matching one this season too.

I say this as someone who realized byler was happening in S4 and started shipping it because it was the logical conclusion to draw. I tend to interpret things in a logical way. Byler wasn't something I wanted to happen and forced onto the narrative. I saw it happening and realized it was a good story and there was evidence backing it up. So when I say that Mike and El broke up in S4 it's not because I want it to be true (I honestly do not give a fuck about their relationship and gave it very little thought prior to coming on here). It's because it's the most logical thing to happen based on the story that we saw.

That being said, Mike and El's relationship closely resembles Nancy and Steve's. El broke up with him with the From El letter and he knows this. I've written about this a lot so I'm not going to get into it here, but the fact that at the end of S4 shows a 2 day time jump and after this point Mike and El aren't even talking and they are rolling their eyes at each other is meant to indicate that something happened with them during that time jump that wasn't good.

The fact that S5 seems to pick up a couple years later (judging by El's hair) I think is further proof that they already filmed part of S5 back when they were doing S4. The part that picks up right where S4 ended I think was already done. So I think this is where we will get to see a clarification of what exactly happened during that 2 day jump and get confirmation that Mike and El broke up already.

Their relationship was defined as being immature and made both of them feel badly about themselves. They were already at a point where they wanted it over so there is no reason narratively why that needs to drag out over 2 years when neither of them is happy.

Especially considering Mike's new look where he is dressing more like himself. They have established for 2 seasons that Mike isn't himself when he is with El. So him acting more comfortable and looking more like himself all points to him and El having broken up a while ago. He had time to figure out what was authentic for him already over a time jump.

I think Mike and El's conversation has more to do with reestablishing a friendship. They didn't communicate well when they were in a relationship and El dismissed Mike's feelings a lot (the conversation about bullying being one of those times), so I think it's possible they drifted apart during the couple year jump because I think it's hard for Mike to trust her. I saw people comparing it to the train track conversation back in S1 and I think that's accurate. That conversation was meant to indicate the first time Mike started seeing her as a friend (even though they really didn't reach an understanding here the way he thought). But I think this time it actually will establish a real friendship in a way that was different than before.

I do think think it's likely Mike and Will are together at this point in the beginning of S5. But either way I think a lot of this conversation with El has to do with Mike telling her how he feels about Will and them being honest with each other for the first time.

Mike and El have very few one on one scenes together. I think I can count on one hand the amount of conversations they have had where it was just the two of them and a group wasn't around them. To me, this indicates that this conversation is actually important. Unlike a lot of their other conversations where they weren't communicating well or they weren't acting like themselves. But I think in keeping with the pattern the show has always had, this is likely the last one on one scene with them until the end of the season. They tend to not interact much in the middle of every season so I would be surprised if there was much more content with just the two of them.

This scene is very platonic just based on their body language. They aren't close or acting in any romantic way. And again, the fact that they seem comfortable indicates that they have had time to reflect on their relationship and heal from it. Mike is never comfortable around El in S3 or S4. He is never comfortable with her touching him or being close with her. So the fact that he is here, is further proof to me that it's already over. He isn't pretending anymore (I think he was done with this by the end of S4).

Another thing that makes me think they haven't spent much time together over a jump of a few years is Mike directly telling Will in S4 that he wished he spent less time with El and more with him. He already made the mistake of not spending time with Will and regretted it. He isn't going to do that again. So I think it's possible that he has been spending more time with Will to make up for it and ended up pulling away from El. And this conversation in S5 is meant to be an acknowledgement of that and the fact that he can have a romantic relationship with Will and a platonic one with El at the same time. Two people he has been struggling to have a relationship at the same time with since pretty much the beginning of the series.

Very curious to see what Will's look is because I don't think it's a bowl cut. I always thought that hairstyle was meant to indicate him holding on to his childhood and all of his trauma. If he has a new look I think it's a good hint that not only is he more comfortable with himself but that him and Mike are already together at the beginning of S5. The show has already established that the two of them are only comfortable with themselves when they are together. Mike being true to himself is a good thing. It shows he learned and grew from his immature behavior in the past few seasons. I would be surprised if Will's look doesn't indicate the same based on where his character arc left off at the end of S4.

#anti mileven #byler #mike wheeler #will byers

61 notes · View notes

madtotry · 6 months

Text

turn the hourglass about and all the sand is running out one. — two. — three. — coming soon.

hiccup haddock x reader

a/n. gn reader. set not long after the first part (but there's still a gap). reader's dragon is one i created myself (more will be revealed about her). the second chapter/part!! ♡ 1.3k

when you see hiccup again, you pretend your last meeting never happened. it's like the same feeling all over again, and if you blink you feel like you're gliding over the ocean with him again, hands twitching as you try so hard not to run away; and yet still you fail.

but you're not in the sky, you're sat in the cold dirt and grass, and you're trying to stay calm.

it feels harder now, sitting across a campfire with him, like if you tried to run you wouldn't be able to. you try to tell yourself that's not true, that at any moment you could jump on elsa's back and fly away and it's not as if hiccup would try to stop you. but the truth does no good soothing your tight throat and light head.

hiccup does most of the talking, and you don't interrupt him — whether because you're too scared or because you simply have nothing to say a mystery even to yourself. but you feel conflicted, trapped yet inexplicably drawn in by his voice; it feels almost warm.

"toothless found a new dragon species yesterday," he says just soft enough that you know he's trying not to scare you, "she was a baby and her wings were underdeveloped so i couldn't see much, but i've never seen one like her before."

you pull your knees even closer to your chest, and elsa shuffles beside you with a quiet growl; sensing your nerves. you know hiccup didn't mean to bring a topic like this up in some weird effort to try to get answers about your own dragon, but you overthink every interaction and still feel out of your depth — like he knows something you don't.

and the worst part is he does, he may not know about you or your dragon, but he knows more about dragons than you knew existed, and he's met more people than you've even seen on boats in passing. you'd finally felt you'd gotten your bearings on the world, and then he came tumbling into your life.

"she did spit a substance though, it turned the grass blue."

you frown, and from curiosity alone your walls are down for just a moment, "blue?"

he nods with a slight smile, and even his dragon perks up at your voice — the first time you've spoken in perhaps an hour.

"blue," he confirms, "toothless wouldn't let me touch it, but i don't know for sure if it's venomous."

"maybe she just likes the colour blue."

he laughs quietly, and your tense arms relax when you realise he's laughing with you. you try to laugh with him, but it comes out misshapen and unlike his own melodious one, so you shut your mouth and stop.

"do you like the colour blue?" he asks after a silence, and you don't notice it through the cloud that hangs over your mind, but he winces in embarrassment as he says it — and elsa almost huffs in amusement.

you don't know why you have to think about it for so long — you do like it, it's the colour of the ocean and the sky which you love both of in ways you can't explain, just as elsa herself is a magical blue, light shades mixed with ripples of something darker that make you feel safe — perhaps because this feels like handing yourself over to hiccup, telling him about you and in turn being tied to him.

he'd be the only person alive to know a single thing about you; it already feels like he knows too much though you barely speak a word.

you find yourself replying, "i do."

you don't recognise the light in his eyes for his excitement at you talking to him, but it is there; shining.

"my favourite colour is green, i think," he says, and you find that you appreciate the colour just a little bit more now.

you take a deep — courageous — breath and ask, "are there green dragons?"

you curl further in on yourself, but hiccup just keeps smiling. his quick moment of quiet thought draws your eyes to the way the campfire's light dances across his skin.

"there is," he nods, "there's green deadly nadders, flightmares, and gronckles. hideous zipplebacks are commonly green too."

you nod as he talks, and wonder if he's saying less than he normally would to avoid making you feel dumb. it's entirely possible, but with the way he's sat up just a little straighter and smiles just a little wider as he lists all these dragons, it doesn't feel like that. it feels nice.

"hideous zipplebacks?" you query, though you've never heard of any of these by name, the word 'hideous' particularly catches your attention.

"we named a lot of them back when we weren't on... great terms," he explains, and that's one of the few things you do know; about the hunting and fighting, "but we have lots of zipplebacks on berk now, deadly nadders and gronckles too."

"no flightmares?"

"their living conditions are really specific, and they generally prefer swamps most of the time."

you note this all down in your mind. you don't know if you'd ever meet one of these dragons — and if you did, you wouldn't even know it from your lack of physical descriptions — but it feels nice to know things.

but something gnaws at your chest as hiccup explains flightmare's living conditions, about their translucent skin that glows in the right conditions and the way their food glows just the same. you feel wrong for not truly listening, but the reminder that he comes from an island of people who used to slaughter dragons and now somehow lives with them sits at the forefront of your mind.

in a lull, where you are unsure whether hiccup noticed your conflicted expression or simply ran out of things to say — however impossible that may be — you ask, "do the dragons have names, on berk?"

you can't read his reaction, but he replies, "yes?" not because he lies, instead because your sudden question has him lost.

"what are some of their names?" you whisper, as a grasp at something far harder to describe than simple distrust; as a wish to be connected to a people, to know about the full life this stranger leads.

hiccup hesitates, almost picking up on your guard raising once more, but does not question you.

"well, my friends have dragons named stormfly, hookfang, meatlug, and a hideous zippleback called barf and belch."

"barf and belch?"

"one head breaths gas, the other sparks it."

even elsa listens as he talks. you have no idea whether she knows about all the dragons you don't, but she lifts her ears with the same curiosity as you.

"does one person ride them?"

hiccup's smile returns as he shakes his head, like he's remembering a fond memory, "two people, twins."

you feel elsa's ever-present weight leaning against your side, and somethings sparks inside you — however silly it may truly be; a realisation that you have not told hiccup your own dragon's name. within a moment, an idea spreads through you like how you imagine hideous zippleback gas might, and is set alight when you speak.

"my dragon," your voice is unsteady as you glance at her sea-blue scales, and her deep eyes meeting yours kindly, "her name is elsa."

you hear an inquisitive sound from toothless, and not for the first time you wonder if dragons can really understand what people say.

hiccup almost mirrors his dragon's small sound of shock, the glimpse then transforming into almost gratitude, when he says, "that's a nice name."

you try to smile back, but hope your face gets all muddled up with the fire just slightly blocking his view of you; so he can't see the way your lip gets caught under your tooth and your eyes crinkle awkwardly — so he doesn't find you off-putting like you fear he suddenly might, so he keeps enjoying your company just enough to keep coming back to see you.

you don't even dare to whisper to elsa that you're starting to feel safe around him.

#taking flight (my writing)#hiccup haddock x reader #hiccup x reader #httyd x reader #how to train your dragon x reader #httyd imagine #httyd fanfiction #hiccup horrendous haddock iii x reader #hiccup horrendous haddock lll x reader #hiccup horrendous haddock the 3rd x reader

106 notes · View notes

postmodernbeliever · 1 month

Text

lifetimes and lifetimes - fox mulder x fem!witch reader

not every witch needs spells and stones to relive the past, or predict the future. in your opinion, the craft is much simpler than that- what is meant to be yours comes to you, at the right time. and the right thing does come, in the shape of a tall, curious fbi agent. it doesn't take long to learn just who fox mulder is to you- and that it seems you two always find each other, in every lifetime.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

this one is dedicated to @spookybasementboy bc they asked for it :)) i took some creative liberty because i’m not much of a witch myself- i was inspired by the past life situation in the season 4 ep “the field where i died” but also wanted to make sure i made it mystical, so i used a sort of invocation/prayer and vision experiences. but really i wanted to have an amalgamation of a witch and a regular person, who truly is a product of “coincidences”, run into our handsome little fox. i think it came out kinda cool. unlike anything i've written. ok ill stop explaining and let you read. <3

my ao3 | word count: 5,041

content tags: wicca, not too witchy but has spiritual experiences, mentions of bodily blood/gore, past lives, flashbacks, idiots in love, stress, fear, anxiety, slow romance, you both fall hard FAST but it’s gotta be slow!!!!!!!!!!

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°

special agent fox mulder believes in everything. he doesn’t know how not to, not with everything he’s seen in his lifetime. because of this blind faith, he gets himself in constant trouble. it was the first thing you noticed about him as he handcuffed you to the chair in the police station bullpen, that he was trouble, but in a good way. in the way that without having said a word, you felt he could turn your life upside down. even in a state of shock, you could sense that.

you sat like a prisoner, eyes shut as agent mulder settled into the desk chair opposite you. behind your eyelids, you relived flashes of moments from not even an hour prior. there was blood and bullets; you tasted wood, glass, screams, more blood. you remembered the red eyes, and the way bodies flooded beneath the pews, the sound of skulls cracking against the cold tile. you remembered reciting the only prayer that you could remember, the first one you learned when you left the church at 18. you felt the wiry carpet burning your elbows as you crawled away. you heard their voices repeating, “baruch hashem, baruch hashem, baruch hashem…” you remembered being chased, and after that, nothing else. as you awaited what surely was to become your interrogation you began to pray again, because it felt like you had no other means of safety. the earth is my mother, i shall not want…

“so, you like to run, huh?” the man teased, easing into his questioning.

agent mulder’s authority was practically dripping from him- tailored suit, slack tie, blue and white badge screaming from his pocket. the print of his gun pressed against the black holster which flashed enticingly behind his coat. you saw power in his eyes, and a boyish attitude in his smile as he awaited your response. he was an understated kind of handsome. the kind that snuck up on you.

you winced as you shifted in the chair, and the man watched you tremble, suspicious of your state. maybe it’s drugs, he thought, but he quickly rescinded that. you just didn’t seem like the type. to the naked eye, you were healthy; plump arms and legs, round cheeks, secretive eyes. you were an intriguing sight, and not just because of your clothes. chained to a chair, your curling tendrils of hair and berry lipstick looked so out of place in a dirty, bustling environment like the one in which you both sat. he saw a girl adorned in earthy colors both muted enough to communicate a soft darkness, and bright enough to draw people to it. the beat-to-shit brown boots on your sleepy feet showed how long you’ve been drifting by, living alone. silver ornamented your neck and ears and poised hands, and agent mulder liked how it contrasted the tarnished handcuffs. you were battered from the events of your evening, with deep cuts in your hands and knees, and bloody scrapes all over your body, taking turns sharing skin with the bruises. you were a dichotomous girl, giving him every reason to be curious; yet all personal inquiries aside, agent mulder had a job to do. he had caught you fleeing a crime scene, after all.

something in his gut wanted to release you, to let you float right out the front door and back to wherever you came from; but in his chronic open-mindedness, he couldn’t be sure if you weren’t tricking him some way into feeling that. so he kept you locked tight and facing him, eagerly awaiting your statement.

“running is for the guilty, agent mulder.”

“well, i had to chase you down, didn’t i?”

“who says you decide what i’m guilty of?”

the agent turned to the computer and opened a statement file, deciding to take yours himself. “what’s your name, miss?”

“which one? i have a few.”

“whichever one i can find in an official file somewhere in this pigsty,” he grinned.

“well, that’s not gonna be much help,” you shot the man a wink, “they know me by a handful, too.”

“well, come up with one, then.”

you sat for a moment, already settled on the name you wanted to hear him repeat, but wanting to tease anyway. when you offered it up, the sound rang in his ears like angel’s bells.

agent mulder simply couldn’t stifle his curiosity. as he typed your chosen name out, he asked, “what does it mean?”

“well, my last name is an old name. for us wiccan, it means old friend. and i like to think of myself that way- familiar, constant, when the world is always moving.”

“and your first?”

“my favorite shakespeare character.” you admitted. the man’s face flooded with color, and you could hear him thinking, is she fucking with me? so you tacked on, “you know, just because someone’s a witch doesn’t mean they’re an isolationist. i read.”

“i didn’t say anything!” agent mulder chuckled awkwardly. your intuition had him drawing nervous breaths. “so, you’re a witch. is that why you were at the church? did you plan to invoke, or just poke fun?”

“i’m not that kind of witch, agent mulder. not all witches are mean-spirited. i was there because i had walked past the church a few days ago, and i saw the stained glass windows from outside. they were so beautiful, i wanted to see them up close. i’m not a fan of what happens at churches, but i do love their art.”

for an accepting person, agent mulder didn’t realize how many preconceived notions he held. sat before him was a girl who pledges to be a witch, but visits catholic churches in her free time like museums. a girl who chose her name according to the day. in what little he knew, there seemed to be not one solid fact on which he could build a realistic profile. tight-lipped, the man asked for your age, place and date of birth, and address.

“i’m not sure exactly how many lives i’ve had, but in this one, i’m 29. arlington, d.c… um, october 31st, 1964… oh, and right now, i’m at 2632 hegal place, alexandria. apartment 42.”

as you spoke, a wind blew through the station. it ruffled the papers on agent mulder’s desk, and it whistled through the links to your handcuffs. the hair stood up on your arms as the wind whispered, and you knew what he was going to say before he said it. you felt it in your gut.

“2632?” agent mulder swallowed thickly, his curious pupils inflating almost cartoonishly. you saw his goosebumps and smiled.

as if you’d known all along, you asked, “you live in the building next door, don’t you? 2630?”

agent mulder didn’t respond, but the blood in his cheeks did for him. you shifted in your seat again, feeling a burning in your stomach. you hadn’t felt that hot intuition for a long time. there was a haunting quality to his face that was drawing you away from your defense; you couldn’t keep up the mysterious act, because something about him made it impossible to hide.

“s-so, what were you doing at the church?”

“you already asked me that, sir.”

you were surprised that even in the chaos of the police station, you weren’t alone. you felt alone. agent mulder seemed to look at you like his eyes didn’t recognize another thing, like the world was unfamiliar to him aside from your face, your eyes. and all those years of sitting in meditation, of attempting to regress, to see who you were before and who your soul was tethered to were useless. you should’ve known by now to trust in your world, in its karma. it always comes when it’s meant to.

“you can call me fox, if it’s easier. sir is so… formal.”

fox’s eyes sparkled. you’d seen that shimmer before, but in water, and in shifting light. you looked into him, and wiped your clammy palms against your pantyhose-clad thighs. for the first time all night, you felt your barrier coming down, the shield you raised back at the church, against the cops and the world. the fear you stifled to survive was finally flooding through your veins, and the tears in your eyes followed like dominoes.

fox instinctively abandoned the report and took your palms in his own, passing his calloused thumbs over your trembling knuckles. “hey, hey, it’s okay,”

“i-i”m sorry,” you hiccuped, struggling to speak. “i’m- m’over… overwhelmed,”

“catch your breath,” he whispered, running his palms up and down your arms. his touch was seraphic, and by it, you knew you’d felt it before. lifetimes and lifetimes of it. “take it easy, i’m here.”

when you calmed down, he began again, “can you tell me what happened?”

“well… i went into the church. to look at the windows, like i said. i was alone, it was maybe around six o'clock by then. they were just finishing mass, and everyone stood up to leave, a-and then they came in,” you stuttered, “the, uh, the shooters. they were- they were in all black, and wore red masks, like ones from the halloween store. they were chanting, they said, baruch hashem. it sounded like hebrew, but i think it was different, i’m not sure. it sounded old. and they were chanting, and they knocked so many people down in the aisles to get to the alter. they fired a few rounds off at the windows, glass fell on my head… i saw a lot of people fall, so i dropped to the ground and pressed my face to the wall. i prayed over and over, to the earth, it’s the only prayer i could remember. i just wanted to hide, y’know? a-and when- when they got up to the altar, they-”

the agent stopped you to ask, “what prayer?”

“why does it matter?” you sniffled.

“because it might have been what got you out in time.”

his eyes were so pleading, and the fire curling around your bones stood to remind you he was to be trusted. so you recited the prayer, a slightly juvenile one that in your newness you cut down to the meat of: “the earth is my mother, i shall not want. she restores my body and awakens my soul. although i walk in the shadow of changing seasons and passing time, i will not fear death, for the essence of life is within me, the peace and beauty of earth comfort me. as i look to the skies with wonder at the immensity of the universe, i know i am blessed beyond measure to live all the days of my life in the bountiful house of gaia.”

the man marveled at how the words spilled from your tongue, so ingrained in your muscle memory that they were second nature. you kept a cadence, and each word was its own. he saw now you were not one to sit surrounded by potions and symbols to cloud your focus; you simply let the power of the world pass through you, and hoped to harness it and be protected as you yielded to it. you repeated that mantra like it was all you had left- he could tell. he’d never met such a modern witch. to him, you were a brand new kind of x file, with subtle powers he has yet to comprehend.

“that’s beautiful,” he complimented as he squeezed your palms. “alright, now breathe. you're safe. keep talking.”

shutting your eyes, you tried to reimagine the horror. you’d never dreamed of seeing anything so inhumane, but maybe these details would be useful. you can’t have just seen them for nothing.

“they, um, they took the priest. one of them shot him, and then another laid him on the table, and- and he used a knife to cut him open. there… there was so much blood,” you swallowed thickly. “they took his… y’know, his uh, insides. they dragged them out, and they chanted, and anyone who stood up was shot. i- i watched them take it all and, uh, they put it in the tabernacle, of all places… and their eyes glowed under the masks, bright red, and they never stopped chanting. once they started taking people from the pews with knives, i crawled out the side door, because i had th-this feeling, like, like it would be me next. i felt it everywhere. and when the cops showed up…”

“you didn’t want to get stuck. and you thought i was one of them, coming to take you, so you ran from me.” fox finished your thought, a resonant pain shaking his ribcage at the thought of making an innocent girl just try to outrun the danger. “you saved yourself, you know. i don’t know how your prayer worked, but you did something, summoned something that saved you long enough to get you out.”

“and it made you follow me.” you sighed, wiping your tear-stained cheeks. “why?”

fox’s eyes traveled across your face, inspecting every detail, wishing he had a microscope. his hand raised deliberately to brush a lock of hair from your face. “i don’t know.”

“what is your gut telling you?”

“its…” the man felt like his lungs were going to pop, two balloons over-inflated, under siege by a swarm of butterflies. “i wanted to follow you. to find you, not arrest you. but you kept running, so… y’know, logic took over.”

fox took a moment to fish the handcuff key from his pocket, and he unlocked your wrists, rubbing softly at the red marks. the agent winced, guilt-ridden for fastening them too tight. “does it hurt?”

“no, m’okay,” you muttered. your head was pounding, and when his fingertips grazed your pulse, you felt somewhat weak.

fox let you rest for a few minutes while he typed up your account. he remembered every word. as he worked, his leg consciously shifted out to knock against your knee, and the two of you sat that way for a while, touching bones. when he was done, he leaned back in the borrowed desk chair and sighed, dragging his big palms down his face.

“can i ask why you’re investigating this?” you brought one leg over the other, suddenly a bit conscious of the length of your dress. you saw his eyes follow, and you flushed.

“oh, well, my partner and i- scully, you met her- we’re, uh, we’re investigating a string of ritual murders. we’ve followed these guys through the state, they shoot up masses and do what they believe to be sacrifices to jesus himself. that- that chant you mentioned, baruch hashem, i recognize it. it’s aramaic, the language jesus spoke. means “blessed be the name”. we’ve gathered they chant that over and over and they, uh,” the agent paused, seeing the discomfort on your face, “you don’t want to know the details.”

“no, i do! it's just a little raw is all,” you flashed a meek smile, gesturing with a nod for him to continue.

“well, they seem to be taking people’s… entrails, the priest’s first, and offering them up by putting them in the tabernacle. my theory is they seem to think that if they offer holy blood, and let it be anointed with the eucharist, it'll reward them with god’s love and immortality. as far as we know, they belong to a cult that moves across the country, sacrificing lives to win god’s favor. and what you saw tonight- what you suffered- it’s going to help us stop them.”

“really?”

“yes, really,” he grinned. “listen, i’m not going to hold you here. you’re a victim, you don’t deserve to keep reliving this. you need to go home, get some rest.”

there was still that fire in you, churning and hissing within your throat, reminding you not to ignore it. you never did. in your practices, you always bended to the will of your fire. every invocation, every motion, was deliberate. it all came through you. you didn’t adhere to the rules of everyone else who believed like you did; you belonged to no wiccan circle, no congregation. you just made your way in the world, a ritualist by nature, working with this life and world while understanding your diversion from it. you let your selves be your guide- every version of you that has lived wisely for your benefit.

thinking of what you are, and what you’ll become now you’ve met fox mulder, the flames licked your tongue, making you honest again. “i’m scared to leave. i… i don’t want them to come for me.”

fox’s comforting grin fell. he saw how you made yourself small in the chair, and he wished he could switch places. in an instant, he’d be the one interrogated, judged, the one seeing guts and blood when he closed his eyes. he couldn’t let that be what you turned into.

“i can bring you. i can get you security, protective custody, anything you need. i’ll protect you myself if i have to,” fox swore, “i won’t let them get to you, okay?”

a sad little laugh bubbled in your throat, and you reached for the hand that rested on the computer mouse. you adored the feeling of his tired skin beneath yours so sensitive. “i guess i don’t really know what’ll feel safe just yet.”

“then let me take you home, at least,” fox offered. “i do live next door.”

“you do.”

you stood up, feeling a bit achy in the knees. fox offered you his arm and you wrapped your palm around it gratefully. you watched him motion across the station to the pretty redhead you’d met in cuffs, who nodded softly. his partner. there was a smart look in her eye, and you knew she had the answers- to what, you couldn’t be sure, but she held a truth within her. it glowed golden against the pink of her skin.

the agent ushered you to a small car outside the station, opening the passenger side for you to slide in. you giggled at his old-fashioned ways, enamored by how he shed his suit jacket and laid it across your nearly bare legs in the car. “so you don’t get cold,” he explained, but you couldn’t care less about why.

the drive was silent. fox went slowly, although you had the feeling he tended to speed. his hand rested on the gear shift out of baseless habit, even though the car was automatic. he was tense, anxious, aware; the muscle at the curve of his jaw clenched and unclenched like it was keeping time, and a stubborn slice of hair kept falling against his forehead no matter how many times he blew it away. you admired him from your side of the car, seeing how traffic lights reflected in his eyes. all it took was for fox to deal a soft glance your way, with just a slight tilt of the head, for you to feel yourself in this car before, within this exact moment some other lateral time. a second wave of goosebumps riddled your body.

show me, you begged in silence, willing to be heard by whatever force was showing you new versions of the man behind the wheel. show me who he is. show me who he is to me.

a sudden burst of rain smacked against the windshield of the car, causing both of you to jump. there was no storm following- it was as if a squall came down, just momentarily, to rinse the car. when you blinked, you saw fox driving a first-edition ford in a tweed coat and flat cap, a cigarette bobbing between his lips as he asked you about your day; then, he was jostling atop a cart, hands on worn horse reigns, singing some folk song you’d never heard. another blink revealed him as a boy, holding your juvenile hand and speaking middle french as he passed you a flower, with that same concentrated head tilt and gaze as all the other visions. you’d been here so many times, protected by him, going towards a life with him. you knew he felt it, too, because the beat of his heart was loud enough to hear how it synced with yours. not a piece of you both was out of time, now that the world had removed its wedge. you rested your hand atop his on the gear shift, and the muscle in his mouth loosened.

when fox pulled up to your building, you waited for him to come around and let you out with a teasing smile. he took your hand gingerly and led you down the sidewalk. he helped you through your building’s door, up the stairs, and he swiped the keyring from your shaking hands and unlocked your apartment for you. the familiar smell of cinnamon air freshener eased your nerves as you switched on the lights, and you saw fox get a glimpse of your life for the first time. he smiled at your home where you lived in the same room, on the same floor, in the same layout one building away, as him. your living room window looked like his. your television was in the same place. you had far more books, and your desk was littered with drawings, but everything was reminiscent of his apartment. and you saw his home now as you looked around, like you had three-dimensional lenses on- you in the blue film, and him in the red. he had no trouble finding the sink and filling a cup for you while you drifted to the couch and sat down. after having time to settle, your body ached.

“i can't believe this,” was all he could say.

you took the glass from him and sipped it greedily, falling out of shock and into need. you patted the cushion beside you, and he took a seat.

“you’re familiar with past lives, right?”

“well, yeah,” he confirmed, “i know different theories and cultural views of reincarnation. it's an interesting concept, to be born again but always the same, an amalgamation of the people you were before.”

“i think so, too.”

“but you’re wiccan, so you know all about that already, right?”

“well, i think you should know that things for me are different, fox. i mean, i tell people i’m wiccan, so they call me a witch, and i go with that. i guess i’m spooky to other people. i lean into it because it does them less harm to simplify me and me less harm to just live how i want in private. if i could create a whole new kind of practice, i would, but sometimes its easier to just let people see you how they do and move along,” you elucidated. “what you might think wiccans believe isn’t always what i believe, y’know? it’s just the closest label. works better than deist or freak or whatever. and being here with you, and all these visions, these memories i’m having… i don’t really know what i’m getting at. this is all to say that yes, i believe in past lives, and i’m not so much wiccan as i am just myself.”

“i get it. you follow your own rules. you have an instinct, just something that kind of… burns in you, right?”

all the words he could’ve used, and he chose burn. because love burns, pain burns, life burns. this entire night has burned you. and he’s burned, too, branded with the belief you share.

“yeah.”

“so, did you know me in your version of past lives, then?” the agent inquired, bumping your knee with his knuckles playfully.

“i know i did, because i asked the world to show you to me, and now i see every version of you. four, maybe five of you, in the same exact moment. you don’t change. and you’re always with me, always a force. this gentle, ferocious thing, keeping me to yourself. and i think in each one, i love you.”

fox’s brain was swimming in confusion while his body buzzed with want. distractedly, he wondered, “how can something be gentle and ferocious?”

softly, you recited, “it’s astounding the first time you realize that a stranger has a body. the realization that he has a body makes him a stranger. it means you have a body, too. you will live with this forever, and it will spell out the language of your life.”

fox beamed, “if beale street could talk. you are well read.”

you set the glass of water down on the coffee table that looked just like his, and you said, “i know you, fox. not in this life yet, but i’ve known you in every one before. coincidences aren’t just coincidences.”

“i never thought so,” the agent nodded thoughtfully. you couldn’t tell what was in his head this time, and you wanted so badly to know. when he did reveal a question, you didn’t expect it. “what was the part of that prayer you said for me earlier? something about the universe?”

quietly, you recanted: “as i look to the skies with wonder at the immensity of the universe, i know i am blessed beyond measure to live all the days of my life in the bountiful house of gaia.”

fox’s face burst into a wild smile, one that used every tooth he had. he thought of how his entire life, he looked up to the stars, worshiped them; hoping they’d be benevolent enough to bring his sister back, to save his life, to make all of his pain worthwhile. and there they were, divine within your oldest prayer, the very same prayer that guided him from the church in your direction in the first place. you could believe it was the earth, or the spirits you confided in all you liked, but to him the stars had made it all possible. maybe he was a witch in his own way, too, if he played by your rules.

fox sat in silence with you for a while, refilling your glass while you collected your nerves. the man offered to patch a few of your cuts just so he could pick apart the details of your life in the apartment. with the cover of looking for a first aid kit, he flipped through your books, searching for your copy of james baldwin. he admired your records, finding music he’s loved for years and some he’s never heard before. he studied your little jars of herbs that coexisted alongside tylenol bottles. he saw the parts of your window that you colored with magic marker, because of how you longed for true stained glass. he frowned, thinking what a shame it was those bastards destroyed the art you’d gone to admire tonight.

as he looked, he learned again what it is like to feel your presence, to be surrounded by you. he felt a sudden gap mending in the space within him, and he didn’t need magic to know why. falling in love was magical enough.

you spent some time allowing fox to nurse your bumps and bruises (once he stopped fake-looking for the first aid kit), and admired how he childishly placed bandaids all over your arms and legs as if they’d heal all. it was more about letting him care for you, and feeling his hands in places you’d only hoped they’d touched before. he hummed softly to himself all the while, and you were a puddle by the time he finished; when you were the center of his focus, he was nothing but a big sap, muttering soft praises and showering you with smiles. you couldn’t believe it took you so long to find him, or rather that the world took so long to bring you his way. you had so much to make up for now.

when it was time for him to go, you followed him to the door like a puppy. you didn’t feel the discomfort anymore, or the fear of your death. you only felt the doting hands of karma, proving to you the night was simply a means to a much greater end. (un)coincidentally, karma’s hands felt just like his.

fox leaned in your doorway, his tie undone and his authority stripped. “i’ll come by to check on you in the morning,” he assured.

“i’ll be here.”

“where do you work?” fox asked, and when your lips melted into a helpless grin, he pushed, “come on, where?”

“i’m a receptionist at the national archives.”

the believer before you fell to the mercy of his faith, picturing the building on the same street as his job. he imagined how many times you must have walked past him to go to work, all those days spent believing in a love he was missing. his ageless eyes folded on themselves with disbelief, and his laugh rattled deep in his chest.

“jesus. are you sure you’re not something else? a genie, a spirit? an angel?”

“nope. just a witch. and a bad one, at that.”

you pushed onto your tip-toes and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek, finding his scruff so familiar to your lips. he sighed softly at the touch of your hands, feeling embers sparking in their wake.

like it was a secret, he murmured, “i have one more question.”

“hm?”

“why do you choose me? if you’ve lived all these lives, why me?”

you settled back onto your heels and smiled. your palm rested against his jaw as you replied, “you know, i don’t think i ever had a choice.”

he wanted to kiss you, but you both know he’s too much of a gentleman. so he only gazed at you for a while, pressing your hand flush to his face, before letting it fall and stepping into the hallway. and as you watched him leave, you imagined every time he’d come back to save you, to love you, to tilt his head and realign himself as the lover you’ve kept for lifetimes.

“you know where to find me,” you called after the man, and he looked over his shoulder with enough love to shatter the sky.

“i guess i always do, don’t i?”

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°

prayer altered for story, sourced from this website

quote used from novel if beale street could talk by james baldwin

#Spotify #fox mulder #x files #spooky mulder #dana scully #sculder #msr #the x files #msr fanfic #fox mulder x reader #fox mulder x you #domestic fox mulder #soft fox mulder #fox mulder x reader fluff #fox mulder fluff #witchcraft #witch character

20 notes · View notes

cloudofbutterflies92 · 4 months

Text

I've waited a hundred years, but I'd wait a million more for you

Pairing :John "Soap" Mactavish x Chloe Valentine (OC belongs to @chloekistune )

Words count: 942

Divider by @saradika-graphics

Tag:@chloekistune @alypink @onehornedbeast @corvosattano @cassietrn @thewanderer-000

Notes:Before letting you read the mini shot , I first wanted to thank @chloekistune for being such a special friend who allowed me to write this little story in which Johnny and Chloe meet for the first time💕. I hope you like how I imagined their first meeting, having said that I'll leave you to read.

London, April 23 10:00 am

"I'll never get this damn tattoo design to him" Chloe sighed, maniacally tapping the tip of her pencil on her own cheek.

Yet another unsuccessful attempt to experiment with a new style for one of her clients, a well-known tattoo artist in town who urgently needed her help. Apparently the person in question had asked for a design that did not match her style at all.

Matt had pleaded with her "he is a very important person, I can give you even half of the payment that he will give me."

And she had another 24 hours to complete the task, she would never make it. It was impossible for her.

If Eden had heard her, she would have gotten a hefty earful.

But Eden was not there so, she was busy with her work so she would have called Matt and told him that she was not in the right mood(actually according to her reasoning she was not suited) and to hell with the money. She couldn't lose her mind.

Absolutely not, she could not go like this and have a paper in front of her without even a pencil line.

"It will be simple" she mumbled in her head full of tangled thoughts, like the webs of some spider, one of her greatest fears.

*Drin*

The ringing of the bell at the entrance of that bar foreshadowed the arrival of two boys: both fit, one wearing the typical cap that could be seen on the head of some passionate soccer fans, with a beaming, perfect smile. The typical golden retriever boy.

The other...well the other somehow had impressed her. She of all people who had never been love at first sight found herself looking into those eyes of that intense blue, imagining running her fingers gently along his mohawk

"No Chloe what are you going to think" she mumbled, later calling herself stupid several times. How could a stranger have struck her like that?

A handsome stranger actually.

Focusing on the drawing was definitely the best solution, she would try for the last time. One time only.

"I swear if he dares to tell me what to do again I'll punch that other eye too."

"Johnny you should forget about it, Price told you that too. You know what Colonel Harrison is like."

"Johnny...that's his name" Chloe curiously tilted her head.

The wrongest move in the world.

He was looking in her direction, it was over. How embarrassing.And he was also getting closer.

"Are you by any chance an artist?" Johnny's eyes lit up, almost like a child with his favorite toy. The other man was incredulous, moments before he was talking about wanting to beat up their colonel while now he had softened.

Chloe moved her head shyly "yes, in theory."

In theory? She wanted to give herself a boot to the head, she was making a fool of herself for a man.

"Can I see your album if you don't mind? I've had a bad day and I could use something to distract me."

She could have answered no, told him she and used the defensive. Instead, she found herself helplessly showing "Johnny" her sketchbook, each page with a drawing, a commission, or simply an emotion.

"They are very beautiful you know?"

"Pff, there are much better artists" the purple-haired girl glossed over with a dismissive hand motion. Her being her first enemy had made compliments for her like allergies.

"What if I told you I would like maybe a portrait?" He approached, with that easygoing, bastard smile. The scarlet color of Chloe's cheeks reached its peak.

"My name is Johnny anyway Chloe" he anticipated her answer as to how he knew her name, pointing to that "Chloe Valentine" on the drawing paper.

From a distance his friend was looking at him laughing but his friend was right, more because if it had been anyone else surely Chloe would have found that trashy, cringe-worthy boarding tactic.

"Okay if you really want to" having confirmation Johnny wrote his number on a napkin.

"This is my number bonnie, maybe I can show you my doodles too. In the end it's not all guns and bullets" looking at her he flashed perhaps the smile that made Chloe's heart beat as loudly as a battery. She did not initially understand the meaning of the last sentence until she saw the dog tag: a military man.

"I would be very glad Johnny."

It was really sad to see him get up, but since she had his number she would definitely call him. She wanted to know everything about him, after so long she felt she strangely wanted to open her heart again.

"And I suggest you bring lots of papers, this guy uses up a lot of them" Johnny's friend also approached the two, patting him on the back, making him snort. He seemed very easygoing and funny.

"Stop it Gaz, you should get on track too."

Had he really said on track?

"But I'm already there, I'll wait for you outside. Nice to meet you Chloe" Gaz greeted the young woman artist who responded by lightly waving her hand. Alone again.

"Don't listen to him, Gaz is very stupid" the brown haired man scratched his head embarrassed, he was really cute.

"Oh well that wasn't annoying. He is very nice" she smiled with her eyes closed.

"So..."

"...I'll see you, I'll send you my number" she finished the sentence for him who nodded, before walking away. He left a final smile, exiting the bar. Chloe looked at that number written on the napkin chewing her lips and nervously moving her leg: a first date she had not planned. Inspiration had returned to her, though. That meeting had definitely changed her day for the better.

31 notes · View notes

aboardthescheherazade · 1 year

Text

Companion concept art for my collab with @professorcalculusstanaccount (which you can see here)! They needed reference for Marlene Katz's apartment, and then I tried my hand drawing some moments from their concept - her disguise, the finale, and helping give Tintin a makeover.

Extended notes below the cut:

With her apartment, I've always envisioned Marlene living with very kitschy decor. As I said to ProfCal, she's someone who decorates based on sentimentality, rather than keeping to a uniform style, so I tried to make her apartment have little bits and pieces of furniture and decor she's picked up throughout her travels. That doll on the mantle is based on a real Cuban doll I have in my home!

The placement of the evil eye wall ornament was also deliberate. When ProfCal described what they wanted to do with the shootout gif, I thought it would be cool to put in something that's both a sentimental piece of art and symbolic of Marlene's Jewish heritage. The evil eye took the hit for her in that scene.

Story planning assistance was also fun to do, since it ties into a lot of stuff I was planning for The Shattered Emblem...after the events of The Blue Lotus, Rastapopoulos goes to jail, but gets a lighter sentence after making a few bribes. He begins to worm his way into the more criminally-inclined celebrity class, mainly to rebuild connections, especially ones who can help him bend the law better this time. He even crosses paths with Castafiore thanks to his new links to the elites, but the one thing tethering him to his "old" life pre-arrest is Marlene. She's never given up hope on him, even after he got tried for running an actual fucking mob, but Rastapopoulos has only seen her as an air-headed bimbo, a product of being rich and famous and not someone who can actively make him money, so he unceremoniously dumps her.

Marlene is shattered. She goes back to America and she starts teaching ballet to kids in the Bronx, since dance was what she first got into stage productions for. Things actually go really well, and Marlene realizes she likes her new life and being self-sustaining. However, she still misses being in films, even though she's scared to really get back into the industry in case she sees him again. But then he comes to Marlene, now sporting different, ridiculous facial hair and claiming to be a businessman from Gorgonzola, like a character in a bad screenplay. Every nerve in Marlene refuses to trust Rastapopoulos now...it's not because he looks different, but something seems to have warped inside him. This isn't her "Robbie" anymore. She breathes a sigh of relief when all the newspapers declare the Marquis drowned during a standoff in the Red Sea.

(This is a way sillier version of this scene versus the one in my drafts)

And then, leading up to The Golden Palm - Marlene begins to realize she saw a lot of suspicious faces and activities during her time at Cosmos Pictures. It was all so mundane and inconspicuous that she never brought it up, and Rastapopoulos never seemed to hide anything from her, since he assumed - again - that she was an airhead and not to worry about her noticing. But Marlene was witness to a lot of connections that the people involved would kill to keep hidden...

For people new to my blog, this is the character Marlene is adapted from! She is super minor to the plot, but back in 2020 I kept getting ideas for what this random woman's story was, and the ball kept rolling from there:

Once again, huge thanks to ProfCal for inviting me to collab with them! It was a ton of fun, and also super humbling to know how helpful my blog has been for others over the years. To think that all of this started after a few shitposts about mobsters! Tintin belongs to the fans, and I'm so glad to have been part of a fan project like this!

#drawings #oc lore #marlene katz #rastapopoulos #tintin

147 notes · View notes

fluffyhare · 21 days

Note

Hey friend!

Maybe this has been asked before, but was Avery inspired by anyone? ( ·ิϖ·ิ)

I don't think anyone has ever asked me this on this blog! Honestly, I've tried many times to nail down exactly what inspired Avery, but... I never can, not completely.

This is going to get long, I'm sorry.

I turned 30 last year. It wasn't in a "midlife crisis" or depressive kind of way, but I started thinking a lot about how I wanted the rest of my life to go, and what I wanted out of life that I'd never had a chance to have. I decided that there were two things I really yearned to do -- make art, and make friends. I figured a good place to start dipping my toes in would be Tumblr, since I'd used it in the past and I knew there would be a lot of art here to inspire me. And I was inspired... massively. Especially after I started actually drawing, myself. I started getting more ideas at once than I'd ever had in my life, and it triggered a bout of insomnia I am still dealing with now, almost six months later.

The first time I can remember thinking about Avery was during one such sleepless night, desperately trying to coax myself to sleep. Laying in the dark, I'd close my eyes and imagine leaving my body, floating above my apartment complex. I'd wander around like a ghost, exploring places I'd seen, but which are normally inaccessible... private roads, fenced estates, etc. I'd imagine sitting on the edge of a skyscraper, watching the city move beneath me, imagining what people were doing, why they were up so late, etc.

I imagined this many nights... It became a pet fantasy. When I was a kid, I read a book called Billy the Bird by Dick King-Smith, maybe that's where I got the idea... I don't know. Along with the insomnia were vicious bouts of nostalgia, too, so... It's possible.

But, anyway... I'd get lonely.

I wanted someone to talk to, so I imagined someone sitting with me. Someone who could only come out at night, for fear of being seen. Someone for whom sitting on the edge of a skyscraper was no concern, and who could catch me if I fell. I imagined he was soft, gentle... a good listener, maybe even a bit shy. I imagined he was an intellectual, capable of being quite serious, but never dour. He was quick with a smile, and it was easy to make him laugh.

In some respects, I suppose, he was inspired by a friend of mine, who died many years ago. In most ways, he wasn't like Avery at all -- he was extremely blue-collar, the exact opposite of an intellectual, and very outgoing. He was not refined in any way, and could even be quite reckless, at times. But, he had a unique, gentle, innocent sort of kindness that I've found to be exceedingly rare. To know him was to love him, really; he was a hard worker and a fierce friend, someone who wanted nothing more than to love and be loved. My relationship with him and the way his passing affected me touches everything I make and everything I do, intentional or not.

When I was building Avery's character, I was very fascinated by object heads at the time (particularly Prince Robot from Saga), and I was also seeing a lot art for "doctor/scientist" type characters. Despite never playing the game, I liked TF2 fanart, especially of Medic. I thought about other characters I'd fixated on, too, and what exactly I liked about them... Milo Thatch from Atlantis, Data from Star Trek, John from Homestuck, Sans from Undertale, Stanley and the Narrator from The Stanley Parable, Pokemon professors both Oak and Elm, Nightcrawler from X-Men, Wilson from House, Dr. Bashir from DS9... The list goes on, really.

I know this is kind of a non-answer, and I'm sorry about that. It isn't really a clear answer for me, either. All I can really say for sure is this: Avery is the embodiment of everyone and everything I've ever loved, as well as the reflection of my own self-love. Relatively speaking, we just met, but I feel like he's been here the whole time. I've made so many wonderful friends because of him, too! Can't say what the exact moment was, only that now that he's here, I can't imagine life without him. 💙

10 notes · View notes

jinlizz-dragondrama · 22 days

Text

The Future

Chapter 19

Panting.

Running.

Chaos.

Survival.

3rd Person POV

Everywhere you looked there was fighting, explosions, and The Kranng Army advancing ever closer. A Turtle was injured, holding a picture of a happy family, no longer a teen but a man who has seen so much destruction and death. Leo is being held up by a young boy. Running and pushing forward, no turning back it hurts too much.

"I've got you Sensei," The boy says

"You're a lifesaver, Casey Jones," Leo says out of breath

"I learned from the best. Come on, we're almost there." Casey JR says lifting his mask up

New York 2044

The Kranng Army has gotten stronger and grown in numbers with each passing day. Not even the military withstood their undying assault.

From behind the duo mutant kranng dogs chase after them but they are stopped by Mikey, the youngest turtle now looking like the oldest with hair but has balded at the top.

"Bad dogs" Mikey shouts

"Impeccable timing, little brother. Very dramatic."

Casey JR places Leo down to assess his master's injuries.

"Help him, Michaelangelo. He's hurt bad."

An explosion not far away is heard with a familiar "Boo-yah".

Down jumps another turtle clad in a torn purple lab coat, goggles no more but a glasses visor sitting over his eyes, and an angry red scar crosses his face, an upgraded turtle shell adorns his back, and the now hidden sun reflects off a silver band on his finger, a wedding ring?

"The first group of Kraang have been dealt with but more will come. And Aqua is handling the second but I don't know how much longer she can do it. What's the plan?" Donnie says.

"Where's Violet?" Mikey asks

"Right here!" A small female turtle appears from behind some debris and dirt.

"We've got more Kranng coming fast, westbound and eastbound. They are taking out The Resistance left and right." The young turtle worriedly.

"That's it. The resistance failed. The Kranng won. But...but it isn't over. We've still got ninjas' greatest weapon...hope. That and a badass mystic warrior. Mikey, we need a time gateway. " Leo says while turning his attention to his younger brother.

"It'll take everything I have."

"I know but this is our last chance. It's our only chance"

A sound that shakes the ground, a figure falling from the sky at super speed crashing into the area beside them. Donnie goes to check it out, removing the rubble a hand emerges, a familiar one with a similar silver wedding band.

"Aqua?!" Donnie shouts as he desperately removes the rubble.

A little assistance is given when pink tentacles push the rubble off her to reveal a half-mutated woman.

"You can't get rid of me that easily" She chuckles and groans while holding her side.

"Whatever you need to do, you need to do it fast," Donnie says while bracing her as she stands.

The young female turtle rushes over to Donnie and Aqua making sure the older woman is OK.

Mikey starts to make a portal and Casey looks on confused and scared.

"Casey listen, the Kranng first came to our planet through a Mystic doorway. The key that opened the doorway looked like this." Leo flips over the picture, draws on it, and hands it to Casey.

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Because Mikey's about to send you....and Violet back in time to the day the key was stolen."

"Wait he's gonna what?" Both Casey JR and Violet say.

"The people that stole that key opened the doorway for the Krang. You two have to find it before it happens. Find the key, and stop the Kranng."

A huge Krang suit stands before them.

"They found us!" Casey JR says

"Mikey!" Leo shouts

Mikey was successfully able to open to portal but at a cost. A blinding gold portal is left in the wake of Mikey's sacrifice. No time to mourn the loss.

"I'll hold them off, go kids...GO!"

Aqua using her last ounces of strength pushes away from Donnie to use both her powers to rip it to shreds. Her eyes glow a bright blue, her body hums from the amount of power she is using and her body illuminates. Leo pushes Casey into the portal and runs towards the battle-attacking Krang soldiers, but a red beam blasts onto his body and disintegrates him.

"No!" Shouts Violet, her eyes wet with tears.

"Ugh," a wet cough and droplets hit the ground turning. Looking down Aqua sees a tentacle piercing through her chest stabbing her mutant heart. Body slowly falls, tears falling as she smiles at the two turtles she loves so dearly. Her body crumbles to the ground, warm blood puddles around her, and her powerful glow dims, lifeless.

"Aqua!! No, no, please no!" Donnie shouts as he cradles her, stroking her short hair, a flash of a memory.

"Why are you cutting your hair babe?"

"It's too much to manage and besides it gets in the way when I kick your ass, so I can't see your look of defeat"

"Scoff, come here you"

A kiss and memory gone

Tears streamed down his face, placing his love gently down to the ground, closing her now lifeless purple eyes. Walks over to the young turtle and hugs her tightly not wanting to let go but knowing he must. Putting a picture into her utility belt, pulling away stroking her tear-stained cheeks.

"Live for us"

Falling that's all Violet felt, falling further and further away from him.

"Daddy!"

The portal closes, and the purple-clad turtle returns to the woman holds her close, and closes his eyes while holding the hand that bears the ring they share. Accepting his fate, soon they will meet again...

Author's Note

Sorry for the extremely late update, I've lost a bit of inspiration with this fanfic and was thinking of not finishing it. Haven't had much of a spark. If you'd like me to continue this fanfic give it a like or reply. I read all your comments, I guess I need that extra push. Love you guys 💜

#rottmnt #rottmnt donatello #rise donatello #rise donnie #rise of the tmnt #rottmnt x reader #rottmnt fanfiction #donnie x reader

11 notes · View notes

severefartoholic · 8 months

Text

April 19, Dr. Kirill A. Panov.

I love Kirill and Redrick so I wrote through their interactions from Kirills perspective for some writing practice. (Can u tell that I was listening to ferry music while writing this)

(contains spoilers for Roadside Picnic)

Birds have never flown over the zone, in all of my time at the institute, I've never seen any natural life inside of it.

The zone is too slow, too unmoving and empty, life inside of it feels unnatural, like every being alive on this earth knows to stay away from the zone, to keep out, an unwritten rule of everything that moves. Most things knew to stay out. That's except for me and Red, apparently.

The zone can draw people in, and I think it has done the same to me, because all I've been thinking about since a few visits away are those damned empties. It's ruined me, to be honest, this rabbit hole that I've fallen into feels never ending. Lately when I wake up I almost feel like I breathe and live the zone, a neverending supply of fuel.

My eyes have sunken in these past few weeks, the dark part under them getting even worse than before, and my head has been feeling heavy these past few days. The whole repository has been inevitably growing more and more discouraged by the day. Like a wick slowly burning out, with no way to brighten the fire again. Usually Red would just take me out of town for a few days and buzz me up so I could return back to normal, but lately nothing has been working, I feel a bit sick, almost. I want to dissolve myself in this rusty air. Lately it seems everyone has been feeling like this though; gray, sullen, empty.

Red softly hums something behind me before speaking, "Listen" He says to me, looking up at the ceiling seemingly in thought, "What if you had a full empty, hm?"

My back faces towards Redrick, as I'm ready to load the last empty onto the scales, holding it close to my chest with both hands, my fingertips feel numb against the grainy, bumped metal. My head feels heavy.

"A full empty?" I turn back around to look at him, puzzled.

He tries to explain the idea to me, turning his gaze back down at me from the ceiling. "Yeah, your hydromagnetic trap.. whatchamacallit... Object 77b. It's got some sort of blue stuff inside."

I look at Red, squinting. A glimmer of reason shining through the greenish gray fog of these recent slow and empty days.

"Hold on...full? Just like this, but like*...full?" I gesture towards the empty, now laying on the scale.

"Yeah, that's what I'm saying"

His words spark faith in me, they always do. . I try to suppress the reaction and not let it show to him though, Red already has an annoying habit of comparing me to some type of dog. Being completely honest, hes the one who reminds me of some stray mutt.

"Let's go have a smoke"

I put the empty back into the safe, following close behind Redrick before slamming the door of the repository and locking it shut with three turns of the key and bouncing off the steps behind him.

Red looks up at the sky. Dawn is breaking, and the sky is overcast. The sun is shining brightly and relentlessly against the hazy grey clouds, like a lamp peering through the grey curtain. he tells me everything during the smoke break, where this ‘full empty’ could be, what it was like, and the best way to get at it.

“don't go across, the other roads been safer lately” he hums, leaning back and stretching.

I pull out a map of the zone, finding the garage and I trace around the graphed out garage on the paper with my finger, before looking up at Red, leaning on the counter in front of me with both hands.

I open my mouth to speak "You dog," I smile at him, "Well, let's go for it. First thing in the morning. I'll order the passes and the boot for nine, we'll set off at ten and hope for the best, yeah?"

"Alright" he says, "and who'll be the third person of the group?" He tilts his head to the right while asking, once again reminding me of a dog.

I playfully grin back at Red, "What do we need a third for?"

"No way! This is no picnic in your backyard, what if something happens to us? It's the zone, after all!*" He scolds me, "we have to follow regulations."

I give him a short, quiet laugh and shrug, "As you wish, you know better after all." I'll humour Red, I suppose. A third person would just get in the way. If we were to just run down into the zone, by ourselves, everything would be just great, and nobody would suspect a thing. But the institute has rules, and we both knew that. People don't enter the zone in pairs. The rule is, two do the work, and the third one is witness, and reports on it later if anyone asks.

"Personally, I would take Austin" I say to him, "but you're probably against it , or is it alright?"

“Nope" he responds, "anybody but Austin, you can take him another time." Red doesn't look like he wants to explain it to me, but I'm guessing it's something related to the fact he sometimes complains about Austin acting like he knows everything about the zone.

"Ah, alright then..how about Tender?" I suggest, Tender is a good man, he was my previous lab assistant, a bit on the quiet side, but he's good at what he does.

Red responds after a few seconds of thought. "He's a little old, and he's got kids.." Of course he mentioned that, always caring about the family they have at home, even though he has less capability for attachment than a rock. I don't even know how the thing between him and Guta works. It's sweet though, I'll admit.

"That's alright" I reassure him, "He's been in the zone before”

He lets out a heavy sigh "okay then, let's take Tender.”

Red leaves for the Borscht hungry and with his throat parched, once again mispronouncing the title by adding a ‘T’ at the end and refusing to change his pronunciation because it's ‘spelled that way’, leaving me alone at the lab to map out the route for tomorrows expedition.

When Red returned, he greeted me with six simple words.

“I'm not going into the zone” I stare at him, bug eyed, before it comes to me, I take Redrick by the elbow and lead him into my office, sitting on the windowsill and facing him; we were both silent for a while, I think carefully about my next words.

“Has something happened, Red..?"

"No” He says, grinning sadly “Nothing happened, except me blowing about a two thousand rubles at poker yesterday.”

I look at his face, “Wait a second, did you..change your mind?”

He makes a quiet choking sound.

“I can't” he whispers to me through clenched teeth, all strained. “I can't, do you understand? The sergeant just had me in his office”

I feel a bit heartbroken, like everything I was looking forward to just fell apart infront of me. Red tempted me with promises of the zone, only before turning his back..not like it was his fault or anything, I can't blame the poor boy.

Nonetheless, I can't help but look at him with glassy eyes, all my motivation to keep going just washed away, like writing on the beach sand.

I silently light another cig with the butt of the old one, and I speak softly to him, gingerly choosing out my words

“Red, you can trust me.. I won't breathe a word to anyone.” it feels disgusting, how I'm almost pleading for him to give me an answer, but I can't let him mull about this on his own.

“Skip it” He mutters, “This doesn't involve you at all” It's clear he hasn't told anyone at all yet about him almost getting caught going into the zone, three months after it happening.

“Red, it's alright, I haven't even told Tender about anything yet! I haven't even asked if he's interested in going”

Like a wounded dog, he stays silent and continues smoking. I can tell it in the way he looks at me. He thinks I don't understand a single a thing about him.

I try to get anything, even a single word out of Red. “What did he say to you?”

“Nothing in particular" He speaks, “Some bastard squealed on me, that's all.” He takes another long drag of the cig.

I hop off the windowsill and start pacing around the cramped office, blowing smoke out of my lungs in silence and melancholy, thinking deeply about our situation.

Red had been doing it all, Stalking, for the money, The more green papers the better, a stalker is a stalker, after all.

I stop pacing and come up to Red, asking him awkwardly,

“Listen, Red, how much would a full empty cost?”

He looks at me, all confused before his eyes widen, his eyebrows furrowed. Red opens his mouth to speak, but decides to shut up, he looks at me, he looks exhausted and fed up.

I won't take silence for an answer though, I keeping looking straight at Red, with an intent, understanding gaze, unblinking.

He seemingly calms down a bit before speaking, less tense than before. “No-one with a pass has ever gone to the garage before. They haven't laid the tracks to it yet. You know that, Kirill.” he says to me, “so here we come back from this zone and Tender brags to everyone how we headed straight for the garage, picked up what we needed and came right back. The zone isn't some warehouse, it'll be clear to everyone that we knew ahead of time what we wanted there.. And then everyone will know that the three of us could have been…" He lets out a heavy sigh, “whatever, there's no point in spelling it out for you, do you understand what's in store for me here?”

He looks into my eyes after his little speech, he reminds me of a stray dog, the way he looks all pathetic, guilty, and sorry.

My heart aches, but I don't want to make Red feel even more guilty and terrible, so I clap my hands, and announce to him, “Well..! If you can't, you can't, I understand, Red. And I can't pass judgement on you. I'll go alone, maybe I'll be fine, it's not my first time, after all.” He looks back at me, unamused.

“They won't let you go out alone.” He says to me.

“They will” I mutter, “I know all the sergeants and lieutenants, I don't like those trucks! They've been exposed to the elements for thirty years, and they're just like brand new. There's a gasoline carrier about 5 meters away, and it's all rusted out. That's the zone for you!

We both go silent. I look back at the map and stare out the window, he looks out along with me. The institutes windows are thick and tinted, but outside, beyond the thick glass, is the zone.

From here it looks like you can just reach out and touch her. Like in just a few steps, you can lay down in the tall grass, laying on the earth. Looking at her, it doesn't look too different from any other type of land, hazy fog reaches and clouds over the old, crumbly concrete buildings. The shines just like anywhere else on the outside. As though nothing had particularly changed in it after the visit, it was the same as 50 years ago. Except those tall, soaring concrete walls and trucks, surrounding the zone, caging it in a protective layer from our eyes. Maybe it was for the better that way.

Looking at it, she seems oddly beautiful, the city took a pause when it reached the zone, brutalist concrete fading and being replaced by the dark earth; the zone feels almost untouched by the gray structures, all of the ones that existed previously long crumbling and rotting away. Like a small chunk of another world, there is no way to adapt the zone to fit your own desires, there's only the option to adapt to the zone, and fit its expectations, having an influence over the land was impossible, no matter how much manpower or technology you had. the zone is an ecosystem that was completely sealed away and left to overgrow for those 50 years, a scientific wonder.

That was the way it was with the zone, if you come back with anything, it's a miracle. If you come back alive? It's a success. If the bullets of the armed guards at the trucks miss you? it's luck, and as for anything else? That was fate, determined by the holy spirit. Nobody to blame for that.

I spread the map out on the windowsill and begin counting meters for tomorrow, 40 yards to the garage from the last pylon...40 long, long yards of travel. That's all for appearances though, I'm watching Red out of the corner of my eye, he can tell that I'm looking at him, his gaze softens, and he relaxes more, slowly breathing out smoke.

“Laboratory Assistant Schuart,” I say to him, grinning, “Official, and I heavily stress, official sources have lead me to believe that an inspection of the garage could be of great scientific value. I'm suggesting that we inspect the garage, and I guarantee you a bonus.”

“And what official sources are those?”*He asks me with a mocking skepticism, beaming brighter than the most tiring June sun.

“They're confidential, but I suppose I can tell you. They're from Dr. Douglas.”

“Who?” he tilts his head to the side with curiosity, that damn dog.

I decided to tell it to him straight up, “Sam Douglas. He died last year.”

He scowls at me, but I know it's just for appearances. “Alright, where's your Tender?”

We both without even discussing it decided not to speak about the earlier subject.

I pick up the phone in the office and order us the boot for tomorrow. While I dial PPS, Redrick observes over the map spread out on the windowsill.

When Tender came down, he was tired and out of breath, his daughter had been sick again, the poor girl; and he had to call for a doctor.

When we told him the news, he even stopped breathing so heavily out of shock, “The zone?!, What do you mean, the zone? And why me?!”

However, the promised bonus and the fact that Red was going with us got him up and running again. As I went for the passes, Tender and Red went to go check out the specially made suits. It's almost a little bit funny, I've seen Red eye that bright red gear, the way he glances at the helmet out of the corner of his eye repeatedly, he's just waiting for the second the lieutenant turns his back so he can pocket it for himself.

Although I doubt having a specially made suit would help him much inside the zone. No normal earthly dangers held any meaning inside of it, and people still dropped left and right, even inside the suits, they couldn't help much with the dangers inside the zone. I don't think anything could.

All three of us put on the suits, and Red grabbed the nuts and bolts, pouring them into his pocket. We made our way from the institute yard to the zones entrance.

I looked around at the sympathetic faces around us wishing us on our way. The three of us labeled as heroes, risking our lives for the sake of science. It wasn't the main reason we were going at all, but it's fine to let people believe whatever satisfies them most.

Red snaps some joke at Tender, but it whizzes past my ears completely, only being registered as some far away speech, as I was far deep in my own thoughts, silently mouthing a prayer to the Lord.

Redrick looks over at me, “Praying? Pray on, pray. The further into the zone the closer to heaven”

I pause and look over at Red, “what?”

“Pray!” He shouts, "Stalkers cut in line at the gates of heaven”

When you went into the zone, you could either laugh about it, or cry. Red joked about it, he didn't have the balls to cry in front of me.

I pull out a bolt and some bandages, handing it to Redrick. He should be able to make a good throw, I remember he told me about being on a sports team when he was younger.

“here, throw. Watch for the bolts trajectory wavering.”

---------

I can feel the warm water running over my head and falling down into my shoulders, individual drops gathering and slowly dripping down at the ends of my wet hair. The shower is humid, causing my chest to heave, drawing in deep breaths

And then again, out of the corner of my eye I see it flash. that glowing white spiderweb, stretching across my vision in paper thin strands of silk. The water from the shower falls onto the web, tiny crystal drops shined and reflected on the web, the reflection or the glowing fluorescent lights overhead dancing on the water.

But this time, the web doesn't go away. It stays in my senses, the burning, searing sensation in my chest is back again, it feels like the tissue of the skin in my chest is splitting apart, my breath is short.

My foot glides forward on the slippery tiles, and I lean forward, holding onto the glass shower door to support myself, the water is still pouring on me and sliding off my back, and now I breathe out of my mouth. It feels like no matter how much I gasp in oxygen, it isn't enough.

My knees meet the cold floor, the webs thin strands right in front of me again, the warm water falling on top of me.

Redrick was right. The further into the zone, the closer to heaven. I sense a feeling of regret. I hate her, I hate the zone, but at the same time I cannot draw myself away from it, I cannot leave. The one thing I can hope is that Redrick leaves before he meets the same horrible demise. That one day, he will be capable of forming a single thought, something I thought I could do, but after everything I ended with my brain completely blank. Let it never happen to him, let him live for-

The water continues pouring, no one to turn it off, again and again, the showers drops drip and splatter onto the shower floor with a soft ‘pitter patter’ sound in the silent shower room of the institute.

#roadside picnic #writing #strugatsky brothers

13 notes · View notes

dazzle-writes · 5 months

Note

Hello, saw you were doing match ups so wondered if you'd do one for me, with trigun characters

I'm an 160cm thin girl (20 y/o) with long brown curly hair and blue eyes, kinda look like merida from brave if that helps, enfp

I'm a lot like 98' vash (my biggest ever kin fr), goofing around and having fun, making dirty jokes with my friends, very clumsy and bubbly when in good mood, tho i don't shy away from being tough from time to time

I'm friendly and like meeting new people but keeping connections is my biggest flaw. I mostly keep it going with the ones i click with

I love being around people, but don't mind being alone for some periods of time, reading, watching something, drawing or doing whatever hobby i picked on

I'm an archeology student, have passion for history and literature, love psychology and philosophy, love things like true crime and paranormal stories, definitely would like to travel and see what the world and people have to offer. I'm the "do it for the plot" type of person, getting into random situations for the sake of seeing how it'll end and if i'll have a story in the end

When i was younger i was more like some kind of vash-milly combo, but now I'm more aware of people, i can't stand when someone is judgy from the beggining, when someone is too negative about the world and people, because even tho i myself get disappointed in people often, i still think that we should look for positive things in everyday life. Kind of "if life has no meaning, might as well find meaning in small things"

Sorry if this was too long, thank you if you've read this far ^^ and keep up with the good writing, you're doing amazing!

UWAAAA I'm so glad you like my writing! I've been swamped with work lately, so sorry this is taking a while!!

For trigun 98, I most definitely match you up with Wolfwood! You are just that little ray of sunshine he needs to keep going. Plus, he loves that you and him make sex jokes to each other about everything that you can. You two get kidnapped and held by Knives? Non-stop dick jokes. At first you try to at least mutter them under your breath, but soon enough you're both just spouting them out as fast as you can think of them. Knives is just standing there in shock that you can think of so many in a short amount of time. I also think you two would be like, surprisingly close beforehand. He a big cuddler too (have you fucking seen those titties MMMMM) and I WILL DIE ON THIS HILL BUT WOLFWOOD IS TERRIFIED OF GHOSTS!!! Yall go ghost hunting and he is ATTACHED TO YOU LIKE NO OTHER. Homie is throwing round the holy water like he's a raincloud. You one day dig up and old book and are pretty sure that its haunted? He's hiding being his giant cross and shaking in his tight ass pants.

In trigun stampede however, Vash latches onto you like white on rice. You are exactly what this poor bean needs in his life!!!! You teach him to appreciate the little things, and show him that he's allowed to have wants and needs. He enjoys taking you around old crashed spaceships and letting you go wild with the archeological zoomies. In this universe, you also get kidnaped by Knives so Vash follows to come and save you and once again, you make so many dick jokes. The only difference is that Stampede Knives has never seen a wiener in his LIFE and doesn't get any joke you make. Do with this information what you will. Vash also really likes showing you his Plant siblings when his spilled the alien beans. You'd probably enjoy just quietly hanging with the Plant girlies because they just watch you draw or read or they nap! they are very nice when you need to recharge a social battery but don't want to be completely alone. Vash is also a big cuddler and understands having trouble keeping connections with people!! He's always moving so he gets sad thinking about all the people he wanted to grow closer too.

If we wanted to hit up the manga, then id actually pair you with Legato! I think you'd be just the right person to help him let himself be a better and softer person. Your love of psychology would really interest him, and I think you'd be that enemies-to tolerated-to friends-to lovers thing. He also likes learning about humans and the past, and I think that's he would really appreciate you showing him to good side of humanity through psychology and even true crime by showing how people come together and how people react to catastrophe and stress. He needs to see people doing good things, and you are just the person to show him around the world and prove it to him

ALSO SORRY THIS IS LIKE MONTHS LATE I got another job and started school SOBS!!! But I hope you enjoy!!!!

#razz writes #matchups #trigun #tristamp #vash x reader #wolfwood x reader #nicholas d. wolfwood #legato x reader

7 notes · View notes

tbgkaru-woh · 9 minutes

Note

Hi I really don't want to seem rude but I've noticed something kinda worrying in your art. Everytime a character is described as like elegant and graceful you draw them pale. And if they're wild or rough or a rulebraker you draw them darker skinned. And I don't think it's intentional at all but it feels iffy and its a noticeable pattern that I've asked other people about and they've seen it too. We all have some subconscious biases and I wanted to help make you aware of yours

Is Yanli or Jiang Cheng rough rulebreakers? Is Wen Ning elegant and graceful? Jin Guangyao is described as elegant and I have him with tanner skin. Mian Mian and Ouyang Zizhen, also described as beautiful and elegant and charming, both I draw with darker skin. Su She with lighter skin despite being a "rule breaker" and a coward. YQY is darker, SHL is pale- elegant but a rulebreaker, we have a situation in the rules! How does that logic apply to wenzhou who are both chaotic and elegant? My Xiao Xingchen is sometimes darker skinned, sometimes paler, does that say anything about him I should be aware of? If there's more than one exception to the rule, is it really a rule? I understand where the concern comes from but I said multiple times that I just draw what looks pretty to me palette-wise, what just "fits", hell, that changes even from art-to-art, I draw JZX with brown hair, with blonde hair, with curly hair, with straight fair hair, with pale skin, with sun-kissed skin. Sometimes it's not even a skin color, but instead it's a white or blue or yellow or green or red because I love bold colors and contrasts. I'm just having fun with different characters and different palettes and it bothers me that people went as far as to call me "insanely racist" to prove their point and ignore mine, the artist's, when all I want to do is draw hot characters that have diverse palettes and are not all just snow-white. I never stated why some are darker that would be grounded in stereotypes, people made that up and made it a fact. I base my works on the actors as closely as I can and sometimes the argumentation is purely ridiculous (like bleaching hair, this is a fantasy setting with golden and blue eyes canonically on our characters) I can admit when I do wrong, in the past I struggled with bigger bodytypes and tried to work on that (only to ironically end up in fandoms filled with lean characters, but at least there's NMJ), but this is something I can't really "work on" as there's not malicious or ignorant intent behind it. I'm sure those who want to keep spreading those opinions will ignore anything I have to say and those who don't see it the way you do are already tired of this discussion. But I will have this post as something to link to if anyone tries to bring this up again because I find this behavior so gatekeepy and frankly won't support it or bend to it, not to mention that it's trying to destroy a working class' small artist's reputation, like who are we fighting here.

3 notes · View notes

prianya · 2 years

Note

Hello there friend! Requesting a Scar x reader who came from the DSMP and is first very suspicious of Scar because of how kind he is, and then they slowly ease around him until they realize that theyre in love with Scar. Reader, who is used to how things worked in the DSMP, starts keeping their distance from Scar which makes him very worried, and it leads to Scar having to confess to them

Emotional Isolation

Scar x Reader ▪︎ Romantic

Word Count ▪︎ 901 words

Summary ▪︎ After you get overwhelmed by a realisation, Scar is there to help work it out.

Note ▪︎ I feel like this came together really well! I loved this request, and I could definitely draw this out more, but I feel like 900 words is hood for today. I hope you enjoy!

It started when you had been on Hermitcraft for 2 seasons, having settled well in the new server after the abrupt end of season 8. Somewhere between the end of season 8 and the start of season 9, something had changed. When you talked to Scar, you just felt like your conversations were effortless and easy. You were never the most talkative, but with him you could speak for hours. It was hard to part from him, and every time you did you missed his company. It felt so easy to be around him, and you truly felt like you were healing from your past when you were with him. He was like a breath of fresh air compared to the last server you were on. Your thoughts never ran too far ahead when you talked to Scar, and you felt like you could truly relax.

It only took you a few weeks to realise what these feelings meant. Your heart racing like you were panicking, yet you felt safe in his presence. The blush that adorned your face every time he complimented you. You were in love with Scar.

You couldn't let yourself be that vulnerable, not now. He could hurt you, as much as you think he would never do that. It's happened over and over again, the minute you get comfortable or open up, you get stabbed in the back. You couldn't let that happen again. The only way to get rid of these feelings is to never see him again, you decided. It hurt to avoid him, but you figured it was for the best.

Scar quickly noticed that you had been avoiding him. At first, he figured he had said something or done something that set you off, and made it his mission to apologise to you. Every time he got close enough for you to see him, you ran.

Eventually, he began to worry. You were never the type to avoid people, and you always said you preferred the strength in numbers versus being a loner. He asked around the server, and the only people who had seen you were Doc, for your checkups on your scars, and Xisuma, who you helped with admin work. The both of them told him that you left as soon as possible. The only course of action left, he decided, was to visit you at your home. He hadn't done it before in respect to your space, but now he was worried for your wellbeing.

Scar takes into the air with his elytra, flying in the direction of your base. He lands in a field near your base and decides to walk the rest of the way. As he walks down the path infront of your base, the door opens. You look out and lock eyes with him, but you don't try to close the door or run. He steps onto your porch, examining you for any injuries. Before he can even open his mouth to ask you if you're okay, or worry about you, you speak.

"I'm sorry," you whisper, clutching at the sleeves of an oversized cardigan. Scar recognised it, it was one of the few things you had when you switched servers. It had been stained blue across the yellow knitting, the faint remnants of the stain still there.

"It's okay, there's no need to apologise," he reassures, and you relax slightly at the words.

"Are you okay? You've been avoiding me, and Xisuma and Doc say you've been skittish. Is everything alright?" The tension in your body returns when the questions are asked.

"I'm okay, it's just," your voice cracks. "It's just that I've been tired lately." Your voice continues to waver, and when you step towards him you sway. Scar reaches out quickly to steady you, but you flinch back harshly at the movement. The two of you pause, tension hanging heavy in the air as Scar gapes at his hand as if he had hurt you. The look on his face and heavy atmosphere is what breaks the dam, and you begin to cry. He looks at you, and takes slow steps to your side. Scar brings you close to him, wrapping his arms around you and slowly bringing you both to the ground.

You continue to cry into Scar's shoulder, the man just running a soothing hand through your hair and whispering reassurances to you. One thing in particular catches your ear.

"I would never, and I mean never, hurt you. I wouldn't dream of it," he whispers as he hugs you, and it just makes you sob harder. You try to apologise, but he quickly shushes you.

"It's not your fault. It's hard to deal with feelings. I don't blame you at all. You were scared." It hit you all over again, the rush of happiness and slight nausea as you admitted it.

"I'm in love with you," you tell Scar. He freezes, before hugging you even tighter somehow.

"I love you too, darling. I could never not. You've had me hooked since day one, I have no idea how I lived without you," he confesses, and you smile. You both just sit there, still wrapped in each other's arms as you bask in the warmth from your bodies. It's safe in his arms, and it makes you never want to leave. I don't know how I ever lived without him, you think.

#hermitcraft x reader #scar x reader #goodtimeswithscar x reader #pri writes!!

80 notes · View notes

undertale-writing-times · 2 years

Note

Ayyyyyyyy I got an Ask for Spooks and Spirit! What if a human died (lets say and around the age of 14-15) and joined the group, and became really attached to the two brothers cause they remind them of their older brothers? (They dont really remember much, but they do remember a little bit about their brothers) So, basically they get another sibing or sumthin? (and they also like puns xd)

man... oh man if I could draw, you would soooo be getting a comic here.

Okay this starts off a little sad, for some reason? Like... shockingly proud of that???

When they passed, and became a ghost, they would feel a unbearable tug on their body, it was like they were being called and tugged towards somewhere that they knew that they should go to.

A place for them.

...somewhere safe.

When they got there, it would be empty at first, just a dusty ghost town, until slowly noises would tear through the silence. Starting off like a whisper before turning into the chatter of spirits, people long forgotten.

Children running around, having fun, and the lights were all on! Even the trees were alive again...

They were able to see through the eyes of a ghost, seeing what the past has forgotten.

They would most likely meet Spirit first, who perks up looking at them, and smiles, floating over "Well hey there bud, welcome to our spook-tacular place. You new? I've never seen someone like you before. That is how it ghost, I guess... names Spirit, Spirit the ghost."

Spirit was a strange looking man. Messy white hair that looked like it hadn't been brushed in forever, did he die with messy hair and it just wouldn't be fixed? Pale skin, bags under his eyes which were blue, one paler than the other, and his clothing seemed old too.

He looked to be around... 24-26?

Talking to him, explaining that they didn't remember almost anything from before they were a ghost, Spirit would nod "Yeah, that's pretty common. Come on" he starts to walk, waving his hand "You can meet my bro. Spooks. I named him myself, do you remember yours?"

They would most likely tell him their name, something that they luckily remembered, making him smile "Hey, that's un-boo-lievably awesome that you remember, boo"

How many ghost puns did this guy have? Y/n thought to themselves, following the ghost guy. Spirit, was his name?

Y/n asked him why he was trying to help them, and how they knew that they could trust him? He pauses then laughs, tilting his head to the side "Come on, you know I'm not lying. You could see right through me if I was" and with that, they went to talk to Spooky.

Over the time that Y/n was there, they forgot more and more stuff about their past, sometimes even forgetting their name until someone spoke to them again. It was normal for ghosts to forget about their past, sometimes they didn't and... those were the dangerous ones.

Spooks and Spirit started to remember their pasts but they both kept it secrets, they didn't want to talk about it. Spirit would sometimes cover his chest with his hand, with a distant look. Spooky had a lighter part on his neck that you could only sometimes see if his scarf was out of the way.

Every ghost had a hint of how they died.

None of them liked to talk about the ways that they died... why would they?

Y/n seemed awfully attached to the two brothers, and sometimes when they weren't thinking, they would call the two brothers by the wrong names. The two brothers never mentioned it knowing just how that would... most likely make someone feel.

They welcomed a new sibling into their little family after a few weeks, both very happy.

They were all the people who died and lost their families but now, they had a new family and... you know... they were all pretty happy.

52 notes · View notes

edoro · 2 years

Note

An idea for how they realize belos is Phillip (other then babybel deciding to screw around with them) is perhaps when he's sick with something like the common mold since it'll probably hit him harder than Luz, since he's in the body of a young child from the 1600s and while resting has the mask off (either taken or fell off while sleep), Luz or someone goes to wake him up and notices the lack of pointy ears and freaks out(which could get the job done of waking him up just in an extremely stressful way) and probably realizing how much this kid looks like Phillip, wanting to question him as soon as possible. So she'll probably create some theories about it (all but belos being a child of Phillip since that implies that Phillip had gotten someone to have kids with and she doubts it so hard).

Also the instant they take babyBel’s mask off or try to get his hair out of his face they’re going to realize he’s human which… he wants this? He thinks? He wants everyone to admire his cunning wiles. But under these circumstances his reaction to vulnerability is No Actually I Will Scream. Meanwhile everyone else is having a minor crisis.

(i have no idea if you are both the same anon but since it's basically the same concept i'm gonna toss you both together in this ask here. l-love connection?!)

anyway, yeah, i'm mulling this one over - i think they're gonna figure out he's human pretty much the first time the mask comes off, which, he's gonna have to take it off to eat, so that's going to happen pretty quickly.

at that point the question becomes "how quickly is Luz going to be able to put the pieces together and figure out that this weird little human moppet they pulled out of the Emperor's brain is in fact baby Philip Wittebane?"

(sidenote, also: at what point are they going to realize this isn't just a manifestation of an emotion but, in fact, the actual inner Belos? i'm sure that's also gonna happen relatively soon there, and it's going to be very interesting)

so - as far as Luz knows, there's only ever been one other human in the Boiling Isles. and she met Philip as an adult, so she knows that he's a white guy from the 1600s with brown hair and blue eyes, and here's this little white kid with brown hair and blue eyes who's dressed in very antique clothes (the fact that he doesn't talk might draw it out a bit, since she doesn't have an archaic accent/speech pattern to further drive the point home)

she might remember seeing some of those childhood portraits in the Emperor's mindscape, depending on how far they got, and it certainly seems like a different time. little motherfucker was churning butter in one of those. she might remember some of the ones where he was a bit older, and looked more like adult Philip, and have a realization there.

i don't know if she would jump immediately to "oh my god, Belos is Philip" - i think that the idea would probably occur to her, because she's only ever known of one other human and the general time period seems to fit and the kid looks like he could plausibly grow up into Philip, but i can imagine a similar sort of denial going on, and this time she doesn't have him forcing the issue to taunt her.

(let's see if i manage to remember this, but i'd like to go into my thoughts about why i think she was so upset to realize Belos is Philip - i've seen a lot of people suggesting reasons why, and other people feeling like it fell very flat, and i've definitely got my own personal take on it, but this post isn't really the place)

so she might be trying to find ways to believe that he isn't Philip, that maybe this is some other human who ended up in the Isles. after all, she's only heard of Philip, but travel between the realms is totally possible, and he can't be the only person who ever fell into a pool of Titan's Blood, right?

i wonder if she would outright ask him, and what he'd say. actually, you know what?

here's what i think. they're going to find out he's human within, probably, a few days at most if he's sneaky and secretive about eating and doesn't manage to lose the mask somehow. once they do, it's just a matter of time before Luz puts the pieces together that this human is probably the same other human she met.

(sidenote: what the fuck is up with Philip's timeline? no one has even brought up the fact that he's apparently four hundred fucking years old, but i'm starting to question if he actually is?

the BI era he ended up in was the Deadwardian, and in our world the Edwardian era was 1901-1910, and those were definitely not colonial fashions we saw on the BI residents; but we've also not gotten any indication that the Boiling Isles and the human realm are asynchronous with each other.

the BI calendar seems to be very different (forty days in a month?? how long is that week we've got left before the Day of Unity? Dana i have so many questions -) but we have no indication that one day on the Boiling Isles =/= one day in the human realm, which would have some disturbing fairy circle shit implications for Luz's time here if that was the case.

so when he and Caleb came through at Eclipse Lake, were they transported in time as well as space? Philip's diary entry in s2e12 suggests that he thinks it's the 1660s or 1670s back home, but that's just him figuring based on the passage of time and conversion between calendar systems - was he, unbeknownst to himself, already cut off from any hope of ever actually going back home? would that portal have spat him out into the early 1900s?

however, the sheer number of grimwalkers he's made and killed suggests that he has in fact been around for quite a long time - @samael-i-am has that post counting up the masks which suggests it's more like 20+, and someone else did the math and suggested that each one only lived somewhere into their teens or mid twenties at most if you account for seventeen grimwalkers (including Hunter) over 350ish years

but that also assumes that the grimwalkers are born as babies and grow and develop at a normal rate, which might not be the case - it could be that he can control what age they come out as, and makes them at whatever age he thinks is best for raising them to be loyal and devoted and also useful. can't pop one out fully grown and expect to mold its mind, gotta get in there when there's still some good neural plasticity and rewire that development!

but the sheer number of them still implies he's been at this for more than fifty years, unless most of them really didn't make it more than a couple of years.

anyway. anyway.)

so anyway - Luz tries to put this realization off. she doesn't want Belos to be Philip. she doesn't want to deal with that. but it's where her mind goes, because there are a lot of connections, and well - she asks him.

he can't talk, but he can draw and write (did actual Philip Wittebane at this age know how to read and write? no, probably not, or if he did then Caleb had only just started teaching him. but adult Belos does, so Babybel can, although he struggles a bit with the motor control and his spelling is... interesting to say the least) and he's pretty expressive with that when he wants to be, although getting him to actually directly respond to or acknowledge anyone is a crapshoot

so she asks him, works up to it maybe - "when and where were you born? where are you from? what's your name?" - and he does tell her

because the thing is, right, the thing is - he wants a human on his side. he wants to hear her say his name. he wants another human to know that he's here, know who he is, know what he's doing, support and agree with him, talk to him.

and this whole thing, where she thinks he's just a kid version of himself and doesn't know how much he does or doesn't remember of his adult self? this is perfect for manipulating her! he could not have engineered a better chance to get her on his side if he'd tried, actually! because she likes him as a kid. she's sympathetic to him. she thinks he's cute and she relates to him and she has this hope that maybe they can raise him to be better than adult Belos, that he can change, that this can be a re-do.

so how much more sympathetic is she going to be if he tells her, yes, he's Philip Wittebane - he's little baby Philip, and she's sure getting some glimpses of how he might have grown up, what it might have been like for him, how he was treated, and they aren't good glimpses, and she was already sympathetic to Philip - she thought he was hurting people because he was so desperate to get home, after all.

so Philip as a kid? not the adult man who manipulated and betrayed her and said it was fun, but just this angry, troubled, weird, difficult - the same way Luz, neurodivergent herself, has been difficult her whole life - kid who is also obviously traumatized and expects to be abused?

she doesn't stand a chance. she's going to see herself in him. she's going to imagine what it must feel like to be a little kid, trapped so far from home, away from his family and friends and everything familiar, disabled and traumatized and struggling to communicate with anyone around him or understand what's going on, and she's going to feel sorry for him.

and because the reveal comes to her in the form of this weird fucked up cute little kid who she relates to and likes, rather than in the form of Belos psychologically torturing Hunter in the process of revealing his evil plan and then 'killing' him and stalking her as he delivers a creep-ass villain monologue, she might start to think maybe she's wrong about Belos.

oh, not that he's fucked up and evil and needs to be stopped - but maybe he doesn't just want power. maybe he really does just want to go home. maybe he's just been lost and stuck here this whole time and his loneliness and desperation corrupted him. maybe he actually is still someone she can understand, even if she can't agree with him.

and maybe if someone steps in and helps this kid, who clearly needed it and didn't get it - maybe then he can be different.

#emperor belos #luz noceda #philip wittebane #babybel au #babybel in the physical realm what crimes will he commit #asks #toh spoilers

87 notes · View notes