#...can you tell I didn't really like Frontiers

[clockwise-works]

Interested to read your Sonic bitching. 1, 7, 9, 13 for that fandom specifically?

Thanks for the ask, maniskillingus! (I need a shorter name to refer to you as lmao) Sonic bitching, huh? Well you'll learn, I can bitch about ANY of these damn games. Also, sorry for the late response! I got a little carried away with this... Also, there ARE hot takes below. Consider yourself warned.

1. The character everyone gets wrong.

So this is a little tough, ngl. In the 30 something years of this franchise, Sega has created SO many different iterations of these characters that it's... well it's hard to really define what a character "is". With that being said... Amy.

Amy's been relatively fucked in terms of fan perception for literal decades. She was initially conceived as a character who had a crush on Sonic, yes, but that wasn't ALL there was to her character. In the beginning? Yes. But, that was Sonic CD, a 16 bit 1993 game with no dialogue and barely even 2 in-game cutscenes. Every other character was a one dimensional character trait. Sonic was the main character who was cool and fast. Tails was the player 2 (that is literally it). Robotnik was the evil scientist. She, like many other characters, started out simple, yes, but grew over time without losing that core idea.

In Sonic Adventure, she finds a little bird that's being chased by an

Robotnik robot, and immediately decides to protect it. She does end up getting captured, yes, but she doesn't sit until the blue bastard shows up and rescues her, no. She protects the little bird from a Gamma (who she quite literally says she knows he'll hurt both of them), questions his logic, and is asked why she cares for someone she knows nothing of, before Gamma ultimately let's her go. Is it clunky. Oh absolutely, they don't really answer Gamma's question explicitly, instead she just tells him "love isn't part of his programing, you are missing out on something good" which reads to me as her basically saying she doesn't need to know anything about anyone to have a love or care for them, it's inherent. Her compassion towards the little bird and questioning Gamma's logic both results in her freedom, and is a part of Gamma's arc in growing beyond his coding.

And then when Eggman orders Gamma to dispose of Sonic, Tails, and Amy later on the Egg Carrier, her compassion from earlier pays off again as she pleads for Gamma not to fight, in which we actively see him fighting against his coding and agrees! She then STOPS SONIC from destroying Gamma, once again proving her inherent kindness. Sonic could've and would've trashed Gamma with ease, so that was completely in favor of Gamma, going against someone she loves to save another person.

She does this again in Sonic Adventure 2! Throughout the entirety of the game, she was the ONLY ONE on the hero team to actually attempt to reach out to Shadow. Sonic NEVER does. It's on sight for those two every time they meet up. Sonic NEVER has a moment where he argues for Shadow to be better, to turn over a new leaf no matter how much the IDW comics try to retcon his personality into. But Amy does. She's the ONLY one to actually ask Shadow to help save the earth, arguing for the good of mankind in spite of learning what the government did to Shadow and the entire Ark. And he agrees! Her words resonate with him and help him remember that Maria wanted him to protect earth. To the point he agress to fulfill his promise to Maria... AND AMY! Even directly stating her! Once again, yes, there were scenes of her having a crush on Sonic, like breaking him out of prison (another good scene of Amy showcasing she's not just a damsel in distress, this will be important later btw) but that wasn't ALL there was to her! She was compassionate to Shadow in A2. She went out of her way to save Elise in 06. While Heroes does kinda just write her down to "chasing Sonic", a byproduct of that games rather flat and simple writing to the point most characters are one note, she's now playable and does cool shit. She's fully capable as her own person AND as a team. Sure, it was mainly gameplay reasons to have her play similar to other Speed characters, but that's still a part of the game and the representation of her. She can fight Eggman robots just like everyone else, and can lead a team.

Now, I'm not saying Amy had this perfect characterization and the fans simply fucked it up, no. The biggest misconception and "joke critique" DID have a foothold within the franchise, such as Sonic X, Sonic Battle, and Sonic Chronicals. But honestly? Those at times absolutely abysmal portrayals (seriously what the fuck was Battle and Chronicles doing💀??? Giving Amy body dysmorphia??? Jesus man) shouldn't have been the main thing people take away in regards to her character. Almost ALL the characters had their points of having badly written characterization up until 06, such as Shadow and his "angst amnesia", and "stupid Knuckles" to the point Sega attempted to... overcorrect. For Shadow, they made him a villian in Boom and now he's kinda just... there (I'm not counting Prime, I didn't want past season one but people say he was written good), REALLY leaned into the dumb Knuckles joke until forces, and Amy...

The biggest takeaways for Amy's character was that she was "lovesick for sonic" and "pathetic damsel in distress" so Sega leaned HARD into the other direction.

For the Boom show she was more of a feminist, independent strong woman, but given that show was a comedy that would sometimes joke about her hypocrisy or shortcomings (think Knuckles feminist joke), I don't necessarily want to focus on that. Instead, I want to focus on Amy now.

After the release of Sonic Frontiers, people (especially Sonic Twitter) raved about how the game "fixed Amy." That she was now a good character. ...uhhhh what? I mean ok, I get it in regards to the 2010's, in which her personality was representing in... Sonic Gens (where she had maybe three cutscenes with a speaking role), Sonic Lost World (where she, once again had maybe three cutscenes), and Forces where she actually had SOME weight in the story being the resistance's... something. Basically in Gens she was represented with a background joke of her attempting to hug Sonic as he pushes her away and hits Knuckles for insulting Sonic, in Lost Word she showed surface level worry for the kidnapped critters and worry for the world dying, and in Forces she kinda just directed everyone to where they needed to go. So Frontier's attempting to course correct THAT under representation is fine!

It's... it's the sense that Sega has removed those traits of her bold affection of Sonic, her bubbly and outgoing personality, her capability and accomplishments, and pretend she always relied on others to put Frontiers up on a pedestal. That they retroactively attempt to convince us that Amy was someone who ALWAYS needed saving and that she has to "grow past her crush on Sonic". To me, it's a cheap way to get Twitter brownie points for "fixing Amy", (They do this with Knuckles and Tails too btw) to the point they even included a line in the Final Horizons update where Amy says "I'm not longer a damsel in distress you know." ...SHE WAS A DAMSEL IN DISTRESS IN CD! A GAME FROM 19-FUCKING-93! WHAT DO YOU MEAN "ANYMORE"??? YOU HAVENT BEEN ONE IN THIRTY YEARS. SHE HAS SAVED SONIC AND THE WORLD AS MANY TIMES AS SONIC HAS SAVED HER!

This is one of my biggest gripes with Frontier's writing. It wants this praise for "fixing these characters" when at best the characters announce they're "gonna make a change", and in the case of Knuckles and Amy pretend any and all growth she had/times he left the island never happened so Frontiers can act like IT'S the game to make that change.

And the fans ate it up. Shit, even for a hot minute I thought it was... something. But it's really not, they really didn't 'fix' Amy, they just removed any parts of her character that people overly inflated during the 'Dark Ages' and made her a simple "I'm just one of the boys, I'm a capable woman now" to avoid that misunderstanding, when she WAS ALREADY THAT!

Idk, maybe that didn't really fit the question, but people mass misunderstanding and grossly inflating Amy's character traits that could be seen as negative to the point Sega overcorrected, and now we have a "girl hedgehog with tarot cards" and fans love it. Because they're convinced "loving Sonic" was the entirety of her personality and with it now striped away she's now a better character.

...she doesn't even really use her hammer anymore, man... She had it for one move in Frontiers, and used it ONCE in a Dream Team cutscene... even Origins introduced the hammer as a Insta-Shield comparable move, but got rid of it in Superstars... give her the hammer, man...

7. What character did you begin to hate not because of canon but because how the fandom acts about them

These follow up questions won't be as long so don't worry. Uhhh, this one's a little tricky, because I haven't ben part of the Sonic fandom nor have I even considered myself a Sonic fan since Forces, so I'm not too certain how fandom acts about these guys outside the core cast in Frontiers.

I guess Eggman? I gotta be honest, I didn't like the Dadbotnik route taken with Sage, it felt really underdeveloped (to the point they included a 'sad song montage' flashback showing all two cutscenes we saw of the two, one watched not even an hour prior) and Boom introduced this "angry old man yelling" skew of his character that hasn't really gone away. Eggman's NOT Boswer. He's not this goofy guy who 'loves his daughter ai and robot son and bakes cookies and yells about menial stuff', he's a maniacal and destructive man fueled by arrogance and pride. He had SWAGGER. The man carried himself like an actual doctor with menacing dialogue and pure confidence in his brilliance, but is now kinda just seen as a "a wacky mad scientist that just HATES that hedgehog but also has a 'respect' for him that he WILL monologue about" (gee I'm so glad THAT carried over from the IDW comics, I love it when characters bluntly explain retcon their stances on each other).

Idk, I just don't like how the fandom has reduced him down to 'Eggdad'. For jokes and funny fan comics? Sure. I got no problem with that. But an actual evaluation of his character, deeming this as 'character growth' and not just a complete personality shift? Nah, I don't fuck with it chief.

Man, two rants back to back inadvertently praising the Adventure era? I don't even really like those games 💀

9. Worst part of canon

FORCES.

I mean not really, I'm sure it could be the constant retcons or even the 'Everything is Canon' mindset we now have, but Forces kinda did fuck up the IDW comics ngl. At first they just followed up the storyline of Forces with a Metal Sonic post story and the restoration of the planet, but it now feels like the comic is in constant 'damage control' from that game. The now-renamed-Restoration is STILL around, a dominant part of that world's worldbuilding, and has lead the world to feel more 'superhero-y' with organized mass teams.

idk, maybe it's the IDW comics just starting to lose me, especially after issue 50, but man am I sick of the Restoration, and that and a couple other things are a result of Forces. Fuck Forces. All me and my homies hate Forces.

13. Worst blorbofication

I deadass don't fully understand what 'blorbofication' is. Is it when people mass take a character they like, and slowly turn them into something else entirely such as some fans infantilizing BotW Link? If so... Idk, I guess Silver...? Idk, I mean he's a character who was SO dedicated to save his home he was willing to kill a man, but grew to not want to lose Blaze to do so, but still ultimately did so. He's angry at the state of his world, has to constantly come back to fix it, yet remains positive in a world and time lacking it.

Sometimes fans write him as this goofy precious child that needs to be protected and I don't really fuck with that. I mean the dude was willing to obtain a body count, but fans... and TSR with the "in your dreams, Sonic" line have kinda funneled him into this sweet baby boy who's a dumb piece of shit. Look at him, so innocent! 🥺

[yeahiveheardofbears-fics]

Be My Anti-Valentine

You and your best friend Steve have a movie night on Valentine's Day, since you are both perpetually single. Except, maybe not for long...

hey babes! Happy way late Valentine's Day! I will say that i did base the reader character, once again, on my OC Mac from my ST rewrite series. so some side characters, relationships, and places will be from that universe. You don't need to read that to get the story, but if you like this dynamic then I definitely recommend it! I treat this little smut one shots like deleted scenes that didn't make sense in my main fic, but wouldnt escape my brain. I also did a lot of build up because I can't seem to write smut for Steve without making him an absolute loverboy <3 Enjoy!!

l-bombs, friends to loves, lots of exposition word count: 14,096 TW: uhhh, really not much, this is pretty loving honestly. underage drinking i guess

REQUESTS ARE OPEN, IF YOU LIKE THIS, PLZ MESSAGE ME CAUSE I NEED INSPO <3

fic masterlist

read on ao3 or read below the cut:

February 14th, 1986

The neon glow from Family Video flickers just across the street, casting a greenish hue onto the wet pavement outside. Through the glass doors of Vinyl Frontier , you can see the faint movement of Steve inside, pacing behind the counter, no doubt pretending to look busy. You know better.

He’s probably just spinning a tape case in his hands, waiting out the last few miserable hours of his shift—same as you.

You stretch your arms above your head with a groan, then lean against the counter, staring at the real misery: the Valentine’s Day display Jet had you set up. Rows of records with love songs, sappy ballads, and an obnoxiously large hand-drawn sign that reads MAKE A LOVE MIX FOR YOUR SWEETHEART! in looping red letters. The entire thing makes your skin crawl.

You’re halfway through reorganizing the New Releases section—because some asshole put Iron Maiden next to Cyndi Lauper —when the store’s phone rings behind you. You sigh, abandoning the records to grab the receiver.

“ Vinyl Frontier , what do you want?”

There’s a scoff on the other end of the line. “Wow. That’s how you answer the phone now?”

You smirk, already recognizing the voice. “Oh, it’s you. My bad. Vinyl Frontier , home of angsty losers and overpriced imports. How can I help you, Steve?”

“Much better.” There’s a pause, then his voice lowers conspiratorially. “Listen, just giving you a heads-up—there’s a couple that just left my store, all lovey-dovey, handsy as hell. They’re headed straight for your store, so you’ve got, like, thirty seconds before you have to witness… whatever the hell they were doing here.”

You groan, already standing to peek through the store window. And sure enough—there they are. The couple in question, walking hand-in-hand across the street, their matching red sweaters obnoxiously bright.

“Ugh. Them?”

“You know them?” Steve asks, bemused.

“They were making out between The Smiths and Bauhaus the other day,” you say, flopping back against the counter. “I Lysoled the shelves after they left.”

Steve makes a disgusted noise. “Jesus Christ. They were all over the romance section at Family Video . Like, I get it, love is great, whatever, but I work here. Have some goddamn respect.”

You snort. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Harrington.”

“Oh yeah, it’s been real happy,” he deadpans. “Nothing like watching every couple in Hawkins remind me that I’m pathetically single.”

You roll your eyes, even though you feel the same way. “It’s like an infestation. Can’t even walk two feet without seeing someone swapping spit.”

“Tell me about it.” There’s some muffled conversation on his end, the sound of a VHS tape clattering onto the counter. “Anyway, you still coming over?”

“Obviously.”

“I grabbed your stupid movies,” he says, sounding so put out that you have to grin. “But just for the record, I still think your choices are ridiculous.”

“They’re perfect,” you correct. “What’s wrong with them?”

Steve exhales like he’s been waiting for you to ask. “Alright, let’s start with The Thing . How exactly is that an anti-Valentine’s movie?”

“Because it’s about paranoia and distrust,” you say. “There’s no love. Just body horror and existential dread.”

“Uh-huh. And Sleepaway Camp ?”

“You know damn well why.”

“Okay, fine, that one’s fair.” He pauses. “But My Bloody Valentine ? You picked a Valentine’s Day slasher . That’s, like, half giving in to the holiday.”

“It’s a classic, Steve.”

“Mm-hmm.” He doesn’t sound convinced. “I feel like you just wanted an excuse to watch a bunch of horror movies with me.”

You scoff. “Oh, please. I don’t need an excuse for that. I can bully you into watching horror movies whenever I want.”

There’s a beat of silence before he huffs a quiet laugh. “You know, I hate that you’re right.”

“I love that I’m right.”

Steve sighs dramatically. “Fine. But when I get nightmares about shapeshifting aliens, I’m blaming you.”

“You’ll live.”

“Debatable.” Another pause, then his voice softens just slightly. “Robin’s not gonna make it, by the way. She’s got a ‘not-date’ with Vickie.”

That gives you pause.

“So it’s just us,” you say.

“Yeah.” He clears his throat. “Just us.”

There’s a moment of… something. Not awkwardness, exactly. Just an awareness that wasn’t there before. You glance around the store, suddenly finding it hard to focus on anything. The record stacks, the cheap plastic Valentine’s decorations Jet made you put up, the couple now giggling in the corner near Fleetwood Mac .

“Well, that just means more popcorn for me,” you say, brushing past it.

“And I won’t have to listen to Robin complain about my movie choices.”

“ My movie choices,” you correct.

“Whatever.” You can hear the smile in his voice. “So, uh… you still coming?”

You twirl the phone cord between your fingers, a habit you thought you’d grown out of. “Yeah. I’ll be there.”

“Cool. See you later.”

“See you.”

You hang up, staring at the receiver for a second longer than necessary.

This was fine. Totally normal. Just another movie night.

Right?

---

Steve sighs as he hangs up the phone, rubbing the back of his neck before turning toward the counter—only to find Robin standing there, arms crossed, one brow arched so high it’s practically in her hairline.

He stops short, already exasperated. “Don’t.”

Robin tilts her head, feigning innocence. “Don’t what?”

“ Don’t make it weird.” He gestures vaguely toward the phone, like somehow the conversation itself was to blame for whatever��this was.

She scoffs. “Oh, I didn’t make it weird. You did that all on your own.”

Steve groans, rubbing his temples. “Jesus Christ, Robin.”

She just smirks, shifting her weight against the counter. “It’s not my fault you two sound like a couple in a bad rom-com.”

He glares. “It’s your fault for having a date tonight.”

Robin immediately corrects him. “It’s a not-date.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “Same difference.”

“Uh, huge difference,” she says. “Dates are romantic. Not-dates are for pretending it’s not romantic while still getting nervous about it.”

He gives her a flat look. “That literally makes no sense.”

Robin shrugs. “Well, good news, dingus—you’ve got a not-date too.”

Steve scoffs, crossing his arms. “It’s not a date.”

Robin just lifts a brow. “That’s what I just said.”

He throws his hands up. “No, I mean—it’s not even a not-date! It’s just a normal night. We watch movies all the time.”

Robin sighs, then pushes off the counter, walking over to him with that look—the one that means she’s about to call him on his bullshit.

“Steve.”

“What?”

She softens just slightly. “You do realize that you two are both my best friends, right?”

He shifts uncomfortably. “Yeah?”

“And that I’m not blind?”

He groans. “Robin—”

“I mean, come on.” She starts ticking off fingers, like she’s listing off groceries. “You grab her movies for her even when you think they’re stupid, you call her at work just to talk, you let her make fun of you without even trying to fight back—”

“I fight back,” he protests weakly.

Robin ignores him. “—and, oh yeah, you both spent the last five minutes awkwardly dancing around the fact that you’ll be alone tonight.”

Steve crosses his arms tighter. “So what? It’s not weird to hang out with a friend.”

Robin nods sagely. “Totally. Just a friend.”

“Exactly.”

“Just a friend. On Valentine’s day. that you think is funny and hot and cool and—”

“Okay, I never said that I find her hot.” He throws his head back dramatically. “She’s annoying and bossy and thinks she knows everything—”

Robin hums. “Mmm, yeah. Real convincing, Harrington.”

“—and she’s constantly making fun of my hair—”

Robin shrugs. “You kinda deserve that one.”

“—and she has this stupid little smirk when she’s right about something, and she always has to be right, and when she gets all smug about it, she does this thing where she tilts her head a little, and she has this way of looking at you like she’s three steps ahead in a game you didn’t know you were playing—”

Robin lifts an eyebrow.

Steve doesn’t notice.

“—and she has that voice, you know, like all confident but a little raspy, and when she laughs at something she actually finds funny, not just something dumb Dustin says, it’s, like—”

Robin makes a face. “Steve.”

“—all breathy and warm, and she smells good all the time even when she’s just coming off work, and I don’t know what it is, but it’s like cherry or maybe something floral, but not too much, and—”

“ Steve .”

He finally stops, blinking at her.

Robin stares at him, then slowly grimaces. “You do hear yourself, right?”

Steve pauses. Blinks again. “Shit.”

Robin claps him on the shoulder. “There it is.”

He groans, dragging a hand down his face. “It’s not like that.”

“Uh-huh.”

“She doesn’t even like me like that.”

Robin snorts. “Yeah, sure.”

Steve points a finger at her. “You don’t know that.”

Robin raises both hands in surrender. “Okay. If you say so.” But she’s grinning, and it pisses him off.

Before he can argue, the bell over the door jingles, and a couple walks in, already giggling to each other. Steve immediately straightens up, plastering on his best customer service face.

Robin steps back with a smirk. “Don’t worry, lover boy. We’ll continue this conversation later.”

Steve glares at her as he turns to the customers. “I hate you.”

Robin flashes him a grin. “You love me.”

And unfortunately, she’s right. Again.

---

You hang up the phone, exhaling through your nose, then lean against the counter and let your head fall back, staring up at the ceiling. The sound of a throat clearing makes you lift your head, and when you glance to the side you see your boss, Jet, standing in the doorway of the back office, arms crossed, looking entirely too amused.

"Was that Harrington?" he asks, voice dry as ever.

You roll your eyes and turn away, stacking the pile of records you’d been sorting before Steve called. "No, it was the Pope. He wanted to know if we have any Black Sabbath in stock."

Jet snorts, stepping further into the shop. "So, Harrington."

"Maybe."

Jet leans against the counter, watching you work with that knowing look that always makes you feel like you’re under a microscope. "You two sure do talk a lot."

"Yeah, it’s called friendship, Jet."

"Uh-huh." He tilts his head. "Y’know, back in my day, we didn’t call it friendship when two people made goo-goo eyes at each other across a counter."

You nearly drop the stack of records. "Oh my god, shut up."

Jet just grins. "I’m just sayin’."

You huff and move to the other side of the store, grabbing a rag to wipe down the shelves. The Valentine’s Day display mocks you from the corner, obnoxiously pink and full of records Jet made you pull— Foreigner , REO Speedwagon , Whitney Houston , all the stuff people were eating up today.

"He's annoying," you say, mostly to distract from whatever the hell Jet was implying.

"Sure."

"And bossy."

"Mm-hmm."

"Thinks he knows everything."

Jet makes a vague gesture. "Yeah, yeah, you’re really selling it, kid."

You scowl at him, but Jet just chuckles, watching you scrub furiously at a perfectly clean shelf.

"You know," he says, a little softer, "you don’t gotta dance around it with me. If you like him, you like him. No shame in it."

You pause, grip tightening on the rag. "I don’t."

Jet tilts his head, unconvinced. "Look, all I’m sayin’ is… I’ve been around the block a few times. And I know the look of someone trying real hard to pretend they don’t care about someone when they definitely do."

You set the rag down a little harder than necessary. "And what look is that, exactly?"

Jet just grins. "The same look you get when you talk about him but try to pretend you’re just complaining."

You open your mouth, then close it. Scowl. Pick up the rag again.

Jet chuckles. "Listen, I don’t give a damn one way or the other, but if you wanna keep lying to yourself, at least try to be good at it."

You groan. " Jet ."

"Hey, just giving you some wisdom." He pushes off the counter, stretching. "Y’know, back in the day, I had a girl I danced around with like that. Thought I was bein’ slick, thought no one noticed."

You glance at him, wary. "And?"

"And turns out I was just an idiot," he says with a shrug. "So maybe don’t be an idiot, huh?"

You roll your eyes. "Thanks, dad ."

Jet winks. "Anytime, kid."

---

Steve shuts the register with a satisfying clack and stretches, rolling out the tension in his shoulders. It’s finally closing time, and for once, he’s actually looking forward to tonight—not just because it means getting the hell out of Family Video , but because he has plans.

Casual, totally normal, not-a-date plans.

Robin is watching him, arms crossed, in that ‘I know something you don’t want me to know’ way that makes his skin itch.

He sighs. “Just say it.”

Robin grins. “Say what?”

“You know what.”

“Oh, I was just wondering if you were gonna make a move tonight.”

Steve groans, grabbing his jacket. “Jesus, Robin. Again with this?”

“What?” she says, following him as he grabs the store keys and heads for the back door. “I think it’s a valid question.”

“Well, I think it’s a stupid question.”

Robin shrugs, undeterred. “That’s funny, because you didn’t actually answer it.”

Steve flicks off the lights, plunging the store into dim shadows illuminated only by the neon glow from the sign outside. He turns back to Robin, exasperated. “There’s no move to make.”

Robin smirks, watching as he fumbles a little with the keys. “Uh-huh.”

“There’s nothing going on.”

“Sure, sure.”

Steve scowls. “You really think I’d make a move?”

Robin shrugs again. “I mean, yeah.”

Steve groans, shoving his arms into his jacket. “Okay, fine, let’s say hypothetically I was gonna make a move. What would that even look like?”

Robin raises an eyebrow. “Go on.”

Steve exhales sharply, shaking his head, but then—he starts talking. Slow at first, still pretending this is all theoretical, but then it starts flowing a little too easily.

“Well,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck, “first of all, I wouldn’t just spring anything on her. She’s not the type you can just, like, surprise with that kind of thing. So I’d make it seem like a regular movie night. No pressure, no expectations. Just us hanging out, watching her dumb horror movies, which—by the way—are not romantic at all, so she wouldn’t suspect a thing.”

Robin hums. “Sly.”

Steve points at her. “Exactly.”

They step outside into the cold night, their breath fogging in the air. Steve locks the door behind them, still talking.

“Then, I’d wait for the right moment. Maybe during The Thing, since she always gets way too focused on the practical effects and starts ranting about how they were done. That’s when I’d sit next to her—real casual, nothing weird. But, like, closer than usual. Just enough to see if she notices.”

Robin leans against the wall, intrigued. “And if she does?”

Steve shrugs, flipping the keys in his hand. “Then I’d play it off, act like it’s no big deal. But if she doesn’t ? That’s when I’d start testing the waters. Maybe during Sleepaway Camp , since she’s seen it a million times and won’t be as locked in. I’d stretch, put my arm on the couch behind her—”

Robin snorts. “The yawn move?”

Steve glares. “No, not the yawn move. Just an arm casually placed behind her. If she leans in, then, boom—I know she’s comfortable with it. And then,” he continues, getting into it now, “if everything feels right, if she’s not pulling away or making fun of me, then I’d make my move.”

Robin crosses her arms. “Which is?”

Steve exhales, eyes flicking upward like he’s playing it out in his head. “I’d wait for the perfect moment. Maybe when she’s talking, because she always talks during horror movies—”

Robin raises an eyebrow. “You like that she talks during movies?”

Steve waves a hand. “That’s not the point. The point is, she gets really into it, and when she’s really into something, she forgets to be sarcastic for, like, a whole second. So while she’s mid-sentence, I’d just… shift toward her, lean in a little, make sure she notices before I do anything.”

Robin watches him, interested now. “And then?”

Steve tilts his head slightly, picturing it.

“And then,” he says, voice softer, “I’d go for it. Just—slow, you know? Like, give her the chance to pull away, but hoping she doesn’t.” He shakes his head. “I wouldn’t make it some big thing, no cheesy lines, nothing rehearsed. Just… see what happens.”

Robin stares at him for a second. Then makes a face.

“Okay, ew,” she says. “Reel it in, Romeo.”

Steve blinks. “What?”

“You were getting way too into that.”

Steve scowls. “I was just answering your question.”

Robin smirks. “Oh, you so weren’t. That was not hypothetical. That was a step-by-step plan.”

Steve huffs. “It was a theoretical —”

“You definitely have thought about this before.”

Steve groans, rubbing his hands over his face. “Robin—”

“You even mapped out the exact movie timing—”

“Shut up.”

“You are so nervous.”

“I am not—”

“Hey, what are you guys talking about?”

---

You’re walking toward Steve and Robin, hands shoved into your jacket pockets, head tilted slightly in curiosity. You glance between the two of them, your eyes narrowing ever so slightly, like you just walked in on the tail end of something you weren’t supposed to hear.

Steve immediately panics. “Why are you here?”

You blink. “Uh… hello to you too?”

He clears his throat, scrambling to backtrack. “I just—I thought we were meeting at my house.”

You shrug. “Eddie’s still working on my car, so I figured I’d just come straight here.”

Steve nods a little too fast. “Right. Cool. Yeah.”

Robin, who had been standing beside him with a smirk so smug it could power Hawkins for a week, is now outright grinning. She’s practically vibrating with barely restrained laughter.

Your eyes flick between them again. “What?”

Robin doesn’t answer. Instead, she turns to Steve with a knowing smile. “Well, I’m off to my not-date . Wish me luck.”

Your brow furrows. “Good luck?”

Robin winks—not at you, but at Steve. “You too.”

Steve glares at her. “Robin.”

She just grins wider and gives him a two-fingered salute before turning on her heel and heading off down the sidewalk, leaving you standing there with an eyebrow raised.

You shift your weight onto one foot, watching her go before turning back to Steve. “Okay, what was that?”

He shakes his head way too quickly. “Nothing. Just—nothing.”

You don’t buy it for a second. But whatever that was, Steve clearly isn’t going to spill, so you let it slide. For now.

You exhale, rocking back on your heels. “Alright, weirdo.”

Steve shifts awkwardly, clearing his throat. “You ready?”

You nod.

“Cool,” he says, fumbling for his keys like his hands suddenly forgot how to function.

Without another word, you both head to his car.

Once you’re at his house, Steve pushes the front door open first, stepping inside and flicking on the lights without a second thought. You follow behind him, toeing off your shoes as the familiar silence of the Harrington house settles around you.

As usual, the place is empty.

“Where are your parents this time?” you ask, already knowing the answer.

Steve snorts, tossing his keys onto the hallway table. “No idea. They left a note on the fridge, but I didn’t read it.”

You roll your eyes, unsurprised. “So, what? Business trip? Spa retreat? Another month of pretending they don’t have a son?”

“Something like that,” he mutters, shrugging off his jacket. “Not like it matters.”

It’s not like you’ve been here a ton, but every time you have been, it’s been the same—big house, too much space, and no parents in sight. Just Steve, filling the empty rooms with music or movies, like background noise could make up for the lack of anyone actually being home.

You don’t push it. Instead, you drop your bag on the couch and walk straight to the TV, glancing over your shoulder. “Movies?”

“Yeah, yeah, I got ‘em. You set up, I’ll grab snacks.”

You flip through the stack of VHS tapes he brought home from Family Video .

“You actually grabbed all the ones I asked for?” You sound surprised.

Steve scoffs, walking past you toward the kitchen. “You don’t pay me enough to improvise.”

“I don’t pay you.”

“Exactly.”

---

Steve tells himself he isn’t nervous.

He tells himself this as he unlocks the door, steps inside, and watches as you walk in after him, dropping your bag on the couch like you belong here. Which, in a way, you do.

He’s not nervous.

It’s just a normal movie night. Just like all the others.

Except it isn’t.

Because tonight, he has a plan.

A foolproof, step-by-step, can’t-go-wrong plan—one he stupidly let Robin in on, which means there is no backing out now. She’ll ask about it later, and if he tells her he chickened out, she’ll never let him live it down.

So he’s doing this.

…Right?

This is fine. If he just acts normal, you won’t suspect a thing. He pours the popcorn, pops open a couple of sodas, and grabs a bag of chips for good measure. When he comes back into the living room, you’re already loading The Thing into the VCR.

Steve watches you from the doorway for a second. The way you move so easily in his space. The way you don’t hesitate, like it’s your house too.

And yeah. Fuck . He wants this.

He clears his throat and heads to the couch, dropping down beside you—closer than usual.

You don’t say anything.

Step One: Close the Distance.

Easy.

Done.

You didn’t call him out on it, which means he’s in the clear.

The movie starts, and you sink into it, fully focused by the time the sled dog is sprinting through the snow, the helicopter in pursuit.

Steve lets himself relax. Just a little.

Step Two: Casual Arm Placement.

He waits. Gives it time.

You’re locked into the movie, already muttering something under your breath about the brilliance of practical effects. You do that a lot—talk through horror movies, not in a bad way, but in a way that shows how much you actually care about them.

Steve listens, nodding like he’s paying attention to what you’re saying, but really, he’s timing it.

Then, casually, effortlessly, he stretches, letting his arm fall across the back of the couch.

Not touching you. Just there. Close enough to be felt but not enough to be anything.

You don’t react.

So far, so good.

Steve suppresses a smirk. See, Robin? I got this.

Step Three: The Lean-In.

This one is trickier.

It has to be subtle . Smooth.

He waits again, watches as you settle further into the cushions, legs curled up beneath you, completely lost in the movie. That’s when he shifts—barely, just enough to angle himself toward you. Just enough to close the gap a little more.

Still, no reaction.

That’s either a really good thing or a really bad thing.

He reminds himself of the plan.

Wait until Sleepaway Camp for the next move. That’s when he’d test the waters, when you wouldn’t be as focused, when he could ease into it without making it weird.

But then you glance at him, just for a second, and something about the way you look—eyes slightly narrowed, like you noticed but aren’t saying anything—makes his stomach flip.

Fuck it.

Maybe he doesn’t want to wait.

You’re completely locked in when the scene shifts to the research station, the dog curling up in the kennel with the other huskies. It’s the moment before all hell breaks loose, the moment before the thing reveals itself.

It’s perfect.

Steve watches your profile, the way your eyes flick between the screen and your soda as you reach for it.

This is it.

This is the moment.

He turns toward you, leans in slightly, ready to shift even closer.

And then, of course, everything goes to shit.

Disaster: The Soda Incident.

He reaches for his drink at the exact same time you do.

Your hands knock together.

Oh, fuck.

Cold liquid spills all over your shirt.

You gasp, jerking upright as the icy soda soaks through your clothes.

“Shit—”

Steve freezes. Stares. His brain short-circuits.

This was not part of the plan. Not even close.

“Fuck—hold on—” He scrambles to set his drink down, moving fast like he can somehow reverse time and undo the absolute catastrophe he just caused. “Shit, shit, shit. I—I’ll grab a towel—just—shit—hang on!”

He bolts up so fast he nearly knocks over the popcorn bowl, tripping over the coffee table in his rush.

You’re just sitting there, stunned, dripping soda onto the couch, blinking at him like you can’t believe what just happened.

The movie keeps playing in the background, oblivious to the fucking disaster unfolding in real life.

Steve disappears down the hall, heart pounding, and he knows—

Yeah.

This definitely didn’t go according to plan.

---

You sit there, staring down at yourself, blinking at the damp fabric clinging to your chest.

What the hell just happened?

One second, you were watching the movie, minding your own business, and the next—Steve fucking Harrington managed to dump an entire soda all over you like some teenage rom-com protagonist who can’t keep his hands to himself.

Except this isn’t a movie, and Steve is currently gone, having bolted from the room like the place was on fire.

You exhale, peeling the wet fabric away from your skin, grimacing at the way the cold sticks to you. From somewhere in the house, you hear the telltale signs of Steve running around in a panic. Footsteps pounding up the stairs. The sound of a cabinet slamming. A muffled curse. Footsteps back down the stairs, faster this time, followed by another thud and another round of cursing.

Then silence.

You sigh, shifting uncomfortably, and just as you’re about to get up and find a towel yourself, Steve comes jogging back into the living room.

He’s got a hand towel in one hand and a shirt in the other, looking a little too disheveled for someone who was gone for all of thirty seconds.

“Okay, here—” he starts, reaching out with the towel.

And then he stops.

You blink at him. He blinks at you.

Because, yeah. If he was actually going to clean you up, that would mean touching your chest.

Steve goes bright red. “Right. Shit. Here—just—take it.”

He thrusts the towel at you, along with the shirt, and you grab them both, giving him a look.

“Yeah, genius. Didn’t really think that one through, did you?”

Steve groans, dragging a hand down his face. “I was panicking!”

“No shit.”

You push yourself off the couch, the wet fabric sticking uncomfortably as you shift. “Gonna go change.”

He nods quickly, eyes locked very purposefully on anything but you as you walk past him and down the hall toward the bathroom.

You shut the door behind you and sigh, shaking your head.

Steve had been weird all night. Fidgety. Kind of jumpy. Not normal.

And this? This had to be a new record for him in terms of absolute dumbassery.

You grab the bottom of your shirt, pulling it off with a wince, already shivering slightly as the air hits your skin. Then, you look at the shirt he gave you.

It’s not one of his polos or his sweaters—it’s a T-shirt, old and worn, with the faded logo of the Hawkins High basketball team across the front.

You snort. King Steve in his prime.

The fabric is soft, smelling like detergent and him, and when you pull it on, it’s tight. Not uncomfortably so, but enough that it stretches a little over your chest, fitting snug around your torso in a way that most of your own shirts don’t.

Great.

You shake your head and step back out, making your way to the living room.

Steve is at the VCR when you return, swapping out the tape for Sleepaway Camp , his back to you.

He glances over his shoulder when he hears you come in, eyes flicking down to his shirt on you before darting back up to your face.

“Uh,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. “Sorry. Again.”

You shrug. “It’s cool, this is how most guys try to get me out of my clothes.”

Steve chokes.

Like, actually chokes.

“…Okay,” you say slowly, watching him. “That was a joke.”

Steve shakes his head so fast you think he might snap his own neck and you narrow your eyes. Something is off with him. But you let it slide, stepping back toward the couch as he finishes setting up the movie.

When he sits down again, he leaves a little more space between you this time, but you don’t comment on it. The movie starts, the opening credits rolling, and as the familiar music kicks in, you shake your head.

Steve Harrington is acting weird as hell tonight.

---

Steve is reeling.

He never fucks up like that.

Sure, yeah, maybe he’s been in a bit of a dry spell lately. Maybe he hasn’t had as many dates as he used to. Maybe he’s been selective (Robin’s word, not his) about who he flirts with. But when he does?

This is the part he’s good at.

The easy charm, the confidence, the effortless way he makes a girl laugh and then smoothly inches closer—that has always been his thing.

But this? This was a fucking disaster.

It has to be a sign that this was a bad idea, that Robin got into his head and made him think there was something here when there wasn’t.

Because if there was, he wouldn’t have botched it so badly. He wouldn’t have dumped a fucking drink all over you like a nervous wreck. Wouldn’t be sitting here now, stiff and awkward, trying way too hard to act like nothing happened.

He flicks a glance at you, at the way you’re curled up on the couch, adjusting yourself in his old Hawkins basketball T-shirt.

And—fuck.

The thing about that shirt?

It was his from junior year.

Which means it used to fit him.

Which means, on you, it’s tight .

Steve swallows hard and yanks his gaze back to the screen before his mind can wander any further.

Platonic. Just friends, Harrington. And friends don’t look at their friends’ boobs in a too-small shirt and think about—

He shoves the thought down so hard it practically leaves skid marks in his brain.

Instead, he focuses on the movie.

Sleepaway Camp isn’t a great distraction—it’s weird, and dumb, and kind of awful in the best way—but it’s what’s on.

You talk through it, like you always do, making the occasional joke, sometimes pointing out a particularly bad effect or cheesy dialogue.

Steve answers, strictly platonically.

He ignores any comment that could be vaguely sexual, even when you joke about the guys’ ridiculously short shorts or when you outright laugh at the worst attempt at seduction in cinematic history. Normally, he’d engage—he’d throw something back, tease, maybe flirt just for the hell of it.

Tonight, though, he forces himself to keep it neutral.

Because the more he thinks about what almost happened—the way he was about to go for it, the way he was about to shift even closer—the more his stomach twists.

The movie ends, and Steve is way too quick to jump up.

“Want another drink?” he asks, already halfway to the kitchen.

You nod, stretching as you get up to swap the tapes. “Yeah, sure.”

Steve heads to the fridge, grabs the handle, and—

---

You’re kneeling in front of the VCR, sliding My Bloody Valentine into place, when you hear Steve’s footsteps behind you.

“No more soda,” he announces like it’s a death sentence, hands perched on his hips. “I got, uh—water, orange juice, milk—”

You pause, turning to look at him. “Milk?”

Steve throws his hands up like that’s somehow your fault. “I don’t know, I’m just listing shit. We’ve got juice boxes if you wanna feel like a kid again.”

You roll your eyes, but the second he says it, an idea sparks in your head. You glance at the TV, then back at Steve, then at the couch, where the remnants of the soda disaster still linger. Tonight’s already off the rails, so why not lean into it?

“Why don’t we just make it a drinking game?”

Steve blinks, caught off guard. “What?”

“Come on, we’ve done drinking games before.”

“Yeah, but that’s when there’s more people.”

You narrow your eyes, tilting your head slightly. “And?”

Steve opens his mouth, then stops. He looks at you, thinking, probably trying to come up with a reason why that matters, why it’s somehow different when it’s just the two of you. But he doesn’t have one. Instead, he lets out a slow sigh, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Yeah, okay, I guess that doesn’t actually matter.”

You smirk, victorious, and push yourself up from the floor. You don’t know why he’s hesitating. It’s not like this is some big deal. It’s just a stupid drinking game to go with a stupid horror movie on a stupid holiday. It’s a way to make the night a little more fun, a little less whatever the hell this has been so far.

Steve still looks skeptical, like he’s waiting for some reason to say no, so you press on before he can talk himself out of it.

“We’re both alone on Valentine’s Day,” you say, watching his expression carefully. “Everyone else is out on their dumb dates, drinking their dumb fancy wine, eating overpriced chocolate, being all lovey-dovey. And we’re here, watching horror movies and trying not to spill anything else on my shirt.”

Steve lets out a quiet laugh through his nose, shaking his head.

Encouraged, you keep going. “For once, we don’t have to deal with interdimensional bullshit, no creepy government guys, no nightmare monsters from hell. Just a normal, boring, stupid romantic holiday that we’re stuck spending alone.”

He huffs, crossing his arms. “So, your grand plan is to drink through the pain?”

You shrug. “We deserve a night of dumb, normal young people shit.”

It’s only when you say it out loud that you realize how true it is. You’ve spent so much of the last couple of years dealing with things that no one your age should have to deal with. Near-death experiences, government cover-ups, missing people, watching friends suffer and not being able to do anything about it. It’s been a lot, and maybe it’s selfish, but you just want one night that feels easy.

Steve is quiet, considering. You step closer, just enough to reach out and clap a hand on his shoulder, half in encouragement, half in challenge.

“Come on, Harrington. It’s one night. What’s the worst that could happen?”

For a second, he just looks at you. There’s something in his expression you can’t quite place, something unreadable behind those brown eyes. But then he sighs, running a hand through his hair before shaking his head.

“Fine,” he mutters. “I’ll go grab something my parents won’t miss.”

---

Steve comes back into the living room, bottle in one hand, glasses in the other, expecting to see you on the couch where he left you. Instead, you’re sitting on the floor, pillows propped against the coffee table, legs stretched out, completely at ease like this is just how movie nights are supposed to be.

He stops short, eyeing you with confusion. “What are you doing?”

You glance up at him, completely unfazed. “It’s more fun this way.”

Steve squints. “Sitting on the floor ?”

“Yeah.” You pat the space next to you, smirking. “Come on, try it.”

He sighs but doesn’t argue, lowering himself down beside you, setting the bottle and glasses on the floor. His knees knock against yours briefly as he gets comfortable, and for some reason, that small, barely-there contact sends a little jolt through him. He ignores it, grabs the bottle, and tilts it in your direction.

“Alright,” he says, twisting off the cap, “rules.”

You hum in thought. “Okay, obviously, we drink every time someone dies.”

“Obviously.”

“Drink every time someone says ‘Valentine.’”

Steve snorts. “This is My Bloody Valentine , we’re gonna die.”

“That’s the point.” You grin and hold up a finger. “Drink when someone does something really fucking stupid, like running upstairs instead of outside.”

“Classic.” He pours your glass, then his, setting the bottle aside. “What about drink if you get spooked?”

You narrow your eyes. “You just want an excuse to make me drink more.”

He grins, bumping his knee against yours. “Gotta level the playing field somehow.”

You roll your eyes but don’t argue. “Fine. And… drink if there’s a sex scene.”

Steve raises an eyebrow. “You just made that one up.”

“Maybe.”

“You so did.”

You smirk. “It’s still a good rule.”

He shakes his head, but his smile lingers as he lifts his glass. “Alright, to terrible horror movies and drinking games.”

You clink your glass against his, and with that, the game begins.

Two-thirds of the way through the movie, and you’re both comfortably tipsy. Not drunk, but warm, relaxed, feeling looser, laughter coming easier.

At some point, Steve stopped noticing when your knee brushed against his. He didn’t think much of it when your arm pressed against his as you reached for your glass. Didn’t acknowledge the way you shifted slightly, leaning more into him as you adjusted yourself on the pillow, both of you sinking deeper into the comfort of the moment.

But now?

Now, he notices.

His focus snaps to the way your thigh is flush against his, how your elbow nudges his arm when you gesture toward the screen, still mid-rant about the practical effects.

And suddenly, it sobers him up just a little.

Not enough to stop enjoying himself, but enough to remember.

The plan.

The one he’d botched spectacularly earlier when he panicked like a fucking idiot and spilled soda all over you. He should have waited for the right moment, should have followed through exactly the way he told Robin he would.

But maybe this is the moment.

He watches you as you talk, completely wrapped up in explaining why this particular death scene is underrated. Your eyes are bright, hands moving as you emphasize certain points, and you’re not filtering yourself the way you sometimes do. This is that window—where you’re passionate, where your guard is down, where you aren’t trying to be anything other than exactly you.

And you look so fucking pretty.

His chest tightens.

He doesn’t think. Doesn’t overanalyze. He just goes for it.

His hand moves before he can stop it, reaching up to cup your face, fingers brushing along the curve of your jaw. Your words falter, breath catching, eyes flicking to his in startled confusion, but you don’t pull away.

And then he’s leaning in, closing the space between you, pressing his lips to yours.

It’s soft, tentative but steady, warm in a way that has nothing to do with the alcohol. His thumb strokes lightly along your cheek, grounding himself, savoring the way your lips part slightly, like you weren’t expecting this but aren’t against it either.

You don’t pull away.

You don’t pull away.

It’s a slow, lingering kiss, the kind that feels like it’s meant to happen, like it’s been waiting to happen. The kind that shifts something in the air, something unspoken but undeniable.

When he finally leans back, just enough to look at you, he searches your face, breath unsteady.

And for the first time all night, you’re speechless.

---

You stare at him.

For a full minute, maybe longer.

The kiss still lingers, warm on your lips, your brain lagging behind, trying to catch up with the reality of what just happened. Steve watches you like he’s waiting for something—maybe for you to freak out, maybe for you to say something, anything.

And eventually, you do.

“What—” You shake your head, eyes narrowing slightly. “What the hell was that?”

Steve opens his mouth to answer, but before he can, you cut him off.

“Wait, no. You’re drunk.”

“I’m not—”

“You’re drunk, and you’re feeling weird about Valentine’s Day, and you were caught up in the moment—”

“I—”

“We’ve been drinking, and you’re—”

“Jesus, would you let me—”

You’re still talking, half-rambling, voice layered with that dry disbelief you always get when shit blindsides you, and Steve, clearly realizing that you’re just gonna keep going, shakes your shoulder a little. Not hard, just enough to jolt you.

You stop. Blink.

He exhales. “I did it because I wanted to.”

Your stomach does something stupid and traitorous at that, but you shove it down, tilting your head slightly, giving him the flattest expression you can manage.

“Okay,” you say. “Well. Now you have.”

Silence settles between you. Not uncomfortable, but something. You’re still way too aware of the fact that his hand was on your face, that his lips were on yours, that you let him do it.

And worse—you kissed him back.

Steve shifts beside you, turning his attention to the movie, but his voice is softer when he says, “For the record, you kissed me back.”

You don’t respond. You just keep watching, your heart pounding way too hard for something as simple as sitting next to him. Your brain spins, trying to process the entire situation, trying to put all the little pieces together, trying to figure out what the hell you’re supposed to do with this new information.

And then, for some reason, you look at him.

Like, really look at him.

He’s still staring at the screen, trying to act normal, and to the average person, he probably looks normal. But you know him better than that. You’ve spent too much time around him not to pick up on the small tells—the way his jaw is a little tighter than usual, the way he shifts slightly like he’s trying not to fidget, the way his fingers tap lightly against his knee. He’s trying to keep his cool, trying to play this off like it isn’t a big deal.

And now, you can’t stop noticing things.

The two beauty marks on the side of his neck, just under his jaw. The way the glow of the TV flickers against his skin. The shape of his mouth, the way his lips look softer in this lighting, the way his eyes shift when something catches his attention on screen. The way his arms look in that stupid polo shirt, his biceps just defined enough that—

Nope. Absolutely not.

You shake yourself out of it, tearing your eyes away, trying to breathe properly again.

And then—like puzzle pieces clicking together—your brain finally catches up. The closeness, the arm around the back of the couch, the spilled soda. You turn to him, narrowing your eyes, and before you can stop yourself, you smack his arm.

He flinches, looking at you, completely caught off guard. “What the hell?”

“You planned this.”

Steve’s face does this weird thing—half shock, half shit, I’ve been caught —before he recovers, shaking his head. “What? No.”

You stare at him.

“Steve.”

He doesn’t say anything and you raise an eyebrow, waiting.

He shifts, clears his throat, and you see it all over his face—he’s absolutely about to try and deflect.

And then, just as he’s about to speak, you say his name again.

“Steve.”

And just like that, he freezes.

---

Steve feels cornered.

And not in a bad way, necessarily, but in a ‘shit, there’s nowhere to run and I’ve already been caught’ kind of way. You’re looking at him, waiting, eyes narrowed, arms crossed, the full force of your glare locked in.

And Steve—Steve does what he does best in moments of extreme pressure.

He rambles.

“If I planned this, it wouldn’t have gone so disastrously,” he starts, gesturing wildly like that’ll somehow help his case. “Like, this is the part I’m usually good at, okay? The flirting, the—moves, the whole making-it-seem-effortless thing. You know, the part where I don’t look like a complete idiot and spill an entire drink on you like I’ve never spoken to a girl before.”

You don’t say anything. You just raise an eyebrow, completely unimpressed.

Steve exhales, shaking his head. “And, honestly? It’s kind of your fault.”

That makes you blink.

“My fault?”

“Yeah, because you—you throw me off!” He gestures at you like that’s an obvious answer, like that explains anything. “You’re always making these stupid jokes, and you’re too quick, and you make fun of me before I can make fun of myself, and you never let me get away with anything. It’s—”

His mouth keeps running. His brain catches up about three sentences too late.

“—it’s really annoying, except it’s not, because I actually kinda—”

Steve stops mid-sentence, everything catching up with him at once.

Fuck.

You tilt your head, waiting.

He swallows, rubbing a hand over his face. “Jesus Christ, I’m an idiot.”

You hum. “Yeah, but I already knew that.”

Steve lets out a short, almost nervous laugh before dragging a hand through his hair. “Okay, listen. That wasn’t—I didn’t mean it’s actually your fault. That was—I’m sorry, that was just me being defensive, and that was a dick thing to say.”

You nod slowly, clearly waiting for the rest.

He sighs, looking at the ceiling for a second before bringing his gaze back to you. “Robin put this thought in my head. I mean, she’s been putting this thought in my head. Since, like, the second I met her at Scoops.”

You don’t look surprised.

He shakes his head. “But if I’m being completely honest, it was already there.”

That’s when you stop him.

“Of course she did.” You sigh, rubbing your temple like this is something you’ve been expecting.

Steve frowns. “Wait—what do you mean of course she did?”

You hesitate, shifting your weight slightly before reluctantly admitting, “Because she’s been saying the same things to me for months.”

Steve blinks. That is not what he expected you to say.

It takes him a second to process, but when it clicks, when he realizes what you just admitted, his mouth stretches into a slow, growing grin.

“Wait.” He points at you. “Are you saying you like like me?”

Your entire face shifts into the most unamused expression he’s ever seen.

“Did you just say like like ?”

“Yeah.”

You narrow your eyes. “How old are you?”

“Okay, what about fancy me?” He wiggles his eyebrows. “Sweet on me?”

“Oh my god.”

“Got a little crush on me?”

“Steve.”

“Are you pining over me?”

You groan, shaking your head. “I refuse to answer if you keep saying it like that.”

Steve leans in slightly, tilting his head. “Not answering kinda is an answer.”

You look at him, lips pressing into a thin line, but you don’t pull away.

And that’s when something in him shifts.

For once, he stops talking. Stops trying to play it off, stops trying to dance around it, stops deflecting. He just watches you, watches the way your expression flickers—sharp one second, a little softer the next, like you’re not quite sure where this is going.

And then, quieter than before, he says, “How do you actually feel?”

You inhale. Exhale. Then, with the kind of reluctance that makes his heart beat just a little faster, you start listing.

“Despite the fact that you’re ridiculous.”

He grins.

“Despite the fact that you’re a little too cocky sometimes.”

“Objectively false.”

You roll your eyes.

“Despite the fact that you’re an idiot who spilled an entire soda on me.”

Steve huffs a laugh. “Yeah, that was bad.”

You pause, hesitating, but then, softer, you add, “Despite all of that… I still like being around you. More than I should.”

Steve swallows. “Yeah?”

You nod once. “Yeah.”

Something settles in his chest.

He exhales, gaze flicking down to your lips briefly before meeting your eyes again, smirking a little. “So, theoretically,” he starts, tilting his head, “if I wanted to kiss you again, would I still be at risk of getting punched, or…”

You roll your eyes, but there’s something there now, something warmer, something less guarded.

So Steve doesn’t wait for an answer.

He just leans in and kisses you again.

This time, it’s different.

The first kiss had been tentative, careful, almost testing the waters. But this one—this is something else entirely. This one is lingering, deeper, his hand sliding along your jaw again, the warmth of his palm grounding you as his lips part against yours.

The shift is slow but undeniable—the way his fingers slide back into your hair, the way he tilts his head just enough to deepen it, the way your hand moves, resting lightly against his chest, gripping the fabric of his shirt like you’re steadying yourself.

Steve barely has time to think—barely has time to do anything other than sink into you—before the next thought crosses his mind.

Holy shit. This is actually happening.

He smiles against your mouth and feels the corner of your lips curve upward.

When you finally lean back, it takes a second for his brain to catch up, his eyes opening, his breath coming in unsteady, shallow waves. He stares at you, the way the glow of the TV dances against your skin, the way the softness in your eyes matches the one in his chest, the way his hands are still cupping your face, his fingers threaded through your hair.

He exhales, letting his forehead rest against yours.

And then, without thinking, he says the first thing that comes to mind.

"Wanna be my Valentine?"

You snort.

You literally snort.

"That was so lame," you mutter, pulling back enough to look at him, laughing a little. "Seriously, Harrington?"

He shrugs. "So?"

"So, you missed it. Valentine's Day technically ended like an hour ago."

"Yeah." Steve pauses, thinking. Then, "We can do better next year."

Your stomach does a fucking somersault.

"Next year?"

"Yeah." He's got that dumb, boyish grin again, the one that makes his eyes bright and that's simultaneously too much and not enough. "I can take you out. Somewhere nicer than just my living room, somewhere where we're both not covered in soda. We can dress up, make a real thing of it. Maybe dinner, maybe a movie, maybe the stupid arcade."

"You hate the arcade."

"Not the point."

You huff a quiet laugh. "And what about the year after that?"

"Ah, see that's the year we get really crazy. We take a vacation, maybe road trip to Chicago, rent a hotel room for the weekend."

"A hotel room, huh?"

"Yeah, and we can have a fancy dinner at a nice restaurant. One with tablecloths and candles and everything."

You narrow your eyes slightly, watching him. "So, basically, you're planning a bunch of cliche, classic Valentine's dates."

"Basically."

"Like we're a couple."

"Like we're a couple." He nods.

"And you want to keep doing this for years?"

"And I want to keep doing this for years."

Steve looks so certain, so unbothered by the fact that he just threw out the words 'for years' like it's the easiest thing in the world. Like it's a promise, a guarantee. And when you see the way his gaze softens, the way his eyes flick between yours, the way his expression goes a little more serious, you realize—

That's exactly what he's doing.

You swallow, looking at him, and then, slowly, you ask, "Why?"

"Because I'm an idiot."

You roll your eyes.

"Because I'm an idiot," he amends, "who's liked you for way too long, and I've just been trying not to notice it."

"Steve—"

"And because I know I've made a lot of mistakes, okay?" He pauses, exhaling a little shakily. "Like, a lot of mistakes. But the biggest mistake would be not going for this, not seeing where it could go."

You shake your head, your heart beating way too fast.

"Steve," you say, "we've only kissed twice."

"Yeah, and?"

"And... it's been twenty minutes."

"And?"

You let out a small, exasperated laugh, looking at him like he's insane. "It's been twenty minutes."

"Listen," he starts, and the fact that he's using the exact same tone of voice as you, the one where he's trying to argue, the one where he's determined and stubborn and refusing to back down, makes something in your chest shift.

He reaches for your hands, lacing his fingers with yours.

"There is a lot of shit we've had to deal with. A lot of crazy, unbelievable shit. But this is something I know, okay? This is something I'm sure about. So, maybe we go into it too fast, and maybe we take our time, and maybe we try a few things and figure out what works. But I don't care."

Steve squeezes your hands gently.

"We've spent the last three years dealing with monsters and evil Russians and upside-down hellscapes, and the second I got to kiss you, the second I got to actually act on the thing I've wanted for way too long, I didn't think about any of that. I didn't think about the fact that the world is probably gonna keep fucking us over. I didn't think about all the reasons why this wouldn't work or why we shouldn't be doing this. I didn't think about the risks or the bullshit. I didn't even think about the fact that I'm supposed to be spending Valentine's Day alone. I just..."

He stops, his breath catching a little.

"I just felt it. The way it made me feel. The way I just want to keep doing it, again and again. And the fact that I know, I fucking know, we're gonna have to deal with a lot more weird shit before we can even begin to be normal, I'm not worried. Because at the end of the day, if you're there, then everything else doesn't matter."

And with that, the last of your defenses crumble.

You stare at him. At this ridiculous, self-proclaimed idiot, with his perfect hair and his pretty smile and his dumb, charming confidence.

At Steve Harrington, the guy who used to be the most annoying, egotistical prick you'd ever met.

At the guy who's become one of the best people you've ever known.

At the guy who is, somehow, right now, here, saying all the right things.

"Shit," you mutter. "You're making it really hard not to fall in love with you."

Steve grins, and then, the absolute bastard, leans in.

"Then stop trying."

He kisses you again.

You feel it everywhere—in the way his mouth slides against yours, warm and inviting, the way his fingers tangle into your hair, the way he pulls you closer.

Your fingers curl into his polo, gripping tightly as you shift closer, and Steve groans against your mouth, his hands sliding to your waist like he can’t not touch you now. The warmth of your body pressed against his is enough to make him lightheaded, the scent of your shampoo mingling with the faint whiskey on your breath making his head swim.

His hands start to move without thinking, fingertips tracing over the fabric of your shirt—his shirt—feeling the heat of your skin underneath. You gasp softly, and Steve nearly loses his mind right there. He has to pull back, has to take a breath before he does something completely reckless, but even then, his forehead stays pressed against yours, his breath mingling with yours.

“Bedroom?” His voice is rough, barely above a whisper.

You nod. “Yeah.”

That’s all he needs.

Steve gets up first, pulling you with him, hands firm on your waist as he steadies you. You both stumble slightly, tipsy but nowhere near drunk, laughing under your breath as you navigate through the house. It’s not far—just up the stairs, past the stupid family portraits his parents insist on keeping up despite never being here.

And then, finally, his room.

The door clicks shut behind you, sealing you both in, the soft glow from outside casting long shadows across his walls.

And then, Steve is on you again.

He doesn’t hesitate this time, doesn’t second-guess himself as his hands find your face, thumbs brushing over your cheekbones as he kisses you like he’s been waiting to do this forever. Like he’s scared it might slip away if he doesn’t hold onto it.

The backs of your knees hit the edge of his bed, and you sink down, pulling him with you. Steve follows, pressing you down gently, settling between your legs as he leans in, his lips never leaving yours.

His hands start to wander, slow, exploring—mapping you out like he wants to memorize every dip and curve. And god, you’re soft. So warm, so right against him.

 His mind is already racing, imagining every place his lips could follow, every inch of skin he could trace, every way he could make you melt into him.

Your own hands roam, sliding down his chest, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. Steve leans back, just enough to let you pull it off, the cool air hitting his skin making him shiver. His chest is exposed, his hair a little messy, his arms flexing slightly as he props himself up, and the sight is enough to make you pause.

Steve smirks, catching you.

But instead of teasing, he leans down, kissing along your jaw, his voice low and soft as he murmurs, "My turn."

Steve teases the hem of the shirt he let you borrow. You sit up a little and he starts to lift it up over your chest, but it's a tight fit and it gets stuck. You're about ready to have him just rip it off at this point, but when he speaks, his voice is soft and gentle and his breath is hot on your skin and all the words die on your tongue.

"Hold your arms up, okay?"

You obey, raising your arms and letting him slide the shirt off. He tosses it on the floor and you shiver at the sudden cold, but it's quickly forgotten as Steve looks down at you.

"Fuck."

The word slips out of his mouth before he can stop it. His eyes drink you in, trailing over the swell of your breasts in your bra, the smooth skin, the curve of your waist, and suddenly, he's overwhelmed.

"So you don't think I'm like, a total perv, I didn't think that shirt would be that... snug when I grabbed it. So, uh, sorry, but I'm also not complaining, because you have a really great—shit, what was I saying?"

"Shut up, Harrington," you mutter, grabbing his neck and pulling him in for a kiss.

He chuckles against your lips, then shifts.

Steve starts slow, his mouth tracing a line down the side of your neck. He pauses, sucks at the hollow of your throat, feels the way your breath hitches when his teeth graze over the delicate skin. Your fingers card through his hair, nails lightly scratching his scalp, and the sensation is enough to make him shudder, a quiet groan slipping out.

Then, he moves lower, lips pressing a kiss in the space between your breasts. His hands trace over the tops of them, then down, cupping you, feeling the weight, thumbs swiping along the edge of your bra. You sigh, arching into him, and it takes every ounce of control not to lose it right there.

Steve leans back, eyes meeting yours, silently asking permission.

You nod, and he reaches behind you, unhooking your bra with a little more ease than expected. When he slides it off, his eyes flick down to the newly exposed skin, and you swear you hear his breath hitch.

Then, his mouth is on you, and all rational thought leaves your brain.

Steve knows his way around a girl's body.

But right now? With you?

It's like starting from square one.

Because right now, everything is heightened. Every noise you make, every little gasp and moan, every hitch of your breath, every brush of your skin against his. It's enough to drive him absolutely insane, enough to make him lose focus, and when he feels you shift underneath him, when he sees the way you look up at him, his mouth still wrapped around your nipple, sucking gently, he feels that familar tug in his stomach.

It's that same feeling—the one he can't shake, the one he can't get rid of, the one that has him thinking thoughts like 'fuck, she's so pretty' and 'holy shit, I really like her' and 'god, this is gonna ruin me, isn't it?'

But right now, none of that matters.

Right now, he can't stop.

You're arching into him, fingers buried in his hair, tugging lightly, and the sound that slips out when he scrapes his teeth lightly is enough to make his cock twitch. His mouth trails lower, over your stomach, kissing along your hipbones, and he's moving faster now, impatient, hands sliding to the button of your jeans.

He hesitates, just for a second, looking up at you.

"Is this okay?"

You nod, swallowing, and Steve's hands move. He undoes the button, slides the zipper down, and hooks his fingers into the sides. He doesn't wait for a response this time—he yanks, hard, and the sound that slips out is one part surprised, one part pleased, and it's so fucking hot that he can't stand it.

Once they're off, he looks at you, taking a second to breathe, to appreciate how fucking gorgeous you look, laid out on his bed in nothing but a pair of panties. Then, his gaze trails lower, and he sees the wet spot on the fabric, and it hits him.

Fuck, you're soaked.

He exhales sharply, his eyes flicking up to yours. "Holy shit."

"Yeah." Your voice is breathy, a little embarrassed, but there's something there, too. Something needy, something desperate.

"Do you have any idea," Steve says, leaning over you again, "how long I've wanted to see you like this?"

His hand slides down, palming you through the fabric, and when he rubs lightly, your entire body shudders.

"See, this?" He rubs a little harder, the fabric of your panties sliding against your clit. "This is my new favorite thing."

You gasp, arching into him.

Steve keeps going, rubbing you through the thin layer of cotton, watching the way your hips lift into his hand. He presses a kiss to your jaw, then to your neck, sucking lightly, and then, without warning, he slides off your panties and his fingers are back on you. 

"Fuck," he groans, feeling the heat, the wetness coating his fingers. "So fucking wet, baby."

His voice is lower than before, the pet name slipping out without thinking, and it takes every ounce of self-control not to start fucking his fingers into you. Instead, he teases, sliding his fingers, feeling the slickness, the way your breath catches when his thumb circles around your clit.

And then, he dips a finger inside.

You let out a low moan, a sound that has his cock twitching again, and the urge to just bury himself in you and fuck until neither of you can breathe is almost overwhelming. But he doesn't. He doesn't rush it.

Instead, he keeps going.

"This is what I'd think about," he says, adding a second finger. "When I would lay here, at night, after I was done talking to you."

You don't say anything, too focused on the feeling, but he knows you're listening. He kisses down your neck, fingers moving slowly, curling inside of you, his palm brushing over your clit, and then, when he adds a third finger, the stretch is enough to make your brain short-circuit.

"I'd be in bed, alone, and all I could think about was this." His voice is rougher now, the way you're squeezing around his fingers driving him insane. "What you would look like, how you'd feel, how you'd taste."

Steve picks up the pace, thrusting a little harder, his fingers curling, finding that spot, and the whimper that escapes is the hottest fucking thing he's ever heard. He's fully hard now, his cock straining against his jeans, and he has to shift, has to grind his hips against the mattress to take the edge off.

"And now," he murmurs, "I get to find out."

Steve presses his lips to yours, swallowing the moan as he fucks you with his fingers. He can feel the way your body starts to tighten, the way you squeeze around him, the way your breath gets unsteady, and he knows you're close.

"God, look at you." He curls his fingers again, watching the way your hips rock into his hand. "So pretty, baby. So perfect."

His free hand comes up, brushing over your nipple, and that's all it takes.

You gasp, clutching onto his shoulder, your head falling back as the orgasm rips through you.

And then, Steve has an idea.

Before you can even process, he's sliding lower, his lips moving, pressing open-mouthed kisses along your stomach, then down, until he's settled between your legs. You can feel the heat of his breath, and then, his tongue drags along the inside of your thigh, and the realization of what's about to happen sends a jolt through you.

You barely have time to process before his mouth is on you, and fuck, the sensation is overwhelming.

"Oh, god," you gasp, and your hands fly down, tangling into his hair, trying to anchor yourself.

He doesn't go slow this time. He's not gentle or teasing. He just licks a long stripe over your pussy, his fingers parting you, his tongue swiping through the wetness, savoring the taste, and when his mouth finds your clit, his lips closing around it, you have to fight to keep your hips still.

Your entire body feels like it's on fire, the pleasure sharp and white-hot.

Steve is relentless, his tongue moving expertly, swirling around your clit, alternating between hard, firm strokes and light, teasing ones. When he sucks, his tongue flicking, you cry out, a string of curses slipping out as your fingers tighten in his hair.

He groans against you, the sound muffled, his fingers gripping your hips tightly, and then, you feel it.

One hand slides under your thigh, his arm hooking under your leg, pulling it up and over his shoulder. His other arm wraps around the other, holding you down, his hand spreading you, keeping you wide open for him.

Then, Steve goes harder.

He doesn't give you time to breathe, doesn't let you recover. Instead, his tongue moves faster, licking, sucking, his face buried in you, his grip on your thighs iron-tight. The sound is obscene, filthy, wet and messy and fucking perfect, and when his teeth scrape over your clit, your back arches off the bed.

"Steve," you pant, trying not to lose it completely. "I'm—I'm gonna—"

He hums, like he already knows, and the vibrations are enough to send you over the edge.

Your entire body seizes, the pleasure shooting through you like lightning. You don't even know what's happening, if you're crying out or moaning or gasping or a mix of all three, but you can't focus, can't breathe, can't do anything other than let it rip through you, white-hot and fucking amazing.

By the time it finally fades, the aftershocks rolling through you, you're completely breathless. Your legs feel like jelly, your fingers are numb from gripping his hair, and you're positive that every nerve in your body is fried.

When Steve pulls away, sitting up, you look at him.

Your eyes are wide, your chest heaving, and it's only then that you notice the lopsided smile.

"Did I kill you?"

"Shut up," you mutter, your face flushing.

Steve's smirk widens. He crawls up, leaning in, his lips brushing against yours. "You taste amazing."

You're too weak, too fucked out to respond. All you can do is look at him, his mouth slightly parted in a loose smile, his lips shiny. And the fact that you're the reason, the fact that he was just between your legs, eating you out, is enough to make another pulse of warmth spread through your stomach.

Then, Steve looks down at you, his smile turning softer.

"Hey."

"Hi."

"You good?"

You exhale. "Yeah. Just... a little lightheaded."

"Sorry," he says, not sorry at all. "I'll try not to be so good next time."

He grins in a way thats too sweet, too genuine, and then, he presses a kiss to your forehead. He shifts, pulling back, and you're about to ask what he's doing when he reaches for the nightstand. He opens the drawer, digging around, and you're about to ask him why he's suddenly acting so weird when he holds something up.

A condom.

Steve glances at you, and his face does that thing—that half-shy, half-smirking thing—like he's still trying to play it off.

"We don't have to," he says. "If you don't want."

You hesitate.

It's not like you've never thought about it. You've imagined him more times than you'd ever admit, late at night, under the cover of darkness, when it's just you and your own mind and the things you'd like to do. But now the guy is currently in front of you, giving you the biggest puppy dog eyes of all time, as if he didn't just give you the best orgasm of your life with his tongue a few minutes ago.

Your heart stutters, and it's not because you're scared or nervous.

"Yeah," you say. "Okay."

Steve blinks, and then, he grins.

"Yeah?"

You roll your eyes. "Yes, asshole."

"Hey." He points a finger at you. "No name-calling while we're having sex."

You snort, and the laugh that follows makes him smile wider.

Then, without thinking, he leans down and kisses you.

The kiss is soft, gentle, almost hesitant, but you can taste yourself on his lips and it's enough to send a shockwave through your system. You wrap an arm around his neck, pulling him closer, and the second his bare skin presses against yours, the weight of him settling between your legs, the hardness of his cock pressing against your thigh, your pulse jumps.

Steve reaches for the button on his jeans, fumbling slightly, but once he's kicked them off, he's on you again. His body is warm, the skin soft under your hands, and his mouth finds yours, his kiss a little more desperate now, like he's trying to ground himself, his fingers sliding into your hair, nails scratching lightly against your scalp.

When you shift underneath him, spreading your legs, his breath hitches, the friction enough to make him grind into you. You bite back a whimper, arching into him, and when you reach between you, palming him through his boxers, his cock twitches.

"Off," you say, tugging the waistband. "Now."

Steve huffs a laugh against your mouth.

"Demanding."

But he doesn't hesitate.

He sits back, just enough to pull them off, and the second they're gone, you swallow.

Fuck.

Steve Harrington is a lot of things.

Gorgeous. Annoying. An absolute idiot.

But right now, you're noticing a whole new set of adjectives.

He's hard, the tip flushed and swollen, and he's a little bigger than you were expecting. He's lean and fit in a way that has heat pooling in your stomach, the muscles in his arms flexing slightly as he reaches for the condom, and the sight is enough to make you a little dizzy.

"I can practically hear you thinking," he mutters, leaning in again, his mouth finding your jaw. And then, there's that stupid, cocky smirk. "Like what you see?"

"Absolutely not," you deadpan.

"Uh-huh." Steve's grin widens, but instead of saying anything else, he tears the wrapper open, rolls it on, and then, he's leaning in, bracing his weight over you. "You're cute when you're lying."

You feel the head of his cock brush against your entrance, and when he leans down, kissing you softly, his hand finds yours.

He tangles his fingers with yours, pressing them down into the mattress, his thumb tracing over the back of your hand.

"Still okay?"

His voice is different now. Quieter, softer.

And something about it makes your chest ache.

"Yeah."

"Tell me if it hurts."

You nod, and then, slowly, Steve pushes into you.

He goes slow, inch by inch, his gaze locked with yours. It's intense, overwhelming, and you can't tell if it's the fact that his eyes are so fucking pretty, or the way his fingers lace with yours, or the way his breath stutters a little when he bottoms out, but whatever it is, you feel it everywhere.

Steve holds still, letting you adjust, his chest rising and falling unsteadily, his eyes a little more focused now, and you know he's holding back.

"You can move," you whisper, squeezing his hand.

He exhales, nodding, and then, he does.

The first few thrusts are slow, experimental. He's careful, gentle, and the feeling of him, stretching you open, the way his hips meet yours, the way his hand finds your thigh, pulling it up and wrapping it around his waist, it's all so much.

But when Steve looks at you, his hair falling into his face, his eyes dark, the words slip out before you can stop them.

"Harder."

His rhythm stutters. He blinks.

And then, the corner of his mouth tugs upward.

"Yeah?" He pauses, the smirk spreading. "Are you sure? Cause you might not be able to walk tomorrow—"

"Oh my god, Harrington."

"You know, I think we're past the last name thing at this point."

You groan, burying your face in his neck. The laugh that escapes him is so fucking dumb and beautiful and perfect, and then, without warning, he slams into you.

"Jesus," you gasp, your body arching, fingers clutching onto his shoulders.

"Still not my name," he quips, and before you can respond, he keeps going, his hips snapping into yours, and the noise that slips out when his cock hits a certain spot is obscene.

It's different, being with Steve.

With anyone else, you're always a little guarded. Always a little reserved. Always trying to keep yourself in check, make sure your reactions aren't too exaggerated, make sure you're not too loud, not too much, not too needy. But with him, it's different.

There's none of that.

Right now, the only thing in your head is him.

The scent of his cologne mixed with sweat, the softness of his hair, the warmth of his skin, the sound of his voice, low and breathy and perfect. His hand slides over your breast, cupping you, his thumb rolling over your nipple, and the pleasure shoots straight through you.

And then, he leans down, his lips brushing over the shell of your ear.

"God, you're gorgeous." He hikes your leg higher, angling deeper, and the drag of his cock inside you is almost enough to send you over the edge. "So beautiful."

You whimper, the sound high and desperate, and his lips press against your neck.

"Could stay here forever," he murmurs, and then, his teeth graze your skin. "Inside you. Just like this."

"Steve," you gasp, your head falling back.

His name on your lips does something to him.

It's almost instinctive, the way his body moves, the way he fucks into you, his hips grinding against yours. His fingers dig into your thigh, his other hand moving down, sliding along your hip, gripping your ass, and the way you react is perfect.

"Just like that, baby."

Steve keeps talking, his mouth running, whispering the most ridiculous things, like how he loves the way you feel and the way your nails drag over his shoulders and the way your breasts bounce when he fucks into you. And every single one of his stupid, filthy compliments has your body tensing, the heat building in your stomach.

Your legs are around his waist, the heels of your feet pressing into the small of his back, and when he leans forward, shifting the angle, his mouth finding your breast, his tongue swiping over your nipple, the sound that escapes is embarrassingly loud.

"Steve," you whine, the sound needy and desperate.

"I know," he murmurs, his breath hot against your skin. "Fuck, I know."

Steve knows what he's doing. And the fact that he's got you wrapped around his finger, completely under his spell, makes him feel like he's on top of the fucking world.

His hips start to lose their rhythm, his movements getting a little sloppier, and when you start to tighten around him, the whimper he lets out is downright sinful. He leans back, his eyes meeting yours, and when his fingers find your clit, his touch firm, the feeling is enough to send you over the edge.

You don't even try to stop the moan, the sound slipping out, and then, the words.

"Don't stop." Your nails drag down his back, fingers curling, and Steve nearly loses it right there. "Steve, please. Don't stop."

"I won't." His voice is rough, the sound making you squeeze around him. "I won't."

And then, his mouth finds yours, and the second your lips part, the second his tongue slides against yours, the sensation is too much.

"Steve," you pant. "Fuck. Steve."

The sound of his name, over and over, coming out like a plea, is too much.

It's the combination of everything—the way your body arches, the way you clutch onto him, the way you squeeze around him, the way his name slips out.

"Shit," Steve groans. "I'm gonna—"

"Me, too," you gasp, and when you squeeze his hand, the orgasm ripping through you.

He chases after you, the pleasure slamming through him, his hips stuttering as he comes, his forehead falling against yours. Your names spill out, mixed together, and then, the room is filled with nothing but the sound of ragged breathing, the scent of sweat and sex and his cologne mingling together, the faint buzz from the TV downstairs drifting through the room.

By the time Steve catches his breath, his head is spinning.

His limbs feel like jelly, and his arms shake slightly, his body half-collapsed on top of yours, the feeling of your bare skin against his making his pulse race. He doesn't pull out, doesn't move, just lets his forehead rest against yours, the sound of your breath the only thing keeping him tethered.

After a few moments, his brain finally catches up.

He leans back, watching you.

Your face is flushed, lips slightly parted, the light sheen of sweat on your skin making you glow. And the expression on your face—the blissed-out, relaxed, fucked-out expression—makes his stomach flip.

"Shit," Steve whispers.

And then, before he can stop himself, before he can think, he says, "I love you."

The words are quiet, a little shaky, and the second they slip out, his breath catches.

Your eyes go wide.

Fuck.

He didn't mean to say it. Not now. Not like this.

The thought comes, unbidden, and then, he's hit with the realization.

Oh.

That's exactly what he meant.

Because it's true.

It's always been true.

Steve has said those words before, a handful of times, and each time, it never meant the same thing. The first time was in eighth grade, during a game of truth or dare. It was a joke, an inside-out version of the words that had everyone laughing. The second time was to a girl he dated briefly during sophomore year. He wasn't in love with her, not really, but the way she reacted, the way her entire face lit up, made him wish he was. And the third was to Nancy, when he was convinced it was true. That it would be true. Forever.

But the second it leaves his mouth, the second he says it now, the weight of the words settles over him.

It's heavy. Solid. Like the kind of thing that can't be taken back, the kind of thing that changes everything.

And when he looks at you, when he sees the way you stare back, the look in your eyes making his chest ache, the words hit him again.

He loves you.

"Fuck," Steve says, exhaling sharply. "Sorry, I didn't mean—I shouldn't have said—"

"You love me?"

Your voice is soft. Small. A little incredulous.

"I..." He pauses, looking at you.

You don't say anything, and Steve doesn't know if he's ever felt this fucking terrified in his entire life.

And then, slowly, your lips curve into a smile.

"You love me," you repeat, the smile spreading.

"Yeah."

"Like, love-love?"

"Oh, so ‘love love’ is okay to say, but ‘like like’ is childish?"

You ignore his call back. "Like, 'I want to hold your hand in public and fall asleep on the couch together and wake up with my face buried in your hair and spend the next ten years wondering what took us so long' love?"

The corner of his mouth tugs upward.

"All of the above."

Your heart jumps, and without thinking, you lean in, kissing him softly. When you lean back, Steve's eyes are a little wider, and the hope in his expression is almost painful.

"Do you...?"

You grin, and the second the words slip out, you know they're true.

"Yeah. Iove you too, Harrington."

"Hey," he starts, tilting his head. "I told you, we're past the last name thing."

"Fine," you say, rolling your eyes. Your face softens as you meet his gaze, and you move your hand to fix some of the hair stuck to his forehead. "I love you, Steve."

He's never loved his name more.

"So," you start, "where does that leave us now?"

"Well, according to my calculations, you are currently in my bed, naked, and I am stil insi-" he pauses, realization hitting him. "Oh my god. I told you I loved you for the first time while I was still inside of you. What kind of maniac does that?"

"Is this what love is like for you?"

"Oh shut up," Steve says, smiling, and finally, he pulls out.

He rolls over onto his back, staring at the ceiling, and then, without looking, he reaches for your hand.

"How about," he says, squeezing lightly, "we sleep, and then, tomorrow, we can talk about all the ways we're going to tell our friends and make them suffer?"

You snort, looking over at him. He's taking the condom off, tying it off, and then, he tosses it into the trashcan beside the bed. He turns back, shifting closer, and the fact that you're both naked, in bed, post-coitus, isn't lost on you.

"And the day after that," he adds, pulling you closer, "we can spend the entire day here, naked, in this bed, and we'll figure out a new plan."

"A new plan?"

"Yeah."

He's so close, his nose brushing against yours, and when his eyes flick between yours, there's a look there. A promise.

"We can make a new plan every day," Steve says, his voice a little lower, "for as long as you want."

And then, he kisses you, and it feels a little like the world shifts.

It's a small shift, just enough for everything to click into place.

Because now, everything is different.

Everything is new.

It's a promise.

And when Steve pulls away, when his eyes meet yours, when he smiles, a little crooked, a little sleepy, a little in love, you can't help but smile back.

[lunawagner]

Bridegroom Training - Chevalier Michel His POV Event Story Fan Translation

Summary: Clavis, Nokto, and Luke want to quit their job in the foreign affairs faction, expressing their frustration with Chevalier's cold attitude as the king of Rhodolite and the bridegroom of MC. Chevalier doesn't take them seriously, but MC feels a bit worried. Later, during the annual gathering in the castle, the trio disguise themselves as servants (I know it is unlikely, but I pictured them as maids while reading it lol) and stir things up. In the end, we learn Chevalier acts especially cold and socially inept on purpose for the sake of MC, since she thinks mediating social interactions is the only way she can be of use to Chevalier.

Chapter 1

The faction of foreign affairs was comprised of exceptional individuals, though their brilliance was matched only by their propensity for clamor.

Clavis: Chevalier... I'm done. Take this, take this resignation letter.

Nokto: Me too.

Luke: Take mine too.

Chevalier:.. Ahh, nonsense

Without lifting my gaze from the documents, I sighed at the guys who were more spirited than the birds chirping outside But MC beside me seemed to take a sincere interest in their problem, looking up from the papers she had in front of her.

MC: Did something happen?

Clavis: MC, are you aware that your man engages in vile acts when you are not around?

MC:Nokto?

Nokto:He's telling the truth.

MC:...Chevalier-sama?

Chevalier:I simply had them accompany me to a diplomatic dinner

Clavis: Simply? You dare to say it was a normal dinner?

I saw no reason to classify it as anything beyond normal.

Clavis: Remember the dinner we attended at the duke's estate and what you did...

-Flashback Starts-

Duke: Clavis-sama, Chevalier-sama, your presence honors me beyond words.

Chevalier: ...

Duke: I assume that Her Highness didn't come along with you?

Duke: Even in these frontier lands, we’ve heard your fondness for her. If it's possible...

Chevalier:I did not come to discuss trivial matters. Get to the point

Duke: .....ugh...

Clavis: It surely isn't a trivial matter. As you said, this man is hopelessly besotted with my sister-in-law.

Clavis: And as she is absent today, his mood is… less than congenial. Pay it no mind. Hahahaha!

-Flashback Ends-

Clavis: Must you transform every amicable exchange into a scene from hell?

Nokto:Indeed. No matter who they are, you never smile at anyone.

Nokto:But you are able to smile in front of MC. To withhold what you’re capable of makes it look like you are doing it out of evil intent.

Luke: Actually, I don't really care, but I want to slack off, so I will stand with them

Chevalier:There is no use complaining about it at this point.

The matter scarcely warranted my attention. As I decided to ignore them, my fool of a brother—chief instigator of this cacophony—slammed his palms on the table, sending a cascade of papers to the floor.

Clavis: Your apathy is insufferable. Cultivate some charm

Clavis: Do you plan to make your beloved MC experience that air of hell as well?

Chevalier:It is nothing new.

Clavis: Get some common sense. Sister-in-law will be your bride in the future.

Clavis: If her husband acts like a socially awkward curmudgeon, she will be bothered ordinarily

Ordinary, you say.

Clavis: MC, you too tell something.

Their gazes shifted to MC, and she offered a rueful laugh.

MC:I believe Chevalier-sama had his reasons for his conduct at the dinner.

Clavis: Hahaha, impossible.

Nokto:You're too soft on him. You will spoil Chevalier rotten.

Nokto:If our king acts like a sourball, it will affect Rhodolite's impression negatively, and he will make enemies unwittingly.

Clavis: Exactly. A man with a beaming smile versus a man with a threatening face. Isn't it obvious which one is more beneficial for diplomacy?

Luke: Haaa... *yawns*

What do you think I keep you here for?

Chevalier: I didn't know you had enough free time to start a meaningless protest.

Clavis: Yes, we are free. Can't you see the resignation letters?

Clavis: We won't lift a finger until you master basic civility.

MC:Are you serious?

Clavis: Of course, we are serious. We are genuinely concerned about this matter.

Luke: After comforting the teary-eyed duke for hours, Clavis reached his breaking point.

Nokto: I don't want us to become enemies with everyone. Nokto:Don't you ever think those you alienate may one day target MC as well?

Luke: A bridegroom shouldn't bring trouble to his bride Sure, if someone tries to hurt her, I will simply eradicate them

Clavis: It isn't just for your own good, it is also for our sister-in-law

Clavis: You can use this opportunity to learn how to be more sociable and train yourself to be a good bridegroom

MC:Chevalier-sama...

As MC looked at me with worry, I laughed it off

Chevalier: Do as you like.

The same night as I came out of the bath, I saw MC frowning with resignation letters in her hand

MC:Is it really okay to accept their resignation letters?

Chevalier:Do you think royalty have the privilege to resign?

MC:But they seemed serious.

Is this what you call serious? I settled beside MC on the sofa, wrapping my arm around her shoulder.

Chevalier: Do you plan to write a resignation letter as well?

Chapter 2 I took the poorly scrawled missive, filled with ugly letters that seemed like a ciphertext, from her hand.

MC:Of course not

Chevalier:As they said, it might bring harm to you as well. MC:I've never thought about it this way. Maybe it is because I have never felt uncomfortable while attending gatherings with you

Chevalier:Really?

My behavior doesn't change that much with her nearby. I know that they didn't exaggerate when they said my attitude in social situations is terrible. But MC didn't seem to be lying too. I guess I know the reason

MC: I will try to convince them.

Chevalier: I don't care, let them be.

MC: But...

Chevalier: You don't need to indulge their antics

Chevalier:However, I might have you attend this year's annual meeting with me.

When I'm alone, scared aristocrats can't hold a proper conversation I guess they want me to improve myself to avoid this.

MC: Is it okay for me to attend?

MC smiled happily without giving a heed to the previous warnings of others

Chevalier:Yeah.

As Clown said, you are too soft on me.

I used to keep social interactions minimal, but kingship increased the instances that I can't avoid. The annual meeting being held in the castle with the attendance of powerful aristocrats was one of them

Duke: Thank you for inviting me to such an honorable meeting

MC:We are grateful for your attendance. I know you came a long way from the frontiers. Did yesterday's rain bring any inconveniences to you?

Duke: I'm surprised you know about it. A landslide forced a detour, but as you see, we arrived unscathed.

The duke whom we met last time during the dinner seemed healthy and happy, in contrast to how pale and scared he was before The king's attitude didn't change, but MC's gentle interventions during the conversation helped to ease the duke's nervousness.

Duke: I heard about MC-sama's likes from Clavis-sama, therefore, today I brought a present for you

Duke: Our land is famous for its rose wine. I hope it suits your taste

MC:Thank you for your kindness. We are excited to try it. Right, Chevalier-sama?

Chevalier: ..Yeah

As our eyes with duke met, tension started to form in the air. MC quickly clapped her hands, clearing the air.

MC:Speaking of rose wine, I heard that your land has rare rose species

Duke: Her Highness is really knowledgeable. Those roses are...

It seemed like a trivial exchange at first glance, but I know these kinds of niceties forge alliances.

-Flashback Starts- Nokto:I don't want us to become enemies with everyone. Nokto:Don't you ever think that those you alienate might hurt MC as well? Luke: A bridegroom shouldn't bring trouble to his bride -Flashback Ends-

Chevalier: ........

???: Excuse me, MC-sama.

During the talk, one of the servants approached her. He restyled his hair, wore glasses, and even changed the tone of his voice slightly, but still it was but a poor attempt.

Did he give the resignation letter to change jobs and become a servant?

Probably ordered by his other two brothers to do so, the tired-looking servant whispered something to MC and left. It was easy to guess what he'd told her

MC: I'm sorry, can I leave for a moment?

Chevalier:There is no stain on your dress though

MC:Ah?

It seems she didn't realize who he was

Chevalier: It is okay, you can go

MC:Thank you very much, I will be back quickly

MC made quite an elegant curtsy one wouldn't expect from a commoner before leaving

The duke's despair was obvious in his face as he was left alone with me.

Duke: ...........

Chevalier:.......

They won't gain anything by leaving me alone

Duke: ...Today the weather is very nice.

Chevalier: I told you that I don't intend to talk about trivial matters

Duke: I apologize!

???: Ahem!

It was irritating The "servant" who crept behind me was throwing disrespectfully sharp glances at the king

I don't act like this without a reason, but I don't have any obligations to explain everything one by one. As I was about to turn around and leave, I saw another "servant" tilting the wine glass. Apparently, he was planning to spill the wine on me in case I left.

Why do they want me to socialize that much?

Chapter 3

It wasn’t as though I remained entirely unchanged. Beneath the weight of their expectant stares, I exhaled sharply. Originally, I had no intention of continuing this conversation—yet I relented this time.

Chevalier: I heard those rare roses are quite popular among merchants

Hearing my words, Duke's body stiffened, his nervousness more palpable than before. From my periphery, I noticed "servants" clutching their heads in frustration.

Chevalier: You intend to grant Benitoite exclusive rights, do you not?

Duke: How did you...?

Chevalier: Calm yourself. I won't reprimand you.

Chevalier:But as you know, roses are a cornerstone of our national industry.

Chevalier:I don't approve of letting another nation monopolize our rare species

Duke: You mean...

Chevalier: Double it

Duke: Double?

Chevalier: I will buy the roses in your land at twice the price Benitoite offers

As I completed my sentence, a glass shattered behind me. They were overreacting

Chevalier: I assume it isn't a bad deal for you

Duke: But it will be quite costly...

Chevalier:It doesn't matter. Preserving roses is among the royal family's responsibilities as well

Chevalier:It will remain as a private trade deal, not a national enterprise. But it's an investment that can recoup the expenses easily

Those roses...

MC:Thank you for waiting

I turned to find MC, now in a fresh gown, standing with a smile on her face.

MC:What were you discussing?

Chevalier:Nothing of importance

Duke: ....Ah-!

Duke: Right, right, we were merely talking about a personal matter with Chevalier-sama.

The man proved more quick-witted than he seemed.

As I scoffed at it, Duke managed a clumsy smile. However, the earlier tension was dispelled, making our exchange appear more cordial to observers. Although my brothers might deem it unsatisfying, for the cruel beast that was a miraculous development.

Including my tendency to abstain from idle talk, all of them were facets of my love for her

As the public affairs ended, MC left to change her dress in a different room. While heading to my chambers, I overheard familiar voices

Clavis: MC, you’re being exploited. Open your eyes to the truth.

They are still at it...

As I erased my presence and approached nearer, I saw four silhouettes standing there.

Clavis: You saw it yourself today. No matter how much we warn him, he won't change his attitude

Nokto:You are the same as us, a tool for him.

Nokto:Likewise, you have to mediate between him and the aristocrats, feigning smiles he won’t deign to offer.

Luke: Don't you have any complaints?

MC:No, I don't have any.

Clavis: My, my, an instant answer?

MC: I'm sorry to disappoint you, but if anything, I feel more pleased than troubled

Nokto:...You have quite a peculiar kink

MC:No, it isn't that... You know, Chevalier-sama is flawless and perfect as a king.

MC:He accomplishes everything so effortlessly that there's little I can do to assist him

MC:The only area where he struggles is social interactions like these

MC:And I can clearly feel that he needs me by his side

MC:If he becomes perfect even in terms of social pleasantries, then my only duty will disappear.

MC:So... I'm sorry... I know that it is a selfish wish...

MC: But I want Chevalier-sama to stay just as he is

.....I already know. For when you mediate between me and the aristocrats, you always wear a proud expression.

The three complainers exchanged glances.

Clavis: .....So that is the main reason why Chevalier refuses to change his attitude

Nokto:Well... I had a feeling it would be something goofy like this

Luke: Then why the resignation farce?

Nokto: Ah, we forgot to tell Luke

Clavis: I...lost it.

As my fool of a brother fell to the ground, Clown smirked triumphantly.

Clavis: I accept the defeat. You won the bet, Chevalier wouldn't change

Nokto:Then that trade agreement is mine now.

Luke: Ha? You made a bet?

Nokto:Yes, to see whether Chevalier would improve his attitude if we used MC as leverage

MC: You guys... I've thought you were serious about resignation letters and panicked.

Luke: Chevalier must have realized it earlier. Good thing he didn't get angry.

Clavis: Hahaha, he doesn't care enough about us to get angry

Nokto: He's only interested in MC

Precisely. That's why I told her she doesn't need to indulge their antics

MC:Ah!

As I stepped onto the balcony, MC's eyes widened, a smile blooming on her face like flowers Clown and Jumbo also realized my presence, but my fool of a brother, who was on his knees, didn't turn back to see me.

Clavis: Still, it's irritating. This means the man won't change his behavior in the future either, right?

Clavis: At least he should be the test subject for my potions as compensation.. Agh...!!

Chevalier: Seems like I stepped on something

Clavis: YOU!

Chevalier: Finished with your antics?

They should be grateful for my patience.

Nokto:Sorry, sorry, our bad.

Luke: Ahhh, it was a short holiday. Chevalier:Leave

Hearing my words, Clown and Jumbo disappeared quickly. But my fool of a brother didn't leave after getting up from the floor

Clavis: Sister-in-law, do you like roses?

MC: ..? Yes, I love them..?

Clavis: What about the rare roses on Duke's land?

MC:I'm really curious about them. I heard that they appear to be cute and little, but actually are edible and used in foods.

MC: If they become more prevalent in our country, I would like to make sweets using them.

Clavis: I see, I see. I thought it was an unusually extravagant purchase for my brother, but..

Chevalier:........

Clavis: Evidently, even tedious small talk with aristocrats becomes tolerable if it concerns my sister-in-law.

MC:...What are you talking about?

Clavis: Hahaha, don't mind it.

It's too late to say this. Finally, my fool of a brother departed, MC and I locked eyes on the balcony filled with the fragrance of roses.

MC: How long have you been listening to us?

Chevalier: Long enough to hear most of it

MC:Hehe, I didn't notice you

The night breeze swept through, ruffling MC’s hair in its wake. As I reached out to smooth it, her pure eyes glowed with joy.

MC: Chevalier-sama, thank you for giving me a role

Chevalier: It is just bothersome for me

MC:Then I should continue to do my best to fulfill it!

As my brothers pointed out, my way of handling things might breed enemies. They weren't entirely wrong when they said it might cause MC to have a hard time as well. But that struggle is what MC wishes

-Flashback Starts- Clavis: You can use this opportunity to learn how to be more sociable and train yourself to be a good bridegroom -Flashback Ends-

Finding what is best for MC...There is no important training than this.

As my lips curved, MC reached up to my hair. It seems like my hair had been tousled by the wind too, yet she fixed it with tender touches

MC: Learning the reason behind your attitude... I feel like I've fallen in love with you all over again.

Emotions seeping through her voice poured into the former beast's heart.

Chevalier: You never change, simpleton.

We leaned in simultaneously, our lips warm as they met.

[sunnypopoki]

━ 𝐌𝐔𝐙𝐙𝐋𝐄 : P.6

(Yandere Mafia Husband x Female Reader)

SYNOPSIS: Your husband has been suspicious lately. Going out for days on end, answering suspicious phone calls, being extra clingy when he can... is he cheating on you?

ᴛᴡ: ɪɴꜱᴇᴄᴜʀᴇ ʀᴇᴀʟɪꜱᴛɪᴄ ꜰᴇᴍᴀʟᴇ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ, ꜰᴏᴜʟ ʟᴀɴɢᴜᴀɢᴇ, ᴍᴀʀʀɪᴇᴅ ʀᴇʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴꜱʜɪᴘ, ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ, ᴍᴀᴛᴜʀᴇ ᴛʜᴇᴍᴇꜱ, ᴏᴠᴇʀᴛʜɪɴᴋɪɴɢ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ, ᴀꜰ��ʙ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ, ᴇᴛᴄ.

ᴛʜɪꜱ ꜱᴛᴏʀʏ ʜᴀꜱ ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ. ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴍᴇᴀɴꜱ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ ᴡɪʟʟ ʙᴇ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ᴍᴀᴛᴜʀᴇ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ. ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ɪɴ ɴᴏ ᴡᴀʏ ᴀ ꜱᴛᴏʀʏ ᴍᴇᴀɴᴛ ᴛᴏ ʀᴏᴍᴀɴᴛɪᴄɪᴢᴇ ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇꜱ, ꜱᴏ ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴅᴏ ꜱᴏ ᴇɪᴛʜᴇʀ. ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴄᴏᴘʏ ᴛʜɪꜱ ꜱᴛᴏʀʏ. ᴀʟʟ ʀɪɢʜᴛꜱ ᴀʀᴇ ʀᴇꜱᴇʀᴠᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴘᴏᴘᴏᴋɪ ᴏɴ ᴡᴀᴛᴛᴘᴀᴅ, Qᴜᴏᴛᴇᴠ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴛᴜᴍʙʟʀ.

Р.5 / Р.7

"Leovana Co?" you echoed, almost dumbfounded to hear the name. "Are you talking about that one billionaire company that deals with communication?"

Danny looked like a kid on Christmas. His chest swelled with pride and he held his chin high, looking down at you from the edge of his nose. You noticed the way his eyes glittered. It was the same pride he used to get each time he got a perfect score on his tests in school. His pearly white teeth gleamed when he smiled.

"Yes! As cheesy as this sounds, Leovanna is a place where dreams really do come true. When I started working there, I wasn't anything, but look at me now!"

That wasn't that convincing. From what you can see, Danny acted like a lesser version of himself compared to how he used to be. It was as if all the good stuff was zapped from his body the moment he found a decent job and started getting a good income. Money truly was a game changer and while you weren't one to judge, you couldn't help but see him in a different light when he was acting so, well, snooty.

You didn't understand why he wanted to hire you. Leovana was only founded a couple of years ago yet it rose up the ranks incredibly fast, toppling over any other competition in its path. Frontier, T-Mobile, and even Apple—this new company was devastating to their charts. Just recently they came out with a new phone that had far more data space than most other phones out there, showing off their new and improved features that to you, seemed like it was out of a movie.

It was hard to believe that artificial intelligence was getting so far out there. And Leovana was taking it by force with how far they've thrown themselves into the field.

Though, didn't he understand how suspicious it was to just give job opportunities out of the blue? Yes, you trusted him more than most people, but your gut was telling you that there was something off about the whole ordeal. You couldn't quite place it.

Kieran moved his hand from yours and placed it behind your head on your seat. He seemed to be deep in thought before asking, "I hope you're not going to drop a ball on us and tell us you're the CEO."

Danny snorted. It almost sounded mocking. "Ah, no. I work under the CEO with a team of secretaries. If (Y/N) joined us, she would be working under him too, though I would also be her supervisor."

He raised an eyebrow. Glancing over at him, you noticed the subtle tensing of his jaw. A feather of a muscle in his jaw twitched and he licked his teeth slowly, he looked back at saber. He wasn't looking at Danny as if he was a long lost friend; instead he viewed him to be a nuisance, like a steaming pile of shit on the side of the sidewalk.

It seemed you weren't the only one affected by Danny's rambling. Your stress was most likely rubbing off on Kieran too.

"So you work for the CEO? And you see him regularly?" Kieran asked unblinking. "And that gives you authority to hire whoever you want without repercussions towards the CEO, who is your boss? If it's team his of secretaries, shouldn't he have a say in who you hire?"

Danny was missing all of the social cues. He couldn't sit still, continuing to squirm in his seat, still beaming like the sun. "The CEO is a friend of mine, as well as my employer. He trusts me with hiring, plus, he's far too busy to look into every person who tries to get into such a position. He leaves that work to the people below him."

You rubbed your forehead. All of this was confusing.

Danny continued to blabber. "I mean, Kieran, if you also want to work there, I can look for—"

"No."

Danny was rendered speechless. Kieran raised an eyebrow in response. You wanted to shrivel up and hide.

"O—Oh... apologies, I thought you were interested. Since you were asking so many questions, I suppose I got a little excited."

With how many times you rubbed your face, you wouldn't be surprised if you broke out in the next couple of days because of it.

Taking a deep breath, you forced your hands back to your lap. You had a ton of questions. But where to start with all of them? You wanted to ask about what he wanted, what his goal was, why he was acting so weird, if he truly wasn't working for your father. Half of them were accusatory, but in that moment, you didn't care.

It was always best to start small and then work up to the bigger questions. "...Danny, can you tell me why you're asking me this? Like, what's your goal from all of this, because I don't understand."

He raised an eyebrow and nodded. "Well, I—"

Ring! Ring! Ring!

You paused when Kieran's phone started humming from his pocket. Danny stopped talking and recoiled when Kieran cursed. It was in Russian so the both of you had no clue what he said, but based on the foul scowl he was carrying, it wasn't good.

Of course his phone was ringing now. You couldn't read the screen from how he held the phone, but you could only guess it was another unknown number. A metallic taste formed under your tongue.

Who knows, maybe it was Sam! You wanted to gag and hurl at the thought. Anxiety was at an all new high for you now.

"Do you need to take it?" Danny asked politely, smiling softly.

"Ah... yes. Sorry my Котик, I need to take this. I'll be right back, it won't take me long." His voice was a little snippy. That phone call seemed to make his mood look ten times worse, whatever it was about, whoever it was.

It felt like a punch in the gut. Sure, his phone just HAD to ring, but he also HAD to answer a phone call? When you were stressed as fuck, stuck in an uncomfortable situation, and anxiously sick? He got up before you could protest (not that you had the guts to do so) and walked away from the table to find somewhere more private.

There was a solid lump in the center of your throat. Like a lodged rock from a creak, you felt like you were choking. The light flickered above the table. Turning back around, you let your head fall into your hands. Manners be damned!

Danny was quiet for a little bit. When he did speak, it was a much smaller voice than before.

"...Did I do something?"

"No."

It came out harsher than you intended. Aggravated for Kieran having another phone call, stressed about the situation, and dissociating from the entire planet was a lot to take at once. You did your best to focus on the table. Counting the amount of lines you could see, noting the glossy reflection of the overhead light, and the cool touch of the wood.

You wanted to go home. But now Kieran was off somewhere to talk to who-knows-who! Normally, you wouldn't be bothered being stuck with Danny, but it wasn't like he was the same guy you used to talk to in school. He was now an annoying pest. The said man took a sip of his wine and placed it down. There was a couple of seconds before he spoke again.

"Are you sure? I feel like—"

"I said no, Danny! Do you know what the word 'no' means? Use that big brain of yours and figure it out!" you snapped, turning your glare to him.

He froze. His hands fell into his lap and he pursed his lips.

You felt a tad bit of guilt when you saw his face, but you quickly pushed it down. He was the one sticking his nose where it didn't belong.

You groaned and rubbed at your forehead, swallowing the rock in your throat. The lights were bright, the smell of food was so strong it made you want to gag, and the seat was uncomfortable. The world shifted and you clenched your eyes shut. It was as if someone decided to stuff cotton inside your skull around your brain, making it a soft pillow to rest. But at the same time every detail felt blinding.

Why did you want to cry? It wasn't like you were sad. Rubbing at your eyes, you prayed for the ache behind your eyelids to go away. Danny continued to bounce his leg up and down, making you even more annoyed.

Where is Kieran?

Who is he talking to?

Is it Sam?

"Uhm, (Y/N)..." Danny started, chewing on the inside of his cheek. He was a little naïve, but he wasn't dumb enough to miss you spacing out. He tilted his head when he noticed your blank stare at the table. "Are you okay? Can I talk to you about something?"

Maybe dad was right.

Maybe I'm only meant for business.

What if dad finds me?

Will he force me back?

Danny shuffled in his seat and leaned forward, his brows furrowing ever so slightly in concern. He didn't know what to do. Kieran was the one who always knew how to help you, not him! He debated on poking you or something, but refrained from using his hands to get your attention. "(Y/N)?"

I should at least talk to him, to see what he wants.

Wait, no, that'll just be playing into what they want.

Fuck. What should I do?

Maybe I—

A soft, fragile hand touched yours. You jolted and your eyes snapped open to see Danny tenderly reaching out to you, his fingertips barely brushing your hand out of fear that you didn't want to be touched. He quickly pulled back when he gathered your attention and cleared his throat.

"Sorry. I—uh, I didn't know what to do," he cleared his throat.

"What do you want?"

It was unfair of you to take your anger out on someone who didn't know how to read your thoughts. It was your fault for expecting him too, but hey, if he was so fucking smart, maybe he could learn to read the room!

Danny shuffled in his seat and lowered his head. Danny was always a bit slow when catching up to things and stuff often went over his head, but he always managed to catch up in the end. Based on his reaction now, he finally realized you were upset and Kieran was too. Good. He finally noticed the obvious, even if it took your snapping at him for him to realize.

"Shit. Uhm—I'm sorry... if like, I upset you. I didn't mean to. I'm just," he sucked in a sharp breath, "I don't know what to say. I just... wanted to impress you guys. But I guess I went about it the wrong way."

"You think?"

Danny bit his lip. "Sorry."

He seemed to shrink in his seat and you rolled your eyes.

Danny scratched the back of his neck and glanced around the restaurant. He looked ashamed of something. You were hoping he left the conversation be, but he opened his mouth again. "If you want, I can walk you out to your car."

"I'd rather not," you muttered sourly.

"Okay... do you want—"

"It's fine."

"Why are you acting so mean?" Danny blurted, his tone not as accusatory as the question sounded. He sounded calm, albeit a little hurt and confused, but calm nonetheless. He was never the type to explode.

Your lips zipped shut.

It was easy to forget you weren't kids anymore. There was nothing holding you back from actually having a conversation. You found it easier to tell Danny what you were thinking compared to anyone else, maybe because he's known you for such a long time, or maybe it was because his parents were also pieces of shit. Even if that also meant being a complete dick to him.

It came back again, that spark of guilt. It wasn't smothered this time. Instead it was fueled by your overwhelming senses and you bit the edge of your tongue.

"I..."

"What did I do to make you act like I'm the worst human being to exist?" Danny asked, his lips pulling into a soft frown. "You're treating me like I'm gum you just stepped on."

What?! No you weren't! You were treating him the same way he treated you the entire outing. Defiance raged through your body.

"Well, the entire time you were looking down on us—"

"Really? And you knew this how?" he asked, his voice tightening. Now he was getting a little angry. He was starting to understand what you were thinking, little by little, based off the small bits of info you were giving him. "Because you assumed? You guessed?"

Just like you, he had every right to be upset, especially since you just lashed out at him after a genuine apology. You just assumed the worst. Off of what evidence? Your gut? Ha, as if that's evidence! Half the time, your gut is just your brain trying to avoid situations that make you uncomfortable. Your gut was telling you Kieran was cheating on you, your gut was telling you that you were a bad wife, your gut was telling you that you didn't deserve happiness.

What the hell did your gut know?

Danny slid out of his seat and smoothed out the wrinkles in his suit. The silence was loud. You knew you should have apologized, for snapping at him, for taking out all your frustrations on him, but you stayed silent. You smothered your guilt until it was buried underneath you.

It was fine. Everything was fine. It wasn't like you were in the wrong, he was the one who made rude comments throughout the entire time they were sitting down. Just because he apologized for his bad behavior didn't mean you had to accept it.

"Here's my card with my personal number on the back. Call me if you want to talk again, (Y/N). I'll pay for your everything up front and I hope you have a good rest of your day."

There was nothing you could say. He placed the card next to your phone and left. Just like that, he was gone, and you were stuck with by yourself. The waitress didn't come over to ask anything if she saw you slump down further into your seat. Maybe she was avoiding you because of the heavy scowl you had on your face.

You don't know how long you sat there by yourself.

All you could think about was your parents. While Kieran worried you a lot, there were some things that made your entire body turn cold. Danny mentioned that he didn't take any ideas from your father and he wasn't working for him, but when it came down to your parents, you hated knowing that they could pretty much persuade anyone if they put their mind to it.

The mention of Dominic left your throat tight. He was a mastermind, cruel, and someone you wouldn't even touch with a ten foot pole. He had to be planting seeds of information and ideas into your father's head if your father was brave enough to call one of your old friends from school.

If they want me to come back into the family again, that means they're up to something devious. There was nothing else it could be. It wasn't like your family enjoyed your presence or liked you at all, so believing they had a random change of heart was a possibility that had to be thrown out the window. Let's say even if they did, you wouldn't have forgiven them for all the things they did.

Dominic had a lot of power. Enough power to make anyone think twice, even Danny, and that alone made you anxious.

When you were younger, any interactions you had with Dominic was limited. He was your cousin but he never attended any family gatherings unless your father was also in attendance. The times he talked to you were the times he was stuck inside a room with you alone, whether it be waiting to talk to your father, or he was left unattended in the manor.

Your nails picked at your skin. What was your father thinking? He brought up an arranged marriage to Danny, but why? Was he hoping you got married to him instead? It left a bitter taste in your mouth. Danny was handsome but not husband material, not for you at least.

God, Danny. Maybe you did mess up? He was right, you guessed what he was thinking and assumed everything, but wasn't he the one giving social cues that he was thinking that? Sure, he apologized, but you couldn't read minds. It wasn't like you knew that apology was sincere or not.

Wasn't it his fault?

Danny was the one acting like your father, not you.

Maybe that was where all of your annoyance stemmed from. Danny's blue tie, his position in work, where they sat; it reminded you far too much of your father for your liking. Even if the two of them were completely different men in both personalities and looks.

"Fuck," you whimpered, head falling into your hands. You wished you could go back in time and redid things with your family differently, maybe then they'd leave you alone.

"Котик, I'm back. Sorry that took me a moment, I..."

Kieran trailed off when he came back from his phone call. Tired and a tad bit sluggish, he looked around and brushed down his clothes. Bits of his hair were sticking out in odd angles.

"Where's Danny? Did he go to the bathroo—"

You shoved up from the table. Every thought was spinning inside your head over and over again. But mostly, you were angry. Angry at Kieran, angry at Danny, angry at your father. Your fingers brushed at your throat to soothe the painful knot there.

"Let's go home," you hissed, grabbing his wallet and slapping a tip down on the table. "Danny said he paid for us up front."

Kieran's eyes hardened. You weren't in the mood to play the "guess what he's thinking" game in that moment, so you stomped past him to head for the front doors. He didn't say anything and you were glad that he also wasn't in the mood to ask about what was making you so upset. It wasn't like you knew either.

The waitress smiled ear to ear when she saw the two of you leaving. Saying something about coming back, you ignored her and beelined for the door. Home. Fuck, all you wanted to do was get home.

The cold clawed at your skin the moment you stepped outside and stomped back to the car. It was amazing how someone's feelings could change so fast. One moment you were walking inside the restaurant with a hopeful smile, the next you were walking out with a bitter frown.

By default, you started thinking about what Kieran was possibly thinking. He was in a worse state now than he was earlier because of his phone call. There were only a certain handful of theories you could go through before you started to sound delirious.

What did the person on the other side tell him that made him so annoyed? Did it have something to do with the messages you saw on his computer between him and Sam? You hugged yourself tighter against the cold wind.

The cut on his face and busted knuckles flashed to the forefront of your mind. Maybe the phone call had to do with that? You didn't want to think about him being in debt or in some gang.

I'm going to have to snoop, aren't I? Every day was another day you were getting closer to giving up on being polite. If his privacy was the reason he was coming home cut up and late, you didn't give a shit about what he wanted. You had to make sure he wasn't being stupid or in a dangerous situation alone.

The car door slammed behind you. Kieran slipped in and turned the ignition. It roared to life and he messed with the controls up front.

The car was dead silent except for the pitter patter of icy rain falling from the sky, the hum of heat blasting through the vents, and the squeaking of leather when you shifted in your seat. Kieran inhaled and his hands flexed out on the steering wheel.

You didn't know what to say and if you had to be honest, you didn't want to speak. You enjoyed the silence.

Ring! Ring! Ring!

Fucking hell. Again? Wouldn't you ever get a break from that noise? It was one thing after the other at this point!

His phone buzzed in his pocket for the umpteenth time that week. The lump in your throat formed at the sound, as if a phone was about to break that small thread of will you had left to not cry in the car. Kieran started grumbling under his breath, making your headache worse

It was just your luck that his phone started ringing again the moment you wished for it to stay quiet. You were starting to believe that you weren't allowed to have a peaceful life, not even a single moment where you were allowed to unwind.

"Hey... can you not answer it right now?" you asked weakly.

Kieran didn't hear, his head so stuck above the clouds in his own little world to think about reality. He took his phone out and read the screen. You caught a glimpse of unknown numbers. You sighed.

"Are you listening to me?"

"Sorry," he responded absentmindedly. His eyebrows were furrowed in a specific way that cause a worried crinkle on his forehead, his eyes lidded in annoyance. "чего они хотят сейчас?"

"Kieran."

He didn't respond, his thumb hovering over the answer button. The patience you felt thinning throughout the entire day snapped.

"Kieran!"

He flinched. At the speed of light, his head whipped around to face you, eyes wide as saucer places. The ringing phone in his hand stopped when he failed to answer it on time, leaving the car in tense silence. He looked like he just got slapped.

A guttural sigh ripped through your throat. Fuck. You didn't mean to raise your voice, or maybe you did, you didn't know what you meant anymore. Your brain was messy and staticky. Like someone just rubbed a balloon and kept shocking your brain over and over again.

"Just—can you not answer the phone for one fucking day?" you rubbed your face and hunched in the seat, voice cracking. "That's all I ask. One day. I just want to go home and lay down, okay? No phone calls, no shitty networks on TV, no conversations. Can't we just lay down without any fucking distractions?"

He was quiet. Blood rushed to your ears and any feeling seemed to leave your fingertips as you wrung them together. All you wanted was to lay down with him and sleep. You were tired, your brain was tired, and the ache in your heart was a craving to be held. It was an odd feeling; too tired to cry, yet too emotional to do anything.

"I..." Kieran fumbled, obviously at a loss of words, but shifted in his seat to move his hand to yours. You never yelled and he was stunned to be at the end of it. His head spun in circles before he managed to figure out what to say next without upsetting you. "Yes. We can go home and lay down."

"Promise me, Kieran. Please."

There was a pause. You heard a sharp inhale and then a tight, "I promise."

You should have left it be. That alone was enough, there was no reason for you to ask for more reassurance, but you did. Of course you did. Because who were you without the constant need for reassurance over every single thing? The only reason you felt special was because you were always wanting him to reassure you that you were. You blamed it on the emotions that coursed through your head like veins of poison.

"And you won't answer the phone?" you whispered, so quiet you almost thought he couldn't hear you. "Even if someone calls you, you won't answer it? Promise me you won't answer it."

His hand squeezed tighter. Dragging your fingers to his lips, he pressed a gentle kiss to your knuckles and then to your palm, then your fingertips. He whispered a promise to not do it again. But by the time his phone rang for a second time in a row, he glanced over at his phone, and cursed. He didn't answer it but a single glance told you that just like before, it wasn't a promise he could make.

Your ribs punctured your heart. Sighing, you took your hand away from his and pressed your cheek against the window.

Again, you expected too much.

LINKS:

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[ Read Ch.7 Here / not yet released ]

[jasethegooberton]

I know it's more of a side project but I really love the up! AU.

I honestly can already see it. Maybe it's something like frontiers where everyone left to do their own thing or other things happened. Sonic might initially not notice his declining mental health and only notices the physical symptoms (it would be interesting if he never truly does realize his slowly spiraling mindsets and only Shadow notices but of course doesn't say anything). A part of him might want to get better and be who he was again, but part of him he might not even acknowledge himself wants to get worse, it has found comfort in this new darkness. It's a dangerous mindset to have. He holds on to anything that gives him some sort of comfort and, well, right now that's Shadow.

Shadow on the other hand had never had someone like Maria. His first person that at least tried with him was Sonic, but it was pretty much already too late, he has already had too many experiences with the scientist. He learns for his job to at least appear normal, but it's not true. There might be small fleeting moments when he sees some people where he wonders what's wrong with him and he might be fully aware of it or pushes it away. He can't really understand how others feel, but when he sees Sonic again he can understand him because he is becoming more similar to him and that's an exciting feeling. The hedgehog who had tried so hard to help him was now like him. And he knows how to make him believe that he's changed. He'll help Sonic but always in a way that leaves some seeds that make his mental health worse again, it might be like a game for him. Wanting to slowly see the blue hedgehog spiral and become more like him.

Sorry for yapping and assuming about your AU. I didn't mean to sound like I was telling you what to do. Those are just my current thoughts. I really love your art. Take care of yourself<3

You've essentially just grasped exactly what my mindset was while making concept art for this au! Congrats, anon, you literally just figured out the internal conflict of Sonic and Shadow lmaoooo

I don't want people to assume Shadow is a complete husk unable to feel anything. He can, and to an extent, he can grasp on a technical level what he's supposed to feel in specific circumstances. He's just not used to feeling it due to his sterile upbringing. I originally planned a couple of different endings this AU could have. One of them includes Shadow actually making a genuine effort to be better. But like...that's a basic and easy thing to write. I'm trynna make him worse here. So, he's most likely gonna double down on his negative behavioral traits and indulge Sonic's poor choices too. He's bound to enable some more unconventional "cures" for his favorite patient! As for Sonic, I'm glad you picked up on the small Frontiers reference. I just wanted to give it a less positive perspective. Sonic would for sure not notice his declining mental health for a long time, even after he starts visiting Shads. He really only went to the doctor for his physical body suffering repercussions from his sleepless nights. I love the idea of Shadow already being aware of what's really wrong but withholding that information to keep himself in control.

Shadow likes having a plan, and he has plans to either keep Sonic where he is, or just tear him down entirely, depending on which conclusion I end up going with 😈

[donelywell]

October 5 2023

I changed things up because it's got Frontiers Final Horizons Spoilers. I know the updates been out for like 2 months now but I'm being really cautious.

Super Sonic was really fun to play in the base game, having the auto combo thing on and just seeing so much bombastic energy and over the top moves being thrown at giant titans was so much fun.

I did however, not read the instructions where they tell you to hold the parry, I thought it was a perfect timing thing like a normal parry. So fighting Giganto and Wyvern for the first time was a nightmare for me until I actually read the instructions. =v='

For the design, I didn't change much, Super Sonic is really cool. I basically just changed the green parts of his shoes to red to reflect his new eye color.

Super Sonic² was so cool! The casual backhand slap, the sass, the move where he basically does the idw move, the finger point when he gets back in the game!

The only issue I had is that I didn't understand at all how to fight the final boss. I didn't 100% complete the map so I didn't get the hints. (I am still stuck on the stupid ball hoop map puzzle thing, I swear there is no way to do it) So unfortunately, I had to look up a guide. That kinda dampened the experience, but there was no way I was fighting Supreme over again, getting to the same glitch because I killed him too fast, and then fail the final boss fight again because I didn't know I was supposed to press r2.

I made his quills seem like they are turning into flames at the tips, I made his torso kinda have a sun symbol on it, I made his secondary fur white and his base fur/ quills bright yellow to kinda give it more sun imagery. His arm patterns are a little more detailed, his gloves have kinda formed into the body, making the cuffs look like they're on fire too. His socks turned into bandages and blue rings floating on him with the soles of his shoes kinda smoking on the back. It was a lot of fun interpreting this design differently, giving it a more ancient vibe with a modern twist. The original design is still really cool too!

Cyber Super Sonic... one of the coolest forms in my opinion and yet we see him for less than a minute in only a cutscene. I'm not complaining, the cutscene was so cool! Me and my sibling were star struck when we saw it!

I love the Fleetway elements! The sharp teeth, the crazy eyes, the chaotic behavior that almost made it seem like if Cyber Super Sonic wasn't being literally shot out to his enemy, he'd not be able to tell between friend or foe! God, it was so cool!! Even if it was just limited to a cutscene where you can barely see the entire design in a single image!

I did actually have a static version of this image too, but I'm not including it because it gave me eye strain, and I don't want to hurt you.

For the form I actually decreased the amount of polygons on Sonic. If you look, he's more angular & simplistic and his legs and arms are rectangles! I thought it'd help give him more of a Cyber Computer vibe. I used the blue static and made it kinda an accent color so you can see where things are. I don't really know why, but I also made some parts of him detached? The inside parts have the white spirals that Cyber Super Sonic's eyes were.

The update was a lot of fun to play when it came out, even if it was EXTREMELY challenging for a casual player like myself. Almost made me quit a few times and a couple guides were begrudgingly looked up. Playing as Tails and Amy were definitely the highlights of the update for me though. I hope it was as much fun for you as it was for me. :)

[the16thtower]

Wyll Ravengard fucking undoes me because while a lot of fans and the BG3 writers do him dirty, there's so much going on with his character that just isn't explored or elaborated on that is so fascinating.

I have a parent who functions as a pillar of the community in my hometown, who is incredibly competent and admirable, and who judges me harshly for supposedly making choices that ruined my life. It's really difficult trying to wrap your head around all the different layers of that kind of relationship and Wyll never gets to really address it properly.

If we think about what happens after he gets kicked out of home:

What does he get to take with him? Does he even get a chance to pack any belongings? He looks like a normal human for the most part when we first met him, so what did Ulder tell people? We don't know about his mother's side but is there any family or family friends he could stay with? Did Ulder poison the well with everyone Wyll knew by being upfront about the pact or did he lie and make up another equally damning excuse for exile? God, just the idea that Ulder looked his son in the face (freshly injured) and immediately threw him out is devastating. Wyll is so certain about the prudence of his father's decision when we met him but either:

This is a perspective he's eventually made peace with

His conviction in his father never waned

which both suck! Either his idol, his father, screwed up massively or he has so little concern for himself that it never occurred to him that Ulder's justification was shit. Ulder is the Duke of Baldur's Gate, with all the resources that grants him, and he didn't even try to contact an expert on demons to try and get more info on his son's situation? What the fuck! There's the whole bit with the Trials of Balduran about appropriate punishment that Wyll agrees with that he doesn't even think to apply to his own situation. It can really fuck you up having your hero, who you admire for the good they do for others, decide you're not worthy of that same good.

Wyll tries so hard to be a good person and to lead by example but never seems to see himself as an acceptable recipient of the grace and kindness he shows others.

Does Mizora just immediately whisk him off to different parts of the Sword Coast to start acting the part of the Blade of Frontiers? He's seventeen, homeless, no support network, and fighting monsters - I'm going to lose my fucking mind. That's ridiculous. That kid was already dealing with his father's intense expectations (from what Wyll describes, Ulder was raising Wyll to follow in his footsteps, which is a steep ask). He then suddenly loses everything, on top of the stigma of demon association - Wyll's mental health must have tanked at some point. Depression, anxiety, and PTSD are definitely on the table (plus phantom pains from the prosthetic eye).

Just thinking of this teenager learning how to drink properly with no one looking out for him, trying to numb things a bit, and just becoming a sad wreck every time. Just... there's so much there with Wyll having to grow up very quickly in very lonely circumstances. We know he has some acquaintances, like the tieflings, but who actually knows what's going on with him? Is he still shouldering his burdens alone? Is MIzora around bothering him or does she flit in and out of his life? He's in exile for seven years.

And he's still a romantic and an idealist! Unflinchingly, genuinely, with his chest! He endures! He becomes a hero. It's beautiful. He survives and cultivates his best qualities in the face of awful circumstances. Wyll has this intense sense of morality and will (pardon the joke) that never permits him to sway from the right thing, even with everything stacked against him. And it routinely costs him! It's so, so hard to do the right thing and he still does it because he simply can't see another outcome worth living through.

It upsets me a little that Wyll ends up doubling down on what a good person his dad is when they reunite - as if Wyll hasn't demonstrated infinitely more empathy and compassion for other people, even when it actively impedes him. He's good because he chooses to be good and seeks to understand, not because he's able to follow the standards set by other men.

This is not a particularly organised discussion but fuck, I love Wyll Ravengard.

(UPDATE: I've just made some edits for clarification since I didn't express myself well. Also, this is a game that requires hundreds of hours of gameplay so be kind if I don't know everything.)

[sparkles-rule-4eva]

I'm aware this is random timing but I've wanted to analyze this scene ever since I saw it and I was rewatching the Frontiers cutscenes so I decided "why not now" lol

This scene right here.

First of all, I'd like to say that Sonic & Tails's interactions throughout this entire game are IMMACULATE. And while I've seen some people complain that Tails "wasn't concerned enough" at the fact that Sonic was so clearly sick, this scene begs to differ.

It also shows, in both a good way and a sad way, how well Tails knows his big brother.

The entire time before, Sonic's been (for the mostpart) going around with a front. Pretending he's fine and brushing aside everyone's worries about him to turn the focus instead on THEM and THEIR problems, not his. ESPECIALLY with Tails. And this little fox knows probably better than anyone that Sonic doesn't like it when people fuss over him. So he's been playing along. Doing his part, doing the best he could in his digitized state, staying busy and all the jazz.

And sure, a couple times before this, Sonic was acting more tired than usual around Tails, but Tails didn't point it out. And he still doesn't point it out here, but his expression and body language say it all.

Now the corruption's getting worse, and Tails is just about done pretending along with Sonic that everything's fine. This time, unlike the last two times when Sonic had defeated a Titan when Super Sonic had flown down to find Amy and Knuckles, Tails is the one who runs to find him afterward.

He's clearly very worried, especially when Sonic barely acknowledges his presence and is really just doing his best not to keel over at this point. Tails reaches out in a vain attempt to touch him — whether to comfort him or help him up, I'm not sure — but still cannot touch him at all for obvious reasons. He pulls back and just watches him intently with this deeply sad, almost regretful look on his face. The End starts talking again and Sonic lifts his head a little to listen, while Tails just quietly shakes his head as he looks at him. As if he's saying, "Please don't do more, please just take a rest, I want you to be okay." 😢 Or it could just as easily be a sad sort of understanding, a resignation to what Sonic does, like, "I want you to rest, we both know you need it, but I know you, I know you'd sooner run yourself to death before you let us stay trapped any longer. And I can't do anything to stop you." 💔

And then, after having his fists clenched in obvious distress, Tails tries to reach out again, one more time. Almost unconsciously, as Sonic looks up to where the voice is coming from. Almost like he does want to stop him. He opens his mouth for a moment, too, like he wants to say something, but bites it back at the last second.

Then he pulls away again. His face is nothing but sadness and worry. Sonic tries making a quip at The End's new instructions, but he's still so clearly exhausted.

It's also interesting how Sonic won't look at Tails this whole scene, until Tails asks in that tiny, scared voice, "Sonic?" and he stands up, tells him to hang tight, reassure him they're almost done. Trying so hard to play the part of strong older brother even here, when Tails can so easily see how sick he is. 😔

Their dynamic will always be so fascinating and sweet to me. Even in these darker, more painful moments, the familial love they have for each other is beautiful. 💙💛💔

[josgalaxy]

MY PERSONAL RANKING OF BALDUR'S GATE 3 COMPANIONS FROM WORST TO BEST (spoiler alert!!!)

Of course this is just my humble and personal opinion, let me know if you agree! Trigger warning, I have a lot to say:

11. The Emperor

I know he's not technically a companion, but let's be honest, he is with Tav since day one. Let's just say this one is a shady bitch. From the get go I didn't trust the Emperor, and going forward with the game my suspicions were confirmed. Not only he literally exploited everyone that could help him reach his goals, but he shows no true loyalty to anyone but to himself.

Proof that the Emperor is just a gaslighting bastard: 1. Lied to the whole party by changing his appearence to seem more trustworthy 2. Killed his dragon bestie Ansur that was just trying to find a cure for him. 3. Kept a Gith prince imprisoned to exploit his power and was willing to eat his brains out to get more powerful. 4. Tried to sleep with Tav and secure their trust (btw, a kinky bitch). 5. LITERALLY SIDED WITH THE BIG BAD NETHERBRAIN as soon as Tav was not okay being manipulated anymore (like babygirl, you spent the entire game telling me we had to kill that thing and now you're ending up siding with it? Excuse me??)

So, yes, The Emperor deserves to rot and I was very happy to fry that calamari.

10. Minsc (and Boo)

So, I haven't played bg2, so I don't have that kind of attachment to the old characters. I don't mind that he is juts this brainless hunk, and I like the fact that he carries a cute hamster with him. He kinda reminds me of Kronk, and I love Kronk so he gets a few points for that. But other than some muscles, dumb jokes, and Boo, what else is there?

Let's just say that he made me smile a couple of times, but I got bored of him (but not the hamster) almost instantly.

9. Jaheira

Same here folks, I appreciate Jaheira but I don't feel that attached to her as the rest of the companions (probably because of the fact that she and Minsc are introduced in the game quite late). I mean, you get this badass milf Elf (mother is mothering) that can turn into a panther and has a cute accent... how can you not like her? But do I find her as interesting as other chatacters in the game? Not really.

I would probably share a drink with the tho, to hear all the stories from back in her day.

8. Wyll

Before any of you come for me for putting The Blade of the Frontier this low, let me explain. I like Wyll, I like the fact that he is a dancer, he's romantic, and that his main goal is to help people. I mean, he made a pact with a literal devil to save his city! Don't get me wrong, I think I would be friends with him irl, but as for character growth and depth, I think he passes off to be more bland than the rest of the companions, probably for his too goody two shoes attitude.

Let's just say if he was a spice, he would be flour. Sorry.

7. Minthara

You see, a long time ago my first playthrough, when I met Minty, I seriously contemplated killing all the Tieflings just to be with her. This is just to let you have an idea of the hold this woman has on me. HAVE YOU SEEN HER? Apart from being a hottie, and incredibly useful in combat as a paladin, she is hilarious without even trying. When you see an [ ! ] over her head you know for a fact she is about to tell something UNHINGED. I'm gagging.

Anyway, just so you know I haven't sacrified the tieflings to recruit her. I'm not a monster. I simply knocked mommy out and found her in Moonrise Towers.

6. Lae'zel

I believe Giths and Drows are quite similar: they both crave violence and see any kind of kindness and compassion as weaknesses. But what makes Lae'zel a better character than Minthara, is the fact that she evolves from her prejudices and violence, while the drow doesn't. She starts off as this ruthless and closeminded character, but later on she learns to challenge authority and her tyrant, save her people, find compassion in others and fall in love.

I think her romance is one of the best ones in the game. It starts off as a simple one night stand where she tries to dominate you, pure physical, but then she starts to soften and open up to Tav. I mean the rooftop scene where she calls you Source of my Joy?? Sounds more like Bae'zel to me.

5. Gale of Waterdeep

To be honest, Gale is literally my type irl: a hot scruffy nerd whose ideal Saturday night is reading a book and drinking some wine in front of the fireplace. Also, he has a cat! He is a bit of yapper, I know, but I find him quite charming, even though he eats magical boots from time to time in order not to explode and kill everyone in the vicinity

I believe Gale had the potential to be a heart-throb, but the only thing that gave me the ick about him, was the fact that he is too obsessed with his ex! I get it, she is the goddess of magic, but that doesn't change the fact the she literally groomed him since he was a child. He was willing to go full Manhattan Project just to get her approval. You are cute magic man, but you need to get over your ex.

4. Halsin

May the Oakfather protect me. He is such a dreamboat. He is kind and forgiving with everyone, loves animal and nature - duh, is great with kids, and let's not forget he is absolutely gigantic (points for him). He even carves out a wooden duck for you at the end, so cute! I love the fact that he knows his boundaries and is particularly attentive to respect everyone, like when he flirts with Tav but will wait for them to speak with their partner in order to have an open relationship.

I know he may not have the same depth some other characters have, but who cares?? Teddy Bear over here is fine as he is. What can I say, I'm a sucker for big men that try to be gentle.

3. Shadowheart

Shar's favourite Princess is one of my favourite characters in the game. She starts off as being wary and skeptical about Tav, but she quickly opens up as soon as one shows her kindness. Which is heartbreaking since she led her life following the Lady of Loss, hence without any kindness or compassion. Her backstory is particulary well made, so that you can truly see her growth: from standoffish, she ends up being such a goofy and sweet character. From putting all her faith in a goddess that has literally taken everything from her, she then learns how to discover herself and prioritise her feelings for the first time. I love that for her.

She is quite frustraing sometimes since she keeps missing in combat, but we love our emo babygirl anyway.

2. Astarion

So, the only reason I didn't put Astarion in first place, is because I know for a fact that in real life I would LOATHE the man. But we're not irl, so his gaslighting and manipulative tricks are overshadowed by his witty answers, his flirtatious expressions and the incredible velvety voice of his (thanks Neil Newbon). And to think that I thought I had successfully avoided the Vampire phase... well, I hadn't met this diva right here.

His backstory is one of the most heartbreaking, and with the right choices, I believe he can grow more than any other companion, which is why he is such a fan favourite among the fans. He starts off as being a vain and manipulative twink, but as you get to know of his past and the horrible things he has been through, you realise he is simply a victim that doesn't know any better.

I just love his confession scene to Tav: "I had a nice, simple plan - seduce you and manipulate your feelings. All you had to do was fall for it. And all I had to do was not fall for you... which is where my nice simple plan fell apart." EXCUSE ME?? WHAT ARE WE TALKING ABOUT??

1. Karlach

She's an icon, she's a legend, and she is the moment.

Ladies and Gentlemen, Karlach officially is the most likable companion of this messy rank. From the first moment you meet her, it's so difficult not to fall in love with this fireball of energy and kindness. Her backstory is probably the saddest of them all: a hopeful kid that gets betrayed and forced to live with a deadly engine that will one day burn her from the inside, like a tragic metaphor for an illness.

She is also smocking hot (and not just because she is literally burning), I mean, the tats, the muscles, the badass hair and half horn?? Child, she ate and left no crumbs. She is a total smokeshow, and despite her bubbly personality she is not afraid to be a bit sexy and flirtatious. Can we talk about the: "I wanna ride you 'till you see stars" YES MA'AM, PLEASE MA'AM.

But in spite of everything bad that has happened to her, Karlach is always smiley, loves her friends deeply and uses every moment to be a goofball and dance around. She is too pure for this world, which is why you feel that her horrible fate is particularly unfair to someone like Karlach. To be honest, her scene in the harbour after defeating the brain is heartbreaking.

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

So folks, here it is my personal ranking from least to most likable companions of Baldur's Gate 3.

Let me know what do you think!

[bhaalsdeepbat]

Little Wyll/Karlach/Astarion things

Astarion introducing people all, "This is my girlfriend, Karlach. This is her boyfriend, Wyll." gives him a little narrow eyed look, but Wyll is just like...buddy, my star, you were literally sleeping on my chest last night wtf are you on today.

UGH AND THEN the sun, moon, and stars embroidery. IMAGINE OK. Imagine that being for these three. Karlach and Wyll are the light of his day, and he is their light in the darkness of night. He makes a matching one for Wyll while the three are in Avernus together, but time feels less pressing as it did before. It feels like they suddenly have ALL the time in the world, despite Wyll and Karlach still being mortals. The end to their finite time is just not suddenly there on the horizon, waiting to cruelly separate them when they've had so little time together.

Karlach giving Ulder a piece of her mind and having Astarion drag her off bc he can tell Wyll does NOT want this confrontation happening. She's overheated, he can't even touch her bare skin without getting singed, and Wyll just is like. so struck by the fact that she cares so much about him that she refuses to let Ulder act like he didn't abandon his son. It wouldn't be anything bad, but it would be scathing, and end with how happy she is that Ulder and Wyll have been reunited bc Wyll's a REALLY great guy and if you abandon him like that again you'll be talking to me (and she pauses when she feels Astarion poke her to give her a look, and she can just read it) AND fangs

Astarion just crosses his arms and tries to look menacing...which, to his credit, the red eyes and teeth are creepy af, but mostly he just looks bitchy and like he might eat Ulder.

wyll practicing his dancing and inviting them both one night to dance around the campfire. Astarion sits off to the side, content to watch them. Karlach likes to dance, but not in the way Wyll does, so it's awkward at first, then after a few times where her big feet stomp on his toes, he decides to follow her lead instead. He's never danced like that before, but enjoyed every second of it. Before the evening ends, Astarion allows him one single dance just so he can show Karlach what he had been practicing. None of them talk about Astarion dancing with Wyll again. It's a treasured memory, but the two know that's a barred teasing topic (they bust his balls a lot and he just. begrudgingly accepts it, but some topics they KNOW to avoid)

wyll feeling suffocated by mizora one night and just. he's calm as hell, but Astarion notices him sulking first (I hc our resident vamp as the most perceptive at the camp bc of all i think he was doing for Caz). He tries to talk to wyll, but astarion isn't good at not bristling and it's one of those times where wyll just. he's being scathing. he's meeting astarion at astarion's petty level, and astarion is downright impressed.

he's like ????? like he's not even mad. he's just all "who knew the famed blade of frontiers had this nasty side" and he's smirking and it isn't a sexual comment at all but it accidentally does. and him being impressed rather than bristling is what leads to Astarion being the one to be like "ok now that we've had our dick measuring contest, just tell me wtf is going on"

Every time Mizora shows up, Astarion starts running his mouth like an attack chihuahua. Insults, barks, bared teeth, he does NOT like her. Karlach joins him, they play off each other a lot, actually. Like Karlach IS the attack dog, which makes Astarion feel a little more ballsy when he's mouthing off bc he knows any fight he cause WILL be ended with his beautiful gf knocking their ass out.

Wyll spends that night just. completely distraught. he can't even be with karlach and astarion, he asks for time alone to deal with his thoughts, and they respect it. Astarion keeps an eye from a distance, but he and Karlach allow him the space until he's ready for them, then they both move in to comfort him.

Karlach is great at hugs. She holds him and it's so comforting that Wyll finds himself believing it when Astarion is PROMISING that they'll figure it out. Astarion isn't soft in this moment, he certainly isn't kind while comforting Wyll, but he's genuine. Wyll knows Astarion means it when he promises that him and Karlach will be at Wyll's side to help him fight his battles, because like it or not, his battles are theirs to fight as well.

They'd go after Cazador first after Astarion is nearly (or successfully is) kidnapped. Karlach is PISSED, she's raging, ready to burn down the entire palace just to smoke Caz out. Wyll, equally angry, but actually comes up with a really, really good idea. Like he sits everyone down, goes through the battle plan, and Astarion is just so silent the entire time bc he cannot believe these two would rally so hard around him.

This is the point where every time someone is the least bit mean to Wyll, it is ON SIGHT for Astarion. Before, he'd butt in if someone crossed a line he felt shouldn't be crossed, or if it was Ulder or Mizora, but now it's ANYONE. Only he gets to insult his beloved Wyllyam.

Karlach on the docks, saying her goodbyes, holding her heart, her eyes welling with tears as she sees Wyll and Astarion look at her with just. the amount of grief in their eyes. She can't take it. it's the first chip in her resolve that allows them to swoop in and convince her to keep going.

Wyll moves first. Tells her she doesn't have to be alone, she'll have him AND astarion to watch her back. this isn't a convo any of them have had. astarion and wyll both know she'd rather die than go to avernus, but wyll KNOWS Astarion would go there in a heartbeat, and vise versa. they just know each other very very well at this point

So, Wyll is talking to her, Astarion is hiding under his cloak AND Wyll's bc the sun is threatening to burn him alive, but he can't leave Karlach alone. His own skin is cracking with the threat of turning to ash. Wyll holds onto Karlachs' hands, stares into her scared eyes, and she can SEE that he means the promise he makes to her. He will NOT let her be alone in Avernus, if she chooses to return.

Astarion, despite trying to hide from his own imminent death, gives his points. they're quick, not as nicely said as when he has a one on one with her bc he's also trying not to die, but he's more worried about her than he is himself.

Karlach, assured that the two men who vowed to love her to her dying breath, agrees to go to Avernus with them. They have one hell of a bloody time together. It's one of the best chapters in their life stories, after they get Karlach's heart fixed and they're all able to leave Avernus.

All three of them finally free of the bonds of servitude, they're able to explore the world. They're free to go where they wish, free to love who they wish, and free to finally choose their own paths and futures, though their choices will always involve being together.

[zzthekaiju]

THE GREAT MONSTER HUNTER RANKING! Part 5

For this part, we're going to be getting our feet more than a little wet. We're looking at the monsters best suited for the water! And it turns out there are more than a few of them across separate categories. We'll start with the very first monsters with a more aquatic affinity.

The Piscine Wyverns:

"Everything seems a little flat to you, doesn't it?"

The Cephadrome (and its smaller version, the Cephalos) are a neat way to introduce our water-dwellers. Though it's more accurate to say that this one would rather be in the deserts. Yes, our swimmers don't have to be in the water exclusively. You can swim through sand in this world, too! It's a starter monster, so it's not that powerful, but I like how, of all things, they looked to the prehistoric amphibian known as Diplocaulus for inspiration. You can tell by that funny head shape it has. Just a super-charming look for a monster that sadly keeps getting tossed to the side. 7/10.

"Get hip or die!"

The face of the Piscine Wyverns is the Plesioth. And I must say, it's one of neater-looking ones! With a body full of iridescent scales and a head like a shark, it's just so striking! Plus, it can swim with a good amount of grace. However, most people remember the Plesioth for its infamously broken hit box due to its unusual size, especially regarding its hip check move. In fact, the franchise seems perfectly aware that this monster came out a bit on the glitched side of things, and has embraced that to some extent. But honestly, I think if people talk more about how broken your monster is, that should be more of a cause for alarm. Questionable gameplay issues aside, I like where they went with this monster design-wise. 8/10.

"Yip yip yip!"

The Delex are rather small Piscine Wyverns, but they've got their charm. They're big fish with the faces of gharials that swim through the sand. Heck, they kind of remind me of Ichthyosaurs as they were designed when paleontology first became a thing. Gotta love some good retrosaur action! 6/10.

"It's like a hot sauna in here!"

The last Frontier immigrant (for now, at least) is the Lavasioth, which can best be summed up as a big coelacanth on legs. And it can swim through the lava. That's really neat! Coelacanths don't get nearly the amount of love they deserve in paleo-circles, which is weird considering how they got their reputation from being literal living fossils. Now, there's a big beast shaped like one that swims through lava and FIRES lava as well! Just an awesome monster, all around. 7.5/10.

"Everyone feels filthy, and so should you."

...Jyuratodus is a waste of everyone's time and effort. It's LITERALLY the Lavasioth except it traded lava for mud and dirt. They're so alike, I dare call this a variant that didn't want to be called a variant. Or, simply put, a reskin. Plus, it's not fun to fight. It's only saved from a lower ranking because it DOES allow people to fight a giant coelacanth monster outside of volcanic areas, but they could have at least TRIED to not make it near-identical. Alas...3/10.

"Frozen fish sticks!"

AH! You see that, Jyuratodus?! THAT'S how you make a new Piscine Wyvern without copying someone's homework! Anyway, while Beotodus isn't winning any power-scaling competitions anytime soon, it wins points for standing out. It's got some surprisingly vibrant color patterns for a creature that lives in the tundra, and that huge honking horn on its head brings to mind the design philosophy for certain Japanese Kaiju. I like it! 7.5/10.

And that's that for the Piscines! Yeah, not a whole lot, but I encourage Capcom to experiment in the future. However, there's a category that's somehow even smaller, though it's steadily gaining traction with each new game. And that's good, because there's a lot of potential to be found in the reptiles' biological opposites.

The Amphibians:

"Hop Pop's gone mad!"

Tetsucabra is our first ever Amphibian, and you know what, it being just a giant frog is fair. But it's not totally "just a giant frog". It's got a club-like tail, and those monstrous tusks can be used to shovel the earth into boulders all the better to crush you with. And it fights like a sumo occasionally. But what really catapults this guy a rank up is how in Rise, though it's not fought, there's a character that rides atop a baby about the size of a large dog, and it's so adorable! Imagine raising such a cute thing into the beast you see before you! Hope that pair appears again. 6/10.

"Jaws 9: Ribbit."

Zamtrios (and its smaller brood of Zamites) could not have possibly been conceived under normal circumstances. SOMEONE was thinking on an ascended mind when the phrase "giant frog that is a shark that uses ice powers for armor" crossed their mind. Even without the armor, Zam here is intimidating. It's a big blue frog with the face of a great white. You really think you'd want to cross that? Well, then it goes from threatening to dangerously hilarious when it unveils its secret weapon...the ability to suck in air and immediately cater to inflation fans everywhere. Sure, you're going to giggle at least once seeing this thing bounce around, but then it squashes you and you're one cart less. But should it not be feeling so silly, the Zamtrios will use its deadly ice breath to cover itself in a ridiculously awesome coat of frozen armor (pictured above). What's there not to love about this amazingly creative land shark? 8.5/10.

"A frog-platypus? TERRY THE FROG-PLATYPUS?!"

One of the first new monsters unveiled for Rise was the Tetranodon, and for me, this was one of the more striking newcomers! It's a frog that fights like a sumo, has the shell of a turtle, and has the head of an armored platypus! Can you get more creative than that?! Well turns out, you can. It's primary inspiration is not just some out-there animals, but the mythological Kappa. This Yokai looks almost the same, right down to them both having a bowl-like top on their heads. But thankfully this monster doesn't lurk in bodies of water to remove a fictional organ from childrens'...um, lower ends...it just waits in the water to eat pretty much whatever it can get its gob around. And it's pretty fun to fight, too! Let's give this big beast some love, 'kay? 8.5/10.

And now, we are at the meat of our fifth chapter. The monsters that dominate the water almost more than they do the land. Most of them have the same body type, but why fix what isn't broken, eh?

The Leviathans:

"It Came from Beneath the Sink"

The Royal Ludroth has a bit of a neat concept, but it's just not my thing in execution. it's a big lizard built for the water, with a harem of smaller females at its beck and call, and there's also a huge sponge-like growth on its neck that gives it the ability to use water powers. It's weird, yes, but I don't know. Once again, this mostly boils down to a "yellow and gold aren't my color" gripe. Fine for what it is, but not necessarily a monster I look forward to hunting. 5/10.

"Good feeling's gone."

On the flipside, there's a Leviathan quite unlike any in its class. The Gobul is a neat take on a giant terrestrial deep-sea angler fish. It's got the classic lure, as well as big whiskers it can use as pretend plants as it waits below the sand for an easy meal. Also, it's got retractable spikes. But unless those spikes are out, it's as flat as a pancake. I'm not exactly clear as to why they haven't brought this intriguing monster back, but it might be because a lot of its fight back then depended on underwater combat, and it lacks the more amphibious qualities its relatives have. Sorry Gobul, you may be neat, but until Capcom figures out how to make you more viable on land, you might want to stick to waiting in the sand. 6.5/10.

"A shockingly serpentine swim."

Just as the Rathalos dominates the air and land, the Lagiacrus rules the sea. This huge Leviathan has been touted as the toughest and coolest swimmer around. And to be honest, I can see where they're coming from. Its design incorporates elements of crocodiles, cobras, and the sea serpents of old, as well as an appealing color scheme. But Lagi's greatest asset is the spikes on its back being able to help it conduct electricity. And while I have to wonder how this thing doesn't end up killing everything for a wide radius in the water with that power (its a literal living electrical device being dropped into the water, do the math), it's cool in practice. It's a pity then that, for some reason, Capcom is really hesitant when it comes to bringing it into the recent games. All of these new Leviathans and not once does their OG get invited. It's tough to be Lagiacrus. 8/10.

"Snap, snap, that's a wrap!"

Agnaktor is like the Lagiacrus, except it's right at home in volcanic biomes. Design-wise, while I don't like it nearly as much as I thought I would, it's still cool with its Spinosaurid-like head and big fins. It's kind of like if Titanosaurus from the Godzilla franchise was a Leviathan, albeit it replaced that shrill roar with some neat snap-snapping sounds it makes with its jaws. Unfortunately, despite its young, the Uroktors, getting to be in Rise, it instead got replaced by a subspecies of Almudron NOBODY ASKED FOR! It must suck for Agnaktor to have a niche clearly built for it be taken by some unwanted upstart. But here we are. I want to see it come back if only so I can form a better opinion on it. For now, 6.5/10.

"No! I'm the biggest loser on the beach! They buried me in the sand and forgot about me."

Just from the name, you can tell that no one was taking the Nibelsnarf seriously during production. And I can't do so, either. It's unique, don't get me wrong. Its armored hide conceals a rather vibrant color scheme, and I like how its eyes are directly on top of its head like a flat fish. But fighting this thing is SUCH A CHORE. At the point where most hunters are at, almost every weapon bounces off of its armor, and it absolutely refuses to let you hit it most of the time before ducking into the sand to bite at you with that big mouth. Sure, you can bait it into eating bombs, but you don't get to carry that many, and you're sometimes expected to try and fish it out of the sand instead of hunting it like a normal fight entails.

Nibelsnarf is a bad joke with a far too gimmicky fight for my comfort due to the jank of previous games. 4.5/10.

"Shall we dance?"

I may not always like when mammals get used as a design basis, but I believe they really cooked with the Mizitsune, otherwise known as the bubble fox. Yes, this monster fights prominently with bubbles. And even more surprisingly, while these bubbles are made to slow you down most of the time, some can actually give you special bonuses. And that's not even getting into how graceful this thing moves as it tries to hit you. Be warned, the Mizitsune may look beautiful with its flower-like fins and pretty colors, but it can hit hard with its burly tail and wipe you out with a beam of pressurized water. Also, its theme music is as bouncy and cool as its fight is. But more importantly, BUBBLES! 8/10.

"...I'm so lonely."

YES, I AM AWARE THAT THIS MONSTER IS IN A SEPARATE CLASS. The Snake Wyverns, more specifically. But...c'mon, that category hasn't been updated in forever, and most Leviathans have the exact same body type. And with that, I declare Najarala a honorary Leviathan. I will say, I dig the obvious inspirations this thing gets from the legendary Aztec God, Quetzalcoatl. It too is a huge serpent that almost looks like it has wings with those huge scales on its back. And speaking of scales, it can fire them from its neat paddle-like tail. Those scales hit with enough force to rattle so loudly they stun prey. And then the scales blow up on the Najarala's volition. Sounds an awful lot like a more advanced version of what the Bazelgeuse would implement. Still, I admire this monster no matter what category it goes into. Maybe someday we'll see more Snake Wyverns. But as it stands, it's sort of obvious that they're Leviathans that got lost. 7/10.

"You're getting sleepy...very sleepy."

You might think I'd be put off by the uncannily humanish face of the Somnacanth, but you'd be wrong. It's SUPPOSED to be spooky, and the rest of the body looks great! Those long claws and the flowing purple fins make for a striking design. Also, the human-like face makes sense when you consider that this monster is based on the Ningyo, a Japanese mermaid that isn't exactly easy on the eyes either. As the name of this Leviathan would imply, the Somnacanth's main strategy is to utilize a special gas that dulls the senses and make prey sleep. But should any hunter know to avoid that (I for one don't ever remember falling for it), it will switch to a tactic that I find exceptionally charming. Not only is this beast a fish-reptile, it's also got the habits of sea otters. More specifically, it'll whip out a clam from the water, and start beating on it while doing the backstrokes until it either blows up or causes some other special effect (including unintentionally healing its foe). They must have had a lot of fun making this monster! 8.5/10.

"Allow me to introduce myself, my name is MUD."

It took them a bit, but it was only a matter of time before we got a Leviathan that looks almost exactly like a traditional eastern dragon. We just couldn't ever predict how. Thus, the Almudron makes the scene. And I do like how it embraces those draconic features, ON TOP OF having a tail based on that of a lobster. That's cool! But then there's its deceptive intellect. Almudron, as you might have guessed from its name, fights mostly with mud. But not just by chucking it. It can make whole structures of mud with the intent of boxing you in and perhaps even crushing you with its signature move of making a massive mud ball with its tail. And if there's no natural mud around, it can secrete a yellow acid that makes dirt into mud. That's why people say it's based off the Dorotabo, a Yokai made of mud. But in terms of appearance and even its intro cutscene, it has the energy of a grumpy old man telling you to get off its turf. Love it! 8.5/10.

And that's that again! Next, we look at some dino-might in the form of the Brute Wyverns!

Index:

Herbivores

Neopterons, Carapaceans, Temnocerans

Bird Wyverns

Flying Wyverns

Piscine Wyverns, Amphibians, Leviathans

Brute Wyverns

Fanged Beasts, Fanged Wyverns

Elder Dragons

[notmorbid]

annie bot.

dialogue prompts from annie bot: a novel by sierra greer.

come to bed. i know how to cheer you up.

i have no delusions about where i come from.

i love when you get all righteous and compassionate.

what's your name, honey?

am i pathetic?

a secret will make you real.

you have to be smarter than you were.

regret is for cowards.

look at me, please.

this is not a safe place to be.

who do you think runs the show around here?

i don't want to be this person.

i can see you thinking.

there's this saying, 'your possessions come to own you'.

why didn't you tell me this before?

you didn't ask. i didn't think it mattered.

we might be safer together.

i should come with you. we should stay together.

stay here and hide. i'll come back for you.

will you stay with me?

wake up. don't make a sound. we have to go.

i love you, but you're still a dick.

sorry about that. i'm always putting my foot in it.

we're fucked. you know that, right?

you made a mistake. it's easily fixed.

what's it going to take for you to quit?

you're growing and changing. you're going to make mistakes.

what would you do, if you were me?

i don't want to be dead. i want to live.

you'd be eaten alive in the real world.

you're a complete puzzle to me.

let me do the dishes.

how easy it must be to be you.

traveling is a fantastic way to expand the mind.

we're on a new frontier. anything's possible.

perhaps that's what unhappiness is: comprehension.

i miss having a secret. is that wrong?

i don't have the right to be happy.

you can't throw away __ years of friendship.

i get it. i'm the douchebag.

timezones? fucking travesty.

it couldn't hurt, could it? to talk to someone?

i wish i knew how to make things better.

you deserve to be happy.

i'm thinking of getting a dog.

what else? think it over.

what is it that's troubling you?

did you have pets when you were a kid?

i miss who you were, back then.

you can leave. no one is stopping you.

i wish i understood you.

i've never been angry like this before.

not everything is about you.

what's really going on with you?

you don't sound like yourself. everything okay?

do whatever you need to do to protect your own heart.

a little jealousy is okay. it shows you care.

i actually laughed today. really hard.

i miss laughing.

fulfillment starts with being truly honest with yourself.

we missed our anniversary.

you have no idea how messed up i feel.

i can't tell what's true anymore.

is there something you want to ask? or say?

you knew me so well.

you're a good teacher.

thinking too much will make you unhappy.

you'll be with me the whole time, right?

but you don't want me to go.

you make me want to be more like you, and when i try, i'm better.

are you alright? can you hear me?

you don't have to process everything at once.

you're fine. you have time.

[xhxhxhx]

I am not particularly fit for this kind of work. Reading and writing, I mean.

I am not a practiced reader. I never learned to do the things you're supposed to do with books and papers.

I never learned note-taking. Never learned outlining. Never outlined. Never underlined. Never highlighted. Never earmarked. Never made cards and never read from them.

At some point, the amount of information I was meant to digest and recall was simply beyond me. Never learned.

I've carried those vices with me. I have no books marked with my own written notes or highlights. I have no outlines. There's only the printed page with someone else's text.

I still have trouble publishing anything but the first draft.

I have tried something different. I now have something like a vast index, alphabetically arranged, of cases and laws and names, proper and common, with references to the relevant material.

But no notes. I have given pointers and pin points, but no summaries or comments. In the index, my editorial intervention ends with the headings and cross-references. Even that makes me uneasy.

If I haven't learned to take notes, it's not for lack of trying. There are false starts here and there, if not on paper.

The trouble is that I have trouble getting anything out of my notes when I read them. They're verbose. They're wrong. They're inexact. They leave things out.

You can imagine a tradeoff between speed and depth, with less extensive notes summarizing the text and more extensive ones explaining it. But my notes couldn't do either.

I have trouble summarizing or explaining things to myself, to my future self. When I took notes, I left out what I understood too well or not at all. When I read them later, I found them incomplete.

I couldn't learn from my own notes, or recall from them. I couldn't trust them. I couldn't trust my past self to know what I now needed. No matter how much I read and revised, I couldn't get them right.

In the tradeoff between speed and depth, my notes were completely interior to the frontier defined by the original text. To the extent that I have notes now, they're pointers to those texts. Indexes.

That's what I have. Indexes. But indexes aren't notes, and they're poor substitutes for them.

To write, you have to take something from what you've read. That's what notes, I understand, are for: You take notes to preserve your reading for your future self. But not your self as reader, but as writer. They're there for your readers.

Your notes summarize and explain your reading, as you would explain your reading to others. Then you simply carry them forward. "Here," you tell your readers, "I have summarized it for you." Then you write out your notes again, tidied up a little.

I didn't understand any of this until recently. I had never needed to take notes for others before. When people asked for my lecture notes, I gave them what I had taken in class: verbatim transcripts of what the speaker had said. Those were the only ones I had.

I still don't really understand it. But I'm coming to realize how much extensive writing depends on it, or something like it.

To write, you have to take something from what you've read. It's easy to do that from notes. You don't have to read anything and you barely have to write anything. You just copy them down.

But to do it from an index, you have to do it all from scratch. Read again, then summarize and explain, as if for the first time. Because it is. It's the first time you're explaining it for someone besides yourself.

I still haven't learned how to take notes. But I suppose that's what I'm doing here. Trying to explain things, as if for the first time, to someone besides myself.

[jinxed-thylacine]

I didn't realize how much people fundamentally misunderstand Eggman and Sonic both as characters and as a pair until now tbh.

No, Phantom Rider Sonic is not out of character for Sonic nor for Eggman. Let's look at right before Sonic accepted the Eggstreme Gear.

Going undercover is implied to be incredibly beneficial to Sonic, Tails, and Amy's plan, something Eggman agrees with:

Eggman took a sabbatical after Eggperial City was destroyed, then came across Orbot and Cubot watching the Clean Sweepstakes opening ceremony, and didn't like that he was being mocked:

He was at least happy to see Sonic and the Babylon Rogues squabble, but then Sonic got disqualified (which Eggman claims he hated because humiliating Sonic is his job), which gave Eggman an idea:

Since Sonic was indirectly responsible for Eggman's inspiration coming back, he felt like repaying him in some way:

And throughout the arc, Eggman is shown to have been honest about this (unless something happens in issue 74/issue 75). This scene from issue 69 sets up mutual benefit; Sonic can more easily create a diversion because he's disguised, Tails and Amy can more easily sneak onto the shuttle, and Eggman repays Sonic for getting him his creative drive back and also gets to watch the chaos that unfolds as Sonic disrupts the event as the Phantom Rider, which he wanted to do before Sonic, Tails, and Amy were disqualified (and Eggman gets to watch the event that mocked him get disrupted).

Sonic causing trouble on purpose for the benefit of the greater good isn't out of character, he just isn't usually so chaotic about it, nor that intentioned about causing chaos, because what he's doing doesn't require a chaotic course of action. He does it in Sonic Adventure 2 to some degree (this is made most clear, in my opinion, in the recaps before each level) and he literally tells Merlina in Sonic and the Black Knight "Guess I can't be the hero every time!" after being told "If you remove that sword and defeat King Arthur with it, you shall forever be the worst of knights, slayer of kings!" and proceeds to fight the Knights of the Round Table and King Arthur. That's just in the games, if we factored other media into this there's a lot more I could cover.

Now, to be fair, that tends to not backfire on him as bad as it could. In Sonic X, when he's destroying Eggman's mirror towers, everyone eventually realizes that Sonic is doing it for the benefit of everyone else; he doesn't care about that though. In Sonic and the Black Knight, once Merlina admits she was essentially scamming Avalon, Lancelot, Percival, and Gawain team up with him to stop her. In Sonic Adventure 2, Sonic's already a fugitive, so him causing some level of chaos to clear his name isn't something that really affects public perception of him.

In the comics, specifically the Phantom Rider arc, it does backfire on him once he's revealed to be the Phantom Rider, and there's some indication in issue 76's solicitation that there are going to be long-term effects in regards to Sonic being the Phantom Rider, meaning this would be the first time Sonic feels long-term effects for playing the villain (I'm actually surprised it took this long but whatever lol). The aftershocks might not be as bad once Clean Sweep is revealed to be untrustworthy, but there are still likely going to be some trust issues within Sonic's friend circle, which will be the worst ramifications we've seen from Sonic's chaotic good antics thus far.

Sonic is not against working with Eggman if there's a level of mutual benefit in it, and usually it happens because of some potentially world-ending catastrophe (Sonic Adventure 2, Sonic X, Sonic Heroes, Sonic 06, Sonic Frontiers). I actually think Jimbotnik sums this up best; "If I can't rule the world, I might as well save it!" However, Eggman is not above teaming up with Sonic if, from his perspective, the need arises, even if the world isn't about to end. If there's even a shred of mutual benefit, they are willing to work together. The Phantom Rider arc just has an example of them teaming up for, on Eggman's end, petty reasons.

Eggman's not above teaming up with Sonic if there's mutual benefit and Sonic's not above playing a villain for the benefit of the greater good. Phantom Rider arc is not out of character for either of them.

[parvulous-writings]

Could I request headcanons for Wyll, Dammon, and Zevlor react to shy gn crush confessing to him before running away because they're scared of being rejected?

Summary: I may have been a bit descriptive, I hope that's okay! They may also be slightly uneven... Oops Focuses more on the reaction of the gents, to try and allow for more projection!

Warnings: lil bit of fluff, but no major warnings!

Notes:  My requests are currently open! My pinned post (found here) contains both a list of characters I write for, and a masterlist!  Original character list - please request for these too!

Zevlor

Zevlor has always been a strong leader, in your eyes. For all the disputes between the tieflings and those near them, he usually kept a level head to keep things under control - to the best extent that he could.

He also always returns any due diligence - be kind to him, and he'll show you the same in turn. You found this out very quickly - having found something that he had left behind at a lunch time gathering and given it back to him. Come supper, Zevlor was waving you over, offering to eat with you so neither of you alone, thanking you for returning his belongings.

You sit together in silence for a while, and whilst Zevlor eats, you more... push your food around, picking at it, and playing with it in a vague and unsuccessful attempt to calm your nerves.

"Something on your mind?" his voice startles you, and you're left stumbling over your words, a flurry of "I'm fine, yeah, I'm okay-" Repeated in various combinations. Zevlor just chuckles lightly at your flustered nature, but doesn't pry. Your thoughts are your own, and if you don't want to share them, he'll respect it.

There's a few more minutes of silence, before you blurt out a hurried confession, your words a blur to Zevlor's ears. After the sudden profession, you scramble to your feet and scarper off, your chest pounding against your ribs as you try to get out of Zevlor's sight as fast as your feet can carry you.

Zevlor doesn't move - part of his mind is trying to figure out what that flurry of words you uttered was, and the rest of it was just... Stunned. He wasn't entirely sure what to make of what just happened - though half of that was just due to the fact he hadn't understood a word you had said to him.

He does bring it up next time he sees you though - and you feel your face heat up as soon as he brings the subject up. "... It was nothing..." Your voice is little more than a mumble, and you can't bring yourself to look him in the eye. "It didn't sound like nothing... If there really is something you want to tell me, you needn't be afraid to say it..." His voice is kind, and you don't feel any innate pressure behind his words, but you speak anyway. You've done it once, surely the second time won't be as bad?

Wrong. You can hardly choke the words out, but when you do, Zevlor's looking at you with a kind smile. That wasn't a reaction you had expected - you had half been thinking that you'd be met with a lecture, but... He was just smiling.

"Is that why you ran off?" He asked you, humming thoughtfully.

Wyll

One of the first things that Wyll had noticed about you was your timid nature. He never really commented on it, but he always stood up for you at times when you couldn't find your voice (the Blade of Frontiers reactions coming in full force at these times)

He honestly had a bit of an inkling that you like him - you stick around him a lot, or constantly stealing looks in his direction. So, upon your confession, Wyll wasn't exactly caught off guard. What did stun him, though, was the way you ran off.

He had initially started to go after you, calling your name as you darted off and out of view. Then, after a moment's consideration, he decides to give you a moment. He's of the opinion that maybe you need that moment to yourself, to recollect and think.

It's nightfall when he comes to you, two goblets in one hand, and a bottle of wine in the other. "Care for a drink?" He offers you a goblet, and that charming smile you've come to know so well. Your heart flutters as he hands you a half-full goblet, and you spend the evening with one another drinking well into the night.

Wyll confides in you, that he has always been fond of your presence, and though he had never really wanted to push you, wanted to spend more time with you. You could hardly believe what you were hearing, and you could feel your jaw become more and more slack as he talks more and more.

"In fact..." Wyll speaks, pausing to take a sip of his wine. "And, forgive me if this is too forward for your tastes... I've always quite... Enjoyed the quiet, with you... You never pressed for answers from me, or... Constantly asked me for tales from my time on the front - all of which I would happily regale you with... But, I am most grateful, that you just let me be as I am..."

Despite your more open feelings for one another, you're still incredibly shy, and very liable to becoming flustered if anyone brings up your relationship with Wyll, or ask for any details.

Dammon

Dammon was in the forge when you came to him. He kept glancing over his shoulder, asking if you were okay, or if you needed anything, as you tried to work up the courage to speak.

In a similar way to Wyll, Dammon liked your shyness - he thought it was adorable, and made you unique. He was always there for you- and absolutely loves making little trinkets and things for you, tokens of his affection.

He hardly hears your words when you first utter them, your mumbles lost under the rhythmic clanging of his hammer on metal. "What? Can't quite hear you," He says, pausing to turn and look at you. You feel your face go red hot, and you blurt out what was meant to be your admittance - your feelings for him, your admiration of his work, all of it.

With the words hardly out of your mouth, you scarper, wanting to get away from the situation you'd thrown yourself into. Though - not that you'd noticed - Dammon was sprinting in an attempt to catch up with you. It had only taken a moment for him to drop his tools and shirk off his apron, metalwork entirely forgotten as his feet move as fast as they physically can to get to you.

He's not just going to let you go without actually knowing what you said - he has an inkling, naturally, it came with the way you showed affection to one another - the quality time, the gifts, all of it. But he wants to know with certainty.

When you get all shy and flustered again, his face lights up - you've unintentionally confirmed what he wanted to know, and he's quite possibly the happiest being for miles around.

He reassures you in an instant - he wants to follow these feelings with you, he doesn't want to shy away from them, and he's more than comfortable to think of you as a lover to him.

[thankskenpenders]

I'm a huge fan of Ian, but one criticism of him that I've seen that I kind of agree with is that he sometimes falls into "look how much I know about Sonic" in his writing. For example, a number of references in Frontiers like Tails namedropping Dark Gaia out of nowhere. It's a nice change of pace from Sega not knowing where they wanted to go with Sonic for like a decade, but it might be too far in the opposite direction. What do you think?

There's definitely a thin line between Ian's love of references and lore and lyric quotes being fun and grating, yeah. I think he tends to do it well, choosing things that will support and enhance the story he's trying to tell rather than just dropping random references for the sake of it, but sometimes it can kinda make me roll my eyes and go "okay, Ian, settle down buddy." He readily admits that sometimes he just really wants to play with all the toys in the toy box.

I think an example I might point do would be some of the Classic Sonic comics for IDW. The Tails special in particular felt like it relied very heavily on Ian being excited to use the Witchcarters again, and to use Flicky Island as a setting, but I felt like the story left me wanting a little more beyond just "this obscure old stuff is back again." (The art in all the Classic stuff is phenomenal, though, of course.)

Frontiers absolutely is jam packed full of references, but I think it works there because acknowledging and building off of decades of continuity is one of the main points of the story in Frontiers. It's part of a greater effort Sega has been making to acknowledge Sonic's legacy after much of the late '00s and early 2010s were spent being kind of ashamed of that stuff and trying to streamline the series. Frontiers, meanwhile, wanted to look back on all those past adventures and their inconsistent writing and figure out how to wring some proper character arcs out of them, so that the cast can reflect on those arcs and figure out what they want to do next. Mining hit-or-miss old material for a compelling throughline like that has always been something Ian's excelled at - it's literally what he did to the Archie comics when he started out - and having the characters acknowledge their past adventures is a part of that. It gives us a sense that Sonic and co. really have gone through a lot together, and that those experiences have shaped who they are today.

It's also worth remembering that a ton of more casual Sonic fans aren't as immersed in the state of the canon or Ian's referential writing style as we are. When Frontiers came out you'd see people say stuff like "OMG, Sonic mentioned Jet the Hawk!! I didn't know Sonic Riders was canon to the main series! I loved those games!" That kind of reaction is probably a big part of why those references are there. Sega wants fans to know that Sonic DOES have continuity, unlike a series like Mario where every game and sub-series is kind of its own thing, and that all the old stuff still matters. And if that's what you wanna do, then Ian's the guy for the job.