#I have no idea whats going on except for a few select things that I know very very vague things about so I cling to what I know

[blood-ology]

Because I never watched rebels (rip), in my eyes the stars of the ashoka series so far are local loth cat (!!!) and huyang (david tennant bot can I get a wahoo?)

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for not having time to read my mutual's writing?

Met a mutual on here, bonded through fanfic, have been tight with them for a few years with pretty much no bumps in the relationship, just overall had a really good time hanging around them when I could. We both write a lot and share our writing, and occasionally we talk about that writing/workshop it in passing.

In the past few years I've gone through a ton of life changes. Most notably I went from a multi-person household to a single-person one, and I've been living alone in a prohibitively costly city for a while now working 40 hour weeks and barely scraping by. As soon as the transition started I spent the last of my free income on a shitty little laptop so I could still write, putting down words on my bus/train commutes in the morning and quite literally writing on my breaks at work because I feel insane when I can't create. I bring this up to really stress that I don't have the time for the hobby, I force myself to make the time and even then it never feels like enough.

The only thing I can really stand to do with my 3 hours of free time at night is hang out with my moots online. I'm an extrovert so being around people recharges me. If I don't have designated social time I get super depressed and can pretty much feel my soul withering away. I also feel like I should probably mention that I kinda have a slew of mental issues, personality disorders and PTSD and AuDHD and the works. Point being, shit is rough my dude, but I am a person who likes to work hard and face challenges head on and even though we strugglin, we doing it with a positive outlook.

But! I am an incredibly solution-oriented person and I have found what I personally believe to be a good balance. No one should have to live like this, but I do, and I have found a way to be happy. My writing and my social time is all load-bearing. It is not something I just choose to do on a whim, it's all planned and scheduled and I adhere to those routines very strictly because, I cannot stress this enough, I will go fucking bonkers if I don't.

I'm mutuals with a lot of writers obv, and I sadly don't have time to read their work anymore, unless I get some extra time on my days off or something gets cancelled or like, I end up taking a vacation. I carry a great amount of guilt for this, though, even though I logically know it's reasonable. I try to support them where I can, cheer them on when I see them writing and tell them how cool their ideas sound, hype them up even when I can't actually read & review.

One of the things I do is sometimes I leave a kudos on fic I haven't read. I'm not trying to be ingenuine, and if they asked me I'd tell them like 'Oh I didn't read it yet, just wanted to show support!' but to me it's kinda like ripping a paper tab off a poster so that other's feel inclined to do the same. Plus my pals get a little email and a hit of serotonin.

Except one of my acquaintances, the one I mentioned at the start here, saw that I left kudos on a couple pieces another mutual of mine wrote this year. They more or less blew up my DMs with a ton of accusatory (like, literally presented like a 'GOTCHA!') stuff about how I was selective in who's fic I read, more or less implying that I secretly held some sort of grudge or negative feeling toward them and was making the conscious decision not to read or interact with their writing because of. Something, I don't actually know what they were trying to say. They also told me they vented to their friends about this MULTIPLE times, but they never once approached me to let me know they were feeling paranoid or neglected, they literally just took the most bad faith reading of it possible and then presented that to me like it was something I intentionally did, while the whole time I was unaware.

I tried to explain to them the kudos thing, that I didn't do it to every story, just ones I caught/noticed in my busy schedule. And I laid all this out and asked, multiple times, what free time am I supposed to read with? They didn't answer, and doubled down, kept trying to show me 'proof' that I was shorting them and no one else. Once they started to realize how wrong they were they backed down, but they didn't really apologize, or admit they were wrong, and they tried to end our relationship and left every single server we were in together. Because of some other unrelated stuff going on in my life, I didn't really consider them to be a close friend, but they were someone I really held dear and would've walked through hell for if they'd asked.

I still feel like there is something I'm missing here, and that's why I wanted to ask if I'm TA. I'm a pretty good communicator but one of the things I told myself when talking down my disordered thoughts (guilt about this prior) was "no one in their right mind would use reading fanfic as a metric for friendship." Now that I've had that exact thing happen, I'm starting to think maybe those thoughts weren't so disordered. Maybe this IS a big deal, and I should think about it more, but I don't even know what the solution to that would be. I just. Don't have time to read something lovingly crafted and appreciate it for what it is. All the hours in my week are used up, I'd have to lose sleep for this and with my mental health the way it is that is not an option.

Feel free to be a brutal, my skin is thick. Thanks!

What are these acronyms?

[seoulmatez]

— 𝓁𝓊𝒸𝓀𝓎 ౨ৎ

suo hayato x reader ﾉ 957 wc. ﾉ sfw ﾉ fluff ﾉ reader works at a cafe ﾉ suo is a flirty fella~

my first time writing for the fandom! if u don't have anything nice to say, don't say it at all :3

the bell above the door rings, but you don’t stop wiping down the table or turn around to greet your customer. without seeing him, without hearing him, you already know who it is. no one else would feel so comfortable walking in so near to closing time.

“ah~ i’m not too late, am i?” suo’s voice rings through the air of the cafe, calm and curious. you can hear the soft smile in it.

when you turn around, he’s already made himself comfortable at his regular spot—a stool off the end of the counter where you take orders. the white changshan he dons is pristine and it makes the yellow of his hanging earrings seem even brighter than usual. his head is tilted to the side as he waits for a response or a greeting, 

your eyes flit up to the clock on the wall. “seven minutes later and the door would have been locked.”

“lucky me!” he closes his visible eye and happily waves his hands. it doesn’t seem as though he minds being one of the customers you would usually complain to him about. maybe it’s because he knows you’d make an exception for him—not that you’ve ever told him so, though, he’s claimed on multiple occasions that you’re easy for him to read. perhaps he’s caught on to your thinly veiled fondness of him.

“what kept you?” you ask, lifting up the countertop to step behind it. you toss the rag you had just been using into the sink before turning on the water to wash your hands. your skin prickles as you do so and you know it’s because the man’s auburn gaze is glued to your back. “you’re usually in here a little earlier.”

“something held me up,” he tells you as you dry your hands. you raise your eyebrows in an attempt to prod him for more information. but you’re only met with a smile and the vague addition of, “nothing important.”

you’ve got an idea of what he was up to but, just like suo, you choose not to say it. his unwillingness to share used to come across as secretive but when you began to learn more about him through snippets of the conversations of your regulars, you gained a better understanding of his avoidance of certain topics. that privacy he so often exercises is really a shield to protect you from the not-so-pretty parts of his world.

maybe he truly is the gentleman seemingly everyone regards him as.

you clear your throat in hopes of changing the subject. “anything you’re craving today?”

he hums in thought, tapping his chin as though he’s deeply considering all of his options. you have to bite back a smile because, other than the fact that your selection is incredibly limited due to the time, you and he both know he already has an answer in mind. as if he had just settled on it, suo meets your eye. “have any tea cakes left?”

“they sold out this morning.”

he lets out an exaggerated, disappointed sigh before poking his bottom lip out in a pout. “how unfortunate.”

his theatrical show is enough to make you roll your eyes but it doesn’t stop you from turning around to grab the box you had set aside once you finished baking this morning. in addition to being suo’s favorite, the tea cakes he requested are a best seller at the bakery. you had a feeling they’d be gone before he got the chance to get some for himself. so, you thought ahead and separated a few from the batch just for him.

you carefully slide the box in front of him. “i saved some for you.”

“ i really am lucky.” he smiles, teeth and all. you’ve always thought that it’s a good thing he’s so happy—otherwise, you wouldn’t get to see his smile as often as you do. now that you’ve seen it, you can’t imagine going a day without the sight. soon enough, his teeth are hidden behind lips that curl up at the corners. “you must be an angel put on earth just for me.”

“relax,” you breathe out a nervous laugh, “i wouldn’t go that far.”

his honeyed words leave you feeling a little embarrassed. all you did was set some treats aside for him… so why are the tips of your ears growing warm and your fingers restlessly fiddling with the hem of your apron?

there’s a hint of humor—entertainment, actually—in suo’s voice when he asks, “how much do i owe you?”

you shake your head. “don’t worry about it. it’s on the house.”

“wow, if you’re any nicer to me, i might start thinking you have a crush or something.”

“what?!” you don’t mean to raise your voice but the accusation isn’t something you can glide past so easily. where on earth did he get that idea? does saving a regular one of their favorites equate to having feelings for them all of a sudden? despite the answer, you rush to explain away the misunderstanding. “i don’t! i-i just—it was a slow night so i already counted the register.”

suo nods along to your excuse, but you don’t miss the way his lips quiver as though he’s one second away from bursting out in laughter. it puts a frown on your face. “i’m serious!”

“no, no,” he waves his hands in surrender but his grin doesn’t budge, “i believe you. it’s just that you’re so adamant.”

“because i don’t like you,” you tell him. “not like that.”

he nods again but it’s accompanied by a sigh this time. “well, that’s too bad. if someone as cute as you had a crush on me, i’d be the luckiest guy in the world.”

thanks for reading! reblogs are greatly appreciated if u enjoyed <3

[thejoyofseax]

Why We Can't Have Medieval Food

I noted in a previous post that I'd "expand on my thinking on efforts to reproduce period food and how we’re just never going to know if we have it right or not." Well, now I have 2am sleep?-never-heard-of-it insomnia, so let's go.

At the fundamental level, this is the idea that you can't step in the same river twice. You can put your foot down at the same point in space, and it'll go into water, but that's different water, and the bed of the river has inevitably changed, even a little, from the last time you did so.

Our ingredients have changed. This is not just because we can't get the fat from fat-tailed sheep in Ireland, or silphium at all anywhere, although both of those are true. But the aubergine you buy today is markedly different to the aubergine that was available even 40 years ago. You no longer need to salt aubergine slices and draw out the bitter fluids, which was necessary for pretty much all of the thing's existence before (except in those cultures that liked the bitter taste). The bitterness has been bred out of them. And the old bitter aubergine is gone. Possibly there are a few plants of it preserved in some archive garden, or a seed bank, or something, but I can't get to those.

We don't really have a good idea of the plant called worts in medieval English recipes. I mean, we know (or we're fairly sure) it was brassica oleracea. But that one species has cultivars as distinct as cabbage, broccoli, cauliflower, kale, Brussels sprouts, collard greens, Savoy cabbage, kohlrabi, and gai lan (list swiped from Wikipedia). And even within "cabbage" or "kale", you have literally dozens of varieties. If you plant the seeds from a brassica, unless you've been moderately careful with pollination, you won't get the same plant as the seeds are from. You can crossbreed brassicas just by planting them near each other and letting them flower. And of course there is no way to determine what varietal any medieval village had, a very high likelihood that it was different to the village next door, and an exceedingly high chance that that varietal no longer exists. Further, it only ever existed for a few tens of years - before it went on cross-breeding into something different. So our access to medieval worts (or indeed, cabbage, kale, etc) is just non-existant.

Some other species within the brassica genus are as varied. Brassica rapa includes oilseed rape, field mustard, turnip, Chinese cabbage, and pak choi.

We have an off-chance, as it happens, of getting almost the same kind of apple as some medieval varieties, because apples can only be reproduced for orchard use by grafting, which is essentially cloning. Identification through paintings, DNA analysis, and archaeobotany sometimes let us pin down exactly which apple was there. But the conditions under which we grow those apples are probably not the same as the medieval orchard. Were they thinned? When were they harvested? How were they stored? And apples are pretty much the best case.

Medieval wheat was practically a different plant. It was far pickier about where it would grow, and frequently produced 2-4 grains per stalk. A really good year had 6-8. In modern conditions, any wheat variety with less than 30 grains per stalk would be considered a flop.

Meats are worse. Selective breeding in the last century has absolutely and completely changed every single species of livestock, and if you follow that back another five centuries, some of them would be almost unrecognisable. Even our heritage breeds are mostly only about 200 years old.

Cheese, well. Cheese is dependent on very specific bacteria, and there are plenty of conditions where the resulting cheese is different depending on whether it was stored at the back or front of the cave. Yogurts, quarks, skyrs, etc, are also live cultures, and almost certainly vary massively. (I have a theory about British cheese here, too, which I'll expand on in a future post)

So, even before you go near the different cooking conditions (wood, burnables like camel and cow dung, smoke, the material and condition of cooking pots), we just can't say with any reliability that the food we're making now is anything like medieval people produced from the same recipe. We can't even say that with much reliability over a century.

Under very controlled conditions, you could make an argument for very specific dishes. If you track down a wild mountain sheep in Afghanistan, and use water from a local spring, and salt from some local salt mine, then you can make a case that you can produce something fairly close to the original ma wa milh, the water-and-salt stew that forms the most basic dish in Arabic cookery. But once you start introducing domestic livestock, vegetables, or even water from newer wells, you're now adrift.

It is possible that some dishes taste exactly the same, by coincidence. But we can't determine that. We can't compare the taste of a dish from five years ago, let alone five hundred, because we're only just getting to a state where we can "record" a taste accurately. Otherwise it's memory and chance.

We've got to be at peace with this. We can put in the best efforts we can, and produce things that are, in spirit, like the medieval dishes we're reading about. But that's as good as it gets.

[imawholeassmood]

Read Between the Lines

read it on ao3

Lena reads the review, rubs her temples a few times, then reads it again. There is no way Super_Girl has rated this book five stars and then wrote multiple paragraphs waxing poetic about how fantastic it was. Lena already submitted her own one-star review which included her breakdown of the writing, the characters, and the plot, of which this book had none.

For months, Lena has been seeing Super_Girl reviews pop up on the same books Lena recently finished. She wondered at this point if Super_Girl might be doing this on purpose – reading the same books just so she could rate the book the opposite of whatever Lena did. At first, it was simple - “Loved it!” or “Couldn’t get into this one,” but as of late, the reviews had gotten longer and more descriptive.

Lena herself always used the same formula for reviewing books: overall star rating with a breakdown of her thoughts on the characters, the plot, and the writing. Books, like most things in life, are easy to rate when you understand the evaluation system. Books follow formulas and rules for a reason – it’s what makes them good. A romance novel, for instance, requires a “happily ever after.” Without it, it cannot be considered a romance, and it certainly wouldn’t be a good one.

So, as Lena reads the latest review by Super_Girl, Lena can’t help but leave a comment. Maybe this person simply needs an education on the book rating system.

“What criteria do you use when rating a book?”

It’s a good starting place for this conversation. Lena has amassed quite the following with people interested in her book reviews and the last thing she wants to do is stir up internet drama to damage her good reputation. She knows how easy it is for people to take something out of context.

The reply comes almost immediately.

“Vibes!”

Lena blinks a few times, then closes the browser and leaves her laptop for the night.

**

Super_Girl does it again with another five-star rating for a book that made Lena seriously consider contacting the literary award agencies to complain about their selection. The book sounded like it was AI generated and had zero plot. And the characters? Don’t even get her started.

“How can you consider this a masterpiece?” she writes under the review. “There is zero substance in this book. It’s just a bunch of flowery words that mean nothing and make no sense. If this is your idea of romance, then I’d hate to be your girlfriend.”

Her phone rings and Lena spends the next hour talking with her assistant, Jess, about the priorities for the week and when they can finalize some presentations. Later, as she lays in bed scrolling on her phone, Lena thinks to check her goodreads account. There, under her latest comment, is a reply from Super_Girl.

“Amidst the turmoil of the crumbling world around them, two people take the time to write love letters to each other. What’s more romantic than that?

I want to meet you in every place I have loved.

I want to be in contact with you.

Swoon.”

Speaking of taking things out of context.

While Lena can see Super_Girl’s point, that’s not enough to change her mind about the book. Especially not in the context of it being a sci-fi fantasy that relegated war to a backdrop in much the same way Hollywood did with Pearl Harbor. Don’t get her started. She types out a response before closing the webpage and going to sleep.

“Relationships develop over time. Even if I agreed with your assessment, this book still lacked any real narrative and there’s zero reason to believe these two people would fall in love. They don’t know anything about each other except that they can write a decent letter.”

**

Oh, no, Lena thinks. Her latest read has her questioning her entire belief system about books. She liked the book. Not because it had a great plot. Not because she was rooting for the characters. She liked the book because…it gave her good vibes. She genuinely had a good time reading it, despite it being a complete shitshow. This never happened to her before.

She opens her goodreads page to leave her review and finds that Super_Girl hasn’t read this one yet. She feels the slightest pang of disappointment but pushes through to her review. At the end of her standard format, she adds a new category: vibes.

It takes a few days, and Lena finds herself checking her account every few hours. She’s sitting at her desk and scrolling on her phone when she gets a notification that Super_Girl commented on her review.

“Vibes?!?! I’m SUPER proud of you! And we agree the characters were awful and the plot was weak, but it was well-written.”

She doesn’t even realize she’s smiling until Jess comments about it.

“Oh, nothing,” she says and waves her hand. “Just a literary rival.”

Jess looks at her. “You’re smiling because of…a rival?”

Is that what they were? The word didn’t really feel like a good fit, but Lena goes with it.

“Agreed with me on a point. Can we please stay focused?”

And they do. Lena and Jess go over the latest reports and prepare for an upcoming meeting with one of their international partners. Lena doesn’t think about Super_Girl again until she’s lying in bed and that damn smile creeps backs onto her face.

**

Her next review is not a good one. It makes Lena question the romance genre as a whole. Has the world become so used to being treated like garbage, people can’t even tell the difference between healthy and toxic love?

She’s barely hit submit when Super_Girl comments on her review.

“They were flirting the whole time!”

Lena is still sour enough she doesn’t bother to hold back on her response.

“Flirting where? Being in each other’s orbit is not flirting. Why can’t people just say, ‘I like you and I’d like to go on a date with you?’ instead of whatever BS was happening in this book. Honestly, I’m worried for your love life if you think this is a healthy way to approach communication.”

Super_Girl goes silent for a long while after that.

Lena worries something may have happened and questions whether she should reach out. They haven’t gone this long without a reciprocal review since they started this little dance of theirs almost a year ago. She finds herself rereading their reviews and wondering about who Super_Girl might be behind the screen name. There’s no profile photo, no personal information at all. Just a single word.

Golly.

Lena smiles at that. In fact, she smiles at everything Super_Girl has written. While they may not agree on books, Lena can’t deny that whoever is behind the reviews is a wordsmith who comes across as the sweetest human on the planet.

It surprises her when she receives a notification that she has been selected to read a new release ahead of publication in exchange for an honest review. Lena doesn’t usually agree because she doesn’t want to give people any reason to think her reviews are biased or influenced in any way. She’s about to deny the request, but the cover art depicts two women, one blonde, the other brunette, and Lena never turns down a sapphic story. She accepts the request without another thought.

**

When Lena finishes The Write Stuff, she starts it over and reads it again, cover to cover. The writing, the pacing, and the storytelling are superb. It’s as if the author has studied every article about how a romance novel should be written. The characters are so well written, she has clear images of who each of these women are. She understands their desires, their fears, and their motives. Not only does she care about these people as a couple, but she also cares about them individually in a way she hasn’t cared about a character in a long time. As for the plot itself? It’s perfectly cheesy and still somehow realistic enough to be believable that it could happen in real life.

Lena hasn’t felt this…satisfied by a book since well, since she can’t remember.

So, that’s exactly what she writes in her review.

“I especially loved this line:

I would rewrite history if it meant a chance for a happy future with you.”

When she’s done, she looks up the author and finds that she’s written one other book.

Lena doesn’t recall reading it, but when she clicks on the title, she finds her review posted with a few hundred likes and several dozen comments. One star and zero positive things to say about it. Lena can’t help but think how far the author has come from this first book to the most recent one. It’s an impressive improvement, and Lena Luthor isn’t easily impressed.

Supergirl leaves a comment on her review a few days later.

“It looks like the author has been paying attention to your feedback.”

**

The following week, Lena is staring at the meeting invitation with furrowed brows and a healthy dose of confusion. She presses the call button on the speaker on her desk.

“Yes, Miss Luthor?” Jess says.

“Jess, why do I have a meeting with Supergirl on my calendar?”

Jess is quiet for a moment. She’s quiet so long, in fact, that Lena’s door opens and a blond woman with thick-rimmed glasses wearing chinos and a tucked-in button down steps just inside. She has a nervous smile and fidgets with her glasses.

Lena recognizes her from the photo bio she still has pulled up on her web browser and stands to greet her.

“Miss Danvers,” she says, “please, come in. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Kara Danvers, author of The Write Stuff, who Lena has been internet stalking for the past week shifts in the doorway. Lena comes around the front of her desk. They stare at each other in silence for a moment before Lena hears a faint “go” from Jess in the reception area. That makes Kara shake out of her stupor.

She brings her hand out from behind her back and holds her arm at full length with a bouquet of…plumerias. Lena can’t believe what she’s seeing. Her favorite flowers which represent love and new beginnings are being offered to her by this stunning woman who wrote one of her favorite books of the year. Lena looks from the flowers back to Kara’s face.

“I like you, Lena Reads” Kara says, “and I would like to go on a date with you.”

[lightsaber-dorphin]

Jedi Order Corps and Subdivisions

More of my worldbuilding for the inner structure of the Jedi Order. This time focusing on the Corps and the schools of thought/ roles within the Order.

Some of these are canon, others are my own creation. The Jedi consolidating to one temple on Coruscant during the Ruusan Reformation is canon, but I’ve taken my own liberties with it. Without further ado, lore!

Prior to the Ruusan Reformation, there were a number of independent denominations of the Jedi. Most of them merged into one order based in the Coruscant temple during what was called the Reunification.

Many denominations had different ideas of what a Jedi should be/ how they should use their powers. As a result, Jedi from certain traditions tended towards certain jobs within the reunified order. The corps and their branches formed as a result of certain traditions and teachings being passed down by Jedi who occupied certain roles.

The corps aren’t administrative divisions. Individual Jedi have their corps and branch affiliation listed on file as a marker of what they specialize in/ what they’re trained to do. Jedi are selected for missions based on their corps and the specifics of the mission, and answer to whichever body sent them on the mission. (see my Jedi Order Bureaucratic Structure)

Reunified Jedi Order:

One permanent location on Coruscant

Wayfinders:

Wandering Jedi who are technically members of the Order & follow its precepts but don't answer to the Council

Nonspecific:

Individual members can and do have corps/ division affiliations, but the group as a whole doesn't have a corps/ division affiliation

Usually part of the Sentinels or EduCorps

People aren’t selected to be trained for these jobs it’s all volunteer work

A lot of people do it part-time or for short periods, but a few folks make it their permanent gig

Maintenance workers:

Sometimes someone says “what if instead of going on missions I patched all the holes in our drywall” and why would they stop them

Lots of part-time volunteers

Most are Sentinels, because their philosophy encourages learning random useful skills

Quartermasters:

Distribute supplies

The Order buys stuff in bulk and then Jedi pick it up from the quartermasters office

Kitchenmasters:

Jedi way of saying chef

Transport mechanics:

Do you know a Car Person? Imagine if they were a monk.

Accountants:

The most dedicated to preserving the Jedi way of life of any group in the Order

Without these unthanked warriors the Jedi Order would’ve been destroyed by late-stage capitalism

Most are Lore Keepers

Lawyers:

Usually hired from the outside

Inspired by "Jedi Counsel” on ao3

Sometimes a Jedi goes to law school

Temple Guards:

Protect the temple and are its first responders

Based on the lore from "Nameless"

Very connected to the living force within the temple

A little spooky!

Education Corps:

Advance in rank via academic achievement

Maven is the title equivalent to Knight

Can have multiple padawans at one time (but usually don’t)

Lore Keepers:

Strongly believe in the importance of academics

Believe knowledge is the path to connection with the Force

Based on "The Librarian's Lineage"

Preceptors:

Teaching is hugely important to the Jedi, and all Jedi teach & learn how to teach to some degree, but for Preceptors it’s their main focus

Like the MedCorps it has a lot of transfers

Normal Preceptors:

Classroom teachers

Have formal education training

Either work for the Department of Classes or the Department of Primary Classes

DoC and DoPC are roughly the same thing, except the DoPC is for the general education classes all Jedi take as children and the DoC is for elective and continuing education classes

Battlemasters:

Teach lightsaber classes

Have formal education training

Inspired by "Careless to Let It Fall" on ao3

Main differences are that there’s more than one & they take education classes

Crèchemasters:

One lead crèchemaster and two-ish assistant crèchemasters per every 6-ish younglings

Formal training in early childhood education

Must serve as an assistant crèchemaster before being a lead crèchemaster

Assistant crèchemasters are from "aphelion" on ao3

Exploration Corps:

One-on-one apprenticeships

Rarely in the temple (unless they have a padawan, when they’re required to be there more often)

Usually have a bed in a communal room at the temple instead of their own apartment

Use Knight title. Yes this is sometimes confusing

Vanguards:

Wandering explorers/ patrol the galaxy

Instead of responding to specific requests they visit places & are available if anyone wants their help

Specific purpose is to make sure the Jedi don’t neglect/ are unaware of certain parts of the galaxy just because it hasn’t requested Jedi aid in a while

Seekers:

Find potential Jedi and offer them a place in the Order

Bond with new initiates and ease their transition into the Order

Archaeologists:

Expertise in Force-temple ruins

An undead Sith~ sleeping in your bed. Who you gonna call? Ghost! Busters!

Work closely with the Lore Keepers

Most likely to become Wayfinders or leave the Order (by percentage not numbers)

“Former Jedi who got really interested in a niche of archaeology without many Force-related ruins” is a thing in the archaeology community

They can work on normal digs but the Senate won’t approve sending them/ use of Jedi funds

Medical Corps:

MedCorps padawans are very rare. Most members transfer in from another corps

Student healers from other corps have a healing mentor in charge of their healer training, separate from their lineage-master

Healer is the equivalent title to Knight. Healers-in-training are called Student Healers, no matter what their rank is

Knight Corps:

Knights being a fifth corps

This is the corps we see most in canon

One-on-one apprenticeships, Knight title

Guardians:

Focus on fighting abilities & lightsaber combat

Consulars:

Negotiators, ambassadors, diplomats

Focus on Force abilities

Sentinels:

Focus on non-Jedi skills such as hacking

Considered a midpoint between Guardians and Consulars

Shadows:

Jedi spies

Answer to the High Council

Watchfolk:

Permanent/ long-term posting within a system

Agriculture Corps:

Focus on nature-related abilities

Grow most of the food for the Order

Very involved in disaster relief work

Rarely in the temple & usually have a bed in a communal room instead of a personal room

Have long-term postings & typically get settled there

Padawans are assigned to a group rather than an individual

Maven is the Knight-equivalent title

The chapter that inspired this whole project

Terraformers:

Large-scale Force usage

Can revitalize uninhabitable areas

Use the Force to rapidly speed up regrowth, kickstart life on planets where there is none, etc.

Conservationists:

Don’t believe in using the Force on the scale that Terraformers do

Use the Force to help individual plants grow, stave off rot and parasites, connect with animals, etc.

Beastmasters:

Creature specialists

Force-sensitive animal control

Inspiration

[bakuhatsufallinlove]

Hope you’re well. Do you know how much extra content volumes usually have compared to the number of weekly pages? Apparently we’re getting 60 extra pages. Is that a lot more than normal?

Hello! Thanks for the well wishes.

You've come to the right person, because I'm a weirdo who has done a ridiculous amount of research on Shueisha's tankōban releases and how they differ from WSJ serialization, so I have a good idea about how some of those pages are going to be used. I'm also gonna compare what we know about this final volume to those of other series.

Strap in for the spreadsheets and data party, pal!

First, here's a look at a selection of MHA volumes.

EDIT: These numbers come from Shueisha's official listings of the volumes and their table of contents, cross-verified with the MHA fanwiki's chapter page counts, some of my own physical copies, and online fan scans.

As you can see, roughly 20 pages is typical. 58 seems wild in comparison. I wanted to know what those 20 pages were usually used for.

So, I went through my copy of volume 37 and did a breakdown of its contents.

Now lemme explain some things:

Every tankōban will have between 4-6 pages for legal disclaimers ("this is a work of fiction", etc.), table of contents, and copyright information.

A "door" is a printing term for what one might call the volume title page or chapter title page (example in link). Not all chapters have "doors," most have their titles integrated into the first page, like so:

The vast majority of tankōban have page counts that are divisible by four. This is related to the physical mechanics of printing and binding books, so it is unusual to find ones outside this format. Volume 11 is an outlier in this regard with 210 pages; in fact, the English language release cut those two surplus pages.

Tankōban may have dust jackets. MHA tankōban with dust jackets often have a second, internal "sketch cover" and a final page promoting the next volume. These are not included in page counts, and are thus not included in my breakdown.

Manga is of course read right-to-left; this means if you hold a tankōban open, odd-numbered pages will be on the left side and even-numbered pages will be on the right.

In professional publishing, chapters are structured so their first page of actual story content is on the left. Page planning, which is taught to new artists and enforced by editors, involves the odd-numbered page ending on some sort of "pull." Basically, page 2 might be drawn to lead your eye across the book, but page 3 has to make you want to turn the page and find out what happens next.

Basically everything published in Weekly Shonen Jump has chapters with an odd-number of pages, so it'll have 15, 17, 19, or 21 pages, instead of 16, 18, 20, or 22. This allows the chapter to both begin and end on the lefthand side; even-numbered pages before and after the chapters separate the different series with promotional ads.

What we think of as bonus material is mostly what I personally call adjustment pages: in order for every chapter to still begin and end on the odd-numbered page in the tankōban, they must be separated by at least one page that fills the even-numbered gap.

Sketches, quotes, doors, all that extra stuff is really just there to make the structure of the tankōban a little more appealing to the reader. In my breakdown, "adjust" refers to an even-numbered page that is totally blank except for a MHA logo in the bottom corner.

So, 4-6 pages for legal stuff and at least 1 page separating each chapter (typically 8-12), plus a few pages of extra art like character pages or chapter doors, you can see why we end up with roughly 20 pages more than the total of the chapter pages combined.

With this information, let's imagine what Volume 42 might look like.

In this estimate, I just guessed it would have the same pattern of extras as Volume 37, since we know the final volume will have the results of the last WSJ popularity poll. This totals 146 pages, so basically, even accounting for the inter-chapter sketches, that's 38 pages of new, unknown content!

I've seen people guessing that the final volume will include the 2008 one-shot Horikoshi used as the basis for My Hero Academia, but I can basically guarantee you that won't happen, because when it was published in Akamaru Jump (which is now called Jump GIGA), it was 47 pages long. Yes, I went and found a Japanese blog post from January 2008 to verify this page count.

126 chapter pages + 4 legal pages + 8 adjustment pages between chapters + 4 pages for popularity poll + 47 one-shot pages = 189 pages, 5 pages too many. They would have to remove the adjustment pages to make it work, which totally fucks the flow of the manga.

Furthermore, the word used in the WSJ ad to describe the bonus material for the final volume (描き下ろし) specifically refers to drawings newly made for a special purpose. They simply would not use this to refer to a previously published manga being included.

For comparison, I researched the tankōban releases for a number of other WSJ series.

Dr. Stone and Mashle's final volumes were basically identical to their regular volumes in terms of extras and content. I also researched The Prince of Tennis and Naruto as older comparisons, but I couldn't find information exact enough to warrant inclusion, but what I saw more or less matched Dr. Stone and Mashle.

As you can see, Demon Slayer is the weird one here, and it's obvious why. The series ended during the first few months of the COVID-19 pandemic, and Gotouge mentioned having a family member they needed to care for; a lot of people felt these issues contributed to Gotouge not being able to end the series as they had originally intended.

Demon Slayer chapters were typically 19 pages, but the last two chapters were 26 pages and 24 pages, uncommonly even-numbered. If you look at the final chapters and the epilogue in the tankōban, just numbers-wise, the ending could have been four 19-page chapters. But for whatever reason, that wasn't how it went down during serialization.

It's worth noting that the pages added to the tankōban do not change the ending, they merely provided greater emotional closure.

Side note but if anyone's gonna try and bring up Attack on Titan, I'm just gonna point out that AOT was a monthly manga published by Kodansha, a different company entirely. I imagine they have their own approach to marketing tankōban or special releases. You also have to consider the tastes and intentions of the creator, and hot take but I have absolutely no fucking positive opinions on that dude or his work, so it was no surprise to me that anything he added just made the ending worse.

TL;DR: Yes, it's a lot more than regular volumes! Content-wise, we'll probably get beautiful new illustrations and some revised page art that add details which improve pacing or themes. We might get a few extra chapter pages where a single serialized page gets turned into a big double-page spread, like we saw for Katsuki's fight with AFO.

There could be a couple new panels that bring more closure to things that were hinted at in the final chapters, who knows.

The only thing I personally want is a true bkdk handhold.

I'd love a double-page spread of Izuku taking Katsuki's hand and beaming up at him. Just insert it right there at the end before we see them all scampering off to make the world a better place. That would do my heart good.

[cakesunflower]

lovelorn (and nobody knows) [rafe cameron au fic] chapter 4

Summary: Isla Carrera had planned for the summer before college to be focused on three things: helping out at her family’s restaurant (the helpful daughter), preparing for college (the good student), and having fun with the Pogues (the loyal friend). But one fateful night, where her car breaks down and her rescuer is none other than Rafe Cameron, seems to send her summer down a path she didn’t see coming–one teeming with a secret, illicit romance with the last person she expected. And if her friends and sister found out, Isla isn’t sure they’ll be so understanding, no matter what her feelings are.

Previous Chapters: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

Isla is pushing a grocery cart down the snack aisle of the grocery store when she spots someone she is in no mood to interact with.

Her ex-boyfriend, Carlo, stands at the end of the aisle, peering at the shelf before him as he makes his snack selection. Thankfully, he’s oblivious to Isla’s presence as she slowly backs down to exit the aisle at the other end, hoping to disappear around the corner before he can spot her, her grip on the handlebar of the shopping cart tight as the wheels rattle with every spin.

Luckily, Isla is able to reach the end without bumping into anyone or anything, and pulls and pushes the cart down the side aisles instead, putting distance between herself and Carlo. She can just get the snacks at the end—anything to avoid risking running into him again.

The two of them had broken up a year ago, but Isla had to spend the entire school year seeing him, since they shared a few classes together. The breakup had been messy, to say the least; they’d dated all throughout sophomore year, the summer after, and a few months into their junior year. Except, Carlo had gone to New Jersey for that summer, visiting family, and it wasn’t until the school year had started that Isla found out he had been cheating on her with some girl he met during his vacation. The only way she found out was because the girl had discovered that he had been in a relationship with Isla, and reached out to her through Instagram to tell her of what Carlo did.

It had been devastating for Isla because, truly, she did love him—or, well, as much as a sixteen year old was capable of love. But the second his infidelity came to light, she had ended things—and he had the audacity to tell her that she was the one making a mistake by breaking up with him. As if the mistake hadn’t been made by him when he decided to spend his summer hooking up with a girl down at the Jersey Shore. And then for a long while after, he kept trying to win her back, as if she was some prize that slipped away from his fingers, despite Isla never giving him the time of day.

And although the idea of violence doesn’t exactly thrill Isla, she was relieved that when John B took it upon himself to threaten Carlo with physical harm if he didn’t leave Isla alone, her ex finally backed off. For the most part. Escaping his line of sight at the grocery store is her not wanting to really test those waters again.

She occupies herself by going to the other side of the store, getting her toiletry essentials that she’s running low on and hoping that by the time she goes back to the snack aisle, Carlo is gone. The party Sarah is throwing at her place is tonight, and Isla is in charge of buying snacks for the guests. Sarah’s going to end up ordering pizza at some point for everyone, but enough snacks should hold the rowdy, drunk teenagers for a good bit. 

As if on cue, Isla’s music playing through her headphones gets interrupted by an incoming call, and she pulls her phone out of her pocket to see Sarah’s name and a selfie of them two lighting up the screen. “Hey, are you on your way yet?” Sarah asks by way of greeting.

Isla huffs out a breath, placing her preferred coconut scented body wash into the cart. “In a bit. Hit a snag at the store and I gotta drop off my stuff at home before heading over.”

“A snag?” Sarah repeats. “What does that mean?”

Pursing her lips briefly, she confesses with a sardonic chuckle, “I saw Carlo in the snack aisle and bolted to the other side of the store.”

“Oh, crap,” her friend mutters. “Yeah, okay, take your time. Hope you don’t have to deal with him.”

“Me and you both, sister,” Isla mutters, pushing her way out of the aisle. “Are the others there yet?”

“Yeah, Kie and Cleo have been helping me move my parents’ valuables into the locked rooms,” Sarah snickers. It’s not their first time throwing a party in the Cameron household, so they’ve become experts in taking anything expensive that Ward and Rose Cameron hold dear and putting them away into a locked room so they don’t get destroyed during a party. “The guys just got here with the drinks.”

“Let me guess—JJ got his hands on a keg.”

“Two of them,” Sarah laughs. 

Isla whistles, smile burgeoning as she makes her way through the store, her gaze half sharp to look out for her ex. “Sounds like we’re in for a rager.” 

They hang up soon after that, and Isla braces herself to go back to the snack aisle and breathes out a sigh of relief when she doesn’t spot Carlo anywhere. She makes quick work of grabbing several party sized bags of chips before heading back to the front of the store. She feels a little paranoid, stupidly so, that she’s going to see Carlo, so she works quickly. Having any kind of conversation with him is not on her agenda for today—or ever—because why should she give the guy who cheated on the time of day? 

As much of a stretch as it may be, Isla is kind of hoping she never has to see him again now that school is over. It might not be realistic, since she’s going to college over on the mainland and the Cut isn’t that big, so running into him is totally a possibility. But a girl can dream, right?

Isla makes her escape quickly enough and is pulling up to Sarah’s house thirty minutes later. As she gets out of her car—finally back from the shop—Isla can’t help the way her gaze scans the Cameron’s gravel driveway in search of a certain guy’s motorcycle, heart thudding when she doesn’t spot it amongst Sarah’s own parked car and John B’s van. As she opens the trunk of her car, she’s not quite sure if she feels relief or disappointment when she doesn’t spot Rafe’s motorcycle, that in of itself is complicated as all hell. 

If only her friends heard that thought—they might think she’s gone insane. Maybe she has.

“I’m here!” Isla calls out, a tote bag filled with her outfit and makeup for tonight hanging off her shoulders while her hands grip the grocery bags. “A little help?!”

She hears footsteps as she makes her way to the kitchen in the bag, smiling in relief as Pope turns the corner and comes into view. “Here, I got you,” he says, helpfully taking some of the bags from her. “Jeez, how much did you get?”

“Hopefully enough to feed a houseful of people,” Isla answers with a snort, putting the remaining bags on the marble countertop. She and Pope begin taking out the several bags of chips, along with the packs of red solo cups Isla had also picked up upon Sarah’s request. “Where are JJ and John B?”

“Setting up the Christmas lights in the backyard,” Pope replies and off her arched eyebrow, he chuckles and explains, “Sarah wanted it to look pretty and colorful.” He puts air quotes around the words with a fond roll of his eyes. “Last I checked, they were still trying to untangle the whole thing.”

Isla hums in acknowledgement before asking, “When are people supposed to start coming?”

Pope glances at the digital watch on his wrist. “Like, two hours. Less than, I think.”

Isla grabs her tote. “I need to get ready.”

Her friend shakes his head, scoffing. “It should not take you two hours to get ready for a party.”

She flips her hair over her shoulder, already walking out of the kitchen as she tells him, “Perfection takes time, Pope.”

She takes the steps two at a time as she heads upstairs, hearing the girls’ chatter the closer she gets to Sarah’s room. Upon entering, Isla spots her sister in front of the mirror in the ensuite, leaning close to her reflection and lips parted as she applies mascara; Sarah’s in front of her vanity, blotting blush onto her cheeks, while Cleo sits cross legged in front of the floor length mirror as she slicks her dark hair back into a high ponytail.

“Damn, are there any mirrors left for me?” Isla teases, catching her friends’ attention.

She’s met with laughter while Kie calls from the bathroom, “I’m almost done!”

From her place on the floor on the other side of the room, Cleo asks her, “Whatcha wearin’ tonight?”

“I was thinking these,” Isla answers, gesturing to the distressed denim cut-offs she’s already got on while digging through her tote bag. “With this.”

She holds up the crocheted purple and black bralette top, a cute find she had discovered when she and Kie had gone to the mainland for some thrifting. “Very cute,” Sarah nods approvingly, cheeks a pretty pink glow. “Are you gonna swim?”

Isla shrugs, undecided. “Not sure.”

“Unless the guys throw you in the pool,” Kie says as she walks out of the bathroom, dressed in her own black denim shorts and a red tank top, the strings of her yellow bikini top tied around her neck.

“Only if they have a death wish,” Isla scoffs, grabbing her small makeup bag and heading to the bathroom. She doesn’t mind taking a swim, truthfully, but she’d hope the guys would give her enough time to empty her pockets; one of the last times they so lovingly tossed her in the pool, Isla’s phone was still in her pocket and she ended up needing to buy a new one. A bowl of rice definitely did not help.

Isla takes her time in getting ready, accompanied by conversations with her friends as she does her makeup under the bright lights of Sarah’s bathroom mirror. Truthfully, Isla is only half listening to Cleo’s story of how she chased out a would-be robber from Heywards’—an unsurprising pastime for Cleo—because her thoughts keep drifting to a certain guy with blue eyes and dark blonde hair whose face keeps flashing through her head.

Isla’s jaw clenches, movements slowing in buffing out her foundation as she gazes at her reflection, throat working. It unnerves her how frequently Rafe has been creeping through her thoughts since that night he helped her out when her car broke down. And then again when he let her borrow his shirt, before giving her a ride home to escape from the cops. She has interacted with him more just this last week than she has in an entire month in the past. Whatever their interactions, they shouldn’t have a lasting effect on Isla like they do. She keeps trying to remind herself that none of it is a big deal, and yet…

Shaking her head at herself, Isla continues on with her makeup and then brushes out her hair, her ears already decked out in jewelry. Her neck also adorns matching gold jewelry, necklaces layered together against her smooth brown skin. When she walks out of the bathroom to put her makeup bag back in the tote, Kie lets out a whistle and teasingly says, “You’re gonna drive your favorite touron crazy.”

The others giggle at Kiara’s statement, Isla forcing out a laugh of her own, skin warming at the fact that her stupidly foolish brain has only been focused on one guy—most likely the wrong guy.

When the girls are ready, it’s almost the time for when people will start coming, so they head downstairs and to the back, music already blaring through the speakers that have been set up. Isla is impressed by the set up, the Christmas lights wrapped around the trees and across the gable roof of the porch, also wrapping around the porch pillars. 

Letting out a whistle, Cleo says to Sarah, “Jeez, how many Christmas lights do you have?”

Sarah snickers. “Pretty sure we have some for every room in the house, plus for outside of the house.”

With the sun setting, the Camerons’ backyard is alight with different colors thanks to the lights the boys put up, along with the blue glow of the pool and some of the sconces lit up along the wall that separates the yard from the street they live on. The guys are already helping themselves to drinks, unsurprisingly, while playing beer pong on the opposite side of the yard across the pool. 

As they walk over to the guys, Sarah gasps and grabs Isla’s arm. “Oh, shit, wait, I forgot to ask! Did you manage to leave the store without Carlo seeing you?”

“Whoa, wait, what?” Kiara asks, stopping as she widens her eyes at her sister. “You saw Carlo?”

“Yeah. I guess he’s spending his summer in OBX,” Isla says, face scrunching up in distaste. He seemed to enjoy his summer out of North Carolina, so Isla has no qualms about him leaving again if it meant she could go a summer without running into him.

“Gross,” Kie mutters before throwing an arm around Isla’s shoulders, pulling her close. “Well, he’s irrelevant, so fuck him.”

Cleo snaps her fingers. “Amen.”

Fortunately, it isn’t long until people start arriving, the volume of the music turning up as more and more people come. It’s not long until Isla has a drink in her hand, taking a few shots with her friends before enjoying a High Noon since she’s not quite in the mood for beer tonight. Those shots, though, get the job going right away, and it’s not long until she’s in the backyard, dancing to the music pounding through the speakers with her friends.

She lets loose easily, giggling in between sips as they dance to songs by Sabrina Carpenter to Pitbull. There were loads of people splashing around in the pool, using the diving board to jump in, while others either danced or played games spread around the yard or inside the house. At one point, Isla takes part in an intense game of flip cup, laughing as JJ, standing next to her, yells in her ear to hurry up and flip the cup upright. She ends up laughing so hard, she needs to ditch and go to the bathroom, only to find both bathrooms downstairs occupied, so she ventures up the stairs.

Dodging and weaving past other partygoers, Isla finds the bathroom in the upstairs hallway and breathes a sigh of relief when she finds it empty. Locking the door behind her, she uses the toilet, the party muffled beyond the door as she takes a look at herself in the mirror, washing her hands. Her brown hair falls in messy waves around her shoulders, makeup still intact and a subtle glazed, glassiness to her eyes. She’s not drunk, at that point of tipsiness where she’s still aware of her faculties and surroundings, but it all does make the smile come onto her face easily.

When she exits the bathroom, someone else is waiting to go, practically shoving her out of the way to go inside. Isla stumbles, eyebrows furrowing as she glares at the door and shouts, “Rude!” before turning to head back down the hall.

And maybe she’s drunker than she thought, because surely she can’t have spotted Carlo at the end of the hall, chatting with some people. Isla freezes, blinking a couple of times as the distant sound of a Taylor Swift song plays outside, and praying that she’s only imagining things, because seeing Carlo at the store earlier had been enough.

But, nope, he’s right there, and he’s looking like he’s about to walk away from the people he’s talking to and head in her direction—even though he hasn’t spotted her yet. And Isla panics, knowing that if he sees her, he’s going to want to chat, and so her gaze darts around as she reaches the first door she finds, other than the now occupied bathroom, and shoves it open.

Slamming the door shut, Isla presses her back against it, blowing out a breath as she wills for the slight dizziness, as a result of moving so quickly, to stop. She squints, the room bathed in darkness, and feels along the wall until her fingers come across the lightswitch, flicking it on and pressing her lips together in realization when she sees not only that she’s in a bedroom—but it’s Rafe’s bedroom.

What are the Goddamn odds?

Rolling her lips into her mouth, Isla pushes away from the door and wanders further into the room. She’s never been in here before, never had a reason to, and her eyebrows raise in curiosity as she looks around. There’s a four poster bed to her right, and a set of glass doors that lead to a small balcony that looks over the backyard. A shelf is filled to the brim with all sorts of books, the mantle under the TV opposite of the bed holding some frames with pictures of Rafe with his family. There’s also a desk where his laptop sits, along with notebooks and folders and books, a cup filled with pens and pencils. The dark oak dresser by the closet has plenty of colognes, some watches, deodorant, lotion, and other belongings of Rafe placed neatly on top of it.

Everything is tidy and in its place, and Isla isn’t surprised that Rafe is kind of a neat freak—but she is surprised that she finds that attractive. Isla knows that she should leave instead of venturing further into Rafe’s room, that she shouldn’t be invading his privacy like this. She tries to tell herself she isn’t snooping per se—definitely just observing, maybe, as she takes in a breath and feels her mouth curve up when she inhales his familiar earthy, woody scent.

Isla wanders over towards the dresser, eyebrow ticking up curiously when she spots the bracelets sitting among his watches. She tilts her head, fingers brushing along the beaded bracelets, all in dark colors, that sit with his Rolex, Cartier, and Omega watches. It’s a stark difference, because the bracelets definitely look hand-made, and there’s quite a few of them. Matter of fact, Isla is pretty certain she has seen Rafe wearing them, along with the colorful ones Sarah occasionally wears.

Isla hums in curiosity, practically twirling on her heel to gaze out the window and mumbling a quiet, “oh,” when she gets a little too dizzy. “No spinning,” she mutters to herself, feeling more of the effects of alcohol sink into her blood. With a newfound urge to sit, she squeezes her eyes shut to keep the dizziness at bay while blindly grabbing the back of the desk chair, wheeling it towards her before sitting down. 

She tells herself she’s only going to sit for a few minutes, just enough to be steady on her feet again. She’s not sure, however, when she ends up drifting off to sleep.

*****

“Isla? Hey. Wake up, Isla.”

She’s being shaken gently, slowly being pulled out of her impromptu slumber. Her eyebrows furrow together, inhaling sharply as her body comes to the realization of the mildly uncomfortable position she’s in. Her arms are folded under her head, her cheek resting against them before slowly lifting her head as she blinks her eyes open. “What..?”

There’s a hand gently gripping her shoulder, warm, as Isla straightens in the chair and winces slightly at the subtle heaviness in her muscles. How long had she been asleep for? She remembers not to rub at her eyes, since she’s got on makeup, and resolves to cover her mouth with a hand as she yawns before asking, “What time is it?”

“Nine-forty-two,” comes the reply, a voice way too familiar and it’s possible Isla has sobered up now as she freezes where she’s sitting.

Slowly, Isla lifts her gaze, pulse quickening when her eyes meet a pair of blue ones. Bright and beautiful and tinged with both surprise and concern as Rafe stares down at her, most likely wondering what the hell she’s doing in his bedroom. 

Heat crawls up Isla’s neck and floods her cheeks, wishing she was drunk so she could be numb to any sort of embarrassment, but that, unfortunately, isn’t the case as she becomes keenly aware of his hand still on her shoulder, his skin touching hers thanks to the straps of her top. Looking up at him, Rafe arches an eyebrow and maybe she should consider herself lucky that he doesn’t look pissed that she’s found herself in his room, but it’s embarrassing all the same. The ten minute nap wasn’t worth it, even if it did sober her up a little.

“Um,” she sounds, trying not to cringe as she tries to think of something to say.

“You sure know how to party, huh?” comes Rafe’s response, and when she glances up at him, she sees a smirk dancing on the corners of his lips as he looks down at her, eyebrow arched. There’s no doubt there’s mirth dancing in those eyes, too.

“I didn’t mean to fall asleep,” she defends, embarrassed, as she runs her hand through her hair. “Just needed to make an escape.”

“An escape?” Rafe repeats, stepping back as she gets to her feet. She tries not to miss the warmth of his hand. “From what?” Before she can answer, he scrunches his face in bewilderment and asks, “Why are you always running from something?”

Isla clamps her lips together, suppressing the sudden urge to laugh because, really, he’s not wrong. He’s been playing her rescuer the last few times they interacted, and it’s ironic that it’s his bedroom she found refuge in to keep out of Carlo’s sight. Her lips tremble until the laugh bursts free, hand clamping over her mouth as her shoulders shake. It’s really not that funny, but maybe Isla is still a little tipsy as she watches Rafe’s expression shift from incredulity and melt into amusement of his own, eyes lightening with mirth as he watches her laugh, his own lips tipping upwards.

“What the hell is so funny?” Rafe asks, though the words escape in between his own chuckles.

Isla shakes her head and shrugs. “I don’t know,” she answers, still giggling, cheeks flushed. Either from the alcohol or him, she doesn’t know. And, God, who would’ve thought that Rafe Cameron would be making her blush? Her laughter slowly subsides and, noting that Rafe is watching her, Isla bites the inside of her cheek before saying, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to, like, invade your privacy.”

She gestures lamely to the room, lips pressing together. Rafe, in response, smirks as he lifts his chin and gives a one shouldered shrug. “You’re not invading anything,” he says coolly, surprising her. She definitely thought he’d be upset that she was finding refuge in his room. “It’s fine—so long as you tell me why you were hiding out in here,” he adds, arching his eyebrow.

She huffs out a breath, not surprised he isn’t dropping it. She gazes out the window to her right, taking note of the party going on out in the backyard. From where Isla stands, she can see JJ tossing Kie into the pool, just barely hearing her sister’s screech over the music, and Isla is glad she wasn’t down there to be the next victim.

Feeling Rafe’s expectant gaze on her, Isla answers, “My ex is here—don’t know why, since I know none of us invited him—and any sort of conversation with him is going to piss me off.” Not to mention, hurt with the reminder of what he did. “I saw him out in the hall and just ran into the first room I could find.”

Rafe arches a brow as he moves towards his bed, walking to the bedside table and grabbing the box of Marlboros Isla hadn’t noticed before, along with a lighter. “Ex, huh?” he muses, pulling out a cigarette and placing it between his lips as he walks back over to her, his gait casual. He tips the small pack towards her and Isla pulls a cigarette out for herself; not her preferred blunt, but it’d do, as Rafe opens the balcony door but doesn’t step outside. “What’d he do?” he asks, flicking the lighter on in one try and bringing the flame to the end of his cigarette.

Isla places her own between her lips, pulse quickening when Rafe holds the still flaming lighter towards her. Their eyes meet as she leans forward, cigarette between her middle and index fingers, bringing it closer to the flame until it catches. Straightening, Isla takes a drag, letting the nicotine fill her lungs with that familiar subtle burn as Rafe does the same, the end of his cigarette glowing ember.

She exhales, letting the smoke drift out the window, and answers, “Cheated on me.”

Blunt and to the point, and she tries not to flinch at the truth. It’s one she has accepted, but sometimes the sting still accompanies it whenever she thinks or talks about it. And, frankly, it’s a little humiliating to acknowledge that she wasn’t enough for someone, to the point where her boyfriend found someone else. That she was so lacking as a girlfriend, as someone to be wanted, that a guy that she loved gave his attention to another girl. It brought up insecurities Isla didn’t know she had, ones that she’s been fighting off ever since silently. 

But then Rafe stands in front of, watching her with a look in his eyes she can’t quite decipher, exhaling the smoke through his nose as he states, “You’re better off without a dumbass like that.”

His words bring forth a warmth that she should consider dangerous. Even still, Isla keeps her gaze locked with Rafe’s as she responds, “I know.”

He looses a rough chuckle before asking, “Your friends know you’re up here?”

Isla tilts her head slightly, peering up at him. God, he’s tall. A whole head, probably more, than her. “Do they know I’m up here in general, or that I’m up here with you?” she asks, bringing the cigarette back to her mouth.

Rafe smirks and her stomach tumbles. “If you’re asking, then you already know.”

Her skin is warm, but Isla knows it has nothing to do with the smoke in her lungs and everything to do with the man in front of her. “They don’t know where I am,” she admits, reaching her hand out to the side table where an ashtray sits, hovering her cigarette above it as she taps the ashes away. “But they’ll probably start looking for me.”

Rafe hums with an upwards tilt of his chin, and Isla has to force herself not to openly admire the sharp line of his jaw. “Guess you should probably go find them before they find you,” he drawls, and the look in his blue eyes is challenging, almost.

Isla blows a cloud of smoke out of her mouth, and it isn’t lost on her how at ease she feels in this moment with Rafe. If her friends found her here, they for sure would be confused as all hell. Maybe even mad. Betrayed? Seems dramatic, but not impossible. “Tired of having a Pogue in your room?” Isla finds herself taunting with a subtle tilt of her head, eyebrow raised.

To her surprise, Rafe’s expression shifts, a scoff escaping him as he rolls his eyes. “You and our sisters,” he starts with a shake of his head, tapping his cigarette over the ashtray, head ever so slightly ducked as his bangs frame his temples and forehead. “What’s so bad about where you’re from and what you have that the three of you would rather be from that side of the island?”

Instead of hearing any scorn in his tone, Isla mostly picks up bewilderment and incredulity, like he can’t possibly understand why she, Kie, and Sarah would rather be Pogues than Kooks. That’s always been a source of dissent between Sarah and Rafe, too. While her older brother is comfortable with the life they have, Sarah has always felt restless, which is why she found friendship and solace with Isla and her friends. It’s why they welcomed her with open arms, because Isla and Kiara were the same way, too.

They know they’re privileged, lucky enough to have what they have, which is more than what their friends do. It’s not that they’re ungrateful—far from it. But growing up on Figure Eight, within a wealthy society, comes with a set of expectations and pressure that neither Isla nor Kiara were good with handling. Their parents worked hard to give them a good life, which they’re thankful for, but that doesn’t mean giving up their freedom to put on masks and pretend to be someone they’re not. Isla’s parents raised her and Kiara to be themselves, to be independent, and they found a lot of that independence and freedom with their friends, who just so happen to be on the other side of the tax bracket.

Wealth has nothing to do with it. It’s all about living their lives the way they want to, without any sort of judgment and ridicule. For Isla, there is a lot of self-imposed academic pressure that she struggles, sometimes, under the weight of. When it comes to everything else, she would like as much freedom as she can—the kind of freedom and carefree lifestyle that isn’t possible living under the lens of Kooks.

“I don’t think you get it,” Isla says to Rafe, not being pity or scornful, but just wanting him to understand. When he looks at her expectantly, Isla shrugs, her smile small but soft. “It’s not about materialistic things or hating where we’re from. We know we’re lucky to have what we do. It’s honestly really just about our friends and how, at the end of the day, there’s no real divide between us.” She shrugs, cheeks heating under Rafe’s quiet gaze. “There’s no ego, no one’s trying to one-up the other. It’s just a real friendship between all of us and, personally, I never found that here. But with them, it’s easy. It’s right.”

Truthfully, Isla half expects Rafe to scoff in her face, to tell her she’s being a child and that it’s the most ridiculous thing he’s ever heard. It would track, simply by the way he and her friends have interacted in the past, even if it would be a contrast to how he’s been acting around her recently. Her skin is on fire, feeling like an exposed livewire as she distracts herself by finishing off the rest of her cigarette, the walls of Rafe’s room vibrating slightly with the bass of the music playing outside. The party is louder now, thanks to the open balcony doors, though from where Isla stands, she can’t really see down to the backyard from over the balcony. 

“Well, when you put it like that,” Rafe begins, muttering slightly as he shrugs his broad shoulders, reluctantly meeting her gaze. “Doesn’t sound that unreasonable.” 

Isla blinks at him, surprise no doubt evident on her face upon hearing his words. Her lips part, but no words come out for a brief moment before she blurts, “Seriously?”

Rafe looks at her, raising an eyebrow. “It’s so hard to believe that I’d believe you?”

Is she being punked? Maybe this actually was a blunt. Or maybe she’s still drunk. “Um, a little,” she admits, blinking at him in bewilderment. “Because I’m sure Sarah’s probably told you the same thing, so why’re you taking my word for it and not your sister’s?”

He shoots her a flat look, though there may be a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes. “She’s my younger sister. I’ve become an expert in tuning her out most of the time.” When Isla scowls at Sarah’s expense, Rafe chuckles. “Don’t worry. It goes both ways,” he tells her, moving around her and towards the dresser behind her.

Isla turns, following him with her gaze as he unclips the watch he’s wearing and places it on the dresser. Her head tilts in curiosity, gaze dropping to the surface of the table, and finds her gaze drinking in the sight of his tall, lean figure as she asks, “What’re those bracelets?”

Rafe glances at her over his shoulder before looking back down at his collection of bracelets. Her heart does something funny in her chest when Rafe’s fingers brush along the bracelets and a ghost of a smile touches his lips. “Wheezie went through a phase of making a bunch of these things,” he tells her. “These are the ones she made me.”

Isla presses her tongue to the floor of her mouth, his explanation one that makes her heart trip once again—a sensation that is slowly becoming exclusively just Rafe’s, which might be dangerous. But she can’t help it—not when she knows that those beaded bracelets she has seen him wearing in the past, ones she never really given much thought to, are ones his youngest sister made for him. She doesn’t want to admit it, but it begins to paint Rafe in a new light; not just the guy who gets into fights with her friends. Hell, Isla thinks her opinion of him was already slowly changing since that night he helped her when her car broke down, and now is the night she’s willing to admit it.

“That’s. . . Very cute,” Isla says, almost in wonder.

Rafe turns to look at her, mirth dancing in his eyes. “You calling me cute, Isla?”

Her cheeks heat, scoffing so she doesn’t look as flushed as she feels. “No,” she says vehemently, maybe a little too much so as Rafe cocks an eyebrow, that smirk appearing once more. “I meant the bracelets.” His smirk only widens and her pulse is racing to face as she stubs out the cigarette and says hastily, “I’m gonna go,” as she turns and heads towards the bedroom door, face on fire.

Her hand grasps the doorknob when she hears, “Isla.” She freezes at the sound of her name on his tongue again, turning to glance at him over her shoulder. He gives her a tiny smile. “I don’t mind having you in my room.”

Her eyes widen slightly, pulse skipping a beat or two as she makes sense of his words. “Is that—” She resists the urge to clear her throat. “An invite?”

That smile becomes his signature smirk, blue eyes light and so teasing. “Just a statement of fact.”Oh, God. She’s not sure what to say to that, if there is anything to even say. Words certainly don’t come to the tip of her tongue. Especially not when he’s watching her, like he’s expecting some sort of reaction. She doesn’t give it to him. Instead, Isla opens the door and leaves the room, willing her thundering heart to calm down as she goes to find her friends with the weight of Rafe’s gaze still heavy on her back.

[gabessquishytum]

out of all of night and time’s children, dream is the only omega. so when he presents (as a late bloomer of course) they have absolutely no idea what to do with him. they’re obviously on the more neglectful side, too, so they just sort of leave him be and hope he figures it out for himself. their neighbor, hob, who’s older and has an adult son of his own, overheard night gossiping about how clueless she is over her only omega child, and made sure to let her know that, hey, he’s got an omega kid too! he was a single dad for a long time before robyn left the nest, but he still remembers how to care for an omega child. night and time can totally send dream over to hobs house to be “taken care of,” he has the experience! it’s definitely not a ploy for a pervy older man to get his hands on a clueless virgin omega….definitely not

Oh I can't help myself, I do love pervy Hob.

Just imagine poor little Dream showing up at Hob’s place with his little bag of clothes and books, not really knowing why or how long he'll be staying. Hob welcomes him in so warmly, Dream almost immediately lets go of some tension. Ever since he presented, he's been stressed the whole time. But Hob’s pleasant scent and comfy home finally encourage him to relax. Hob has the guest room all set up with the things that an omega might want or need - plenty of good nesting material, snacks, hygiene products. Even a small selection of toys, which Dream doesn't even recognise at first. Hob chuckles and says that he doesn't have to use them, but it never hurts to find out what feels good! Dream is suddenly so grateful - Hob is just looking out for him! It's sweet!

And Hob continues to be nothing but sweet. He cooks delicious meals, giving Dream lessons about nutrition for omegas. Best of all he always lets Dream cuddle up to him. He never discourages physical contact - he says that it's very important for omegas to have a lot of touch. Dream never got that at home. He's so touch starved he hardly ever leaves Hob alone, except at bedtime... and that's only because Dream wants to sneak to his room and experiment with his toys. Hob explained omega anatomy to him after he'd settled in, and now Dream has a craving for all the things Hob spoke about... he spends all night with his fake knot inside him, but he's sure that the real thing would be better.

Dream is on meds to suppress his heat cycle, but he still feels so sick and needy as he body enters pre-heat. He's been with Hob for a few weeks, and he's already obsessed with the older alpha. How could he not be, when Hob has basically laid the foundations of a bond between them? So it makes sense for Dream to slip into Hob’s bed and rub up against him, seeking comfort and love.

Oh, Hob takes such good care of his precious little omega as he experiences his mild heat symptoms. Hob lets him stay in bed for days, bringing him all his meals and even bathing him. And best of all Hob keeps him happy with fingers pressed deep in his slick hole, making him cum over and over. Dream is utterly blissed out and totally besotted with Hob, bless him. He even begs for a knot. But Hob won't give it to him.

Not until Dream is off his meds and gets a proper heat. Not until they're officially mated. And let's face it, Dream’s parents aren't going to say no, especially since Hob hasn't taken advantage of their omega son. He's still technically a sweet little virgin after all. And he'll just have to wait a little bit longer.

It's all going to be so worth it, Hob promises.

[desceros]

me: [looks at calendar, gets a wicked idea, looks into the camera] happy springtime, turtle fam! who's ready to celebrate the season?

...mating season, that is. hehe. [dodges the tomatoes]

so! i had the idea that it would be super fun to have a community-wide event where we all have a prompt and then everyone fills it in their own way.

...i then decided all the prompts i came up with were too good not to use, but also none of them were Good Enough to use exclusively, so i changed my mind and the prompt is now just MATING SEASON. with a few suggestions at the bottom of this post if you're looking for some.

since spring is coming upon us, i hereby invite everyone to join in the vernal festivities... which in turtle parlance, of course, means only one thing: write, draw, whatever your version of "mating season", then join me on march 1 to post it with the tag #TMNTSpringShellebration. we then shall browse the fine selection of our mutual artistic efforts, and basically just have a good time as a community.

here are the prompts i came up with as starters-slash-things-to-include if you're looking for a place to get started. feel free to use these at will, or use them to come up with something of your own:

“Please don’t make me explain this. It’s humiliating as is.”

Oops, Looks Like Mating Season Came A Week Early This Year

“…In all of my mating seasons, this has never happened before.”

“I told you not to come by! It’s mating season!”

Probably should have expected it to be different now that he’s not going through it alone.

Because of Shenanigans, you have to wait. Wait… Wait… ok now.

They’re not the right person for mating season… but they’re the one who’s here, so…

“Show me where it hurts."

so yeah! see you all on march 1 for the, uh, spring shellebration. party popper emoji

questions i imagine will be popping up and i hope will clear up here before my askbox swells beyond capacity under the cut to keep this post from being Way Too Long. also it's really not that serious it's just an excuse to write slash draw for everyone Please Don't Take This Thing Too Seriously It's Not That Serious:

"can i participate?" yes! it's literally just an invitation to do something. nothing fancier than that. no need to be following me or in my friend group or whatever.

"can i write (insert fic idea here)?" yep! so long as it's related to the idea of mating seasons, it flies. reader insert? hell yea. oc? hell yeah. solo turtle and his favorite pillow? go for it.

"can i draw (insert art idea here)?" yep! uh. i know tumblr has the cops watching for sin bin material, but you art people know how to deal with that. and if you don't, uh, ask the other art people. im just a feral cat in a trench coat

"how do i participate?" write/draw/collect songs for/whatever. then, on march 1, post it and tag it #TMNTSpringShellebration. also, for funsies, keep it hush hush what you're working on so we can all be super shocked when the day comes! except, y'know, that you're planning on joining in. totally do that.

"when do i post it?" march 1. whenever on that day. waves hands around in a vague gesture at time zones not mattering. seriously don't take this so seriously it's just me wanting to create cool shit with my friends with a little more structure to it

"does it have to be horny?" i mean. it's an event about mating season. so by definition it's going to be at least a little horny. but however you interpret it is cool. even if it's just. idk. leo sitting sweatily in a chair looking longingly at a glass of water bc he's thirstier than usual. be smart about things, people. i'm not your dad.

"which tmnt verse is this for?" whichever one you want it to be for!! rise! bayverse! 2007! your fan iteration! your friend's fan iteration! your mortal enemy's fan iteration! yes!

"will you be reblogging everything?" absolutely not, but this isn't an event About Me. i am incidental to the thing. it's about Us. coming together as a community. for horny turtles. puts my hands on your shoulders. do it for you. for your friends. for the community.

[tsukkiibaby]

voice;

feat: miya osamu

genre/warnings: sfw, fluff, royal!au (i'm trying here so don't judge), guard!osamu x princess!reader, one character looking down reader's dress

wc: 2900+

. ｡˚others may not be able to tell the difference between the miya twins, especially with their helmets on, but you can˚｡ .

~

osamu knows this is a bad idea. 

he’s at atsumu’s post, standing still at the top of steps that lead to the gardens looking straight ahead at them, atsumu himself on the other end of the lavish fields, the two watching intently for intruders, or anyone who could pose as a potential threat. if any of the palace’s staff were to walk by, they would barely spare osamu another glance - with his helmet on, no one can see his tufts of gray hair underneath, their only other determining physical feature being their eyes, and he’s sure that none of the staff would even be able to recognize the that difference between himself and his brother. 

except you.

currently out in the gardens with one of the princes from a neighboring kingdom, nohebi, he thinks, a grim expression painting your face from the moment your father whisked you towards the front entrance of the palace to greet him. osamu didn’t particularly like the smug smile plastered across the black-haired prince’s face as he exited his carriage, nor did he miss the way the man’s snake-like eyes stared down the top of your dress as you greeted him with a curtsy. from his position at the top of the steps to the palace, osamu could only watch in disgust as he sauntered by him and his twin to follow you and your parents into the palace.

while osamu still would have been able to see you from his original post that atsumu is occupying, his current spot on the outskirts of the palace gives him a higher, better view of you and the sly prince. he can see you clearly as you move throughout the gardens a few paces ahead of nohebi’s crown prince, gaining traction as you lead the man further towards osamu’s normal post. should things go wrong and someone spots them, he supposes he could just blame it on atsumu. they are twins, after all. and it was his idea, his brother jabbing at his bicep with his elbow as they watched you and the prince retreat towards the doors that led to the garden. “ya wanna take my spot on the steps?” he had whispered, leaning into his brother’s body. “might be a little easier for ya ta keep an eye on her.” 

but he knows you wouldn’t fall for the “atsumu started it!” excuse. they’ve been your guards since the age of 13, hand selected by your parents, the king and queen, to watch over you as you begin to age into your teens, wanting extra protection for their youngest daughter. their only princess.

you didn’t have any objections to it, not when both of your brothers had been assigned personal guards when they first reached double digits. you couldn’t imagine seeing your brothers without aran and kita a few paces behind them, their protective eyes always ensuring you were also safe within their line of sight. just as they protected your brothers, they protected you as you grew, right up until you reached the same age and were to be granted your own protection. enter the twins.

hailing from a small village in the vast kingdom of inarizaki, the same village that aran and kita grew up in, it seemed as though the twins were raised for the job from the second they arrived at the palace. you remember seeing them hang around with the two older boys from a young age, tirelessly training with the other guards and knights from sunrise to sunset; neither twin faltering under the intense pressure they were faced with. surely they never knew who or what they would be tasked with protecting until their assignment when they became of age, but the two were dedicated to their craft, hell bent on proving their worth to the royal family. luckily (and unbeknownst) for them, they proved their worth from the first time you saw them. 

“i hope i’m not assigned to guard the princess.” one boy groans.

someone else chuckles. “yeah, me and you both.”

from your hiding spot behind one of the many large columns lining the outskirts of the palace near the training grounds, you feel your heart drop, and you sink back to fully hide behind the massive beam. you try not to let the words of some silly guards - some silly boys, that is, bother you. it always seemed to be like this - no matter how many guards your family brings in to train as personal protection, they never seemed to have any interest in protecting you, instead choosing to help protect your brothers, parents, or simply going off to serve in the kingdom’s military. 

“why not?” another voice pipes up, his tone almost accusing? when you peer back around the column, you see one of the group of boys standing with his arms crossed, a stark contrast to the rest of them, scattered and sitting on the steps. though not facing you directly, you were able to catch a glimpse of his blonde hair before he stepped in front of one of his fellow guards in training. “ya don’t wanna be around the princess?”

another boy, sitting on the bottom step, huffs. “it’s not like she even needs the extra protection,” he laughs wryly. “at least the princes get to practice sparring and fighting! all she does is sit in the palace, attend her lessons, and play in the garden. it’s boring.” he puts emphasis on the word boring, almost spits it. 

gripping on to the ridges of the column, you push your head a bit further out to see more of the boys and their conversation, a scowl on your face. another stands quietly, moving to stand next to the blonde and mimics his actions, crossing his arms over his chest. he turns to face the the other boys who were sitting, cocking his head to the side. “it’d be an honor to protect the princess,” he says pointedly. “ya don’t know how lucky ya’d be.”

with a sharp turn, the boy begins to walk off, in your direction no less, ignoring the frantic shouts of what you assume must be his name. “samu!” the blonde boy calls, but it does him no good. the gray-haired boy ignores him, stalking past you without so much of a glance, his matching gray eyes staring straight ahead. the blonde, who looks eerily similar to the one he was calling after, comes running after him.

if only you knew that in just a few short hours, the two boys who came to your defense would soon be tasked with protecting you daily.

from his spot at the top of the steps, osamu can just quite make out the top of your head as you stroll through the gardens, a few paces ahead of the black-haired prince. no matter how quickly the man walks, he can’t seem to catch up to you, not when you spin around and speed up through the lush fields to evade his ever present hands reaching out to grasp your arm. though quite far away, osamu can see how frustrated prince daishou is getting, pausing briefly to take a deep breath before following after you. osamu chuckles to himself.

as you and the prince disappear further into the tall hedges, osamu hopes that at least atsumu or one of the other guards patrolling the lawn has an eye on you. these meetings tend to go the same way every time - your parents arrange for a prince, or duke, or nobleman from a neighboring territory to come to the palace and get to know you, to escort you through the gardens, and pitch themselves as to why they would make a suitable husband and possible future king. to secure some sort of political alliance. however it always ends with you giving your parents an indifferent smile and a shrug, much to their chagrin. too tall, talks too much, bad breath, it doesn’t matter. your excuses are endless.

osamu can’t wait to hear what you have to say about this one.

though tasked with ensuring your safety, the twins eventually found a way to weasel themselves into a more casual relationship with you. with atsumu’s overbearing and childish nature and osamu’s calm and collected one, you had almost no choice but to allow the informalities, finding yourself more and more lax in their presence. always quick to defend your status or position to outsiders, ready to help at the lift of a finger, and even popping their heads in and out of obligations that you dread, ready to whisk you away with a claim of someone important needing you, the princess, right away. and who are your guests to deny your excusal? you are the princess, after all. ever perceptive, the two seem to know exactly what you’re thinking at all times. 

almost always. 

osamu didn’t realize how much he must’ve been daydreaming. not until he feels a rush of air and the sounds of heels clicking down the marble floor of the palace invade his senses, snapping his attention back to the scene unfolding before him. his eyes fly into the palace to follow the sound of the heels, the back of your long, lavender dress swaying behind as you angrily stomp down the halls. 

“lady l/n!” 

prince suguru is quick, but osamu is quicker, stepping in front of the swift man to stop him from following after you. it’s not like you to rush out of something with no say, not without himself or his brother pulling something out of their asses. the prince sneers down at him, snake-like eyes narrowing at him. he moves to step around osamu, but he’s right there, blocking his path again. “will you get out of the way?” the prince spits.

osamu opens his mouth to speak, but atsumu is quick to beat him to it. “as the princess’s personal guards, i’m afraid we can’t do that,” he says from behind the prince, who scoffs at him. atsumu flashes them a sly grin, jutting his chin down the halls you had just passed through, eyes drifting to his twin. “you go find lady l/n and make sure she’s okay.”

the words are barely out of atsumu’s mouth before osamu is all but running down the hallway in the direction of your clicking heels, eyes darting around the palace quickly. it’s not long before he catches up with you, slowing to match your pace a few steps behind you and stands up straight, gently clearing his throat. “my lady-”

“i do not feel very well, my lord.” the words are rushed coming out of your mouth at the same time that osamu speaks, a stark contrast to your normal speech patterns, always so eloquent and concise. you stick your right hand out a bit behind you, not quite far enough to reach osamu, and your voice is shaky as you speak again. “i must ask that you allow me to retire to my room at once to rest.”

osamu’s steps quicken until he’s walking backwards in front of you, arms reaching out gently in your direction. “it is only me, princess,” he says, louder than before, letting out a soft breath when your steps slow until they stop completely. you glance up, allowing your eyes to meet for a brief moment before they dart back down to your shoes. 

“osamu,” you whisper, your eyes avoidant. you pause, your chest rising and falling at a faster rate than normal. “i need to rest.” 

you begin to walk again, passing him, and he lets you get a few steps down the hall before he’s turning and following you slowly. “i understand, my lady. but one of us must accompany you at all times.”

huffing, you glance over your shoulder with a slight pout as the two of you approach the door to your room. “at all times,” you mutter softly, before turning to the guard at your door with a blank smile. “i’m not feeling too well, so i must ask that you allow me some privacy while i rest.”

osamu smiles wryly at the guard as he passes, allowing you a few moments in your room before he steps inside. “is everything alright, my lady?” his gray eyes follow you as you pace around the room, fiddling with the decorative clip that pins up your hair. your back to him, you don’t turn, other hand reaching up to play with the strap of your day dress. he steps in further, shutting the wooden door behind him, and you whip to face him immediately, taking a tentative back. “princess, are you alright?” he repeats. “did something happen with prince suguru?”

your eyes meet his when he says the prince’s name, and osamu slowly reaches up to remove his helmet, not breaking eye contact. now given full view of his face, you glance down at your shaky hands. “one of us must accompany me at all times, huh?” you ask, repeating what you had said under your breath just outside your room. “why weren’t you at your normal post?”

he pauses, eyebrows furrowing. “what do you mean?”

you exhale through your nose, meeting his gaze once again. “my parents and the others may not be able to, but i can tell your voices apart,” you mumble, crossing your arms and looking back down at your feet. “that creep of a prince was looking down the top of my dress the whole day and the second he figured he was out of your sights he thought he’d try to stick a hand down it.” your voice increases as you speak, throwing your arms out at the end. “and when i loudly asked him to step back, it wasn’t your voice that called out to me asking if i needed assistance, it was atsumu’s.” 

osamu is frozen in front of you. sure, his normal post is stationed at the first fork in the gardens, much closer to you in proximity than atsumu’s, but he was sure that the higher ground of his twin’s post gave him a better way to keep an eye on you as you moved further into the gardens. now, he feels like a fool for going through with such a silly thought.

“i was only trying to have a clearer view on you, princess,” osamu takes a hesitant step closer to you, and another when you do not flinch or back away. with a deep breath, he continues. “i’d like to think i have better eyesight than my brother.” falling back to sit on the chaise situated at the foot of your bed, you exhale sharply through your nose, and osamu can’t tell if it’s to express amusement or distaste. though, with the way you’re still avoiding his watchful eye is having him lean towards the latter. he takes another step forward, then another, until he’s but a large stride away from your seated figure. “can i ask why you were so disheartened to hear atsumu’s voice instead of mine, princess?” he asks, not missing the way your fingers, currently lightly rubbing at your temples, freeze in their actions. “surely, he is just as capable of protecting you.”

your hands find refuge in your lap, fingers fiddling with each other as you straighten your posture. “o-of course he is.” you rebuke, turning your head slightly so that you’re staring out the window. “i was simply asking a question. you’re lucky no one noticed that you two were at different posts. you both could have gotten into trouble.”

osamu chuckles softly, taking another step towards you, finally drawing your attention back to him. your lips part slightly as you slowly glance up at him, and the corners of osamu’s perk up at the sight of your soft gaze. “well, it’s just like you said princess,” he coos, and your eyebrows furrow, cocking your head to the side. “you’re the only one who can tell us apart by just our voices.” osamu’s voice drops as the words leave his lips, stepping back towards the door as your eyes shoot back towards him.

your mouth drops fully open as if to speak, but no words come out. osamu can’t help but feel warm at the sight of your reddening cheeks, struggling to find the words “w-well, of course i c-can!” you sputter. “i’ve known you both for years! i, um, didn’t want you to get into trouble with anyone.”

the warmth in his chest spreads, and osamu hums softly to himself. “i appreciate the concern, my lady. allow me to go find atsumu and ensure that prince suguru is dealt with accordingly.” you nod quickly, eyes trained on your hands in your lap. “you should rest, princess.” you nod, but make no effort to move. “i will return once he is dealt with.”

and after personally escorting prince daishou suguru of nohebi to his carriage with atsumu, osamu does return, only to find you asleep in the same lavender dress, hair sprawled across the array of decorative pillows that you hadn’t even bothered to move before making yourself comfortable on top of your fully made bed. osamu chuckles to himself, gently pulling at the blanket that sits at the end of your bed, far enough away from your feet that it lays untouched. he drapes it over your sleeping figure, ensuring that your arms, legs, and feet are covered before a soft smile spreads across his face. hesitantly, his fingers reach out towards your face, slowly brushing away a piece of hair splayed across your cheek, breath catching in his throat when you let out a soft whine. however, you don’t move, nor do you say anything, your chest continuing to rise and fall with your even breaths, and osamu lets out a sigh of relief, a smile poking at his lips. 

“sleep well, princess.”

[indigosunsetao3]

https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZPRE4g6YQ/

Okay but look at this 😭😫👏🏻❤️🥺🥹 it’s such husband behavior and I could see all the 141 guys doing this tbh. Maybe except Price (I feel like he’d go to the ends of the Earth to find one and would be successful. Even if it means driving 2+hrs to every Tesco trying to find the cake)

What? Stop it right now. This is too cute.

Just doing read more because it's a bit long to list them all. All are SFW and fluffy. 💙

Price for sure is going to every. single. store. He's going to find this cake one way or another; he won't come home until he's got it. He loses count of how many places he tries. He makes store managers call other stores to see if they have it in stock, watching them from the counter with narrowed eyes. When he tracks down the last one, which is another hour away, he asks the store to set it aside and pays them double when he arrives for their effort (and to apologize for slightly threatening them if they sold it to someone else). Traditions are important to him and he'll be damned if he misses a year. "I know it's almost midnight dear, but it's still technically your birthday. Never mind where I've been all day, not important."

Soap is making a masterpiece. Baking may not be his forte per se but man is artistic. His creation is a variation of all the different caterpillar cakes; selecting only the best qualities from each. And yes, he looked and studied them all. He has pictures of them all over the kitchen counter with notes on each about what he likes and doesn't like. Then he sketches out his own picture and uses it as a blueprint for his design, proudly naming it Craig.

"Clyde's eyes are terrifying, bonnie. But I didn't like how Chris didn't have feet...they have to have feet or then it's a snake. And Morris was boring, not enough stripes."

Gaz is in the kitchen for hours baking. He's bought everything he needs in bulk because he knows it's going to be a learning curve. He ends up with multiple failures, that he'll take to the team to devour, before finally getting it right. By the time he finishes, the kitchen is a disaster—every pan, bowl, plate, and pot (yes pot, he ran out of clean bowls) is dirty by the time he finishes. And flour? It's everywhere, his hair, clothes, the cat. "Stay out of the kitchen. Just sit here and enjoy this...I'll be back in a bit. If you see the cat just brush him off for me, yeah?"

Ghost enlists Soap to help him. It ends up with a bunch of arguing about how to do it. They fight over where to put the milk chocolate decorative pieces, the proper spacing of the eyes, the size of the feet and every other little imperfection Ghost can find. Soap eventually leaves telling Ghost to do it himself...before coming back thirty minutes later to help him finish. It's a bit lumpy and there are little slashes where it had been pulled apart and resealed with chocolate icing like glue from Ghost's attempts to get it perfect. "It's a bit beat up, sorry love. Tried to make it perfect for you, now it looks like he's been to war with all the scars."

Bonus:

Alex, poor soul, had no idea this kind of cake was even a thing at first. He assumed a caterpillar cake was just a sheet cake with the Very Hungry Caterpillar on it until you explained. Once he knows what it is, you get a caterpillar cake every year; he doesn't care that shipping costs three times as much as the cake itself. But this year the shipment runs late and he has to call in backup...which involves Gaz going to the shops to sweet talk the little old lady bakers for their recipe while Alex frantically takes notes. He only has a few hours to get it together and while he does his best...it's the thought that counts right? At least it tastes like it's supposed to.

"I know it's not Colin but if you squint hard enough it's vaguely a caterpillar....really squint, maybe cover one eye, and stand back a few feet. I promise your real one is on its way, just had a bit of delay."

[profoundbondfanfic]

Hi there!

I have been looking in vain for fics with Non-verbal Dean or Castiel. I've read a couple but haven't been able to find anymore and the tagging system only seems to give me junk results not actually related to that.

Thank in advance for your help!

Hey! Here are a few fics we could think of:

All Cats Are Gray After Dark by squirrelofcelestialintent (Explicit, 19k words)

1992, NYC. Dean is a Gulf War veteran working in the grimiest ER in the city, and he’s holding his life together. Kind of? Maybe. But he’s got secrets. No one at work knows that he’s not physically mute due to a war injury, but rather selectively mute from way back in the day, because that is almost impossible to explain. Nobody but Sam knows he’s a rare, male Omega, and the discovery of that secret was why he got kicked out of the army. And nobody, absolutely nobody, knows that he occasionally sneaks out to have anonymous sex with men. Until he meets Castiel freaking Novack - anonymous hook up turned new boss - who in less than a month manages to find out all three.

Casicorn by everandanon (Explicit, 56k words)

When Detective Dean Winchester suddenly finds himself with a new roommate, a mysterious man who doesn’t speak but seems to somehow be connected to the department’s recent vigilante problem, he has no idea what he’s in for. The guy doesn’t know how to work a TV, brush his teeth, or even take a shower, and he stares at Dean all the goddamn time. Not to mention he insists on sleeping in Dean’s bed. While Dean is in it! Weird, right? Except the longer Cas sticks around, the less Dean starts to mind; the more he kind of dreads Cas leaving for good, actually, even though nobody really knows who Cas is or where he came from. And then, one night, Dean happens to witness their vigilante firsthand and realizes he knows Cas even less than he thought . . . (Loosely inspired by The Little Mermaid)

Finding You In Every Sign by casblackfeathers (Explicit, 99k words)

Castiel was content with the constant flow of his life. He had his brother Gabriel, had his coffee shop and the weekly book club meetings as well as a small but solid group of friends. If there was one thing his hateful family had taught him, it was how fast things could go wrong if he let too many variables shape his life. So when he met Dean, a gradual regular at his shop, Castiel knew he was trouble, because Dean was like a comet, beautiful but beyond reach. Ever since his father died, there wasn’t a single constant in Dean’s life. Moving on, never stopping, never getting attached to one thing for too long had made him a drifter for the past seven years. Being the only hearing person in his family hadn’t been easy with a father like John Winchester, so as soon as Dean saw an escape, he took it. Settling down to open his flower shop was anything but easy, especially when he met the elusive deaf owner of the coffee shop next door. The more he discovered about Cas, the louder the voice in the back of his head whispered that maybe Castiel was the person finally worth staying for. And maybe, just maybe, Dean was willing to listen now.

Hear You Me by through_shadows_falling (Explicit, 84k words)

Castiel is a college graduate stuck in two dead-end, part-time jobs. Oh, and he’s Deaf…which to his oldest brother Michael makes him something to constantly fret over. It’s not Castiel’s fault that he doesn’t know what he wants to do with his life, right? Not like it’s Michael’s business anyways. Enter Dean Winchester. A chance encounter with the man has the power to change Castiel’s life - and in the end, maybe, just maybe, it will help him finally understand and accept who he is and what he’s meant to do.

i saw the light by LoversAntiquities (Mature, 14k words)

“Sam, you gotta hear about this ghost story I found the other day,” Susanne says over the speakerphone, just as loud as she has been for the last half hour. For the most part, Castiel ignores her—or tries—and concentrates on the beads dangling from between his fingers, centerpiece pressed to his forehead. Praying doesn’t work, but some mornings, when the coffee doesn’t get him going and the walls feel more like a prison than a home, he sits at the library table and whispers empty words into the crucifix, like Jesus can ease the festering ache in his chest. He can’t—no one else can either.

late july by thanks_tacos (Explicit, 26k words)

'I would like to take in your most abused one,' Castiel says, looking at the rows of doors in the yellow corridor. 'Give him a good home.' After his accident, Castiel needs someone to help him around the small brick house he lives in and the bookstore he owns. So, he adopts Dean; an omega who barely survived being dumped in a ditch and left for dead. Dean doesn't talk, but that's fine; they learn to live together in the quaint, rainy city surrounded by a green forest. Castiel just wants to give Dean a peaceful life he deserves, and maybe also - become his mate?

Looking for a Sign by emwebb17 (Mature, 70k words)

Dean can't figure out why the hot guy on the train is ignoring him…that is until he realizes that the man is profoundly deaf. After an unpleasant misunderstanding, the two become friends. It isn't long before Dean wants more, but Castiel sticks steadfastly to his rule about not dating hearing people. When Dean starts to date other people to try to get over him, Castiel starts to wonder if maybe Dean is the exception to the rule.

No Words by Ltleflrt (Explicit, 112k words)

On the run from his very powerful family, Castiel does his best to get lost. Because if he doesn’t know where he is, his brothers won’t be able to find him very easily either. He ends up in Silverton, a small mountain town nestled deep within the Rocky Mountains where he meets Dean Winchester, a very beautiful and very grumpy omega.

sunflower by unicornpoe (Teen and up, 4k)

Castiel comes home on a Sunday.

Still Waters Run Deep by thisisapaige (Explicit, 41k words)

In the darkest depths of the ocean, sealed into the ma'lak box with Chuck trapped behind the Mark, Castiel loses the battle against God's rage. When Sam and Dean find Castiel on a dark patch of highway— the Mark missing and his grace weak— he cannot speak. It rains. It rains and it rains and it rains. It is a Great Flood. In order to stop God, save the world, and resolve the issues simmering between them for years, Castiel and Dean need to communicate. Perhaps they should build an ark instead.

The Hanged Man by orphan_account (Mature, 87k words)

After Park Ranger Cas Novak saves a mysterious stranger named Dean from an attempted murder in the woods, he finds himself drawn into the man's secretive life. Someone tried to kill Dean, but he's not telling who. In fact, he's barely speaking at all. If he's going to have any hope of helping Dean, Cas will have to convince the man to trust him — all while trying not to fall in love with him along the way.

We also have a mute tag with more fics like these. Also if you search for 'selectively mute dean' or 'mute dean' (or cas if you prefer cas) on ao3 you might get lucky as well.

[the-s1lly-corner]

WOoOoOoO SPOOKY SEASON REQUIRES SPOOKY STUFF

Anyways

I would love to request an Child ghost!reader and the gang, basically child reader got murdered when they were using the VR and their soul got stuck into the game.

Their soul being so GORY AND DISTORTED, like an arm is missing, one eye is like hanging out and their head has an hole. Reader can get invisible like a ghost and move things with only their mind, and they are very quiet and just observes, rarely get mad or anything, but when they snap (for example: Because of jax's pranks) they start throwing things around dim the lights and scream, and lets put like, Reader's screams are like LOUD as hell, basically like an ghost tantrum.

So basically Child reader is just an sad messed up lil goof who needs comfort and therapy.

Sorry if its long, i love love love your blog btw!

-🌹

TADC cast x ghost!child!reader (platonic + light found family) !

going to take a different approach to writing this one, since i feel bad about being selective of cast/multi characters today, so! rather than having divided segments like usual, its going to be a group thing! hope thats alright! going to be the last request of this batch them imma make something to eat rq for dinner then get back to writing YAHOO!

when you joined the digital circus, you were already very obviously different from the rest of the gang. even if your gore was toned down thanks to your body being digitized; the programming seemed to struggle with altering your body into something unique... strange... it also seems your body is fighting back against the programming of the world, seemingly trying to restore itself. The effect makes you almost look like you're glitching, or even abstracting

Caine doesnt immediately pick up on your presence, i feel like its in his programming to be aware when a new member joins the circus, but for some reason he didnt notice you until he saw you, or someone brings you up to him

It was Ragatha, who was trying to get answers from him. Who's kid was this? Is it really fair to let a kid be stuck here? Obviously she knew Caine couldnt do anything about it now that you were here, nor did he have any hand in you putting on the headset.

Except... you correct them and say you didn't put on any headset, you were trapped in it.

Of course you're trapped, just like the rest of us, Jax says

None of them immediately believe you try to tell them you're a ghost. Except of course, Kinger, who reasons that that's why you look the way you do; and Gangle, who in my opinion probably finds interest in the supernatural.. or maybe that's just me projecting onto her. Who knows. But the point still stands, almost everyone doesn't believe you.

Not long after, Jax accidentally ropes you into prank that was originally intended for Zooble, I dont think Jax would go as far as to bully a child.... well... actually no, he seems like the type to bully kids on roblox.

The prank wasnt planned for you, you were just in the wrong place at the wrong time. You open a door, and are immediately greeted with a fake snake lunging out at you. You scream, more so out of surprise and fear than anger. It does turn into anger when Jax laughs at you, still finding some kind of joy from the prank getting at least someone. Your scream rises, causing nearly everyone to cover their ears, the rest were not there in the room but would come rushing to see what the hell was going on

I think it would be that instance as well as a few other; namely ones where you became invisible and started removing one of Zooble's limbs after they (unintentionally) said something a little too mean to you. The idea of you being a ghost was further cemented when both Gangle and Ragatha watched you literally phase through a wall. But hey at least someone (Jax) starts laying off of you when it becomes clear you weren't lying

There's mixed feelings, a lot negative. I mean, you're just a kid and you're. Well, a ghost. It doesn't take a rocket scientist to come to the conclusion that something happened to you. Whether or not you remember the details of your death when you became a ghost, or after joining the digital world, is all up to you

Caine, as mentioned before in posts where the reader is a child, tries to be a father figure. He's not the best, since he's programmed to be a ring master, but he definitely tries his best. I like to think he tries to read you bedtime stories when the digital world simulates 'night'

Pomni, who I totally didn't forget, tries to overcome her fear of you and your ghostly powers, ultimately becoming sympathetic you and your situation. Not only was your life cut short, but you were trapped here too, you didn't even get to roam the world in the afterlife. Interactions with her are awkward but there's an effort to try to bring you some form of comfort

Jax, after he stops pulling jokes on you cant deny that he doesnt find you creepy. I think, though, he would ask you if you want to help him scare some of the other members. Whether you be offended by the concept or not is also up to you, since I'm not sure if you wanted the reader to be sensitive regarding their current predicament or not

Ragatha goes into full big sister mode, even before it's confirmed that you're a ghost. Sure, she's a little put off by your ganky and gorey looks, but her heart aches for you. Similar to Caine she tries to do general child care activities with you, perhaps if you let her, she would do your hair and make you dresses

Kinger will take a while to warm up to you, but I think after some time would start to open up to you, usually it's best to interact with him when he's already in a calmer state. He already gives me dad vibes that I cant pin down... but he would tell you stories of his past (in house) adventures and some funny stuff that has happened over his time in the digital world

Zooble is going to need a moment to get over the invisible dismemberment thing... as well as Zooble being Zooble and needing some time to warm up to people in general... Not much to be said, yet...

Gangle would offer to lend you some art supplies... kids like arts and crafts stuff, right? Thats her logic, at least, and if it means you have an outlet for your emotions then that would be great!

Overall you now have a funky found family, so hey, at least things aren't totally... terrible.. Unfortunately with them stuck in the digital world they can't do much to get you justice, if you let them know you were murdered. But rest assured if your killer somehow gets trapped in there with them and you recognize them, they have your back

[lightlycareless]

If your main story followed canon, how would your Naoya handle the situations that canon Naoya was put in? Do you think Naobito still put in that thing about Megumi in his will and do you think Maki would’ve ended up killing the Zen’ins(she’d most likely spare Y/N and her children and maybe Naoya if Y/N asked) or do you think it would’ve never gotten to that point at all? I love your story and I find it fun to think about how your Naoya would handle the situations of canon :3

Heya!!!

Omg this is such a difficult question to answer because I feel like everything would still continue on as the manga! With a few exceptions, of course. Let's get to them 👀👀👀

Naobito would still select Megumi over Naoya to be his successor (if the clause regarding Gojo becomes effective) however, your dear husband wouldn’t go batshit crazy over it.

Instead, he’ll get to see how messed up it really was for him to become leader at 15 years of age. So young, unprepared, and the fact that he hadn’t spent time with the Zen’in, meaning he didn’t know how everything went down, just made it worse! This is definitely a reflection of him becoming a father; he sees Megumi as either one of his babies and the dangers and stresses of becoming clan leader drives him crazy with worry! It’s a tough job, that’s for sure, one he never wishes either of them to endure.

THOUGH the one thing I struggle with deciding the most is whether the Zen’in massacre happens or not.

It’s interesting to see how Mai and Maki would grow up to be in an environment where you were around; The easiest route to take is to say that Naoya remained the same jerk we know from the manga, everything continues on as planned, and that’s it! But then, I don’t think you’d be able to stay around for that long! Certainly not to tolerate a man that disrespects you constantly.

Though I do like to play with the idea that you were there ‘till the end, as the quiet, submissive wife Naoya always wanted you to be. Your relationship with him wasn’t the best, but as long as you kept to yourself, served him, and so on… everything was fine. Kind of. Until a baby came along…

BUT WE’RE NOT HERE FOR THE REALISTIC part, we’re here for my version of Naoya 😏 and so, I’d like to say that maybe, just maybe, the murder of the Zen’in never happens (I still struggle to accept it happened in the first place! I 100% believe Mai cursed her. Like, Maki never hinted wanting that but anyways) because you would’ve done your best to set a better life for the twins, persuade Naoya to use his influence for their benefit. I doubt anyone would’ve cared much since they were “irrelevant” to the clan so yeah sure, why not!

The one that would’ve put up much resistance obviously would be Ogi and their mom, Junko. Going as far as reproaching you about it, but you did not budge. Not after all the horrible things they’ve gone through. You couldn’t back down.

But of course, as much as you tried to stop the clan from being crude to them, some would still persist, more so when Maki eventually decides to pursue a career as a sorcerer (You and Naoya would have discussions about this; he still believes that people with no cursed energy shouldn’t be sorcerers, even if there were ways to go around that. You insisted otherwise.) making things worse for Mai with her inevitable departure.

I have no idea how Maki got to enroll in the school and whatnot, mainly because the Zen’in would finally intervene at this point, saying something like “We allowed you to act the fool, use the heir to make their lives better. But we draw the line at sorcery—back off if you know what’s good for you.”

Thus, for the sake of this ask (and my curiosity) I’ll make it as if you were the one to call Gojo intending to ask a favor out of him. Informing him of what was going on with her (specifically how talented she was!! So, he better not mess this up!) and make sure he gives her all the support she needs; because you knew damn well the Zen’in were not people to underestimate and would go out of their way to ruin her life. But at least they respected (feared) the leader of the Gojo clan enough to not intervene… that much.

As for Mai, you end up recruiting her as part of your staff; a kind of hidden, diplomatic solution to protect her from being forcibly enrolled as a sorcerer as well. The Zen’in hated you for it, but what could they do? They sure liked abusing the system, but when it was the other way around, they hated it. Talk about hypocritical…

Naoya, even though he didn’t agree with much of what was happening between you and the twins (mainly because it made you a target of his family, again) would still 100% remain by your side. Any snarky comments from them he’d shut down immediately, with the threat of retaliation if they persisted.

Unfortunately, there’s only so much you could do to protect the twins—so maybe that massacre does happen in the end. I’m still debating whether you die or not, but it’s most likely that you do, solely because I believe Maki was cursed by her sister. Mai told her to destroy everything and she did.

YET I DON’T FEEL HAPPY WITH NOT GIVING YOU A CERTAIN ANSWER, MORE SO WHEN IT’S A PESSIMISTIC ONE, SO: No for the sake of a happy ending, you don’t die. Mai is eternally grateful for the things you’ve done for her and her sister (you managed to ease the tensions between the two, Maki apologizes for leaving and Mai understands why she left) so, she doesn’t hold any grudges, and thus, she doesn’t ask her sister to destroy everything 😊

Instead, when you and Naoya decide to live away from the estate for a while, you invite the twins over with their mother, if they wished. Junko heavily decides against it, but since you take your staff and Mai is part of your staff, she has to go. (This is nothing but a formality, you let Mai do whatever she wants. She doesn’t really work for you) and Maki goes whenever she has free time at school.

Megumi ends up becoming the clan leader because of Shibuya, but he ends up giving the role to Naoya by… insistence of Maki! She trust him to do a good job now (and because she knows you’ll keep him in check haha) and since it’s a reformed Naoya, you can bet he will do his best to restructure the Zen’in into a better clan. I mean, do we honestly think he’d like to see those things, especially when they happened to you (with the fear of them occurring to his own kids as well), and not do anything?

So yeah! There you got it. TLDR: your interference in Naoya’s life essentially changed everything that happened in the clan, to the point where they didn’t get killed for it hahaha. NGL this totally sounds as Y/N was some kind of messiah with all the work she did, but hey, that’s the power of love 🫣🤣

Thank you so much for sending in this ask! This touched a subject I’ve been wanting to explore for a while now, I might get to it later on :> specifically the did Y/N die at the massacre? OR WHAT ABOUT CURSE NAOYA? (That’s another ask I got on my inbox hehehehehe I guess we’ll have to be patient 😏)

Now, take care, and hope to see you soon 💖

[danieyells]

So my current suspicion.

I think Kaito is the spy.

I think this for a few reasons.

The first is that Kaito doesn't really seem like the type to have a demonic pact.

Leo says that it's pretty understandable that none of the ghouls listen to the player--they're all selected by demons. While this doesn't apply to Luca either, he made his pact for noble purposes and generally is of noble disposition. Kaito is a coward who doesn't really fit the idea of a pactmaker. If he's instead working for demonkind to possibly sabotage the efforts of ghouls and darkwick, or just monitor them to understand what they're doing and see that they don't pose a threat, I think that'd make sense. He was probably scared into it, or forced into it somehow.

This also leads me to something else--Hyde seemed uncertain as to what Kaito's stigma even was. He sees auras sometimes, he thinks.

He's been here for a whole year and you aren't sure??? I know he avoids missions but surely you'd've found out at some point?

Kaito's ability to see auras explains why he saw the monster that the pc saw when enhancing Luca's stigma--except if he could only see auras, surely he'd see a ton of energy rather than actually seeing the thing and his reaction wouldn't have been as intense as this.

Because everybody else just saw a big red shield

Even for Kaito that's a bit of an overreaction, I think?

What was Kaito afraid of if he couldn't see the giant houndoom looking thing? He very clearly saw it. It's not likely he was using his stigma at the time either--he didn't just see its aura, he saw the monster.

Next, it's likely to be a second year. Several third years so far(namely Tohma, Alan, and Taiga) seem to be aware of the spy--if it was someone who came recently(as the third years only came in the past three or four months) they probably wouldn't know yet or really be working so dedicatedly to find them, and if it was someone in their year they probably would know more certainly already. Tohma is a red herring because of his naturally eerie nature. Haku also strikes me as a red herring--Taiga peobably would not have trusted him in the prologue if he felt like he was suspicious. (On the other hand Taiga may have simply cared so little about your wellbeing that he didn't care if someone suspicious dealt with you.)

Another thing about Tohma. . .he used to be in Vagastrom. But he transferred to Frostheim, and is keeping up with Alan about the spy(and they had a meeting about this after Luca tried to fight Sho and Leo over insulting Kaito, inciting unrest among the general students about the ghouls). . .which leads me to think the spy is in Frostheim. And I don't think it's Jin. His sword letting him teleport and that he barely leaves his room anymore and Tohma is very attentive to him does lend some credibility to it possibly being him but I don't think he's the spy--Tohma is doing that to get Jin's trust to keep a better eye on Kaito, I think.

Subaru is naturally the next suspicious person due to being introduced and shown behaving oddly a little while after Taiga told you about the spy, but I think Subaru is too. . .obvious.

Also, Taiga's specific use of "keep letting him fool you" leads me to believe it's someone we already know and trust.

We don't know Haku well enough for it to be him. Luca hasn't been around long enough for him to be suspicious. Kaito's around the casino enough that Taiga could reasonably be suspicious of him.

There's also Kaito's pendant. It's extremely valuable--though why, we don't know--and it means a lot to Kaito. He won't give it away even when threatened, even if it'd save him from other suffering.

Another thing. . .while it makes sense for Kaito to be scared of Mortkranken on the basis of being a coward and that Yuri experiments on people(most people don't wanna be dissected after all!), I also wonder if he doesn't wanna go there because he's afraid of being analyzed by someone who'd probably be able to tell that he's either not a normal ghoul/human, or that he's some sort of demon or anomaly. Like he passed the stigma test and basic health checkups but could he pass closer examination?

I dunno. I also think it's possible that Kaito isn't even aware he's a spy. Like his pendant is monitoring the world around him while he's blissfully unaware. He never consumed or subjugated his demon--it's just around his neck, listening to everyone or something.

I just absolutely believe that Kaito would turn out to be the "bad guy". Even if not on purpose. It just seems like it's someone we already know and trust, somebody who's in Frostheim, and somebody you wouldn't suspect at all.