#from you but they're still you but they're not so you just have little snapshots of yourself in time floating around entirely unbenknownst
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Elimination - Quinn Hughes x ofc
gif by @thombordeleau
Title: Elimination
Author: Tory / @tkwrites
Relationship: Pre-established: Quinn x Sarah
Warnings: Sad Quinn, fluff and comfort, smut (18+ only), unprotected sex, p in v, oral (f receiving), if I missed any others, please let me know.
Summary: When the Canucks are eliminated from the Stanley Cup Playoffs, Sarah offers Quinn a kind of comfort he didn’t know he needed.
Word count: 4,200
Comments: This snapshot has been a long time coming. The idea of Sarah comforting Quinn the way she does came to me while I was driving to work one day, and I immediately wrote it down. It took me quite a while to figure Quinn’s family into the story, including his brothers (yes! They're finally here!).
As I was editing the comfort scene, I found the story continuing in a way I didn’t really expect, but mirrored Before I meet your parents… in a way I couldn’t ignore.
If you enjoy it, please let me know by commenting or reblogging! Your comments really do inspire me to keep writing!
Elimination
A Quinn & Sarah Snapshot
The playoffs were a whole different beast than Sarah had become accustomed to. Not only was the season much longer than any of the guys were used to, practices were more intense and heated, video more in depth, the need for rest and recovery more acute. She knew first hand how tired the team was because she knew first hand how tired Quinn was.
In the first round, they'd lost the first game in the series before rallying to win the next three. The Kings won one more before the Canucks stamped them out with the last win coming on home ice in overtime. Despite the final score only being 1-0, it was the most exciting game Sarah had ever been to.
When she was sitting with Quinns family, Luke had taken to teasing her in that little brother way every time her hands ended up clutching her face with each shot directed at Demko or Talbot.
“Calm down, Sarah,” he’d said, when she jumped in her seat, hands flying up to cover her mouth as Demko barrel rolled to stop another shot from Kopitar.
She'd sent a playful glare his way, “I'm surprised Kylee hasn't told you you should never tell a woman to calm down. That's a surefire way to get yourself into trouble.”
Kylee, who was sitting on Lukes other side, snorted. “Oh, I have. He just doesn’t listen.”
Luke took it in stride and laughed. He reminded Sarah so much of her oldest nephew, Ryan. Good natured, friendly and a little bit goofy once she broke through that shy shell.
Sarah glanced at Jack, who was sitting with his some of his cousins farther down the row. His eyes darted away, as if caught staring at something he shouldn’t.
The strained way he acted around her was getting better, but he was still pretty standoffish toward her. When she asked Quinn what she could do to fix it, he said to just give it time, and Jack would come around eventually. He didn’t think it was actually anything about her, but rather Jack needing time to adjust to the situation.
“I think he finally realized how serious I am about you.”
“You’re serious about me?” she’d asked, all flirty lashes and coy smiles.
“You know I am,” he’d responded before leaning in to kiss her.
So, she turned back to the game, giving Jack time and hoping he would see how much she loved his older brother and that she only meant well.
When Garland shot the overtime goal off a picture perfect pass from Quinn, he managed to catch Talbot above the blocker, sending the puck sailing into the back of the net with a definitive whoosh.
The arena erupted into a wall of sound.
The entire team, clad in blue, spilled onto the ice, throwing helmets and gloves, crowding around Conor and Thatcher.
Quinn was ecstatic that evening. Practically bouncing off the walls of the club they went to to celebrate. Sarah had never seen him so loud - caught up in the atmosphere and moment.
Halfway through the night, he pulled her into a dim corner and kissed her so thoroughly, she actually considered pulling him into the dingy bathroom to have her way with him right then.
Jack interrupted, drunkenly loud, and demanded that Quinn come with him for a round of shots.
Quinn paused, meeting Sarah’s eye.
“Go celebrate,” she encouraged, trying her best to not come between them. She and Quinn could find a spare moment to celebrate on their own later.
With his family in his house, that moment hadn’t come, but she was glad to see Quinn celebrating so heartily with his brothers.
In the second round, after three straight losses to the Predators, Vancouver battled, forcing game five, before dominating in Nashville two nights later, selling their comeback story.
When they got back to town, the whole city was buzzing.
Despite the excitement, game six was awful to watch. Sarah had her hands over her mouth through most of it.
Now that they were fighting to tie, and the Preds were fighting, once again, to clinch the series, Nashville was playing dirty: exploiting every Canucks weakness they could find. They needled, drawing penalty after stupid, preventable penalty until they were three goals up at the end of the second period.
Quinn was exhausted. Sarah could see it in his skating and in the slumped set of his shoulders as they went into the dressing room for the intermission.
She sent him a text, I’m so proud of you.
He didn't reply, but they battled back, holding off all Preds offense and getting within a goal by the time Demko was pulled at the end of the third. Quinn battled fiercely to keep the puck in the offensive zone for more than a minute, giving a master class on body-eye coordination as he skirted the blue line, dodging Nashville players as if someone were controlling him with a top ice view.
Their passes were perfect: tic-tac-toe from Quinn to Mikheyev to Lafferty, but as Sam tried to get the puck to Höglander, the pass was intercepted.
Nashville fought to center ice and chipped the puck into the Vancouver end.
Quinn chased it, but he just didn't have enough in the tank. He caught up just as the puck bounced back out of the open net.
Full of frustration and despair, he smacked it into the boards. Caught at just the right angle, the puck ricocheted back at him, and he had to lift a hand to block it from hitting him in the face.
Sarah could practically see the frustrated embarrassment radiating off him as he skated to sit down.
Demko was pulled again and Quinn managed to get the empty netter back, but through the ugly march of time, the clock expired before they could score another.
The buzzer sounded and Nashville celebrated, throwing equipment all over the ice, all hugging and jumping as the Canucks limped into the dressing room.
Even despite the disappointment of losing, everyone was thrilled to see them get this far. Going from the middle of the pack last season to top of the league this year was no small feat. She knew Quinn wouldn’t be satisfied until they got the cup, but she was so proud of him.
He sent a text, telling them to go home and he would meet them there when he was done with the media.
It was torture for Sarah to have to leave and wait for him. She wished she could go down to the dressing room, but knew not only would she not be allowed in, Quinn would hate it. He would want to talk with her privately.
Everyone was subdued as they puttered around the apartment, waiting for him. Both Jack and Luke were on their phones, sprawled out over the living room furniture, while Ellen, Jim and Kylee were doing something in the kitchen. Sarah was too nervous to even distract herself. Quinn had lost before, of course, but she’d never seen him lose like this — not this kind of a season-ending, brutal loss.
When the elevator dinged, Sarah jumped to her feet, his family following suit, clambering into the living room.
To her surprise, Quinn came straight to her, not even bothering to shut the door behind him. His suit was rumpled, his tie attempting to slither out of his breast pocket. When she wrapped him in her arms, he practically collapsed against her.
Ellen knew Quinn loved and trusted Sarah and that he spent far more time with her these days, but it was still a bit shocking when he bypassed them all to go straight to her for comfort.
Sarah reacted in a way Ellen never had and upon seeing the scene play out, she realized Sarah’s reaction may have been something Quinn had been longing for for a long time.
She would usually hug him for a while, before talking him down. They would soon end up dissecting shifts and plays. He would lament how he could have been better, and she would try to comfort him while still being realistic.
Sarah just stood there, holding him. She didn't say a word, even when Quinn started to cry softly. She just ran a hand into his wet hair, while the other traveled slowly up and down his back.
She didn't assure or placate him, or even try to get him to stop crying. She just let him express the emotion without judgment or commentary. It hit Ellen suddenly that Sarah reacted this way because she had dealt with so much sorrow in her life, she knew how to comfort in these hard moments.
The family stood by and watched. She didn’t look up and meet their eyes with a conspiratorial, he’ll be alright, look, or invite them into the embrace. Her whole intention was focused on Quinn.
While it was sweet to see them together in this way, it was also a little awkward to watch, especially for the boys, who looked like they had no idea what to do.
It was full minutes before anyone said anything, and even then, it was just Sarah asking if he wanted to sit down. He shook his head so she did a little two-step, and kept on.
As Ellen watched them interact, it was obvious how much they meant to and understood each other. It was so sweet to witness her son finding the person he needed that she pulled out her phone to record them, wanting to document the moment.
When they finally spoke, Ellen was glad she was filming.
“I let everyone down,” Quinn said, his voice choked with emotion, just above a whisper.
“No.” Her voice was quite loud, the word definitive, leaving no room for doubt. It was a bit shocking to hear Sarah be so forceful.
Taking his jaw, she gently lifted his head up so he had to look into her eyes.
“No,” she repeated, her voice a little softer now. “This wasn't only your fault, and it didn't happen because of anything you did by yourself.”
Ellen wasn’t sure she would go that far… If he had gone for a change, someone with fresh legs may have been able to chase down that empty netter.
“You don’t win as a team, but lose by yourself. That’s not how this works.”
Now she understood where Sarah was going.
“I know this run is ending sooner than you wanted and I'd be more concerned if you weren't sad.” She paused for a long moment, looking into his eyes as if she was searching for something. When she didn’t find it, she continued, “I just - I want you to remember that I don't love you because you play hockey.”
His lower lip trembled and Ellen felt hers do the same.
“I love you because of this big, kind heart,” she said as she pressed a hand to his chest, “and because of this brilliant, thoughtful mind,” her other hand slid into the hair at his temple. “And those are the same as they were this morning. You're so much more than hockey.”
He was looking at her like she'd hung the moon.
Ellen felt tears slip down her own cheeks. All her life, she’d been trying to strike a balance with her boys - trying to find the right way to tell them hockey was just a part of who they are. And here Sarah was, walking into their life, and saying the exact thing Ellen had been trying to say all along.
Right then and there, the remaining reservations she had about Sarah were swept onto the back burner. She knew it would still take some getting used to, but how could she not love this woman standing in front of her, telling her son she loved him for who he was and not for the things he did? It was all she could ask for as a mother.
She glanced over at Jack, who looked a little dumbfounded, as if seeing Sarah for the first time. Luke was smiling in a glad, knowing way, his arm looped around Kylee.
Jim, standing on Ellen’s other side had a mixture of pride and disappointment on his face. Ellen knew he was going to battle with himself at the thought of Quinn crying over being eliminated. When they were kids, he would have told the boys to buck up, despite Ellen’s insistence it was okay for them to express their sadness for a little while.
The happiness at seeing someone accept Quinn as he was won out, and Jim put his arm around Ellen with a conspiratorial smile.
“Of course you’re going to be sad,” Sarah continued. “Like I said, I’d be more concerned if you weren’t. But you,” she poked him gently in the chest to emphasize her point, “sure as hell didn’t let me down.”
Quinn threw his arms around her in a fierce hug. “I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
He wiped at his eyes, then turned to the family. They embraced him one by one.
After she’d hugged Quinn, Ellen went to Sarah, “I don’t know how you did that,” she said, pulling her close, “but that was exactly what he needed.”
When Quinn made his way back to Sarah, he kissed her temple. His eyes were still red, cheeks still splotched with color, but he looked settled. Not satisfied or happy, really, but settled.
Later that night, Ellen sent the video to her sister, making her promise to not share it with anyone. She just needed someone else to see the tenderness.
Oh, Elle, I'm so glad Quinn finally found a good one. I can't wait to meet her.
At the same time Ellen was texting her sister, Quinn was lying next to Sarah in bed. Her words from earlier replaying over and over again in his thoughts.
He'd practically begged her to stay over. She hadn't planned to with his family in the house, but he felt a bit needy and wanted the comfort of her next to him.
“Thank you for tonight,” he said, turning to her.
She rolled onto her side so they were face to face. “I'm always gonna be in your corner, Quinn.”
Leaning in, he kissed her - gently at first, but it soon turned more passionate.
The fact that they would be apart before too long was on both their minds as they made love that night.
“Oh, Quinn. Right there, right there,” she chanted, voice soft.
The simple fact that he could make her feel this way made his heart feel full to bursting. At least he hadn't lost that.
Keeping eye contact, his hand traced to her left knee and pulled it up over his hip. He didn’t want her to have the same old orgasm. Not tonight. A big part of him wanted to prove he could still excel here.
Head tipping back, Sarah panted.
His other hand came up to guide her chin back down.
The way she clenched around him when their eyes met made his hips stutter.
She lifted herself up to catch his mouth. It changed the angle of his thrusts, making his whole body quiver. He tried to brace against it, slowing down and concentrating on kissing the breath out of her.
It worked in that they were both breathless before too long, but didn't ease the feeling of being pulled to the very edge of his restraint. The competitive streak inside him wasn't about to allow himself to come before she did - especially not tonight, when he had so much left to prove.
“No,” she gasped when he pulled away. “I was right there.”
He laughed into her skin. “I'm not going anywhere, sweetheart,” he said, before tracing his mouth over her clavicle and trailing his tongue between her breasts, savoring the salty taste of her skin.
The blankets pulled with him as he settled between her legs, and Sarah gasped as the cool air of his room hit her.
She looked so ethereal in a pool of soft light from one of the skylights, her chest rising and falling at a hurried, steady pace.
“God, you're beautiful,” he whispered.
Times like these, Quinn still wasn’t quite sure how he’d managed to find Sarah. She seemed to be his perfect match in every way. It wasn’t always smooth sailing - nothing ever was. This summer was sure to take a toll on their relationship. He knew, somehow, they would come out on the other side, better and stronger, but all the same, he wasn’t looking forward to spending so many nights without her.
Pushing that worry out of his mind, he concentrated the task at hand and lowered his mouth to her hot center.
It was his turn to give thanks.
She was acutely aware of his family in the apartment: brothers on the floor below, while his parents were down the hall. They were never particularly loud in bed, but the thought of his family overhearing hushed her vocal cords even more.
“Quinn,” she whimpered.
He ate up every whisper, every little whine and panted breath, knowing they were just for him.
Making some unintelligible noise, her back arched, lifting off the mattress.
She whined when he eased two fingers into her and lifted his mouth.
“Help me find it?” he whispered, crooking his fingers.
“Higher.”
He moved slowly, not wanting to go too fast and pass over it.
“There, there,” she panted.
Reaching up with his free hand, he disentangled her fingers from the sheet so he could grasp her hand, linking them together.
“You can press a little harder. It’s not as sen -” her voice broke off into a groaned, “oh, fuck,” as he urged that soft, spongey spot with a heavier touch.
They’d done this more after his revelatory first time, and he loved discovering new things about her. He still had a hard time finding her g-spot on his own, but he was learning. Tonight felt like a whole new ego stroke, one he was seeking if he was being honest with himself.
His mind wandered back to the first time he’d touched her, the way she’d reminded him of Helen of Troy - beautiful beyond belief. He ached for her the same way now as he watched her fall apart. Mouth dropped open as her body pulled taught as a bow string, one hand grasping the headboard for stability while the other clutched his like a vice.
As she came down from her high, he kept his fingers pressed into her.
Even as she squirmed against the sensitivity from his strong touch, she felt a blaze of pleasure reignite in her belly, faster than it ever had before.
Still kneading with his fingertips, he lowered down, sucking her sensitive pearl into his mouth. She let out a strangled cry that left him dizzy with satisfaction.
The contrast of his warm mouth and soft tongue on her core against the harsh rasp of his playoff beard on her inner thighs wound her tighter and tighter until he was sparking so much ecstasy in her body, she couldn't quite remember why she was trying to be so quiet.
Her fingers tightened in his at the same time her legs trembled and he knew she was close. He continued on, mouth soft and steady while his fingers worked with more focused intent.
The way she whimpered his name made him groan and rock his hips into the mattress to get a bit of relief.
When the tension in her pelvis finally snapped, Sarah cried out.
It was only after she came back to herself and he eased his fingers from her that she worried about how loud she'd been.
Before she could ask, he knocked her breathless again as he slid his fingers into his mouth, cleaning them with apparent relish.
“Did I yell?” she whispered as he crawled back over her.
He shook his head, “not too loud. I don't think they heard.”
The anxiety ebbed away as he leaned in to kiss her.
“Can you turn over?” he asked, lips barely grazing hers.
She pulled back to look into his face.
“I want to make you feel good,” he said.
“You already did. Twice.”
“Please?” he asked, ghosting his lips over her cheek, “let me make you come one more time.”
In reality, Quinn was tired, but his pride was insistent, eager to feel her again and he knew if he got her on her stomach she’d come faster than in missionary.
He could see worry in her expression, but she did as he asked, the sheets clinging briefly to her back as she rolled.
One of his hands grazed down her side, following the curvature of her hip before tracing her hamstring all the way to the knee. Hooking his hand there, he eased her leg out to the side.
He really was spoiling her. Eagle with a broken wing was her favorite position other than missionary, but they didn’t do it terribly often, both generally preferring to see the other when they were together.
She felt Quinn’s heat before any of his skin, and raised her hips slightly to facilitate him.
“You’re —” she broke off into a groan as he eased into her again. She was so sensitive, she was fairly certain she would have fallen apart all over again if he had given her an intense enough look. Heat was already climbing up her spine and he hadn't even moved yet.
His hands appeared near hers as he braced on his forearms. She moved to lace her fingers through his.
When he began to thrust, he felt her fingers curl until her nails kissed his palms
Listening to her sweet sounds, he couldn’t get enough of her. He wanted to live in her forever.
“Holy shit,” she breathed, chaos sparking all over her skin. “I didn't think I could come this many times so quickly.”
Her hushed statement rushed to his head. “Sarah,” he moaned into her neck. “Fuck, Sarah.”
His mouth traced the curve of her neck before gently biting the ridge of her shoulder.
The prick of pain from his teeth combined with the way he was hitting her g spot in a steady, continuous rhythm had Sarah’s mouth falling open. “Oh. Quinn,” she moaned. “Just like that. Please don't stop.”
Feeling out of his mind with pleasure and pride, he rested his forehead on her back.
Only after he felt her tremble and pulse around him and chanting that he loved her, he let himself go, spilling into her with a loud groan he tried to muffle into her skin.
They stayed that way for a long while, his sweaty chest pressed into her back. He was a comfortable weight, pressing her into the mattress.
Quinn talked himself into moving and eased out, his wince matching the breath she hissed through her teeth. Before he could decide which side to roll onto, she was turning onto her back, and pulling him into her embrace.
Resting his head on her chest, he sighed.
Sarah smiled, tired but gratified and pushed a lock of hair off his forehead. She wanted to get up and go to the bathroom, but waited, knowing Quinn needed this extra affection.
“I don't…” he started to say, then trailed off, slowly tracing a circle around her belly button.
He had never felt supported and loved like he had today. Not only when she just let him cry, but when she reminded him that she loved the things about him that weren't his job.
Quinn hadn't known how much he needed to hear Sarah’s words until she was saying them. His whole family was so entwined in hockey that, even though he knew his parents loved him, it sometimes felt like his success and failure in the arena were wrapped up in their affection and approval. It was one of the reasons Jack always felt like the favorite child, as he had the most natural talent.
“You don't?” she urged when he didn’t say anything else.
He shook his head and took a steadying breath. “I feel like I don't deserve you.”
A little smile played on her lips, “I feel that way sometimes, too, but I'm not really sure it's about deserving. Everyone deserves love.”
She paused for a long time playing with his hair. It relaxed Quinn, causing him to practically melt into her.
“I'm glad we're both willing to put in the work and try to meet in the middle,” she said quietly.
He agreed, pressing a kiss to the top of her breast.
As they stayed that way for a long time, Quinn felt cocooned in her love and hoped she felt the same.
“Okay,” she said a little while later, starting to feel sticky and itchy, “I’m sorry, but I really need to shower, or at least rinse off.”
They took a quick shower, and Quinn changed the fitted sheet as she redid her skincare.
When they finally fell asleep tangled together, she in a pair of his shorts and a t-shirt, and he in his boxers, it was well after three.
After sleeping like the dead, Quinn woke close to ten, still feeling that strong swell of gratitude easing the disappointment in his chest.
If anyone in his family had heard them, they were all excellent actors, and didn't say a thing.
Want more Quinn & Sarah? Check out the Snapshots Masterlist
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#quinn & sarah snapshots#quinn hughes#quinn hughes fic#quinn hughes imagine#quinn hughes fanfiction#quinn hughes x oc#quinn hughes oneshot#quinn hughes smut#qh43#jack hughes#luke hughes#nhl fanfiction#nhl imagine#hockey romance#hockey fic
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saw some speculation on FranklyDear in relation to the audios and i want to toss my two cents in
so all the thing's i've been seeing have been people talking about how they're a couple, but they're not acting like it, so that must be Playfellow's influence making them put distance between each other
but i immediately interpreted it as - they're not there yet. there might be feelings, but they aren't Together. cause in the 14 bug audios, i feel like it's pretty clear that these are snapshots of the neighborhood outside of the show. cameras aren't rolling, there are no influences, it's the neighbors just Existing on their own dime
'cause the conversations are more natural! the characters seem more nuanced! there aren't any sound effects! so if FranklyDear is already established, wouldn't we have "seen" that in their shared audio 8-14? wouldn't Eddie have just called Frank Frank, without the immediate (and somewhat flustered) correction to Mr. Frankly? and wouldn't Frank call him Eddie instead of Mr. Dear? plus, idk about y'all, but that scene was a lil romantically charged. a little flirty - especially from Frank's side. the kind of tension you get from budding emotions, not fully-realized ones
they just seem to be in a before state. the beginning stages. and anyway, i remember Clown saying that revealing FranklyDear as an endgame couple was sort of an Accident? i think we were meant to watch it evolve and figure it out along with the characters, the way we will with any other relationships (that we Definitely are not aware of / confident about yet).
we're still only in the prologue of the story, so it'd make so much sense if Frank and Eddie are not yet Involved. we're on this journey With them
#in a parallel universe there are people arguing over whether or not frank & eddie are a Thing#im kinda thankful that's not our reality lol#i think it's going to be fun just sitting back Fully Aware and watching these two Go Through It#i just highly highly HIGHLY doubt they're already together#plus how much more fun would it be to watch it Happen?#to see them experience the conflict and feelings and realizations and how their interactions will likely Change Accordingly#homebogging#welcome home theory#welcome home speculation#before the audios i had a feeling that it would be eddie being the more up-front flirty go-getter of the two#based on clown's art of them & such#but then with the audios eddie is a little more... reserved isnt the right word....#polite? restrained? trying to keep things Amicable and Professional?#cause in 8-14 frank was the more relaxed teasing one while eddie was a bit of a flustered mess#which might've been because of the bug#but yk... he Did rush to correct himself on how he addressed frank...#and the way frank spoke... idk it just sounded like a slightly different Tone than what they usually speak with#more of a casual drawl. more forward - there was a Weight to it#and the 'you don’t need to be that familiar with them in order to get to know them better'#imo that line stuck out as a kind of a wink wink nudge nudge thing#like a Hey. We Could Get To Know Each Other.#twas a classic 'talking about one thing while saying another' phrase - again imo#oh and also its just occurring to me#if the bug audios are 'present day' like i suspect#its entirely possible that franklydear can only 'now' develop bc theyre - well theyre not exactly Free#but playfellow is no longer 'ruling' over them. the influence and pressure - no matter how subconcious it was - is no longer there#freeing them up just enough to maybe... just maybe... truly Feel and perhaps Express interest in each other#just a thought!#that would be another tally in the box explaining why their interaction in the 8-14 audio was Different#there isn't anything holding them back anymore beyond their (possible) own internalized biases & fears & expectations etc
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„curious” ♡
a/n —hey all! hope ur doin' well, drink water if you haven't! have this as a treat. it's 2k and some more but i cant be bothered to check for specifics. (p.s sorry if the tarot aspects of this are wonky! i did my best to research and i pulled reference from my sister's experience with tarot cards/reading.)
૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡
-ˋˏ’✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈
Dazai Osamu x GN!reader
Tags— 22/ada dazai, flirting?, pre-slash, don't question why reader's given a key, reader works under ango but he's also they're dad figure, it's a whole thing, mentions of sskk though not explicitly platonic or romantic, take that as you wish, dazai's infuriating habit of burying feelings and then one day he'll die
CW/TW— dazai. (/j, none i can think of.)
note — reader's ability in this is based on one that my friend chose for our self-ship au. "Teacher of Truth by Saneatsu Mushanokoji: The user can employ tarot cards to gain insight into the past, current, and possible future situations. The user needs to know what each of the cards mean in order to properly interpret what they say." it's from a post on tumblr, but I couldn't find it for the life of me! i'll credit if i can. anyway, it's been tweaked a little so i'm here to explain. in this, reader can choose to use their ability during a reading or not, but the tarot cards are always personal to them. people they know will sometimes show in the cards if they're important to them.
The next time Dazai sees you, it’s well before the ADA opens for the day. He’d admittedly had a rough night—sleep evaded him like always, and he hadn’t had dinner because of his own laziness. His futon was impossibly comfy. How was he meant to part with its loving warmth?
The Door to the agency creaks open, the sound not unlike the groan of the cafe floorboards only steps away. One of Dazai’s favorite activities was purposely seeking out the creaky floorboards and dancing on them so loud Kunikida would have to berate him, of course. He was intimately familiar with the annoying sounds this old building could make.
The office is darker than during working hours, but he notices the meager amount of lights still switched on. Distantly, he knows Kunikida would’ve blown a gasket about the electric bill if he had found them still on. He takes a step into the room-
Something rustles. Downstairs, an old radio plays a song he does not recognize. Pigeons flutter and coo from outside the window.
Somebody was in the agency, and had it been any of his fellow detectives, he’d have known.
“Hmmm, what’s this,” he mutters absently, volume low enough to alert whoever it was had decided to trespass.
”Dazai-san?” a soft voice calls, and Dazai pauses for a moment. A short, hollow sound follows—cards shuffling. He bites the inside of his cheek. How curious.
”Last I checked, you don’t clock in with the rest of us measly agents. Surely Ango’s fuming by now?” He hums, stepping into view of you. you’re sat at Atsushi’s desk, bag perched on top of Atsushi’s empty report trays. Dazai almost smirks at the sight— silly Atsushi, always rushing to complete everything in a timely manner. One day, he’d get him to turn them in later, hopefully months later- like he did.
”Hm, no. I clocked in earlier, but Ango wanted me over here early. Something about a mission I have to hand over to Fukuzawa-dono. I got a key from him last time, so I just let myself in.” you explained. Dazai pulled his own chair out and collapsed into it, peering down at what your hands were busying themselves with.
He realizes they’re tarot cards. Thick and sturdy under your fingers, you set them up neatly in front of yourself. The backs are a matte purple, decorated with silver details that glint as the sunrise light hits them for just a fraction of a second. The illustrations seem to flicker with movement, almost like snapshots of time shifting through an old camera, frame after frame.
”What’s got you so busy?” he asks, exaggeratingly leaning over to look at the cards. You laugh and smile, expression wobbly. He notes the change. You briefly shake out the bracelet laying on your wrist, almost nervously. You lay the last card on the desk’s surface. Atsushi’s cute cat clock ticks from where it’s placed near his report trays.
“I do readings for the day early in the morning, just in case. Sometimes, I don’t even use my ability.” You explain, keeping your voice low so as not to break the morning peace. Dazai glances at the cat clock. Soon, the secretaries and Kunikida will clock in and begin their work day. He focuses back on you and grins, intrigued.
“Anxious, then? I guess the ability to see the future will do that to ‘ya.” Dazai sighed, crossing his legs and resting his chin on his hand. He was content to watch you finish setting the cards down in a formation he admittedly did not understand.
” What does that one mean?” he says, pointing to one of the cards. Its flickering surface shows a woman with mint-colored hair pulled up into a bun. Behind her, there’s a black mass, and she seems to be standing in a graveyard. There are two Xs at the top of the card. You redirect your attention to the card he’s hovering his finger over and smile.
”That’s Judgment—renewal, reflection, awakening, or reckoning. For a personal reading, it would mean going through a period of self-evaluation or maybe even trying to understand the people around you and your situation more.” You explain, seemingly done with the spread and setting down the other cards nearby. Dazai purses his lips.
”Sounds gloomy. Lame!” He huffs, upset by his choice. you gasp and narrow your eyes.
”Don’t call them lame! You’ll piss them off, Dazai.” You hiss, smacking him on the arm. Dazai grins and leans closer, smile growing coy.
”Really now? And how exactly does one do that?” Dazai prods. You stick your tongue out and cross your arms.
“Not telling. Now shut up and let me do my reading.” You grumble, eyes flicking over the cards. Dazai whines and throws himself forward, almost shoving you off of Atsushi’s chair.
”Dude!” You yelp, hands scrambling to grasp his coat as he rights himself. Dazai grabs you by the shoulders and shakes, intent on being the biggest possible nuisance.
”That’s boring! Do your reading laterrrr; it won’t matter, right? Ne- do a reading for me! I wanna know my future,” He begs, grinning. You blink and scowl, pushing him away.
”First off, it would matter. Doing a reading later would be a completely different outcome. Just wait. All I have to do is interpret these. I’ll do yours after.” You grumble, adjusting their sleeves and settling back into the chair. Dazai harrumphs but settles into his own chair to watch you silently read the cards.
You focus back on the cards, and Dazai settles himself by watching you idly. You’re dressed in what you always wear to work, but it’s casual enough to know doubt have been breaking the dress code had you not been working under Ango for so long. There’s a small scrunch to your nose as you focus on your task, and Dazai can spot how you run your tongue over your teeth in thought. Dazai looks away pointedly. Taking a few breaths, he forcibly clears his mind. How odd.
”Okay, done.” You hum, straightening and starting to pick up the cards. He shifts so his whole body is faced toward you. You take gentle care of the cards, putting them back into the deck.
”Why do they flicker like that? You aren’t using your ability,” he asks, curious about the shifting images on the cards. You shrug.
”Don’t know. It happens no matter what deck I use, though I prefer using this one. The images just shift into the same ones most of the time, though some have changed over time.” You explain, shuffling the cards. Dazai reaches out and hovers over your hand before poking the back of it gently. You let him despite knowing the outcome.
The images on the cards still lying on the table flicker, completely uninterrupted, even as Dazai feels the shiver of his ability eating away at yours. He hums and pulls away. He hadn’t been paying attention when he jostled you earlier, but you were right- they were unaffected.
”Strange, but not unheard of. Some ability effects aren’t considered active enough for my ability to erase.” Dazai says, allowing you to continue. you finish and present him with the deck, pulling away when he goes to take them.
”Don’t be mean to them. They’ll be mean to you. You can’t even think anything negative; they’ll know. You’re gonna cut the deck in 3, okay? We’ll do a simple reading.” you explain, and only once Dazai agrees (crosses his heart and hopes to die!) is he gently handed the cards.
”What do you want to read? We can focus on love, or money, or your career, things like that.” You say. Dazai ponders for a moment before sniffing, mouth settled into a pompous pout.
”I want to know if someone will finally be interested in a double suicide with me.” He huffs. You scoff.
”You’re insane. Okay, so love. Think about that while you cut them.” You nod, giving him the go-ahead. He runs his fingers over the well-loved edges and slots his thumbs through the deck where it feels right, setting the individual cuts down on the desk before them. He tries to take it as seriously as possible, though thinking about love has always made him squirm and itch beneath his skin.
You reach over once he’s done and clear your throat, carefully picking the top cards on each deck and laying them out in front of him. On the left, the first card flipped is a wheel, seemingly in the sky and surrounded by clouds. The clouds float by calmly, though Dazai can’t find anything particularly personal to you the way some of the other cards would show.
It’s made a little more difficult considering the card’s orientation- upside down.
You hum at it before moving on. The card in the middle is revealed, and this one piques his interest. He grins a little at the image. Two figures hold goblets in their hands, strings of power rising from the cups and meeting above their heads to form a Yin and Yang sign. The figures are startingly familiar- one dark-haired, the other light-haired. Accents in their hair match each other, silver and black clashing and melding nicely. This one’s facing right-side up. The image flickers to show the energy that swirls around, occasionally circling their respective holders.
The last one flicks onto the wooden desk with a hollow sound. The image is soft, not unlike the first one with the blue sky. A sun takes up the upper half, rays pronounced against the sky. Ttheire’s a little kid in the illustration, their beaming face scrunched up in happiness. There’s a flag clutched in one hand, with the other gripping onto the mane of the white horse they’re perched upon. Sunflowers frame them, peaking over the illustrated garden wall behind them.
It’s an endlessly endearing picture, and from the smile, he has a feeling he knows who it is. Like the last one, it’s right-side up.
You settle your chin against your palm, leaning on the table with a hum.
”That’s….a really nice reading, actually.” You move to point at the cards. Dazai sits patiently with his hands on his lap. Nothing more fascinating than seeing someone in their element, he supposed.
”That first one is The Wheel of Fortune. Upside down, it’s a little darker. It represents your past,” you pause, looking at him for a moment. “I think for you, it’s focused on the feeling of helplessness—lack of power or control…like you had love but couldn’t control how and when you lost it,” you say, your voice soft. Dazai fights to ignore the discomfort building in his throat.
”Well, what can I say? My dark past haunts me,” he bemoans, and you huff a soft laugh. You move on to the next card- the cups. You look a little embarrassed by this one.
”This one is the present. Two cups represent…well, partnership. More specifically, the realization of a new partnership. This one can be pretty romantic. I guess you’ve got something to look forward to soon,” you say, pointedly ignoring the images of his two kohais. He grins, sparing you of the teasing. He didn’t know how well you even knew Akutagawa- but it was amusing to see everyone could see what those two denied vehemently.
”The last one is the future. You got The Sun, which is actually really sweet.” Through your embarrassment, Dazai watches a sweet smile grow on your face. He matches it easily.
“It means joy and success, for you in particular. It means…whatever or whoever your two cups is for, you’ll be very happy together.” You say, and Dazai sighs wistfully.
”Maybe someone will finally want to commit suicide with me! This news might keep me alive a day longer just yet,” Dazai coos. You groan and take a deep breath, seemingly ignoring him as you duck your head down and then start to put the cards back.
”You better hope you didn’t piss this deck off, Dazai.” you huff, glaring. Dazai pouts, cradling his face in his hands.
“What?! I followed all your rules; I would never,” he whines. You flip him off and busily tuck the cards into a soft leather pouch. He lets his hands drop and watches for a moment.
”Thanks for the reading,” Dazai says, his voice back to normal. You glance at him and smile.
”Yeah, no problem. It’s nice to read without my ability once in a while,” you admit, expression soft. He grins. Something stirs in his chest.
”You can read me whenever you want, lovely.” He purrs jokingly. You startle, flushing. You glare and kick him with your foot.
”Don’t say shit like that,” you mutter. Dazai whines out a laugh, having settled on teasing you until he could see the smoke coming out your ears.
Before he could continue, the door creaks open, and the overhead lights flick on. Multiple people come shuffling in, and Dazai can hear Kunikida conversing lowly with Fukuzawa. The secretaries also file in, chattering contently amongst themselves. Fukuzawa and Kunkida pause only to greet them both. you wave politely, and Dazai salutes them both.
you blink your eyes to adjust to the light now flooding the room. Dazai huffs and stands with a groan.
”Alright, I’ve got five minutes to get out of here. You’ll be going in to see Shachou, right?” He asks, stretching. you stand and nod, giving him a look.
”Where are you going?” you ask, picking up your bag. He groans at the way his back pops as he rights himself from his stretching.
”Home. I only came here 'cause I was bored. But in the long run, it’ll be a lot funnier if Kunikida’s mad all morning when I don’t show up~” He snickers. you shake your head, a smile pulling at your mouth.
“You’re so lame. See you, then.” You sighed, heading down the hall Kunikida and Fukuzawa had disappeared down.
”And yet you love me. ‘Till we meet again,” he calls, pointedly ignoring the yell you let out.
”Whatever!” you yelped, and Dazai let the agency door click closed behind him.
He grins. Curious indeed.
note — can you tell i love brothers! atsushi and dazai? also, the woman in Judgement is Mizuki Tsujimura, who I headcanon is pretty good friends with reader in this one. :) please let me know if there are any pronoun inconsistencies! this was originally written with she/her pronouns, and i did my best to fix it to match the gender neutral style i like to use for tumblr stuffs.
©neevblanc 2024 // do not plagiarize or repost
#bsd x reader#bungou stray dogs#dazai x reader#gn!y/n#dazai osamu x reader#bungo stray dogs x reader#dazai x you#gender neutral y/n#neev.doc
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PLEASE tell us more about mummy types, i know ice is your fave so feel free to go ham on that but all of them are so interesting to me
drives up in my cozy coupe that has MUMMY MOBILE written in sharpie on the side (ALSO PLEASE EXERCISE CAUTION WHEN LOOKING THESE UP; SOME OF THEM LOOK VERY GNARLY)
ICE/PERMAFROST - If you've followed me for a little while, you probably know more about these than the average fella! These are your Beechey Island Trio, your Ötzi the Iceman. Ice keeps bacteria from turning the body into a smorgabord, thus keeping these people fresh (and fluid-filled) for hundreds to thousands of years. And maybe some day down the line, some nerd finds you and thinks you're beautiful and never shuts up about you.
THE BOG - It's Tumblr. You all know about The Bog. Bog bodies are essentially turned into leather purses by the tannins and the anaerobic qualities of The Bog, sometimes effectively snapshotting their causes of death (usually something violent). Special shoutouts to fan favorites like Tollund Man, Lindow Man/Pete Marsh, Yde Girl, Grauballe Man, and Windeby I. And Hozier, probably.
HOT, DRY DESERT AIR - Think the Atacama Desert, the Mummies of Guanajuato, or your pre-embalming times Egyptians. In fact, it was the natural qualities of desert air that probably tipped the Ancient Egyptians off to the fun and fabulousness of preservation. You dry out to potato chip crispness but lose all the wet bits. Also Anubis is probably repping you.
ARID, COLD MOUNTAIN AIR - Same idea as the desert as far as lack of humidity, but better for your skin. Mountaintop mummies are some of the best preserved in the whole world. La Doncella is a fantastic example, as are the rest of the Children of Llullaillaco or the Cherchen Man and Siberian Ice Maiden. Sometimes this was done on purpose (hi bog bodies), but sometimes people just go up to high altitudes, die, and stay there forever.
HONEY/MELLIFICATION - This one doesn't fit the bill of spontaneous mummification, which is what I study. Honey mummies are made on purpose, allegedly by feeding someone honey until they're dead, and then dunking them in a coffin full of honey for them to steep like tea for the next century or so, then digging them up and making medicine/snacks out of them. Lots of alleged's, but still pretty cool if you're into idk becoming one with the slime.
SALT - Human jerky! Salt does to you what it does to all the other edible meats, of which you're just another brand. Salt sucks all the moisture out and keeps you nice, fresh, and flavorful forever and ever. The Saltmen of Iran are Thee Pinnacle of this type of preservation. Bonus is that you get weirdly sparkly when you're salted like a slug.
SAPONIFICATION - You become soap. Actually, if you want to get technical, you turn into what's called corpse wax (which is a surprisingly badass name for turning into a human candle) or adipocere. Mrs. Ellenbogen of the Mütter Museum is probably the best example of this, but it also happens to, uh, cave divers. Which is another great reason not to go cave diving.
PRISTINE AIR OF A SACRED BUILDING - Catacomb mummies! Incorruptible saints! Sokushinbutsu! If you're stuck in a religious house of worship and it just so happens to have its own little ecosystem (usually pretty dry, probably full of resinous incense), there's a non-zero chance that you'll get preserved very similarly to the mountain mummies. Getting stuck in a crystal casket doesn't hurt either. (Disclaimer: this is semi-anthropogenic for those keeping score at home. Some of these mummies are preserved this way on purpose.)
TAR PITS - Like the bog, but hotter, stickier, and smellier. Go in the tar, have no oxygen causing you to fall apart, turn into another leather bag time capsule. This more often happens to animals like those in the La Brea Tar Pits than people. At least that we know of.
WEIRD, AS OF YET UNKNOWN MEANS - Can we say for sure that there was only one reason why Lady Dai/Xin Zhui's stayed so preserved for so long? What about the other wet mummies? What about ones people find in trees? Or whatever the hell was going on with Elmer McCurdy? Maybe it's not unknown, but it doesn't fit the bill of typical mummies, or there are so many factors at play leading to preservation that we can't just call it by one category.
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if you are still doing ship game, thoughts on jily?
thank you very much, anon - i am always taking questions both on romantic ships and on characters' platonic vibes, the more unhinged the better.
although jily can't really be described in those terms, not least because their narrative purpose in canon is to be little more than blank canvases onto which harry can project as he goes through his series-long character arc, shedding his initial hero worship of james when confronted with the reality of his father's behaviour in order of the phoenix and starting both to fully appreciate lily's centrality to the course his life is taking and to see his dad with nuance as a real and fully-rounded person, flaws and all.
this narrative role means that the glimpses we get of them in canon feel kind of superficial - their bantering during snape's worst memory is basically high-school-teen-movie level, the snapshots of their life under lockdown in deathly hallows lovely and bittersweet but also just colour to a storyline which is already all of those things.
and this is not to say that i find jily uninteresting as a ship - i completely reject the common anti-jily position that they didn't really like each other, that they had nothing in common, or that their backgrounds made them incompatible [i'll expand on this below, but while i do think that their respective blood statuses and the impact of these on their relationship are worth thinking about, i loathe fics which portray james as chafing against his marriage because, as a pureblood, he'd be more comfortable with someone 'of his own kind'. this is bullshit, and there's far, far too much of it in this fandom]. my views on one of james' most frequent non-lily partnerships are well known, and i share the outrage many jily fans have for the way lily in particular is treated in a subfandom increasingly dominated by rigid fanon which prioritises giving depth to male characters [even if those characters are, in essence, oc's] and slash relationships over exploring the canon female characters, partnered or not.
but i do also find that a lot of jily falls into the same trap as much of the hinny i dislike - that is, a tendency to present as a sunshine-and-roses fairytale a relationship which is much more interesting if the things which canon implies [and which can be reasonably inferred outside of canon scenes from a canon coherent engagement with the text] might have introduced an element of dysfunction into james and lily's partnership are taken into account.
the shadow of the war is obviously one of these things. what role lily actually plays in the resistance is something which preoccupies me [she is never mentioned in canon to have taken a combat role - and i find it considerably more plausible that any attempt voldemort made to recruit her was at snape's request and connected to her potions prowess] particularly because, as we see in the way her death is memorialised in deathly hallows, the series regards the defence of the integrity of the nuclear family as a key aim for the good guys. how does she interact with james and his wartime role when she's pregnant, nursing, or in hiding for the vast majority of her time in the order? how does she feel about her husband being a soldier if she's behind the scenes?
indeed, what role james [and sirius] plays in the order is also something i'm obsessed with thinking about - not least because so much of the inherent tragedy of the marauders' storyline is caused by the fact that james and sirius think they're fucking invincible and that their plans to keep the potters safe are foolproof. it's entirely reasonable to read james and sirius as being pretty gung-ho about being paramilitaries - and my headcanon is absolutely that more battled-hardened order members didn't like them very much [moody does not, after all, seem massively fond of sirius] - and lily seems affected by this too [she's not holding her wand either!], and what they thought they were doing as 1981 rolls around is compelling to me.
james and lily's divergent backgrounds is also something i'd like to see explored more in fandom - not, as i've said, in the dull 'james should have married a pureblood' way, but in a way which deals with the fact that their relationship follows wizarding norms. molly weasley can blame the war all she likes, but [although i doubt this was jkr's intention] the evidence of canon is that witches and wizards marry and have children extremely young as a social standard, that couples generally don't live together before marriage, that divorce doesn't seem to be common, and that married women tend not to work. lily - a mother at twenty and, therefore, presumably married at nineteen - is coming of age, then, in a magical world which thinks about gender very differently from the muggle world of the 1970s, and i think that tension is worth exploring.
[similarly, the way in which her marriage is self-protective - lily gains a pureblood name and the social cachet which comes with it at a time when she's in rising danger on account of her birth - is something i think it's worth looking at when considering the pairing.]
there are other flashes of dysfuntion which i adore thinking about in relation to jily - lily's relationship with the other marauders [you can pry the reading that sirius resents her for stealing the love of his life - and i certainly don't mean lupin - away from him from my cold, dead hands]; how much of his misbehaviour at school james conceals from her; the fact that lily becoming more overtly interested in james from her sixth year onward must have a little bit of attempting to make snape jealous mixed into it - and whenever i stumble upon them in fics i say oh ho like horace slughorn and kick my little feet in the air.
i care rather less about 'we're so hot and flawless and not doomed' as a trope.
but i do stan james for beefing with vernon dursley even though lily told him to behave. the man really is just that annoying.
#asks answered#asenora's opinions on ships#jily#james potter#lily evans#is this an 'i'm in danger' one?#only time will tell
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Deepwaters
Inc: Lilia, Malleus, Silver, & Sebek
Warnings: Brief mention of blood, implementations of death, mild existential questioning. Some chapter 7 spoilers may be seen, but they're quite subtle (nothing major)
WC: 3.1k
Summary: 4 brief snapshots to the poem 'What are Heavy?' by Christina Rosseti centred on youth, the ocean, and the consequences of memories.
(done for the @briarvalleyarchives 'Summer Shorelines' event :) )
LILIA.
What are heavy? Sea-sand and sorrow;
“I reckon you would not be able to swim past the rock crevice there.”
A girl's voice holds pride as she stands on the beach, her hands on her hips and her lips curled into a cocky smile. Before her are two boys—one, who looks irate with her words, and another, who looks as though he wishes to sink into the dusty white sands. The irate boy gives a snort in response before looking out to the waters.
The ocean is wine red with the setting of the sun and the waves hit the shore like hands grasping forward. The horizon is but a jagged line, as though it’s a starving mouth waiting to see who it will bite.
“I reckon you want us dead,” the irate boy counters. “If you want to challenge us, Mallenoa, then perhaps you should try it first.”
Mallenoa’s cocky grin falters for just a moment before she huffs and crosses her arms over her chest. In the distance farther up the shoreline, a few guards can be spotted observing the trio as they stand there.
“I have already proven myself capable of swimming there, Lilia. You and Revan were the ones too cowardly to follow along.” Mallenoa points to the rock crevice again. It’s a few yards out from the shore—not a grand length—but the sea is growing unsteady as night makes her rapid descent. “I dare you.”
“It will be getting cold soon. Would it not be better if we just wait until tomorrow?” Revan starts to protest, his wiry voice like wind passing through reeds, but his comments fall on deaf ears as Lilia turns sharply to stare out at the water's beyond. His gaze skims over the toiling surface, watching as the waves leave foam to sink back into their embrace, before he snorts and begins walking forward.
“No coward's soul is mine!” Is all he calls over his shoulder in return. He wouldn’t be called cowardly by the likes of Mallenoa, simply because he knew her to be the one to never live it down. He could hear Revan’s worried voice calling for him to stop, but these words die as the roar of the waves grows louder and his feet plunge into their icy depths.
For a moment, he looks down and watches as the red waters swirl around him. In his youth, he remains unaware of the foreshadowing this image holds; he knows little of the red waters he will come to wade through in his future, or of the rivers he will craft with his own hands in the name of Queen and Country. He knows not of how he will drown in salt and copper and steel for a purpose that will fail in the end anyway. He knows not of the clock running out on his halcyon days.
For now, he is just a boy, too arrogant to say no to a friend.
The sand weighs him down as he moves deeper into the ocean. The waters embrace his legs, and then his waist, and then he’s falling forward into the abyss below. He moves like he’s always belonged in this darkness; the sensation of the tide rippling across his skin and the sight of the dying light reflecting on the surface above is so calming that he almost forgets to break through. His breath escapes in a flurry of bubbles before he breaches and inhales sharply, looking back to his friends on the shore beyond.
Mallenoa is laughing in delight. The childish innocence of joy darkens her cheeks, and he can still see this in the orange light as she watches him with adoration and pride. Revan stands by her side, his hand grasping her sleeve as anxiety is painted on his features. It is how it’s always been; one bravely diving into the dark, and the other trailing behind her, like a comet and her tail in the depths of space.
Lilia exhales softly and looks around. The water is still now, like his presence has soothed it, and his body rises and falls slowly. Seagulls cry out from somewhere beyond, perhaps on the rock crevice he’s meant to reach. He pushes back his hair and looks towards his friends once more. The sun is setting further, and they’re beginning to look like nothing but two dark silhouettes on the distant shore.
It feels isolating, in the middle of these waters, all alone.
Lilia begins to swim.
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MALLEUS.
What are brief? Today and tomorrow;
“Prince Malleus, do not stray too far out!” He hears the nanny call from somewhere back on the shore as he hurries down the wooden steps of the pier. There is no one else on this beach except him, his nanny, and Lilia, who has volunteered to accompany the restless boy lest he become too much for the nanny to handle. They had cleared any other attendees of the beach for just this one day—for one day is all the Queen would grant the prince’s guardians when it came to taking him out of the security that was Black Scale Palace.
The sound of his small feet hitting the sand is like a hiss, and he can feel the heat on his bare feet, his shoes having been discarded as soon as they arrived. He looks up and squints against the brightness; it’s rare for the sun to come out in the Valley, but summer days often bring on a drought, and so week-long periods of nothing but light are not unheard of.
This heat lasts only a moment before something hides him in shade again. When he looks over, he sees Lilia holding a parasol above them, a bemused expression on his face.
“Goodness, are you sure you’re a dragon and not a sea serpent? You seem quite eager to get in those waters,” he teases as he fusses over a strand of Malleus’ hair. The young prince swats his hand away with a pout.
“I am a dragon,” he grumbles back, before rushing forward again, all previous slights now forgotten in his eagerness to reach the clear blue waters. Lilia follows closely behind while the nanny hurries after them, holding a basket with lunch in one hand and the prince's shoes in another.
Malleus had read a great deal about the sea. Of the creatures that reside within it, of the folklore and mythology it holds, of the vastness and the grandeur. He has not, however, read about just how cold the sea can be, and so when he jumps both feet into the water at once, he lasts all of two seconds before he’s shrieking and running back to Lilia. His hands grasp his guardians arm and he seems downright offended as he looks back to the water.
“It’s so cold!” He cries, stomping his feet in the sand as though to warm them back up again. Lilia can’t help but laugh at the sight of the young dragon clinging to his arm—the poor boy looks shattered. He moves his hand to hold Malleus’ and clicks his tongue teasingly.
“My, did you expect it to feel like a hot bath, little prince?” He laughs as his other hand adjusts the parasol. “Come. I’ll show you the proper way to wade into the ocean.”
Malleus looks prepared to protest, but Lilia hears none of it as he holds the boy's small hand in his own, guiding him forward until they are at the water's edge once more. The waves are a baby blue colour, and they glimmer in the sunlight like glass and pearls.
“Now, you must move steadily. Let yourself adjust to the feeling, and then continue on.” Lilia hums as he slowly guides Malleus forward. The prince’s expression turns sour again when he steps back into the cold waters, but then it slowly shifts to contemplation, and then a bright smile as his body adjusts to the temperature change. His hand squeezes Lilia’s tight, as though afraid to let go too soon.
“The sand feels funny,” he notes in that manner that children so innocently do. He wiggles his toes in the clear blue water and watches as the sand slides easily off his skin. He moves closer to Lilia. “Please don’t let me go. I don’t want to get pulled in.”
“As if I’d ever let that happen to you,” Lilia muses, holding the prince’s hand close. “I’d never hear the end of it from your grandmother if I did.”
He looks up then, his gaze going to a familiar rock crevice in the distance. The sun beats down but the parasol shields them both as the sounds of the nanny setting up a towel for lunch, accompanied by the ocean waves crashing against the shore, creates a strange rhythm of peace in the air.
This is broken when Malleus kicks up water onto Lilia’s legs.
“Malleus!” Lilia yelps, moving back while still holding the prince’s hand. Malleus laughs in delight at his guardian's expense, and his face is filled with unrestrained joy. It’s the happiest that Lilia has seen the prince in a long time—in the palace on his own, he often looks quiet and sullen, as gray as the walls that confine him. This new sight reminds Lilia of a similar face with a similar expression he once saw on this shore, long ago.
He squeezes Malleus’ hand, and shakes his head with a smile as the boy goes to splash him once again.
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SILVER & SEBEK.
What are frail? Spring blossoms and youth;
“Why can I hear the ocean?”
Lilia’s eyes open slightly as he hears a voice. At first he sees green, and then he sees a scowl, and then he recognizes the inquisitor to be that of Sebek Zigvolt, who looks thoroughly unimpressed with a shell in his small hand. Lilia looks past Sebek, and then to his right, where he spots Silver half-asleep on the beach towel next to him.
Good. All his children he’s set to watch are accounted for, despite his impromptu nap.
“What do you mean?” Lilia hums as he sits up slowly. His answer is given in the form of Sebek shoving a seashell against his ear.
“I can hear the ocean!” The boy declares, louder this time and with more urgency in his tone. Silver mumbles something and sits up as well to look at Sebek with a faintly confused expression. Lilia puts his hand over the shell and guides it away from his ear.
“Because it carries a part of the sea in it.” Truthfully, it’s the sound of your own ear fluid being echoed back, but Lilia figures that will lead to even more confusion if he were to say something like that instead.
“How did it get the sea in there?” Silver yawns before moving closer to his father and friend, peering at the shell with interest. He reaches out to grab it, turning it over and letting the light reflect on its rainbow-like surface. “Trapping things is mean. What if the sea wants out?”
“I’m sure the sea is quite happy in there,” Lilia replies as Sebek comes to sit down on his other side. Both boys are now up and active, and although today is meant to be a break from learning and training, it doesn’t seem like this will be the case. Silver shakes his head.
“But what if it isn’t happy? What if the shell just thinks the sea is happy, but really, the sea is sad?” Silver presses the shell to his ear, and his expression becomes a bit more concerned as he looks back to his father. “I don’t want the sea to be sad.”
“The sea isn’t sad. The sea can’t feel anything,” Sebek counters with a scowl before looking back to Lilia. “Right?”
Lilia has to admire the fact that both boys manage to have such polarizing views on the matter. Youth never fails to amuse him. He carefully takes the shell back from Silver and turns it over in his hands. The shell is frail—he can see chips in its surface already. It isn’t a young shell, that’s for sure. A faint breeze passes over the trio, carrying the scent of ocean water and blossoms from the trees that they sit beneath.
Lilia glances up. Apple blossoms, it seems.
“Shall I free the sea, then? That would mean shattering the shell.” Lilia glances between the two boys. “Would you like me to break such a pretty shell?”
Silver looks uncomfortable with the question as his hand comes out to grasp his fathers arm. “I think… I think we should. The sea should be with the rest of itself, not locked away in a shell. That isn’t fair.”
“But who are you to decide what’s fair and what isn’t? Who are any of us to decide?” Lilia hums, a small smile playing on his lips. Perhaps there’s time to still sneak a few lessons in here for the boys to keep knowledge down the line. Silver looks more concerned as he glances at Sebek to answer.
Sebek puffs his cheeks out for a moment as he looks at the shell. His hands clench and unclench in his lap before he looks at Silver, and then to Lilia. “If it’s stuck inside, it’s our job to let it out, even if we like the shell. It isn’t right.”
“It isn’t right?” Lilia turns the shell over again, and then glances between the two boys. “Well then, if we’ve all come to a decision.”
He clenches his hand, and the shell snaps in half like it’s nothing. A trickle of water runs down to the grass beneath them, and then towards the sandy beach just beyond, as though travelling to the ocean it came from. The two boys watch it go as they stay sitting beside Lilia. There’s silence, broken only by the faint sighs of the wind brushing against the blossoms above.
“,,, did we make the right choice?” Silver then asks, looking at Lilia expectantly as Sebek quickly does the same. Lilia brushes his thumb across the shell fragments for a moment, studying its shattered opal interior, and then he simply shrugs with a smile.
“We won’t ever know if it was the right choice, but it was the choice that we made, nonetheless, and it’s the one that we shall have to live with. That’s just how it goes.”
------------------------------------------------
OUR FAMILY.
What are deep? The ocean and truth.
The scent of the ocean is too strong. The sun is too bright, the sand is too perfect, and it’s the only way that the three of them know this is another illusion they’re trapped in. The faint cries of seagulls in the distance and the waves crashing against the sand fill the otherwise stagnant painting they’ve been etched into. Silver looks around in worry, as does Sebek, but Lilia’s gaze is fixated on the rocky crevice in the distance.
It looks jagged, and blurred, as though someone blended it in with the horizon in a mock attempt to make it exist.
“You look concerned.”
And then he’s there. Tall, with his expression unforgiving as he stands in the toiling waters, looking back at them with faint indifference in his gaze. The sea kisses his boots as though worshipping him, and the breeze rustles his clothing slightly. Lilia exhales softly as he senses Silver and Sebek tensing by his side.
“Is it not right?” Malleus looks back out at the deep waters beyond. The sky is the gentle pink of dusk, and the sun is hidden in a painted haze as the silhouettes of birds fly in the distance. The horizon blends together and makes the ocean look as though it’s never-ending. This entire experience has been never ending so far—a dream upon a dream, a nightmare upon a nightmare.
Lilia is tired. He’s sure that the others are, as well.
“You’re close, but the crevice is off.” Lilia points out at the rocks beyond. Malleus follows his direction and hums thoughtfully.
“I couldn’t quite remember what it looked like when I was little.” Is the explanation he gives. “It all blurs together in the end anyway, doesn’t it? The memories, the moments. So easily tossed aside without a single warning, without a single goodbye.”
“Malleus,” Silver begins, but Malleus turns and raises a finger to his lips, hushing the younger boy softly. Sebek looks uncertain as his hand grips his magic pen. Malleus looks as he always has; there is no black ink dripping into the waters he stands in, there is no oppressive presence, no crushing weight of magic. He is as they remember—as their memories painted him to be.
“I’m adjusting to the waters,” Malleus hums thoughtfully. “Remember how you taught me that?”
Lilia’s brow furrows. “Malleus, this has gone too far out of line. You must—”
“Would you like to come in?” Malleus cuts him off and holds a hand out. There’s a smile on his lips, but it fails to reach his gaze, which remains as lifeless as the scenery that surrounds them. “I promise not to let you get pulled in.”
Lilia falls silent as Malleus pays tribute to the conversation they had many, many years ago. The hand he once held now is extended as a mockery to that brief, tender moment between guardian and child. Silver looks to his father and notes the expression on Lilia’s face before glancing towards Sebek. His own hand moves down to grip his magic pen.
“Sebek,” he calls softly, drawing the other boy's attention for just a moment. Malleus’ gaze turns sharply towards him and darkens. The sky begins to grow a deeper red colour as dusk approaches faster. The waters become a wine red once more, their tide increasing as though to offer an omen foretelling what’s to come. They’re restless, clashing against the sand like blood spilling on a pale earth. “Is the sea sad?”
Sebek looks confused for a moment, and then the memory dawns on him, and his expression shifts to that of an uncomfortable understanding. He exhales slowly, and the subtle nod he offers is enough for Silver to know that he agrees. Lilia’s attention is still locked on Malleus, on his extended hand and the dark, cold expression he’s giving the other two boys.
Silver’s hand tightens around his magic pen, and Sebek’s does the same as the sea toils before them, and the sky descends into the blackness of night. If something is trapped, it’s one's duty to let it free, even if it means shattering something that they love dearly.
They won’t ever know if it’s the right choice, but it’s the choice that they’re going to make, nonetheless.
#briarvalleyarchives#lilia vanrouge#malleus draconia#sebek zigvolt#silver#twst lilia#twst malleus#twst silver#twst sebek#GOD this was the fastest i ever wrote for an event#the brain rot bro.... the wine red ocean#anyway lkfsdljffd
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Popularity does matter and helps measure a characters worth. If they are written well then they generally will be the most popular. Also you should care about popularity seeing how that keeps a conversation going and keeps that character relevant and keeps the fanarts and fandom works coming.
Levi is no longer popular and that just goes to show that he fell off as a character. He had potential to be something great but just left many disappointed. This is why he's no longer the face of aot or the most popular in his show. (Eren took that shit back!!!) This is why he's losing polls to characters like Gojo. He's just not relevant anymore. You're more likely to see Eren and other characters on anime fan creator pages than Levi now. Levi barely pulls in the interactions and likes on twitter whereas Eren and Mikasa are bringing in the numbers. You see Levi used to be the talk of the town and the anime IT boy. He used to be everywhere and if you spoke against him you'd be swarmed. Now that doesn't happen. People just don't care. If you have a character that was that popular and now they're barely talked about, you know something went wrong. You know they fell off and disappointed people because their writing was lacking. So yes I do actually think popularity measures the worth of a character.
Hey, keyboard warrior.
Here is the thing about throwing shade from the anonymity – it takes about as much courage as a moldy banana peel challenging a hurricane. If your opinions are so earth-shattering, why hide behind anon messages like a frightened internet ghost?
I find it hilarious that you are saying Levi is the one who "had potential to be something great but just left many disappointed" when in reality it is Gojo who has left many disappointed. (Not hate)
Let's talk popularity. You act like it's some holy grail of character worth, this infallible judge of quality.
Newsflash: popularity is fickle. It's a vapid internet windsock, blowing whichever way the latest meme dictates.
Sure, a well-written character with depth can grab attention, but sometimes pure entertainment value steals the show.
The goofy dumb hero with a tragic backstory might not win a Pulitzer, but they keep the popcorn tubs overflowing, right?
Trends shift faster than Kardashians change their hairstyles.
Characters dominating discussions today are yesterday's news tomorrow.
Guts is one of the most well written character of all times, but we rarely see him dominating popularity polls. Because popularity is a snapshot in time, not a mark of quality.
Are Kaneki and Light still relevant online? Maybe, but probably not the first name that pops into someone's head when they think "hottest anime character." Why? Because Tokyo Ghoul and Death Note are not the shiny new toy everyone's playing with anymore.
That doesn't make them bad characters now, does it? Just means Jujutsu Kaisen is the new kid on the block.
Popularity reflects the current hype, not some objective measure of quality.
Now, about that "Levi isn't popular anymore" claim.
Here's a little fact for you: Levi is declared the most popular anime character of all time. Still riding high on My Anime List at number 2, with Eren trailing behind at 13th and your precious Gojo at a respectable 16th.
Funny how you cherry-picked one popularity poll to fit your narrative (Anime Corner 2023), isn't it?
Bet that pinches a bit in your anonymous little corner.
I don't use Twitter (X) now, because that platform lowers the IQ of the entire internet by several notches. Who cares who's trending there? It's a chaotic mess of fleeting opinions and manufactured outrage.
Attack on Titan season four took a sharp turn, shoving Eren into the villain spotlight. His descent into darkness was undeniably intriguing, and I can see why it grabbed people's attention (and mine too). Let's not forget Eren is the protagonist. The entire story revolves around him. Of course his character development and tragic romance with Mikasa would be a focus!
But here's the thing – Levi's popularity doesn't magically disappear because Eren's on the rise. They're both compelling characters in their own right.
In fact "Bad Boy" manga that is going to be released is revolved around Levi.
So, instead of anonymously whining about a perceived decline, why not ditch the negativity and have a real conversation? What makes a character truly tick for you? Is it the emotional depth, the badassery, the hilarious quirks? Let's dissect what truly makes a character shine, instead of resorting to schoolyard taunts about a fictional character.
In the end, Levi's legacy in Attack on Titan is undeniable. He's a fan favorite, a symbol of unwavering strength, and a character who continues to inspire cosplay, fanart, and endless debates. Maybe the hype has shifted a bit, but his impact and popularity on the anime world remains. So, take your anonymous complaints and channel them into something constructive. The internet could use a little less negativity and a lot more genuine discussion about the characters we love, flaws and all.
#anime#levi ackerman#gojo satoru#eren yeager#attack on titan#shingeki no kyojin#jujutsu kaisen#manga#ask
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Teen Mom
Request: Hi! I saw your requests are open and I saw the MGG imagine I think it was about teenage pregnancy and was wondering if you would do the same ish for Spencer Reid, maybe a little further along or little snapshots of the nine months, or him meeting his grandchild (it’s cool if your not comfortable doing this!)
Spencer Reid x daughter!reader
Summary: Spencer's daughter gets pregnant.
Warnings: throwing up
a/n: thank you for the request! sorry it took forever to write. hope you all enjoy!
(gif not mine)
Y/N nervously paces her bedroom, sniffling as she recovers from crying. She holds the pregnancy test in her hand, her mind racking over how she's going to tell her dad.
Y/N is too in her head to hear the front door open and shut or hear Spencer call out for her. She jumps when her bedroom door opens, turning to see her dad walk in.
"Hey, honey. Hey, I got your favorite for dinner, I figur--" Spencer stops when he notices the tear stains on her face. "What's wrong?" Concern washes over his face as he walks closer to her. "Did something happen? Why are you crying?"
"Uh... I don't, um... I'm sorry." Y/N sobs. Spencer pulls her into a hug, stroking her hair.
"Baby, what happened?" Spencer asks. Y/N only continues to cry for a few moments before she holds her hand up, showing Spencer the test. Spencer takes the stick, looking at it, and quickly realizing what it is and what the result is.
"Oh." He mumbles.
"I'm so sorry, daddy. I-I didn't mean to. I never planned it, I don't-- please don't kick me out or-or disown me or anything." Y/N begs while still sobbing, pulling away from him.
"Whoa, whoa, hey, hey, hey. It's okay, baby. You're okay." Spencer tells her, bringing her back into a hug. "You aren't going anywhere. I'm right here.
"You... you don't hate me?" She sniffles.
"Of course not, sweetheart. I could never hate you." Spencer tells her.
"But... but I'm pregnant... and 17." Y/N says.
"And I will be with you every step of the way. Whether you keep the baby or-or put it up for adoption, whatever you decide, I will be right here." Spencer promises.
- - -
Y/N decided to keep the baby, not having the heart to not birth and raise it.
Spencer is woken up by the sound of retching coming from the bathroom. He quietly groans, rubbing his eyes as he checks the time, seeing it's five in the morning.
Spencer gets out, trudging to the bathroom where Y/N is kneeling in front of the toilet, emptying her stomach's contents.
"Hey, hey, it's okay, sweetheart." Spencer goes over, pulling her hair back and out of her face. "It's all right. Just let it out." Spencer kneels next to her, keeping her hair held back as she continues to throw up.
After Y/N is sure she's done, she flushes the toilet, letting out a small groan. Spencer wets a wash cloth and wipes around Y/N's mouth, kissing her on the head.
"Come on. Let's get you laying down." Spencer helps her up. "Bed or couch?"
"Bed." She mumbles.
"All right." Spencer leads her to her room and pulls her covers back as she gets into bed. He pulls the covers her up, basically tucking her in and he grabs her trash can, putting it next to her bed.
"You want some toast?" Spencer asks.
"No." She whines. "Sleep."
"Okay. Okay, get some sleep." Spencer says, kissing her temple.
- - -
Spencer gets home after work with takeout food. He's getting some dishes out while Y/N unpacks the food.
"Wait. Where's my fries?" Y/N asks.
"They're not in there?" Spencer asks.
"No." Y/N says.
"Oh. I'm sorry, baby. I guess they forgot." Spencer frowns. He puts the dishes down, looking at Y/N when he hears a sniffle. "Baby, what's wrong?"
"I wanted my fries!" She cries.
"Oh. Baby, we can get the fries another time."
"I want them now, though!"
"Okay, okay. I'm sorry, sweetheart. I'm sorry." Spencer brings her into a hug, stroking her hair while she cries into his chest. After a few minutes, Y/N's cries have reduced to sniffles and she pulls away from Spencer.
"You okay?" Spencer asks, wiping her tears.
"I'm sorry. It... it's all these stupid hormones. I mean, they were bad enough as a teenager much less a pregnant teenager." Y/N says.
"I know, baby. I'm sorry." Spencer hugs her again, kissing her on the head.
- - -
Spencer and Y/N are watching TV and Spencer notices Y/N fidgeting every ten minutes.
"Sweetie, are you okay?" Spencer asks.
"I don't know. I think I ate something bad, I keep having this pain in my abdomen." Y/N says.
"What?" Spencer's eyes widen. "How, uh... is it constant or...?"
"No. No, it comes and goes every, like, ten minutes." Y/N says.
"Okay, Y/N/N, don't freak out, but I think you might be in labor." Spencer says.
"What?" Her eyes widen. "N-No. It-- the baby's not due for a week. I... no."
"Okay. Okay, baby, we're gonna go to the hospital. You know, it could also be a false alarm, but just... just to be safe." Spencer says, turning the TV off and getting up. He helps her up, leading her to the door, grabbing the hospital bag on the way.
- - -
Y/N is in her hospital bed, still needing to dilate a few inches before she can push the baby out. Spencer walks in with a cup and rushes over to her.
"Okay, here's the ice chips." He gives her the cup.
"Thanks." Y/N says, focusing on her breathing.
"Yeah, baby, of course. You feeling okay?" Spencer asks.
"I feel like I'm about to be giving birth... which is not fun." Y/N says.
"Yeah. Yeah, it can be painful. You know, statistics show--"
"Dad, dad, daddy." Y/N stops him. "I really-- I can't do facts right now."
"Okay. Right, yeah, sure, sorry." Spencer says. "You want me to stay or you want me outside while you... while you welcome in a new life?"
"Stay, please. I'm actually really scared. What if... what if I can't do it? Push or raise a baby? I-I don't know the first thing about parenting. I'm 17, that's not exactly typical parent age. I don't... I don't know what the hell I'm doing."
"Hey, hey, sweetie, you are going to do amazing. Okay? You already love this baby more than anything, and that is the first part of being a parent -- loving your kid more than anything. And I will be with you every step of the way, ready to help whenever you need it. You're no in this alone. You're blessed enough to have a village to help you."
Y/N nods, starting to cry.
"Damn it, now I'm crying." She hiccups. Spencer smiles a little, hugging her, kissing the top of her head.
- - -
Y/N gives a final push, the doctor pulling the baby the rest of the way out.
"It's a boy!" The doctor announces. Y/N pants as she throws her head against the pillow.
"Hey, you did great. You did great. I'm proud of you." Spencer tells her, rubbing his thumb over her knuckles.
"Is it over?" She whines.
"Yes. Yeah, it's over, baby." Spencer assures, kissing her on the head.
"Here's your baby boy, mama." A nurse gives the crying baby to Y/N. She takes him, easily managing to soothe his cries and Y/N softly laughs, feeling herself fall even more in love with her baby then she already was.
"Hi, baby." She whispers. "Hi."
After getting the baby cleaned up and swaddling him, they return the baby to Y/N.
"He's so tiny." Y/N says, glancing up at her dad.
"Yeah... you were just a teensy bit bigger." Spencer remembers.
"You wanna hold him?" Y/N asks. Spencer nods and carefully takes the baby from Y/N.
"Hey, buddy." Spencer softly greets, cradling the baby, making sure to support his head. "Hey. I'm your grandpa."
Taglist: @glxwingrxse @venomsvl @wildieflower @aliciacat20 @allyson15 @ironmaiden1313 @peyton-14
#spencer reid#spencer reid x daughter reader#spencer reid x daughter!reader#criminal minds#criminal minds reid#reid
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🎁 Recently Read Fics - December 2023 🎁
These are all the amazing fics I read over the past month (from shortest to longest). Don’t forget to leave kudos and comments to show the authors your appreciation if you read any of these! ❤️
🎁 A Green Christmas by @tommokat (871, T)
A short, sweet snapshot of Niall and Shawn’s first holiday season living together.
🎁 to wake up by your side is all I wanna do by @beardyboyzx (1k, G)
Sometimes, Niall still thinks about the way Zayn’s laugh sounds when they watch TV and Niall makes up fake answers for whatever quiz show they’re watching.
🎁 Oh Christmas Three by @tommokat (1k, M)
A birthday surprise goes awry. Louis doesn’t understand. Harry blames the oven.
🎁 make my wish come true by @voulezloux (2k, NR)
the one where all harry wants for christmas is lou
🎁 Baby, please come home by @iysics (2k, T)
Breaking into his neighbour's house wasn't on Harry's Christmas checklist.
🎁 Stuck in Midnight Traffic by @letthemusicmoveyou28 (3k, M)
the one where two broken people meet in an empty tube car on Christmas Eve. Can they find a way to heal each other?
🎁 All The Way Home I’ll Be Warm by @justanothershadeofblue (3k, T)
Harry & Louis jokingly send out holiday cards together as friends, and now everyone is congratulating them for finally getting together. A 5+1 fic, for Christmas.
🎁 Santa Baby (one little thing I really need) by @so-why-let-your-voice-be-tamed (3k, T)
When Louis himself had first heard those words - all the nurses at the A&E have a secret line to Santa’s sleigh on Christmas Eve-, not nearly long enough ago to be considered a child himself, but long enough that he hadn't really felt like an adult all the time, he’d laughed them off. Thought they were sweet, of course, but just a line, something said to appease the kids who ended up having to stay overnight. Something to explain the presents that parents brought to the hospital on Christmas morning, or that were waiting for them at home, if they were lucky not to have to stay any longer.
Something that would allow a little bit of Christmas spirit in the sometimes sterile rooms of the hospital.
But that was before he’d met him.
🎁 A Christmas at Home by @parmahamlarrie (3k, T)
After meeting his boyfriend in the emergency room, not having Louis home for Christmas Eve (and his birthday) was not a big surprise to Harry. What he didn't expect was just how hard that would be on his six year old son, Arlo.
Or, the one where Arlo wants nothing more than to celebrate Louis' birthday with him, and Harry hates having to be the parent who says no.
🎁 I Saw Several Angels in the Self Help Section by @londonfoginacup (3k, G)
Zayn and Louis are soulmates.
They're also missing some soulmates.
For extra flavour, it's Christmas.
🎁 Elf on the Shelf Suprise by @megz1985 (6k, T)
Liam brings home an Elf on the Shelf to surprise his and Zayn's toddler with Christmas magic, but things don't go as planned when she's completely terrified of her new Christmas friend.
🎁 The Busker by @chelsea-frew (7k, T)
A snowstorm has trapped artist Louis at home on his birthday--Christmas Eve--and on Christmas. Louis anticipates a lonely holiday. A mysterious stranger appears on Christmas morning, however, and Louis doesn't have to spend the day alone. But where did the man come from? Why does he seem familiar? It's a Christmas mystery.
🎁 Lonely Cards Club by @hellolovers13 (25k, T)
Harry's life in Cardiff is rather uneventful. Until he receives a strange Christmas postcard.
It gets even stranger when he finds another one the next day.
An Advent story about missed opportunities and second chances.
🎁 You Ain’t Gotta Feel Fear Just Mingle by @londonfoginacup (32k, T)
Harry has been at his dream job for less than three months, and he knows two things for sure; first, his project manager doesn't know what he's doing, and second, someone in the office is apparently pure evil, and no one will tell Harry who it is.
Oh, and the guy who works in conservation at the other end of the building is the most beautiful man Harry's ever seen, even when wielding a hot iron as a weapon.
Happy Christmas, here's to many more.
🎁 Snow In Love by @lululawrence (33k, NR)
Harry and Louis are best friends and have been for basically as long as they can remember. For the first time since middle school, they are both single for the holidays leaving them with the brilliant idea to take each other as their dates to work events. To make things easier they will pretend like they’re dating. But then they learn something funny.
People thought they were already dating. Weird.
An advent fic featuring childhood friends, fake dating turned actual dating, really horrible secret keeping, and a winter weather surprise.
🎁 Heart Beat by @allwaswell16 (33k, E)
Hideaway Haven is the place that Louis has always called home. It's also the place that Harry had tried to leave behind him. When Harry returns to start a music academy in his hometown, he finds himself face to face with his high school crush—and his charming daughter who wants to learn to play the drums.
🎁 I Really Like Your Styles: The Baking Advent-ure by @homosociallyyours (34k, T)
Louis isn't much for frills, and the coffee shop he co-owns with his best friend Liam is evidence of that. Yes, it's got a decent sized, well-kept industrial kitchen, but Louis insists that people come to coffee shops for coffee, not mediocre pastry and plastic wrapped cookies. When Liam's campaign for serving treats turns into watching a few baking accounts on whichever popular app he's on, there's one that really gets on Louis' nerves: "I Like Your Styles." With his chipper demeanor and over the top descriptions of the food he makes, Louis is sure that the (unfortunately cute) baker is full of it. Nothing that adorable could possibly be worth the hype.
It doesn't actually take much for him to eat his words...and some quality baked goods, while he's at it.
#chose the present emoji this month because all of these lovely fics are the best presents to all of us#🥰🥰🥰#28th appreciation#monthly recs#fic rec#tracksintheam
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austin request - can you do some domestic fluff with austin? maybe like brushing their teeth together in the mirror, one of them combing the others hair, waking one another up for work, one waking up before the other, so they make up their side of the bed and can’t help but tuck in their sleeping lover as they do so, giving the other a spoonful of the meal they're cooking to test it out, holding their hand under their chin so nothing falls, giving the other a spoonful of the meal they're cooking to test it out, holding their hand under their chin so nothing falls, or wiping a bit of frosting (or smth else) off of their cheek while eating and taking it for themself.
Plastic Off the Sofa
Austin butler x reader
Requested: yes (this is so sweet I wanna cry lmao)
A/N: this ask is so soft ☹️☹️, and a sharp contrast to the other austin request I got lol. I hope this isn’t all over place but is gonna be sort of snapshots of a relationship. Also I recommend listening to Plastic Off the Sofa while reading. I think it goes nicely with the request but it’s not required listening. (Wc: 762)
“Please don’t burn our house down.”
“All these years and you still have such little faith in me,” you call back, your eyes never leaving the pancakes in the skillet. You are going to give your baby his anniversary breakfast even if it’s the last thing you do.
Austin is far and away the cook between the two of you, and it’s always been like that. He enjoys cooking while you enjoy the structure of cleaning. But you do like to dabble in making the occasional meal here or there. Oddly enough the thing that always trips you up is breakfast. The meal that’s arguably the easiest to make bringing you to your knees.
You ordered Austin not to get up from the dining room table to help. Everything has been going so well up until the pancakes. Ok so they’re little crispy but they aren’t burnt. A vast improvement on your part. You shuffle over, your house slipper pattering away.
“One anniversary breakfast for most talented, most handsome, bestest boyfriend in the world.”
Austin laughs at that description before looking down at the two plates you set in front of him. He looks at you, expecting you to bring more plates.
“You didn’t make yourself any,” he ask picking up the syrup.
“That seems like an iron chef sort of task. Let’s just be happy you got your food.”
He shakes his head with a smile before he pulls you down into his lap.
“We’ll just share then.”
You wait with bated breath for him take a bite of the pancakes. He chews slowly and his brows shoot up.
“They’re… surprising, good?”
He seems just as shocked at you. You clap your hands in glee. You, a grown woman, shouldn’t be this excited about making pancakes but here you are.
“See! Good pancakes and the house still intact,” you take the fork him and try them yourself. Hmm you had sort of outdone yourself.
You feel his eye on you as pick up the bacon you made.
“You know I really love you right?”
You nod shyly. You’ve been together for six years (and friends for a year prior to that) now and you still get a bit overwhelmed by how much you can love one person.
“I love you too,” you pick up your coffee and clank it against his. “Here’s to six years, and many more.”
You’re an early riser by nature. It doesn’t matter if you’re off from work or it’s the weekend. If the sun is up, so are you. This Sunday morning does feel a bit different considering what happened the previous night.
A selfish part of you wants to wake Austin up but he looks so angelic. Well as angelic as someone drooling can look. Instead, you look around for something to put on so you can get the day started. You carefully pull the duvet on the side of you bed up and fluff the pillows.
When you get to the bathroom, you can help but flinch a bit at your reflection. Your skin is cursing you for not completely cleansing your face. Last night champagne filled festivities, and Austin instantly pulling you to bed made you forget to do your nightly skincare routine.
You begin looking for your skincare and other morning products trying to be as quiet as possible. While you’re brushing your teeth, you plan of not bothering Austin seems to have been foiled when you see him leaning against door of the bathroom. Sleepy eyed and in nothing but his boxers.
“Someone must really like you to give you that.”
You had not even noticed you were brushing your teeth with your left hand. You hold it out admiring your new engagement ring you received last night.
A part of you was expecting it. You two had talked about marriage and starting a family, but it still didn’t stop the tears from coming when he got down on one knee. You only got more emotional when he later surprised you with your parents, and his dad and sister being in town.
“Yeah, this guy hasn’t left me alone for years,” you shrug jokingly. “Decided to cut him some slack.”
He comes up beside you and grabs his toothbrush. You two do the rest of your morning routine in blissful silence. It’s so simple, and something you do almost every day with him. It’s silly but you’re so grateful to have someone to brush your teeth with.
And you really can’t wait to do this for the rest of your life.
#this might be one of my fav things I’ve written so far#thank you for this request#austin butler x reader#austin butler x oc#austin butler imagine#austin butler fic#my writing#black!reader#austin butler x black!reader#requests
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You inspired me to write! And I got up to 2k words for the first time ever when it comes to writing for myself... but I'm struggling a bit 😅 Do you have any advice about narrator POV and how you use your verb tenses? It's like I have no idea how you manage to "head-hop" while still being an omniscient narrator so smoothly & effortlessly. And verb tenses. if I write "was" one more time I might pop a gasket lol. any help is appreciated <3 have a good one!
First of all, that's freaking amazing! 2k is a lot, congratulations! That might sound weird coming from me considering how many words I put out, but I 100% remember the struggle of being newer to writing and hitting multiple thousands of words for the first time - I'm so happy for you!
Second of all: I actually write exclusively in third person limited POV, not third person omniscient! Even though I'm writing in third person, the narration is fully from the perspective of the point of view character, which I personally enjoy a lot because it allows for a lot of unreliable narration and also characterization through how their train of thought manifests (choppy, stressed, dreamy, etc). That's why when I'm writing from the point of view of character A, for example, any assumptions about character B's motivations are what character A is thinking, not an omniscient narrator informing you.
That said, you still have to head-hop specifically to write the actual visible actions and dialogue of the second character, and that's actually the most recent thing that I used to struggle with in writing specifically because I got most of my initial writing experience doing roleplay where I was only ever responsible for one character's thoughts and actions at a time.
Honestly, the main thing I can say is that it gets much, much easier with practice. When you start out, it will genuinely just take you longer to switch from the mindset of one character to another! I used to take character notes to put together little snapshot profiles of character headspaces to re-orient myself between the characters I was writing when I felt like I was getting lost. They included things like a few traits to keep in mind, behavior mindset, and snippets of dialogue that I thought were very representative. I don't use these anymore, but I do still do things like rewatch episodes or reread portions of books when I'm learning new characters to orient myself to their personality. It's like code-switching to me nowadays.
As for verb tense: I was a consummate Homestuck, so I started out writing in second person present tense, hahaha, and while I've adopted the third person POV (and believe me, this took adjusting), I've kept writing in present tense as a personal preference. I like it because it makes things feel more in-the-moment as they're happening, because there's less grammatical fuckery involved when describing the past vs the present, and just because I'm used to it. That said, past tense is more common and stands out less to people, and I think that you are finding all of your "was"s a lot more noticable than a reader would! People generally don't really notice the tense of what they're reading once they get into the flow of it.
#ask#personal#Anonymous#my writing#writing advice#I also tried to switch to past tense and kept fucking it up#like genuinely switching tenses halfway through a paragraph and not noticing at ALL#and unlike writing in second person POV it didn't seem like an actual issue wrt readability so I just stopped trying#long post#I hope this was at least a bit helpful!#I've honestly never written an omniscient narrator so I'm afraid I can't be much help with that#I'm too much of a sucker for unreliable limited narrators haha#I love how telling a narration can be about a character's mindset#also side note my oldest fic on AO3 which is a little Soul Eater oneshot from 2015 is in second person hahaha#A RELIC#(ofc I have some fantroll stuff on there as well but that's SUPPOSED to be second person)
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flowers in the desert
– for @wincestwednesdays flash event prompt 1: lost
Sam likes the lost moments, the in-between moments; pulled off the side of an open highway to watch the stars, holed up in a motel room with no guests in either adjoining one and abandoning all pretenses of sleeping separately, watching Dean fill Baby up with gas all gentle like she can feel it. Dean leaning over the counter to slide two twenties to the attendant like she’s a bartender and he wants free shots, Dean’s fingers curled around the pump; squeezing, calloused, dirty under the nails because they haven’t stopped somewhere to shower yet. Taking moments like snapshots, keeping them close, saving them for the rainy day that’s about to be forever when Dean’s year is up.
He likes it when motels are bases and not stopovers, when they’re leaving a hunt and not headed to one. When Dean bitches and moans because they could’ve prepaid for a week and saved a couple bills if they’d known they wouldn’t find a case this whole time from one town to the next, one state to the next, one monster to the next.
And it’s nice, staying at least a week somewhere; Sam knows better than to let some place become a home, but a funny feeling runs through him every time he comes in the door from a beer run and there’s a dent in the mattress from days of use.
Dean will say, “I’m itching to work, man, I need a case,” and Sam will agree because he gets it, but his threshold is higher than Dean’s so he’ll say, “hey, hold on,” and walk Dean back toward the bed. And Dean will go with it, he’ll get all pliant real fast with Sam’s hands pressing on his shoulders until his thighs hit the mattress.
It’s always lights-on but no-talking-during, kisses that are passionate but aren’t always nice because Sam’s still angry about Dean’s deal and Dean’s still angry about Dad, but it’s sex that’s sometimes sweet and all the time slow. In the lost moments it’s not desperate thank-god-we’re-alive and it’s not fast I-could-kill-you-I’m-so-pissed-at-what-you-just-did; it’s not fucking, it’s not making love, it’s sex; tender and mild and biblical but without a shred of virtue. It never takes long; pants off, Dean laying back on the bed, Sam looming over him like a burial shroud or maybe a soft, warm blanket depending on the day.
It never takes long before Sam’s got Dean flipped over, two fingers, three; a hand on his cock even though Dean can come untouched if he’s coaxed into it; he can do anything if he’s coaxed into it and Sam – Sam loves it, loves flipping the switch on all of his brother’s mother henning and turning it back on him. Loves when the headboard beats against the wall when the room next door is empty, maybe even more when it's occupied. Loves when they’re both fucked out and Dean’s shot all over his own stomach, laying there and saying “just lemme be for a moment.” There’s no pillowtalk, no discussing hunts, just pay-per-view on TV be it fight sports or porn, eating delivery because they have the time to wait for it and it's not their names on the card they're paying the fee with anyway.
He’d never say it out loud, but sometimes the lost moments, the in-between moments, they feel like something special to Sam; as close to romance as they’ll ever get, whirlwind in the sense that it's a ticking time bomb. And sometimes Sam will get so wrapped up in things, he’ll forget the date, the month; he’s telling time by the weather alone. And one day Dean will come out of the Gas ‘n’ Sip and toss a box of condoms and a Three Musketeers bar at his head, Sam’s favorite, and he’ll say “you know what day it is?” and Sam will say, “you don’t even know what day it is,” and Dean will say “happy birthday, bitch,” and sure enough it's May 2nd. It’s not the highlight reel, no heroics no guts no glory, but it’s the tired moments, the boring moments, the maybe-it-feels-a-little-domestic moments. The lost moments. They keep Sam going, and they'll keep Sam going when it's all over.
[my past ww event ficlets here]
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Winter heart
Gojo Satoru x Reader
Drabble
Sometimes you catch Satoru looking wistfully at Megumi when he thinks no one can see.
Of course, he doesn't mind you watching. You're different, in his mind. If he was forced to explain it he'd just say you were different like Megumi and Shoko and Tsumiki and Suguru were are different.
He'd say it with a sing-song cadence and an imperfect understanding of how fragile most of you are.
You've come to find out that Satoru is really good at lying, like scary good. He'd told lies in school, white lies and untruths for the purpose of mischief. People's misconceptions are easy to manipulate, he'd told you once, under cover of a sea of stars, voice dull. It's not lying if they're the ones making up things that aren't true.
He might tell anyone who asks that he's raising the Fushiguro siblings like one might raise a particularly willful and onerous pet, or as a bargaining chip with the Zen'in.
He never says that in front of the kids themselves, and you've told both Megumi and Tsumiki that there are things they might hear, which people will try and use to hurt them someday.
You can see in Tsumiki's eyes that she understands and she holds you tighter, face pressed into your stomach when she clings, the way only a child twice abandoned knows how to do. You can see in Megumi's that he happily doesn't and you wish that ignorance upon him for ever and ever.
In times like these, with warm breath clouding the air, you understand how Satoru can think the whole world a fool.
Megumi's a small kid, face turned often to the ground. He doesn't see Satoru's bright eyes peaking from behind his sunglasses, so far above Megumi's head, gazing down.
Satoru doesn't like to dwell. At least he doesn't like to be seen weighed down by the weight he carries. You've had long practice and still barely enough to see the cracks, to pick apart the cleverly hidden clasps to his armor when there is no one else around, and still you would have a hard time if asked to explain Gojo Satoru.
But Satoru alone is sometimes a tiny bit easier to explain. In the tinniest moments when he looks down, wistful and fond, at the fuzzy head of a boy barely six years old, you see something like a wish that things could be different, and something like happiness that things aren't.
Tsumiki tugs your sleeve and points up into a tree where a last brave leaf, as red as blood, clings to a branch.
She's at an age where she collects things - rocks, odd pieces of glass, dried flowers, glimmering beetle shells, broken pieces of porcelain with edges that you try and make sure are not too sharp. She's also had the kind of life that makes it difficult for her to ask for things.
She stares when you bend down and motion for her to get up on your back and clambers up slowly, like she doesn't know what to expect. You grasp her elbow where it's wrapped around your neck and hover, four, five, six inches off the ground. You squeeze it in reassurance when she gives a little gasp.
You're high enough now that if she wants the leaf, she can pluck in herself.
She reaches around the side of your head though and just places gentle fingertips on its cold, smooth surface. She pets at it like the tiny bit of fluff on the head of a hamster, rubbing it back and forth between her fingers.
"You could have it, you know?" you say quietly.
Tsumiki leans her cheek on the top of your head, so intentionally casual, like she doesn't want to make a big deal of it. "It won't feel the same," she says.
And you suppose she's right. Some things aren't the same once you grasp hold of them. Some things die.
It's a snapshot in your mind when Tsumiki grabs the fur on the edge of your hood and you gradually lower yourself back down.
She wriggles off of your back, quick as a little fish, and walks ahead of you to catch up with Megumi, hand fisted in the thick ruff of Light Demon Dog's fur.
Satoru's waiting, sunglasses partway down his nose, hands back in his pockets.
When you tilt your head to the side, he doesn't flash a Cheshire white line of teeth through his pink lips. There's something softer there, something warm even on this, the coldest day since December.
#gojo satoru#gojo x reader#child fushiguro megumi#child fushiguro tsumiki#found family#consistent with 'my young years' oc#so it means consistent with the omegaverse stuff#but no mention of a/b/o dynamics in this one#jjk#drabble#it's very cold again this week! stay warm!
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peekaboo, i see you ( a spark snapshot )
fandom: elvis presley | elvis ( 2022 )
rating: g
pairing: elvis presley ( fameless big daddy electrician/handyman ) x female original character ( lilly )
word count: 978
warnings: babies and toddlers being toddlers. a bit of baby talk. brief references to the past. this is tame, y'all. this is me being attacked by pictures and then oopsies i wrote it.
author's note: welcome to what happens when people send me pictures of people with babies and i have fluff on the brain. as always special thanks to marina, christi and birdy for being my wives who made this possible in the first place. though this fic is a surprise to everyone today. but this is what you have to look forward to once i get the headcanons up. me just doing this sort of thing.
special additional thanks to my baby girl bri who provided the first pic in the moodboard that caused this little snapshot. and thank you bee who gave me a quick read and reassured me it's not spoilers if i already mentioned in an ask that they have babies.
They're going to be late again.
Somehow, some way they're going to be late again. It ought to be embarrassing, Elvis thinks, how he's gone from a mostly punctual bachelor to a married man who can't be on time to save his or anyone else's life. Except, he figures that's what having kids does to you. He figures that's what happens when you have complete and utter joy in your life for the first time in so long. Figures it's what happens when your wife is a natural born mother, a maternal figure meant to have her own babies. Meant to cook as many buns as the lord sees fit to give them or as many buns as she wants. Corralling Jesse and Garon for church is not an easy task for Lilly as her belly swells more and more with their latest little bun- one Lilly swears is a girl that they're going to name Samantha- and Elvis takes it upon himself to deal with his two boys leaving yittle Miss Gladys in her capable hands. What he always forgets week after week until he hears the coos and the giggles from the front room of his little house is that his yittle Gladys and his lil darlin is that they're a force to be reckoned with when it comes to distraction. At least today Gladys has on shoes, a step up from last week when his girls were both showing off their little sooties to each other and giggling high pitched squeals of delight.
Gladys being able to stand as well as she can is a new thing for them but even as she's slowly mastered the art she still needs to hold onto something, too scared of falling on her little behind. When it comes to today she's chosen the curtain as both her item to steady her and her item to tease her mother with. The boys are quiet for once as their daddy stops in the doorway of the room to watch their mother and their sister play on the window sill.
"Where's my wittle Gladdy? Where's my glad wittle baby girl?" Lilly coos as Gladys moves the curtain over to hide behind it. "Oh no! I lost my baby girl! Maybe wittle Garon knows where his sissy went."
As if that's the cue, Gladys pops up from behind the curtain with a semi toothy grin and a noise that sounds like a giggle and a kiss all in one. "Mmm!"
Lilly feigns shock, before planting a kiss on Gladys's forehead and tickling her sides. "There you are! You hiding from Mommy? Hiding from mmmm?"
A nod with giggles is the only answer she gets back with a headbutt and more mmm's and kisses being given by Gladys. Lilly swears her heart is fit to burst the more kisses her first born daughter gives her and the more she hears her try and get out that first syllable to say mama. This is- she can't believe she thought this dream was as forgone as it was. Sometimes she can't believe that after everything with her and Elvis that they have what they have. That she had that first little boy of theirs and her twins and now this little one coming sooner rather than later. It makes her feel so warm from more than just the sunlight beaming on her through the window. As if to remind her that she's there, their latest child- their latest bun to be cooking inside her rolls, seemingly wishing they could play with their sibling.
"Calm down Samantha. You'll be here soon enough. I'll play peekaboo with you too. I'll lose both my wittle girls." Lilly murmurs rubbing her belly as Gladys tries to headbutt her only for Lilly to catch her and stand her back upright, grabbing the curtain in her own hands and hiding behind it. "Oh no, Gladys, where did mama go? Can you find me?"
Elvis takes a look at his watch and sighs, noticing they'll be at least ten minutes late and heaving himself off the wall, Jesse and Garon toddling along behind him, hands interlocked. Elvis grabs Jesse's hand to make a bit of a line and walks slowly to Lilly. Her giggles make sneaking up on her easy until he places a kiss to her hair and the boys grab at her legs.
"We're gonna be late, Lil," his voice is a murmur and should be admonishing but he can't keep the love and fondness out of it. "We can play later."
Gladys and Lilly both look up at him with nearly identical pouts and Elvis almost breaks then and there before shaking his head, "oh no you two don't. I ain't fallin' for those eyes from the both o'ya."
Lilly manages a sigh and turns her pout to Gladys, "we tried Gladdy, didn't we? Daddy's just being silly. We'll get him back won't we. When he's asleep."
It occurs to Elvis that he should be terrified of the way Gladys grins at Lilly, like they've hatched some nefarious plot to murder him in his sleep and instead all he does smile back at her. "Death by a baby and m'wife. Can think o'worse ways to go." Elvis lifts Gladys off the sill and sets her down on the ground before holding out his free hand to hoist Lilly up out of the chair. "Come on you three, let's get going. Already got the boys lined up. Grab Garon's hand, Gladdy."
As they watch Gladys toddle to her twin, Lilly gives Elvis a soft kiss and grabs Elvis's hand. "And I get to grab Daddy's?"
A hum is all that leaves Elvis mouth as he smiles, squeezing Lilly's hand once they leave the house. "Still gonna be ten minutes late. Gotta good reason t'give 'em this time, darlin'?"
"Peekaboo."
taglist: @ab4eva, @blurredcolour, @butlersxbirdy, @precious-little-scoundrel, @eliseinmemphis, @prompted-wordsmith, @missmaywemeetagain, @lookingforrainbows, @thatbanditqueen, @ellie-24, @be-my-ally, @austinbutlersgirl67, @heartbrake-hotel, @ccab, @18lkpeters, @slutforsomegoodlettuce, @dkayfixates, @kendralavon7, @chasingwildflowers, @notstefaniepresley, @wanderingelvis, @kxnnxy, @powerofelvis, @stylespresleyhearted, @marriedtopresley, @memphis-menace, @steph-speaks, @doll-elvis, @vintageshanny, @j-v-9-2, @sexystarfish, @duhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, @jessicarcates, @chirssycrumble9456789, @shantellescrivener, @yomammalolha, @honey6578, @urmom11111111111119, @myradiaz, @elvispresleyxoxo, @elvisssweetheart, @joegramoe, @rainblue-art, @fav-fanficssss, @moodyblueriver, @misspresley, @fallinlovewithurlove, @ash-omalley, @yynneessmons i think i got everyone including name changes?
#elvis presley#elvis presley fluff#elvis presley x oc#elvis presley fanfiction#elvis presley fanfic#elvis presley fic#spark universe#big daddy and lil darlin'#elvis x lilly#big daddy elvis#crawfever adjacent#elvis x reader#ally writes#the oven might be a metaphor.#( it's a metaphor but it also makes the fact that elvis and lilly call their babies buns even better. )#surprise that was part of the headcanon post i haven't done yet
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MBFW duh. Always MBFW.
Ah. MBFW Clarke and all that cake
Come here closer listen to me....
I need you to understand that with MBFW Clarke, her entire life from 19 onward has been a test in self denial, regret, control, and harnessing her libido. Ok? Because the thing is she had that. She had that ass. It was hers to do with what she wanted and omg did they fuck nasty. Because they were each other's first real loves and they were free to just be ~adults~ for the first time and they spent 80% of that time locked away in Clarke's single dorm room without any clothes on. Just hours spent learning each other's bodies. Finding new ways to get each other off.
Those were quite literally the peak of Clarke's young adult life because gd is Lexa a fast learner 👀
And you see it's all made worse because they have sweet times and memories of just being two kids who were crazy about each other. Innocent and fun. They have whole album folders of cutesy couple things and stolen moments saved on their phones, just little thirsty snapshots of their love. They even have stuff from after they'd broken up that they like to look at fondly brokenheartedly and tease each other about because everything between them comes from a place of love
But oh. Oh, then there's two other folders.
Two very secret folders.
Brilliantly named "canvas sizes" and "publishing contacts".
Folders neither would ever admit to anyone but each other exist.
Except they do.
And they're filled with classics that neither have ever been able to bring themselves to delete.
Instead they're just saved for those few lonely, rainy days, when the ache gets to be too much and they can't fake smile the memories of having each other away
So you see, the topic of MBFW Clarke riding Lexa's ass is a touchy one because she did, quite a lot, and despite being just friends for the better part of 9 years she can still remember how Lexa sighed, as tho so pleased with herself, whenever she got the chance to feel Clarke come
But alas, those are all just memories now 😔
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(Prehistoric Planet person) thanks! And it's okay to take all the time you need, obviously <3
My first question is: how do you feel about it being set in the Late Cretaceous period only? While it is my favourite, I also think it's a little lacking. For example, we only get to see titanosaurs this way. I'd like to see some other sauropods! I want to see what they'd make of Amargosaurus. But, in terms of the narrative, I get why they stay in one period during an episode, at least. So I'm just wondering what your thoughts on that are! Esp if you have time period you'd like them to show.
I also wondered about the bit in the North America episode where the Styginetta are called "duck relatives," but then seconds later the script mentions "but there are also dinosaurs here." It annoyed the crap out of me for the obvious reason of. Well. Birds are just as much dinosaurs as troodontids. So why on earth would they separate the two? Is there a reason? Or is it the face-value slip-up?
Along that line, are there any mistakes that you think they made? I know it was well-researched and all, but surely there's points still to be disagreed upon, right? Or was it overall well done?
Those where honestly my big questions. I thought I had more, but that's kind of it. I guess to end it off I could ask if there's a dino you'd like to see show up in there? (Personally, I want to see Panoplosaurus or Borealopelta :D)
Thanks for taking the time to answer me!
So I get completely why they went with just the Maastrichtian. The whole series is supposed to be "Planet Earth" or "Blue Planet" but at a specific point in the past. All of the animals were, more or less, contemporaneous. So they're trying to show a "snapshot" of the Earth 66 million years ago, as if they were doing Planet Earth then. The whole series reads very much like that - Planet Earth, but 66 million years ago. There are downsides to that, like not highlighting things that existed in other time points, but it makes sense to me. I just want other time points to get similar treatments! Especially because the animals of the Maastrichtian are some of the more famously known prehistoric animals (T. rex, Mosasaurus, Triceratops, Quetzalcoatlus...). I'm hoping the amazing success of Prehistoric Planet leads to more series in other time points. I personally think we need a Triassic series, pronto. It's a weird time period that very very very few people appreciate properly. Selfishly, I'd like a Paleocene or Eocene series, so I have even a 1% chance of getting consulted.
I know the whole story behind the bird-dinosaur snafu with Styginetta, and its not a happy one. The main science consultant on the series, Darren Naish, is one of the leading pioneers in "treat birds like regular dinosaurs you fools" movement - frankly, I learned a lot of what I know from him. He wanted them to acknowledge Styginetta as a dinosaur. It was higher up execs who put the kibosh on that. They literally said no, they would not call birds dinosaurs. The excuses given were crap - something about being accessible to audiences - but we all know that's bullshit. Walking with Dinosaurs called birds dinosaurs in 1999. Jurassic Park called birds dinosaurs in 1993. I don't know what their actual reason is, but whatever it is, it's a bad one. I'm going to blame capitalism and shareholders until proven otherwise. I recognize this sounds like I'm spouting conspiracy theories, but it's not a conspiracy if people involved openly admit this is what happened! Like... damn. this is why scientists and artists suffer - meddling capitalists.
Overall I have very few complaints. I think there could have been more emphasis on the fact that many of these behaviors are our *best guesses* - like, well thought out hypotheses, many even tested, but not fact. In any dinodoc, a lot of the uncertainty about paleontology goes out the window for the sake of storytelling, and that's why I think making of/the science behind features should be part of every dinodoc, not a side note or a podcast or something. They kind of did that in s2 by having the science segments at the end, but that only went into the research for one behavior per episode - not nearly enough to show everything. If people understood more how science works and how research works, we'd have fewer problems... and that's a perfect way to show it to people. Other than that, most of my critiques are really and truly nitpicks, or something I'd want them to show that they haven't, that kind of thing. But honestly, its the best depiction of the Maastrichtian I have ever seen.
I'm personally irritated we haven't seen Thescelosaurus. It's not just a generic bipedal ornithischian! That thing was WEIRD. First of all, we know more about it than most nonavian dinosaurs because we have lots of great fossils. Second off, it had armor on its belly!!! We think they kicked each other like Pachycephalosaurs butted heads!! WHY IS THAT NOT IN A DOC??? Third off, it was just an important component of Hell Creek, which we've now seen in multiple segments, and yet... no Thescelosaurus... wtf, amiright?
And you are very welcome!!! I'm glad I could answer it now :D So yeah, I love PP, but it's not perfect, and there are things I would fix if I could ^_^ That said, huge shoutout to Darren for making this happen. The man is a hero for us all.
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