#I didn’t want none of that

[yakultii]

doordasher substituted me with a nippy’s iced coffee BRUH I ain’t no feral 13yro high school boy at 8am

[dragonfollies]

I don’t upload a lot of my traditional art often, but I felt like sharing these (mostly Susie) sketchbook drawings from last month. I thought that the Suselle one was cute

[dykedvonte]

Honestly a sorry from Curly would mean nothing to Anya.

I’m not saying she wouldn’t want to hear it, it’s a hollow vindication. She told him and he couldn’t hear her. He saw it and he couldn’t understand it. They both experienced it and he should apologize that it took that for him to get it. She already knows he’s sorry but what’s the point if neither of them can do anything about it? It’s earnest but at the same time what she wants an apology for is what Curlu can’t apologize for.

He can’t be sorry for what happened to her even if he is. Even if he carries that guilt with him until the day he dies it’s not all his to bare. The most heinous parts aren’t his weight even if he tries to balance it. A part of her bitterness is the fact he can’t be sorry for it all. She can’t just direct it all towards him even if she wants to. She was failed in so many ways by all of them. It hurts with him the most cause he had the power but they all did nothing in the grand scheme of things.

The one person who should apologize would never and could never, it’s not something you can be sorry for. She wants an apology, she needs one but what would it fix?

[asteriskemily]

The fact that Ruben doesn’t remember what happened is absolutely sending me.

Like, imagine your name is Ruben Hopclap. You wake up in front of a ruined school gym wearing clothes you don’t recognize and missing your favorite necklace. You don’t remember falling asleep. Your chest hurts.

Uncle Henry is there talking to principal Auegfort over scraps of a robot. For a moment he looks at you like you’re a ghost before wrapping you in a tight hug. He asks what you remember. You tell him you remember packing your bag to go to the mountains of chaos for your spring break quest. You don’t remember anything after that. He hugs you again.

Your party’s there too. Most of them at least. Along with another party that you recognize as the Bad Kids, the most infamous party in your grade, maybe in the whole school. You tamp down any jealousy you might feel about that when you see the way that Mary Ann Almost-but-not-quite smiles at their barbarian. Instead you go to where Oisin and Ivy are huddle together, speaking softly to each other.

You ask where Kipperlily is. They look uncomfortable. For a moment you think about asking after Buddy, but then you realize you don’t know who that is. They keep avoiding answering the question, so you walk away. You almost go to talk to Lucy, but you see how uncomfortable she looks, how she flinches away when you start to move towards her. You decide to leave her alone.

Eventually Henry takes you home. On the drive home he turns on the radio and you hear yourself singing a song you’ve never heard. It’s loud and chaotic and so so angry. The sound of it makes you want to throw up. You turn it off and ride in silence back to the house.

The walls of your bedroom have been painted a deep, bloody red. There’s an electric guitar that you don’t know how to play leaning against the wall. Your desk is covered in notes and plans, some of it written in codes you can’t decipher. That doesn’t really matter because you don’t understand the stuff that’s not in code either.

Your parents look almost scared of you when you ask where your normal clothes are. They tell you that you got rid of them. They keep apologizing, like they think you’ll get mad at them. You tell them it’s okay, but still search your closet for something a bit more your style. You find a box shoved into a corner, under some clothes. Inside is your puka shell necklace and your ukulele. The string on the necklace is broken like it had been ripped off. The body of the ukulele is cracked like it had been thrown to the ground. You decide to deal with that in the morning.

You fall asleep and you dream of a girl. She’s a tiefling with red and black raccoon streaks in her hair. She smiles at you with lips painted black. If you stare at her for too long you can see blood dripping out of those lips and a crossbow bolt lodged in her side. You look at her and feel longing, feel grief, feel betrayal. You want to stop dreaming of her, but some part of you knows that any other dream would be filled with blood and crystals and rage. You accept that you are doomed to Wanda.

[hollys-fairy-hell]

I just want Peri to go back and be Devs babysitter. Knowing Dev lost his memories and trying to do right by this kid. Trying so hard to not make the same mistakes.

But I also want Dev to be scared to tell Peri he remembers because what if Peri has to leave then or if Jorgon comes to actually wipe his memories. Ao Dev doing his best to act like he did before he had his change of heart.

Basically Peri desperately trying to be a better god parent and Dev desperately (and failing) to be a bad ungrateful kid. (It’s how he sees his past actions)

Then we get guilt of Peri seeing how much of Devs happiness was lost with his memories and how much of a set back this is gor Dev while Dev seeing how mean he is to Peri and how miserable he is making him, which is worse this time because hes doing it on purpose. Dev now knowing Peri really does care but feels forced to be mean so not to slip up and loose Peri again. And Peri now having seen how bad at this he is. Seeing how he is still failing Dev at every turn. But neither willing to give up the other because they know what could have been. Peri knows Dev is a good kid. Dev knows Peri cares about him.

[iinryer]

a little scene prompt game to get me writing!

from @eddiesgaymustache : prompt 2 cheddy boogaloo: 10, 📚😁🥂

bonus visuals if you want to know how i picture them [ 1 ] [ 2 ]

—

[📚😁🥂 + cheddy + 10: spooning at night]

“What do you want to be when you grow up?”

Teddy looks up from the glass she’s pouring, blinks at Chuck, blinks again, and says, “What,”

Chuck blinks back at her, stalling out like they’re playing back what they said, before suddenly snorting into their drink and having to hold a hand under their chin to save their shirt from falling victim to rogue rosé.

Teddy watches them fondly, raising her brow and waiting for Chuck to try again.

“No, wait, not like—,�� Chuck laughs, waving their hand like they’re clearing the question from the record, “I meant like… when you were little, who did you think you were going to be?”

Teddy shakes her head, endeared, and says faux-wistfully, “I dunno. I think as a kid I always envisioned myself getting to go by Teo when I left home,”

Teo, unfortunately, did not fly. Not only was it deemed too boyish by her mom, but it was also her Abuelo’s nickname of choice—who she was named after, by the way. So it was either nothing or Dora—which, to this day, still makes her feel like she’s breaking out in hives. Teddy came later though, when she ran track in high school. One of the girls she got close with that year called out to her with it during practice, and it just stuck. It’s not Teo, but she’s grown quite fond of it.

At the mention of the name, though, Chuck brightens, straightening up from where they’d been trying to set the bottle and nearly empty glass safely on the floor from the bed, and says, so earnestly it’s almost comical, “I call you Teo!”

Teddy barks out a laugh. Okay. So Chuck is maybe a little deeper into the bottle of rosé than she is. She just nods, acquiescing, “You sure do, rockstar,”

Chuck just tips their head—followed by their torso—to the side like it weighs too much, grinning from ear to ear. They end up toppling down the rest of the way, the side of their face smushed into the pillow at Teddy’s hip.

They grin up at Teddy, body folded awkwardly but looking pleased as punch about it, before scrunching up their nose and saying, “Okay, for real this time. What did little Teodora Vásquez want to be when she grew up?”

Teddy makes a face, and flicks Chuck’s forehead, “Don’t government-name me, you ass,”

Laughter bubbles up from their chest, followed by a snort that should really be unflattering, but somehow never is.

“Dunno,” Teddy eventually sighs, wine-heavy in her own way, absently curling her finger through an errant lock of Chuck’s hair, “I think I always thought I’d be a doctor or something like that. Something helpful,”

Chuck’s eyes, glazed and unfocused with alcohol, go wide and adoring, “You are. You are helpful,”

Teddy hums on a smile. Takes a prolonged sip from her glass.

“And! You’ll be even more helpful once you pass your paramedic cert next month,” they add, conspiratorially, nodding over at the textbooks that Teddy abandoned on the nightstand earlier in the evening, like it’s a sure thing. Their confidence always makes Teddy’s heart feel warm and full, “and that’s like, basically a doctor, right? Look at you! Growing up to be the thing you wanted,”

“Yeah, I guess so,” Teddy snorts, then sighs. It is a thought she’s had in the past. That maybe all the time she spent in and out of hospitals growing up would actually land her somewhere good. Somewhere useful. Worthwhile.

“You’re the coolest,” Chuck adds, one uncoordinated finger coming up to poke Teddy in the chin.

Or maybe it just landed her here, who-knows-how-many glasses of wine deep into Chuck’s mattress, during a 48-off. Heavy, slow. Happy.

Maybe, somehow, it’s the same thing.

“Yeah yeah, says the Wunderkind,” Teddy laughs, swatting the hand out of her face before she finally wiggles her way to slide down further against the headboard, getting settled with her cheek in hand and elbow propped up on the pillow next to Chuck, looking down at them, “What about you, huh? What did the little cherub-faced Beverly Charlton want to be when they grew up?”

Between one breath and the next, Chuck gets a faraway look in their eye—almost like they weren’t expecting to have their own question sent back around. Knowing them, they maybe weren’t.

Teddy watches their lashes flutter, something somber pulling across their face like a wave. For a moment, she’s worried she shouldn’t have pulled the full name out, even in jest—but then Chuck is swallowing harshly and taking a breath.

Their eyes stay trained on the ceiling past Teddy’s head when they say, “Loved, I think,”

Teddy feels her own expression collapse, a wounded sound in her throat.

Then, with a with a gasp of a breath through their nose, it’s like Chuck comes back to themself; sitting upright so suddenly they almost collide with Teddy.

Chuckling awkwardly, they clear their throat, “Sorry, sorry, that wasn’t—I didn’t mean… um. Didn’t mean for that to sound so pathetic,”

Teddy doesn’t like that Chuck’s back is to her.

“Chuck,” she says.

Chuck hesitates for a moment before peering sheepishly back over their shoulder.

Teddy gives her best pleading eyes and pout, sets her glass on the nightstand with her coursework, and just reaches her newly freed hand out to Chuck, wiggling her fingers for good measure.

Chuck looks a little watery, but it seems like that’s all the permission they need before they’re collapsing back down at Teddy’s side, letting her arrange the two of them however she pleases.

They’ve done this enough over the years for it to not be too odd, as long as she doesn’t think about it too hard. How much she likes having Chuck close like this. How Chuck lets her, every time. So Teddy tucks them together, back to chest, arms wrapped around Chuck’s middle. Reaches over them to fumble with the lamp to turn out one of the two dim lights they’d had on, and settles.

They lay quietly for a while, just breathing, before Teddy finds the courage to murmur, sleepy and slow to the back of Chuck’s neck, “You did too,”

A beat of quiet. Then Chuck hums in question.

“You said I grew up to be the thing I wanted to be as a kid,” Teddy mumbles, teetering on the edge of sleep, “You did too,”

Chuck doesn’t say anything else, but Teddy feels the sniffle in their chest, and she doesn’t say anything either. Just squeezes a little tighter, and lets sleep come for them both.

[hijinxinprogress]

Coffee addict Never sleeps Tim drake ❌ 

Solving cases in his sleep off 87 energy drinks Tim Drake ✅

The coffee addict never sleeps perpetually tired Tim Drake thing is a widely accepted headcanon however that was elementary school tim but after he stayed up for a week straight subsisting entirely on coffee to decipher the bat weekly patrol schedule and how it aligns with rogue attacks/Arkham breakouts, he crashed then when he woke up it was fucking wednesday so he missed his chance to commemorate his discovery with pictures of Robin and he decided that shit would never happen again and made himself an ‘efficient’ sleep schedule so he could run around doing fuck shit, add to his robin shrine, and stay on honor roll bc he was even more pissed to see the gotham gazette had pictures of Robin with an on site interview credited to Vicki Vale (listen bowl cut tim had a one sided beef with vicki vale that included tim judging who gets better pics of the bats but she isn’t even aware that she’s competing with a whole ass child 😭 he’s sitting at the table with a mug of orange juice and looks at the newspaper snorts and goes ‘fucking amateur I could do better’) 

Regularly unsupervised tiny businessman in training Tim ‘Ten hours of uninterrupted sleep?? That’s so inefficient not to mention fucking stupid’ Drake is so pissed he missed getting shots of Robin dropkicking a rogue from 6 six stories up (for absolutely no reason dick just thinks it’s fun) that he just takes at least 3 hour naps every eight hours 😭 he refuses to spend almost half a day sleeping ‘for no reason when he could be doing something productive’ 

And he still does this as a bat but it’s just easier to tell if he didn’t take his nap bc he has less than zero impulse control and he’s just fucking done with everything like the gcpd is terrified bc tim’s saying shit like ‘This guys a fucking moron, I could’ve done this in half the time without killing anyone fucking loser doesn’t he know if you keep them alive you can prolong the torture?’ and ‘you’re like all hysterical and for what 🤨 ‘you blew up 83% of Bristol waah’ stfu and fucking rebuild it?? It’s only rich mfs that live there, it’s just a matter of them opening their fucking wallets’ once a new recruit made the mistake of asking if robin had adult supervision regularly and Tim responded with ‘well if you’re gonna snitch to cps like a little bitch then yeah’ and that cop did snitch so tim fucking doxxed him

Yj has just accepted that sometimes they will find tim in an air vent, on the roof, in one of their closets, or something just fucking knocked out then an alarm will go off and he’ll just get up like nothing happened but for the first couple of months they were probably concerned bc ‘I’ve never seen you sleep?? wtf are you on man’ and Tim’s confused bc ‘I slept next to you this morning wdym??’ and that’s how yj discovers tim sleeps with his eyes open

But one of the worst things about Tim’s ‘time efficient sleep schedule’ nonsense is that it fucking works he’s one of the most well rested and coherent bats even after back to back Arkham breakouts however the absolute worst thing about his sleep schedule is the likelihood of going into the cave and seeing tim staring in a daze but wide eyed yet somehow never blinking at the batcomputer with 57 tabs open on top of being unresponsive and thinking he has a fucking concussion or he’s been replaced but he’s just doing case work while muttering nonsense in his fucking sleep for some reason

[papastarion]

I know, I know “it’s a video game, it’s designed with the player in mind, it’s an rpg, yada yada yada.” But the concept of the BG3 group having a “leader” will never not be funny to me. These people all have issues with authority, if any structure is happening here, it’s a democracy. The worst democracy you’ve ever seen, but a democracy all the same, and you can’t tell me otherwise.

They’ve gotta play by the rules of checks and balances otherwise someone (probably Lae’zel or Astarion) is going to get them all killed immediately.

[ghostradiodylan]

I really love that I've now been called misogynist AND racist for shipping Rylan, in subtweets (subtumbls?) from people I've never even interacted with. I genuinely do find it hilarious because, to paraphrase the immortal words of Fall Out Boy, I typically don't care what you think as long as it's about me. :3

But this is getting kinda weird and personal and if you think I won't hear what you say about me just because you've blocked me specifically then you must be new.

I'm sorry, who was unnecessarily nasty? Because I haven't seen anyone be nasty in this very oblique conversation until now.

For what it's worth, in case anyone with two braincells to rub together was confused (not that they would be), I don't 'have a fetish for gay men' (which is something I feel like only a homophobe would say, but I tend to try not to call names until someone does it to me). I just feel the chemistry between those two characters that's very clearly intended in the script and performances. The arc of their relationship is deeply wholesome and sweet, and that kiss at the campfire is one of the cutest things I've ever seen in a video game. Also Dylan and Ryan sparked something in me that I honestly thought was dead, reminded me that I was full of stories when I was in a very, very dark place in my life and I will love them for that forever. And I've already promised another 100k of fic about them so anyone who has a problem with that can die mad I guess stay tuned for that.

This is a silly thing to fight about and I should be above getting heated over internet shipping wars and responding to insults from unserious people. But when they turn into personal attacks for no good reason? I guess I'm not. I don't want anyone to change what they ship or what they write, I only want them to stop being so smug and superior while willfully misinterpreting the canon and accusing others of the same and so much worse.

[kelin-is-writing]

Imagine thinking that I wouldn’t start crying buckets as soon as this came on…

[mylittleredgirl]

i always sing the praises of having a beta reader if you want that sort of thing, but actually there are two separate fic-editor types:

alpha reader: just fucking uncritically loves your work. #1 fan. fully obsessed with the pairing you're writing to the exclusion of all good sense. might correct a comma or two but they are there to tell you that you are amazing and that you have never done anything wrong in your life and you should post that shit immediately. you ask them "does this part work?" and they say yes before the question is fully out of your mouth. the golden retriever of writing friends. every writer 100% needs one of these in their back pocket.

pros: THE best preemptive defense against the gaping chasm of self-doubt between "post work" and the first kudos.

cons: this is the reason why sometimes you see a fic that has eight beta readers thanked in the author's notes and the main character's name spelled wrong.

beta reader™️: these friends also fucking love your work, but the way they want to love it is to stick their fingers in your fic like a fruit bin at the grocery store and gently squeeze your characters (and commas) to see if they're ripe.

a good beta reader will copy edit your fic, notice if you've used the same sentence three times, and let you know if your sex scenes seem to contain the intended number of dicks per person.

a great one will highlight for you what's unique and wonderful about your writing, will help you problem-solve and plot through long fic, and will lovingly bug the shit out of you with how did she get here? and would he really say that? and is this what you meant? and when you say "oh shit no it isn't" their eyes light up and they go OKAY! let's figure this out!!!

more of a border collie kind of situation.

pros: the best way to polish your fic and grow as a fic writer. in my experience, it's also an incredible way to work through impostor syndrome. knowing someone you respect has been all up in your fic's junk and still says "it's great and you're great, now post it!" is a game-changer.

cons: if they show you what's not working, you're probably going to have to take time to fix it :/

caveats: not everyone who wants to give constructive feedback can deliver it in a way that works for everyone, so if the experience ends up making you feel bad, this is not a good match! it's also VERY helpful to tell your beta reader what level of editing you're looking for. if someone asks "can you give this a quick once-over before i post?" i know they want me to look for obvious mistakes and reassure them that it's post-worthy. if you ask me to "rip it apart" i'm going in there with a fine tooth comb.

(the primary motivation of both of these editor breeds is, of course, that they want you to write more and they want to read it before everyone else.)

bonus mode:

specialty reader: sensitivity readers and subject matter experts! if you are lucky enough to find and motivated enough to use one of these, their job is not to look at commas or to tell you that you're great, but to give advice on something specific in your fic.

edit: check the reblogs for a correction! turns out “alpha reader” is a pre-existing term in some circles for someone who helps you during the process, a lot like the great beta-reader i described above. taking suggestions for renaming my version of the alpha reader above. i’m thinking “hype man.”

[specific-dreamer]

who r ur favorite characters in the outsiders and why?

ah boy okay

darry of course. i’m not going through nearly as much as he, but the eldest sibling trauma runs deep and i too chose to take care of 5 kids bc my heart is too big

but also lately sandy. i’ve been toying with this idea right and. okay walk with me here. what if she didn’t cheat. like we know soda is love boy number one, but me thinks sandy loved soda just as much. soda already planned on marrying her i can’t imagine they hadn’t talked about their future, so im thinking they weren’t as careful as they could have been and she got pregnant. but when her parents found out they sent her to florida (? is that right? it’s out there that’s all i recall) and somewhere in her hormonal mind was frightened that soda would change his mind abt wanting to be a dad after everything that happened and she thinks she’s saving herself the grief by lying and saying she cheated. because this way she doesn’t have to hear the disgust/anger in soda’s voice

[boundinparchment]

All these leaks have me convinced I’m just not meant to enjoy Natlan, lore wise or character wise 💔

Hot take I guess, sorry in advance

[loomingcastle]

This isn’t the first time this isn’t the first time

My inability to initiate conversations even when I want to is like—I don’t even know anymore someone help

@signanothername oh hi there uhh

Ignore the ranting in tags :)

[isthatafuckinggayangel]

I wanted to continue this thing that I wrote for @cod-dump (hope you don’t mind me tagging you lmao), just kinda expanding upon the concept of Nik being Soap’s father and getting into more of the meat in the idea, so here

~~~

Explaining to Ghost and Gaz everything that had gone on between Nik and Soap, their relationship and all, was exhausting. The number of questions they had took forever to get through and made Soap think a little too hard about what why his mother had caused this.

At the same time though, it made him realize he needed to call her to get all the information straightened out here. He needed to know why she did it. Why she separated him from his father.

So, a few days after he had gotten everything sorted with Nik and the team was on the same page with everything, he made the call. He had both Ghost and Nik sit in on the call with him, he couldn’t get himself to do it without some support and he needed to have Nik there to make sure any lies didn’t slip passed him. The trio were sat around the dining table in the common room, Nik and Ghost on either side of Soap. He pressed the call button and made sure it was on speaker, holding it in his left hand still.

“Tha e math cluinntinn bhuat a-rithist, John. It’s been too long since ye called!” She answered the phone with.

“Sorry ‘bout that. It’s been quite busy out here, so I haven’t had the chance.” Soap rested his forehead in his palm and Ghost ran his hand along his upper back in a soothing motion.

“Is there somethin’ goin’ on, a chuilein? Ye sound a bit upset.”

“Yeah, um, I’ve been thinking a lot and had a few questions fer you, if that’s alright?”

“Of course, it is! Ask away.”

He took a deep breath then went for it. “Why did you tell me my da abandoned me?”

There was silence on the other end. The seconds stretched for what felt like forever.

“Well, that’s because he did. He made it very clear to me that he didn’t want to speak to any of us, and as much as it pained me, I knew we had to respect his wishes.”

Soap saw Nik’s fist clench out of the corner of his eye and looked up, seeing an expression of barely concealed rage. Soap set his phone on the table, reaching over and grabbing his father’s hand to try to help calm him.

“Ma, do you remember what he does for work?”

“…What do you mean, John?”

“I need you to be honest with me. Why did you lie?”

He was met with more silence.

“I dinnae lie, John.”

“Ma. I’m givin’ ya one more chance to be honest. I need you to take it.”

“I don’t understand, I’ve been honest-“

He let out a sigh before laying it all out. “I met him again, Ma. Ye seem tae have forgotten what he does fer work. We work together now. I read his journal, ma. I know what you told ‘im. I know you lied to both of us. So why? I just wanna know why you did it.”

“It’s a very complicated situation-“

“Bullshit. I know a complicated situation when I see one, and this is not one.”

“John-“

“Не лги нашему сыну, Elspet.” Nik growled. He’d clearly had enough of her avoiding the question she’d been asked.

“Nikolai, I-“

“You will answer the question the boy asked. You will not disrespect him or diminish his intelligence by acting as though you do not understand what he is talking about.”

They were once again met with silence. Ghost moved closer to Johnny, wrapping his arm around his shoulders and holding him against his side.

“I was tired. Your father’s job took a toll on me, on our family, and I couldn’t handle it anymore. The entire time you were away from me, every summer, I was so scared his job would follow him home and I wouldn’t know because you were so far away. I needed to have you close to make sure you were okay. That you were safe. I couldn’t think of anything else to be able to do it.” She paused. “Look at where that’s gotten us now. You enlisted for the same damn job and now ye work together. Guess it couldn’t truly be avoided.”

Soap was seething. While he understood being afraid for your child’s safety, he couldn’t get passed the manipulation. The lies. The fact that she didn’t just explain that that was the problem. He could have kept up with phone calls, letters, something so he wouldn’t lose his father. And yet, this was the decision she had made.

Nik squeezed his hand and Ghost hugged him a bit tighter.

“John?”

A deep breath. “Thank you for your honesty. I’m gonna need some time to process all that. I’ll call you again soon, yeah?”

“Yeah. I love you, John.”

“Love ye too, ma.” He hung up the phone and rested his head against the table. “Christ, that sucked.”

“Are you alright, love?” Ghost asked.

“I’ll be alright eventually. Just gonna need some time.” He picked his head back up and looked over at Nik. “You alright? Cannae exactly be easy for you to hear either.”

He gave a light nod. “I’ll be okay eventually, малыш. It will take time, as you said, but it will be fine.” He squeezed Soap’s hand again and Soap did the same back. “У нас все будет хорошо.”

~~~

Translations

Tha e math cluinntinn bhuat a-rithist, Johnny. -> It’s lovely to hear from you again, Johnny.

A chuilein -> my lad

Не лги нашему сыну -> Don’t lie to our son

Малыш -> little one

У нас все будет хорошо -> We will be okay

Apologies for any incorrect translations, the Gaelic is done with google translate and the Russian is a different translation app, so chances are there’s something wrong with it. Let me know if you have any corrections on it!

[mira-likes]

The thing is, I believe the Second Prince when he says the Emperor forced him into these palace struggles. I can absolutely see the Emperor elevating him as a kid, pitting him against the Crown Prince, and sitting back to watch, while occasionally tutoring the Crown Prince with advice. What the Second Prince chose to do with all that is very much “cool motive, still murder,” but I can well believe that he was indeed intended as a whetting stone for the Crown Prince. If my suspicions are correct, what the Second Prince has yet to realise is that he’s also a whetting stone for Fan Xian, arranged by the same Emperor… if the Emperor has his way, in the end he has a crafty Crown Prince, a battle-hardened Fan Xian leading the Inspection Bureau and presiding over the treasury, and the Second Prince… just sort of… there, having served his purpose. Revered as an Emperor’s son should be, but left with only so many fangs. Useful to the Crown Prince in the end.

We wouldn’t last an hour in the asylum where they raised them, etc