#I imagine that my commander is just telling them everything by default

[sainamoonshine]

One thing that never ceases to amuse me in swtor is like. Every time a npc sends an email to tell my alliance commander some secret stuff and makes him promise not to tell anyone else

And my commander is like « oh yeah sure no prob, this super secret information will remain just between us (CCI: LanaBeniko@alliancemail CCI: TheronShan@alliancemail) »

[cauchesque]

Hi, can you tell me about btrfs? It was a default choice for the filesystem when I installed fedora on my laptop and I read little bit about how it is different from like ext4 and what cool stuff it supports etc. But I newer, like, utilised all that stuff in it. So, if you don't mind, can you tell me what am I missing and how do I utilise it potential?

btrfs! what is btrfs? btrfs is a copy-on-write journaling filesystem with various other goodies. my experience is mostly using it on one disk on my personal machine, which seems to be what you're doing with it also. you may have heard some bad things about btrfs eating your data silently and then the mailing list being really mean about it, and all that is true but it's only true if you're using btrfs raid4 or raid5, which you aren't. for our use case there's absolutely nothing to fear- btrfs is an absolutely rock solid filesystem and i wouldn't accept any other for my daily driver

i was planning on writing this whole long thing summarizing my notes because when i was learning all this stuff i couldn't find any source that had everything i needed in one place. but that was 4 years ago, and since then fedora switched to using it by default. nowadays there are a bunch of articles explaining all the fundamental concepts and commands and such. the two linked at the bottom ive read and can vouch for, and they cover basically all the intuition for the concepts and commands and such. so im going to focus on cool things you can do with a COW filesystem

basically all the cool things you can do are snapshots. snapshots, better explained in the links, are lightweight copies of entire file trees. you can, for instance, take a snapshot of your home directory and then be able to access all your files at the time of the snapshot whenever you want, even if you change them in the "real" version. but you can do better than this. if your subvolume layout is correct (and don't worry, fedora's is), you can rollback to a previous snapshot whenever you want. with a little configuration you can make all your root snapshots bootable, so you can select in grub or whatever which version of your filesystem you want to boot into. with a little bit of doing, which im not sure is easy on fedora but certainly might be, i got my computer set up so that my boot directory is just a btrfs subvolume on my regular filesystem. if an update breaks my setup, which does happen from time to time, i can go back to exactly the state i was in, files packages kernel and all

you can and should use btrfs for your backups also. not local snapshots, those aren't very good backups, but incremental backups to an external drive or over ssh to another machine. for this i use btrbk, which is a pretty simple script that just makes use of btrfs features to make safe, fast, and reliable backups to wherever you might want them. then, because it's using native features of the filesystem, recovering from just about anything is dead simple. you can send over the subvolumes and mount them wherever. the one thing is that for most of these you need a bootable drive with btrfs and enough drivers to work on your system. whatever you used to install fedora should work fine

and with that you basically need fear no file loss event, big or small. i mean i wouldn't give up git or anything, but now you can retrieve your desktop layout, your browser settings, your /etc, whatever you want. its absolutely magic. since doing an install with this btrfs setup 4 years ago i have had absolutely nothing break in a way i couldn't fix in under 15 minutes, even running arch objectively badly. imagining life without snapshots feels barbaric now. its one of a handful of things which are just objectively better on linux for any user at any skill level. data loss is a choice, and it has been for almost a decade. take my hand

additional notes:

APFS: yeah apple has this too. time machine is a brilliant piece of software and the apple ppl are lucky to have it. however! i have needed to actually go back and use my backup like 2 times ever. most of the time i just use the snapshots locally. plus afaik you don't have the same range of options to deal with snapshot size- i dont hang onto my steam directory for very long

ZFS: if you need raid id say zfs is definitely better (zpool is awesome). but a lot of the things you can do with snapshots and subvolumes on btrfs aren't actually possible on zfs. a rollback on zfs is a very specific action which invalidates everything that came after- it's not to be done lightly. with btrfs you just move subvolumes around and they're available whenever you need them

encryption: its annoying but you should put your filesystem inside of lvm inside of LUKS and it'll work fine. its the same as using LUKS normally, and once it's open it's the same as using btrfs normally. this would probably suck for multiple disks, in which case you should use zfs

hibernation: use LVM to have a swap partition and call it a day, storage is cheap these days. ive heard swap files are improved somehow (?) but i dont use one and there really isn't any reason to

compression: imo not a showstopper or anything but it comes in handy. i wouldn't expect huge gains in space usage (storage is cheap anyway) but a lot of modern cpus are good enough at compression that it's actually faster to store everything compressed bc the bottleneck is disk IO. you can test what algorithm and level works best for you, and tune it by subvolume. on my nvme i dont notice a difference, but my server has some hard drives and compression speeds things up

[manofbeskar]

S-hawk headcanons?

Like how do you think mihawk found him and did he just go like "this child is now mine" or was it "the shanks effect" also how did s-hawk trust mihawk? shehdhsjwhwe I'm sorry I js have so many questions about this au 😭 I hope I'm not too annoying

don't apologise, i enjoy talking about my aus or headcanons. sorry if this post gets a little long!

i imagine mihawk heard about the warlords' replacements and realised they were clones of them. mihawk hated the idea of the world government creating a child version of him that just did whatever they wanted with the bare minimum of autonomy. mihawk is a man who values his free will, even when he worked for the marines, it was still his free will. s-hawk isn't working for the marines because he wants to—he's just forced to—so mihawk felt a strong responsibility to liberate him from the world government

(egghead spoilers) since the last time the seraphim were seen, they were locked up, i think mihawk just broke in to rescue him. maybe he'd free the rest while he's there, let the kids live for themselves

s-hawk at first is just confused. he's seen photos and footage of mihawk before when learning his moves, but meeting the real person is a strange experience. when mihawk frees him from egghead, his first priority is figuring out how to get rid of the chain of command. maybe he can find vegapunk and get him to reprogram s-hawk's mind so he had more autonomy if possible. i imagine even if getting rid of the command chain is impossible, mihawk is fully prepared to put the effort in himself to manually "reprogram" him to think for himself

without anyone in the chain of command around him, s-hawk has no orders to follow. he's lived his whole life following everyone else's will and with no orders, he finds himself unsure of what to do. for a few weeks, he literally doesn't do anything unless mihawk specifically tells him to do a certain task, even small things like "eat your food" or "sit down". mihawk works very hard to get s-hawk to be more proactive but decides to get the help of the freest man he knows, shanks

shanks's free-spirited nature is a good influence on s-hawk, just as mihawk hoped. there's something about being around someone so open-hearted that does something to s-hawk. not that mihawk is very impatient or stressful to be around, but s-hawk feels pressure to get everything right when he's with the man he was cloned from. he kind of wanted to live up to the original. with shanks, there's less pressure on s-hawk. he picks up on shanks's love for adventure. shanks tells him stories about young mihawk, ranging from his cool marine hunting ones to silly ones, which make mihawk seem less intimidating, more human—unlike what zoro told him, that mihawk was less human than himself. it helps make s-hawk ease up more around mihawk

mihawk decides to take s-hawk in as an apprentice, making a two-person crew named the hawk pirates. he immediately establishes an alliance with the red hair pirates because he believes the camaraderie will make s-hawk feel less alone, more like he has people in his corner if he ever needs it. with only two people, s-hawk views himself as the first mate by default. mihawk initially doesn't think of s-hawk like that since he doesn't do any first mate duties, but then realises the rank gives s-hawk a sense of pride, responsibility, and improves his self-value beyond his identity as a living weapon. mihawk refers to him as his first mate from then on, fine with s-hawk just helping wherever he thinks he's needed. it's a step forwards for learning autonomy, learning responsibility, and the alliance helps s-hawk to grow more comfortable and trusting of others (especially when the allying crew is shanks's who quickly became a very comforting presence in s-hawk's life)

as s-hawk grows more comfortable with making his own choices and forming an identity outside what the world government carved for him, s-hawk begins to want more distinction between himself and mihawk—resulting in him trimming his facial hair when he's older to be a mix of shanks's style and teen mihawk's (doesn't want to look like a replica of mihawk, but still wants to honour his father figure in some way, the reason he can even exist). also dresses more simply, doesn't really use the same floral and cross themes mihawk does in his own fashion.

that's all i have for now! i'm sorry the post went for so long

[colossus-of-clout]

Grease: Rise of the Pink Ladies, Sloppy Seconds Ain't My Style - S1E06

This was one of my favorite episodes! There was so much character development that I didn't mind the lack of musical numbers.

CYNTHIA: Loved watching the Cynthia/Lydia story develop. The realization of their feelings for each other... Watching Cynthia try to pull away from Lydia to suppress what she was feeling was a story that was all too familiar.. You could feel the tension. The scene right before the play in the music room, when they default to their original acting exercise, was the best part of the entire show. When they're saying "your hair is brown" / "my hair is brown" you can see the desire in their eyes... They're saying "Hey, I understand because I feel it too. You're not alone." Transitioning from the hair discussion to the "I'm scared" admission was immaculate. You could see how confused and terrified and vulnerable they felt in that moment and I LOVED how Lydia leaned into it by admitting how scared she was by her feelings... In that moment, we saw a peak of her character that we've never seen before. This wasn't about another theatre production, because she's so confident in her abilities as an actress... This was about her saying "I'll hold your hand and jump off of the cliff with you, even though I'm fearful of the fallout."

JANE: In this ep, there’s so much to Jane’s character. We got to take a deeper dive into Susan and see why she operates the way that she does. I love that Jane didn't exploit that moment of weakness and allowed Susan to see the good in people. I also enjoyed that this moment showed Jane that she doesn't need to he president in order to make a difference at Rydell. Big fan of her realization that she doesn't want to help Buddy out, but she wants to impact change from where she is and only with her girls. In that moment, we see a parallel to her relationship with Richie in the last episode when she refused his jacket because she has her own.

NANCY: Though Nance had a smaller part in this episode, she really used that opportunity to shine. We got to see the amount of care she puts into each of her pieces (just imagine how long it took to make each of the girls their own jacket from scratch.....eeek!) we saw her switch from a more commanding and bossy attitude to that of relying on someone else (Hazel) and submitting herself enough to ask for help on something she's so passionate about...and then crediting Hazel for the vision, despite Nancy creating the designs. We also see how committed she is to the girls when Cynthia runs away. Her first priority was to find her and supporther through whatever was bothering her. This really struck me because Nancy is so proud of her designs, but rather than sticking around to watch her art come to life, she sprinted away to find her girls to go support Cynthia.

OLIVIA: My favorite character for last ofc. I loved seeing how passionate she was about making sure that the election results weren't rigged. She believes in Jane and the Pink Ladies so much and I love watching her fight to keep the group unified... You can tell that she felt so alone before the four of them became friends. She feels like she belongs now and she's so happy when she's around the girls. I hate how Mr. Daniels continues to have such a hold on her... All of the guys at Rydell would die for a chance with her, especially Gil....but I'm still holding out hope for Jane and Olivia. I love Richie but the sparkle in Olivia’s eyes and the smile plastered on her face when Jane is nearby....come on.

GIRL GANG: I also loved the shift in the group dynamic from "We're coming together because we want to change things" to “Hey, we actually really care about each other regardless of whether or not we have a single unifying factor!" The last few shots of the girls at Cynthia's was incredible. It reminded me of the Winnie the Pooh quote about not trying to cheer someone up, but just existing with them as they process everything. Also, I loved the ode to Jan when all of the girls sang along to the ipana song. I'm definitely excited/interested to see how Cynthia and Lydia's relationship will impact the group dynamic. I feel like the T-Birds and the Pink Ladies already have an idea that she isn't attracted to men, well except for Shy Guy lmao, so it won’t be a big deal to the gangs but I hope no one outs her or gives them trouble.

[greater-than-the-sword]

MANIFESTIMONY (1/???)

Lately, I’ve been trying to block out all outside influences from my personal relationship with god, but here’s the difficult thing about that: I’m still looking for answers. The Bible on its own isn’t enough for me, it’s just not. It’s vague as fuck, and there’s a lot of unanswered questions that I need properly answered if you expect me to understand any of it at all. But when most Christians/Pastors tell me their answers, I add those answers into the equation and it just makes me feel even worse, leaving me with even more questions, depression, paranoia, and overall confusion than before. I know that you probably think I shouldn’t let other Christians influence my relationship with God, as if it’s not already bad just being God, The Bible, and me. I try to picture God how you all want me to picture him (a loving father), but then thoughts of all the things he did in the bible come to mind, and I start to feel as if it's all just a facade. It all crumbles away, and I start to feel sick. I just can’t feel safe in him. It feels better viewing Christ as a being entirely separate from God, a being that came to sacrificed himself to save us from his father’s wrath. If Jesus is God, the same god that did all of those things, then I feel like he deserved everything they did to him. Why should I feel bad for him? He’s the all-powerful ruler of existence, he has everything he could ever want and infinitely more. He CHOSE to become human, he KNEW he would be killed in the way he was. He WANTED to be killed in the way he was. In fact, why should I feel bad for him anyway? He’s the son of God, that makes him one of the most privileged people in existence by default. He didn’t even stay dead, so what exactly did he sacrifice? Even ignoring all of that, why did God feel he had to die in one of the most violent and horrific ways imaginable just so he can save us from himself? Is God not powerful enough against sin to avoid bloodshed? Or is he just that bloodthirsty? Why did God have to kill so many people? Is God not all-powerful against the devil? Can God not just come up with a way to fix the issue without killing his children? Did he know he would have to do this to them? If he did, then why did he create them in the first place? Are we all just disposable toys for him? Things he can play with for a while and then discard when we don’t serve the purpose he wanted us to have? Does he even really consider us humans his children? Or just the ones that mindlessly obey him? God never changes apparently, so he’s still the same bloodthirsty, apathetic tyrant he was when he did all those things. Why should I trust him? Because he created me? Look at what he HIMSELF did to the things he’s created in the past. I know God hates me asking all these questions and is probably contemplating the right time to kill me right now, but I’ve tried to stop thinking about all of this, and I just can’t. I wish God never gave humans free will. He had no reason to give humans free will whatsoever. He knew ALL of the risks, knowing that he would have to kill so many of his own creations, ones that he supposedly “loved”, and knowing that most of those creations wouldn’t come back to him, and he STILL gave us free will. WHY? Does he just love seeing us fuck up all the time so he can justify punishing us? Otherwise, I can’t see a reason. Think about how much better everything would be if we didn’t have free will, how much happier we all would be, and most importantly, how much happier God would be. There would be no sin, because we’d be unable to. We would still be in the garden. God wouldn’t have to have killed any of us and none of us would go to hell. The more Christians I talk to, the less christians I’m able to talk to, and the more I feel like, maybe this is God’s way of telling me I deserve to be alone.

1. Anon, you don't have to block out all outside influence from your relationship with God. That's not a thing we're commanded to do because good influence is also a thing. If you want to hear what the Bible has to say before listening to other people great, but that doesn't mean you shouldn't hear other people because maybe they have good things to say.

2. Christianity is not about "feeling bad" for Jesus. The Bible is very upfront that Jesus died by his own choice, volition and foreknowledge in the expectation of future glory.

3. God has never done anything bad. None of the 3 persons of the trinity ever did anything bad. The "Old Testament God" never did anything bad. God has never been apathetic. If you read the old testament, you will see God's care all over the place. So, exactly which deed does it trouble you to associate Jesus with?

4. Jesus's sacrifice was massive when you consider who he is, how far he lowered himself from that, and the magnitude of what He endured on a spiritual level, which is the actual outpouring of God's wrath and not just merely the same execution that the thief next to him was getting.

5. Think for a minute about how debt works. If you want God to forgive people, well, think for a minute about what that means. A person who forgives a debt has to absorb the cost of the debt. To me, this is a very helpful way to think about the atonement. That IS what it looks like for God to forgive sin. That's the only way there is on a cosmic level of how the universe works, and you have gotta get in on it.

[somestorythoughts]

Clone Names as True Names Idea:

Thinking about the clones as growing up in a place where they're not supposed to have individuality and thinking of a slightly shifted take on their names, where they treat them kinda like how fantasy can treat true names.

I have no idea how common that element is so for anyone who doesn't know, a True Name is a name everybody/everything has and if you know the true name of a person/thing it gives you power over them. So people practically never share their true names, to do so is an immense sign of trust. Books that use it are Earthsea, Eragon, and probably others.

For this, the clones' names don't have the same power, knowing Cody is Cody and Wolffe is Wolffe doesn't give you any way of controlling them, though there could be an AU there. But the way the clones treat their names is kind of similiar - as in they're VERY selective about who they share them with even among other clones. In this clones calling each other by their numbers, or nicknames based on numbers/traits (Fives and maybe Echo was one of a handful that took their nicknames and went 'actually I'm making this my Name'), is standard. Clones might share their names with their best friends, but they aren't going to spread it around to the other troopers. Basically, imagine all of them figured out they'd be punished for having names and decided the best way to never let the trainers/Kaminoans onto it was to tell as few people as possible. It wasn't necessarily that consciously planned out, but that's the idea.

So even clones who know each other's names don't use those names in public if there's anyone around who doesn't know that particular trooper's name, and you never use someone's name without being given permission. Which means that if you overhear a name you haven't been given, no you didn't (what's less consistent is whether troopers use other clones' names around clones that don't know, some groups do some don't and this has led to fighting when the two interact and one doesn't realize that the other sees it as 'never use my name unless it's just the 2 of us' instead of 'around close brothers who don't know is alright' - regardless none of those brothers will use someone's name without it being explicitly given). They don't insist that their names be used, because that's been dangerous for so long, but they also very much have names.

There were probably a few that sort of panicked and gave their names to their jedi or a random natborn who asked "what's your name?" just because they were so shocked. The Kaminoans and trainers use "number/designation" and as part of the "names are intensely personal" thing, the clones themselves never ask for each other's name. It's something you're given, not something you request. Instead, they say "what should I call you?" or something similar. It allows them to chose between designation and nickname, many give both. So being flat out asked "what's your name?" was so shocking that the ones that didn't freeze/stutter in shock blurted out their names.

Once the war starts the meaning of "what do I call you?" expands slightly to include "what's your rank?" So if Cody wasn't using his name he'd answer something like "Marshal Commander Twenty-Four." I'd say this doesn't help make them look like people to the skeptics in the galaxy but honestly fandom's covered discrimination despite names pretty well so I honestly doubt it'd make a significant difference. When the war ends - if we go the order 66 failed route - this question becomes part of their general culture. Regardless of whether the clones in general start sharing their names more freely or pass on the "true names and nicknames" thing to the next generation, "what do I call you?" continues to be the default question when meeting a new person.

I like to think that the Jedi are kinda weirded out by the insistence on numbers till they realize they're being given nicknames and they're like "okay I guess I can work with this" and then someone finds out that the clones do have names they keep secret and immediately tells the rest of the Temple "GUYS THEY DO HAVE NAMES THEY PUT A LOT OF THOOUGHT INTO THEIR NAMES BUT SHARING THEM IS VERY PERSONAL AND THEY KEEP THEIR NAMES VERY SECRET CAUSE KAMINO" and the Jedi are simultaneously relieved and in need of mediation to not raze Tipoca City.

[galionne-speeding]

WWWIIWWWYYYYY I'll give you somethin' to get the ball rollin' mayhaps 🥺

We all know Zavok is the Leader(tm), but what would be your take if each of the others were leader instead? Whether they're fit for the position or not does not matter in this silly what-if 🤭 Gramps might be easiest to start with, since it's easy to assume he was likely the original Leader in the very beginning of the packs' creation (me thinks anyway, even for a short while)

A second version to this could beeeeeee like how any of the remaining four would handle being a temporary Leader in Zavok's absence for any reason (serious and non-serious reasons), and who you think would be the best option for that temporary time 🤔 (I say four and not five bc I think Zik would handle it best by default)

sorry if thats alot for a first ask coming back 😭

Ooooh this is a fun one!

Okay, okay, so I have a lot of little stories in my head that exist just for fun and not really to be shared ; and one of them is about each D6 getting two other Zetis (mostly OCs because it's fun) under their command and forming 6 mini-teams ; so I actually have a few thoughts on something like that already!

So, yeah, I think we can all agree that aside from Zavok, Master Zik would be the best candidate as Deadly Six leader- he was canonically the previous leader of the pack, after all. And he's the one who trained Zavok ; he's the one who passed all the leadership skills down to him. His leadership would probably be pretty smilar to Zavok's, with perhaps slightly more emphasis on manipulating the enemy rather than full-on fighting.

Zeena is definitely the kind of leader who would give a few orders and then sit back and watch. Do not question her leadership or authority, that's 'how to get kicked in the face 101'. I'd like to think she's a pretty good strategist, tho. So while she likes to sit back, her plans work well enough that the team allows her to do so and has moderate to great success.

Zazz... Zazz. If I say Zazz's solution to every single issue is violence, will you be surprised? The team is going to fight everything and anyone standing in their way- even when that's really not necessary. But one thing I'd like to think Zazz would be really good at as leader is getting the pack fired up. His bloodlust is contagious and he knows exactly what to say or do to get every single member of the group hyped up for the fight(s).

Zomom doesn't know how to strategize and he's not a great speaker. One thing he does know how to do, though, is take hits and protect others. He's less of a leader in the sense of someone telling orders what to do ; and more in the sense that he's not afraid to be at the front of the group in battle. He'll let others come up with the plan ; and make sure they're safe while it's being put in motion.

Zor is probably the most difficult to imagine as a leader. It just, really doesn't feel like a position he'd want. But if he really needs to lead, I'd imagine it would be quite similar to how Zeena does it. Find a plan, lay it out to the team, and sit back. His powers would obviously have to come into play ; perhaps as a tool to help the rest of the pack without having to put himself in harm's way.

So that's that for the first part!

As for how the rest of the pack would react to being temporary leaders ; I have another little story around that idea! Long story short, Zavok and Master Zik are captured by (some villain) and the remaining four have to rescue them.

In the end Zeena, Zazz, Zomom and Zor end up splitting leadership duties between the four of them. Zor gathers intel to help them make informed decisions. Zeena strategizes and crafts attack plans based on the intel. Zazz leads the charge and directs the pack into battle. Zomom keeps the group safe and ensures they all get out of the fight unharmed.

Stepping away from that little story ; I feel like neither Zomom nor Zor would want any kind of leadership position. If there's someone else to drop those duties onto they will gladly hand them the responsability. On the other hand, both Zeena and Zazz would do anything to be leader- and both strongly believe they'd do better than the other. They would probably just end up fighting each other for leadership until Zavok and Master Zik decide to do the work themselves, break free and make their way back on their own.

[mandos-sluts]

The Ambiguous Bet

The Mandolorian x Fem!Reader

Rating: Explicit

Wordcount: 2.5k

Warnings: Smut, rough sex, mentions of sex work

Summary: Mando doesn’t think you could handle being a sex worker and you set out to prove him wrong

A/N: This is our first time writing any sort of fan fiction (much more to come) so we would really appreciate reblogging/reposting! We would LOVE feedback as well!

You’ve been working on the Razor Crest for about six months ever since the Mandalorian hired you to be his live-on mechanic. With everything the Crest has been through, Mando knew he had to hire you once he observed your mastery mechanical skills…you being drop dead gorgeous had nothing to do with it, Mando told himself.

Of course, Mando’s attraction was not one sided. You had watched him take down ruthless criminals with no problem at all. It didn’t matter that you had never seen his face. His strength, composure, and confidence (perhaps cockiness) made him incredibly attractive. Not to mention his rock-hard body. Every night you would lay on your cot and wish that he would just storm in and fuck you sensless. Alsa he never did, so you defaulted to pleasuring yourself and imagining that scenario.

Mando would never act on his desire for you, however. In fact, he often went out of his way to give you more than enough space or make the conversation more than appropriate. But this was becoming harder and harder for him to do. Before hiring you, Mando would relieve his stress and sexual tension at the local brothels on whatever planet he was hunting a bounty on. But once you came aboard, he stopped this practice as he could never find the time or excuse to leave the ship without you for enough time. Since you had started accompanying him on his bounty hunts to assist him in whatever he may need.

***********************

You were pleading with Mando. The two of you were walking back to the ship after acquiring a new puck, and you were starving and there was no food back on the Crest.

“Fine.” Mando snapped with his low modulated voice. “We can stop quickly at the cantina and grab something to eat.”

The two of you walked through the door. “Alright, hurry up–” Mando said, turning to you.

But before he could even finish his sentence, you were running up to a random group of girls, none of whom he recognized.

“OMG hiiiiii‼!” One of them screeched.

“Y/n what are you doing here?!?” Another one exclaimed.

Mando just stood a few feet away watching you excitedly greet the four girls.

***********************

They were old friends of yours. It turns out, they all worked at the brothel down the road. While catching up with them, they told how fun and effortless their jobs were. They made great money having great sex for a living. It was a high-end brothel, and it was completely safe and clean; clients had to pass health and background tests before purchasing services. Your friends made thousands of credits and spent them travelling the galaxy, going out to fancy clubs, and buying luxury goods.

After getting a drink with them, you walked back to the ship. Mando had already returned. Unsurprisingly, he didn’t want to join you and your loud friends for a drink.

You step into the Crest. You take in the filthy floors and musty smell and can only think about the flashy and cushy lifestyle that your old friends are living as sex workers. You honestly love working with Mando and travelling with him as a mechanic/assistant. But a lot of the excitement of the job revolved around your flirtatious relationship with Mando, and you couldn’t help wonder how much longer that would last. You let out a deep sign, and climb the ladder to the cockpit.

“Finally.” Mando says standing up and facing you. You stood in the doorway. “You need to rewire the calcinator before we take off. Get to it.” He said shortly.

You stand there, and simply stare at Mando.

“...What?” Mando says with his modulated voice.

“Ohhhhhh nothing.” You sign crossing your arms and slouching. “I’m just thinking about how much more glamerous my life would be if I were a sex worker instead of a rouge Mandalorian’s mechanic.”

Mando scoffs. “That’s funny.”

You tilt your head as you stare into his visor.

“You would never last as a sex worker. Trust me, y/n, you’re much better suited being my mechanic.”

“What?!” you say, feeling slightly offended. “Excuse me, but I would be an amazing sex worker. Trust me, Mando.”

“Yeah…definitely not.” Mando says.

“And why is that?” You shoot back.

“You’re too stuborn to be a sex worker.” Mando says nonchalantly, leaning back into his chair. “You have to put up a lot of shit. You basically have to do whatever your client wants you to do. You have to let creepy guys fuck you any way they want.” Mando says.

“Creepy guys like you?” You say with a smirk, staring directly into his visor.

“Exactly.” Mando expresses, maintaining “eye” contact with you.

You take in a breath. “Alright, Mando, I’m bored, and our next bounty isn’t due for three days.” You say stepping closer to the chair he’s sitting on.

“I’m going to work at the brothel tomorrow and prove that I can be a great sex worker.”

“Ha, I bet you won’t last a day.” Mando spits, crossing his arms.

“You’re on.”

***********************

The terms of your bet were unclear or nonexistent? But it didn’t matter to you, and apparently not to Mando either.

You weren’t a registered sex worker, but your friends pulled some strings and you were able to work at the brothel for the day under the pretence that you were “shadowing” one of your friends to see how the job worked.

Inside the brothel, you sat in the area where the girls hung out. This was a lavish, very expensive brothel. The procedure was simple: the sex workers all lounged around this beautiful gold hotel loby. Clients who didn’t already know which sex worker they wanted would enter and observe the sex workers, speak to some of them, and choose one (or more).

You sat comfortably in a big velvet chair. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t nervous. But the deal was that you only had to make it through a day. Maybe you wouldn’t get any clients at all! There were a considerable number of sex workers, and perhaps no one would choose you. Just as you were starting to feel better at that thought, the manager called your name.

“Y/n! You have a client. Head up to room 279, they’ll be up there shortly.”

Your heart starts beating fast. Okay, so you have a client within the first five minutes of starting your day, no big deal!

You head up to the room with your heart still racing. It’s a really nice room. It’s gold pleated and there’s a lounge area, a bar, and a huge bed. You walk over to a large mirror and examine yourself. You’re wearing a red silk and lace two-piece set. You look super hot, this is definitely the hottest you’ve looked since taking the job on the Crest. You take your hair clip out to redo it when the door swings open.

Your heart drops and your head swings around to see who your client is. To your surprise, Mando stands at the door. He stands tall and confident, legs a little further than shoulder width apart.

“Mando! What are you doing here?” You say in confusion.

He doesn’t say a word, but takes one step into the room.

Your confusion is written on your face.

“Mando, you have to get out of here. I have a client on the way.”  

He still says nothing

“Seriously! They’ll be here any moment, you really need to go!” You say with urgence.

His silence continues as he slowly creeps forward, slamming the door behind him.

“Why would I leave?” He purrs. “I paid for this.”

“Wait, you're my client!?” You ask.

Mando stops just a few in front of you. In a slow, deep voice, Mando says “Y/n, you can quit now, admit you were wrong... and we’ll head back to the ship.” You can tell he has a devilish smirk under his helmet.

You pause for a moment. “Ha…..no way, Mando. I’m not backing down.” You say nervously.

“Are you sure about that, pretty girl?” He says, taking another step closer to you. He looks down on you, staring directly into your eyes. Your “gulp” is audible. Your pussy starts to pulse as you take in everything that’s happening.

Towering over you, he puts his fingers under your chin and lightly tilts your head up to meet his gaze. “Because I won’t hold back.” He asserts. “I’ll be as rough with you as I am with every other whore I’ve fucked.” He says, pulling off his gloves.

“Good.” You say. “Don’t hold back.”

With that, he steps forward grabbing your neck, shoving you into the wall. You whimper loudly and he grinds his rock hard cock onto your crotch before turning you around and pushing you harder into the wall, and rolling his cock against your ass. You could tell he was big, very big. He quickly pulls back and shoves your shorts down with a grunt, exposing your bare ass. You gasp and he rubs the soft skin on your butt before slapping it hard. You let out a yelp as your mouth falls open. He aggressively slaps your ass several more times.

He chuckles lightly. “You said you could take this, so show me how good of a slut for me you can be, little girl.” He says. Your pussy throbs at the filthy language he’s using.

He drags you to the bed and bends you over. One finger enters you as you moan. “I spent a lot of credits on this, it better be worth it.” He says as he pumps his finger in you repeatedly. You cry out.

“Damn this pussy is fucking tight!” Mando says through his modulator. You moan loudly as his thumb starts circling your clit.

Still bent over the bed, and his free hand moves up your body and roughly grabs and kneads your tits. He aggressively rips off your shirt. You can feel your pussy dripping on Mando’s hand as your arousal pulses through. He continues to tease you as he circles your clit. “Fuck, this pussy is wetter and tighter than I imagined. Why you so wet, little girl, you like it rough?” Mando says.

All you can respond with are light, breathy moans. And then, Mando pulls his fingers out and lightly slaps your pussy. You let out a yelp. “Answer me.” Mando commands.

“Ye– Yes. Fuck, I like it rough Mando.” You respond.

“Good. Let’s see your skills, my little whore” he says as he kicks your feet apart to spread your legs. You feel his finger flick your clit and you whine loudly.

Without warning you feel his thick long cock enter your pussy. The pain was so pleasurable that you see stars. He sets a brutal pace. He continues to rail into you as you scream his name. “Mando! Fuck Mando, ahh!” You hear his heavy breathing through his modulator.

“Fuck.” Mando spits out. “This is the tightest pussy I’ve ever fucked.”

“You– you ha– have the biggest cock– cock that has ever fuc– fucked me.” You return. Your pussy starts to throb. Without warning you cum and release a rush of fluid onto his cock as your entire body shakes.

“Ahhh, what a good girl, cuming around my cock” Mando says as he pulls out of you.

Your leg muscles give in, you sink forward into the bed. Mando flips you over so you’re lying down facing up toward him. “What a desperate little thing you are.” He growls. Mando takes a moment and admires your completely naked body all spread out for him. You are so small underneath him. Your doe-eyes are wide, your mouth still agape, panting for breath, and your pussy glistening from your cum.

Mando then grabs you by your waist. “On your knees.” He orders as he shoves you to your knees. He takes his length in his hand and strokes his cock in front of your face a few times.

You quickly gather your composure and take a second to admire his enormous member. You bite your lip and look up to him. Mando puts his hand on the back of your head and takes a fist full of your hair. You stick your tongue out and lick his cock up and down a few times before putting the tip in your mouth. You try your best to tease him, but before long, Mando pushes your head further down his cock. You start bobbing your head up and down, trying each time to take more of him in your mouth. Mando remains still at first, just using his hand to guide your head up and down his shaft. You start moaning and move your eyes up to his helmet, with this Mando begins thrusting into your mouth. His cock hits the back of your throat. “Fuuuucckkk.” Mando lets out while face fucking you. You hear his little moans in between your gagging. “I love the sound of you gagging on my cock.” Mando asserts. “And you look so pretty on your knees with it shoved down your throat.”

Doing your best to breathe through your nose, you can feel his length tensing in your mouth. “Mm gonna fill that pretty mouth of yours up with my cum.” You let out a moan and can feel his hot liquid shooting into your mouth. Mando pulls out of you and puts himself back in his pants. You’re now naked kneeling in front of him while he towers over you fully clothed and armored. You’ve never been so turned on in your life.

You pant and look up at him. Your face is covered in spit and cum and your hair is a mess. He bends down and runs his thumb across your bottom lip before putting it in your mouth. You suck his thumb. “Good girl.” Mando purrs.

Mando pulls his thumb out of your mouth, stands up, and takes a few steps back. You slowly rise up and take a deep breath, trying to comprehend everything that just happened. You turn around to reach for your clothes.

“Thanks for destroying my new work clothes, Mando.” You say picking up the ripped pieces of the tiny top he tore off of you.

“You won’t need them anymore, you’re only working here for a day.” You grab a short white silk robe hanging on the wall, and put it on. “And what if I have other clients today?” You say mockingly.

“You won’t.” Mando says. “I purchased you for the entire day.” He says walking to the door. You stand there feeling a mixture of astonishment and arousal at the knowledge that Mando paid a ship load so that only he would be able to fuck you.

Mando opens the door. “After you.”

“You realize that this means I win the bet, right? You understand that you paid me in order for you to lose the bet?”

“Sure, sweetheart. Congratulations. Now, we need to get back to the ship, and you need to rewire the calcinator.”

***************************************

Masterlist

[ssaalexblake]

@ravensbystarlight Oh thank god. I thought I was the only one who was really underwhelmed by the episode. The ending with Una could have been fitted at the end of any episode. Also the scenes in the future didn’t exactly show the characters in a favourable light. Plus I really refuse to believe that the only way the situation with the romulans could have played out was just in one exact way with only a few key people 🤷‍♀️

I’m just??? WHy wasn’t ep 9 the finale??? You don’t do a character death in ep 9 like that unless what happens in ep 10 is an absolute knockout or a deliberate display of the fallout from the death. Plus, i feel like there could have been some resonance in Pike deciding he needs to have this happen to him to save these people and the future in the episode before, and suddenly one of his crew has to die to save the others and is willing to do it. And Pike accepts that necessity, and gives Hemmer his blessing even as he hates it because he Gets it now. 

Then, they attend the funeral, are unexpectedly boarded and Una’s marched off unceremoniously and it makes it even more of a kick in the gut because just after a Funeral?? Do you have No shame??? 

I... Legit don’t get why they did it this way. It makes no sense. If nothing else, the Disrespect towards Hemmer not even getting a finale out of that story. 

I am willing to give them a pass on the romulan thing bc i interpreted it as Pike was actively the problem here. Not as much as only Kirk could do it as much as Pike couldn’t, and if Pike was still captain then he’d end up doing it by default and horrors would follow. So even if random captain 88 Could theoretically have solved the problem as well, if Pike was in charge, they still couldn’t have solved it because Pike was in charge and had authority? Unless I missed something, that was how I took that one. 

I think my main absolute gripe was what the ever loving Hell did they do to poor Erica??? Who was that character that actor was playing in this episode, bc they bore little similarity to Ortegas. Maybe a tiny bit like her fairy tale au self, but with no humour, just the urge to maim and kill. I’m pretty sure the Only reason Uhura was there was because she was supposed to be, they didn’t actually bother to do anything with her at all. La’an at least made sense to me? I’m on the fence abt her reaction to the Una question because on one hand, she was surprised and confused by the abruptness of it, but on the other... I imagine she’d be more angry about this all? Is she not Allowed to go talk to her friend in starfleet’s totally utopian forced labour camp or??? Did she just decide to write Una off after obviously forgiving her for the deception??? But then again, Pike apparently just went all business as usual about it, too, even if he doesn’t remember it. 

This whole ep felt like a first draft. The bones are there both story wise and character wise but everything is slightly/blatantly off and needs a rewrite to get the weirdness out. 

Also, Buy A Light.

 I literally had the brightness on full and I couldn’t tell if the guards on the romulan commander’s ship were romulan or reman. I could not tell the species of the people in the scene, which is a new low in the era of not bothering to light tv and film. 

[morkleemelon]

off the ice || chapter 6: grab my hand

previous || m.list || playlist || next

pairing: college hockey player! mark x fem. college figure skater! reader

genre: fluff, humor, angst, sports au, college au

word count: 7.7k

warnings: swearing, suggestive material, depictions of bullying

author’s note: huge thanks again to my beta readers @writing-frog and @skiimmiilk I’ve made the executive decision to split up the last chapter since it was so long! Chapter 7, the finale, is done and will be posted in a few days <3 

Distance. Distance isn’t a word you would use to describe your relationship as he pulls you close at night. There’s no distance between the two of you as he lifts you up in the air during your nightly practice, strong hands firmly gripping your waist as you dance across the empty rink.

No.

But if one were to look past your smile, to wipe away the condensation and see clearly what’s really going through your head when you were together with Mark, they might just name the dreadful feeling caving in your chest “distance”. 

Weeks have passed by since the hate message incident in Mark’s room. You tried to pull out the arrow, to convince yourself it wasn’t true and that you could ignore it just like all the rest. Alas, its words struck so deep, you still bleed. 

It poisons your thoughts. Your anxieties had already worsened  and you found yourself pulling away from his affections, afraid of the way the people walking past might somehow be talking about you.

Mark is starting to have his suspicions too, flashing you concerned looks when you uncomfortably shrug his arm off your shoulders in public. To you, it’s because you’re scared of the ‘hateful’ stares from others. To him, it’s a riddle he can’t solve. 

Because when it’s just the two of you, you let yourself relax. Like yin and yang, you fight an internal battle between how much you adore your boyfriend and how terrified you are that you aren’t good enough for him. When it’s just the two of you alone, you stop running and let him close the distance. 

Right now is one of those rare times - the familiar cold and scraping of ice below your skates bringing you peace. 

Mark glides easily beside you on the empty rink. He’s improved a lot, much to your astonishment. A golden boy through and through, he proves that there’s nothing he can’t do as he conquers each move you show him. 

Coach Tanya was surprised when you spoke with her after practice one day to notify her that you’d decided to pair with Mark Lee, captain of the hockey team, for the winter competition. Her thin eyebrows were perked in playful judgement when you started to defend yourself, ready to bring up Yuna’s accident and your financial situation before she stopped you: “You’re my best skater, y/n, and I look forward to your performance. Work hard, captivate your audience, and you just might win”.

Watching Mark skate on ahead of you in the borrowed skates he makes do with, you can’t wait to prove her right.

“What are we going to practice tonight, y/n?,” Mark asks as he arcs a wide circle around you. 

“I think you’ve gotten most of the basics down, so let’s go over the first part of the choreography,” you decide, grabbing onto his hand and giggling as he swings you around with him. 

“We have choreography?,” Mark lifts your arm up to twirl you around. He stops you as you face him, a laugh leaving your lips before he smothers them with kisses. His fingers tickle at the hem of your shirt, cold to your bare skin. You squeal, the sound carrying eerily over the spacious rink.

“I thought about it a lot in my head,” you explain as you shove him away gaily, “and I planned a bit during my own practices. It’s not done yet, but I think we can make it work”. 

“My talented, beautiful girl,” Mark murmurs, catching up to you and wrapping you in a back hug. You sigh blissfully, catching his warm lips in the crook of your neck.

“Mark, we seriously do have to practice. The festival’s only a month away,” you mumble. Some nights, let's just say, you spend more time in the locker room showers than you do on the ice. Using your best intuition, Mark’s lips travelling down towards your collarbones equals not a lot of practice time. And as much as you want for him to distract you all night long, you have to put your skate down and bring your boyfriend back to focus on the task at hand.

He huffs slightly against your skin, but releases you obediently.

“It’s gonna start like this,” you swiftly continue on, positioning your arm gracefully behind Mark’s head, “put your hand here,” you move his hand behind your back like you had planned, “and tilt your head to look at me,”. You tip his jaw slightly so he now peers down at you, face not inches from yours.

Dropping your gaze, you maintain what little self control you have and refrain from thinking about the locker room. It’s right by the rink exit. It’d be so easy to just...

“And then?,” Mark whispers, voice low, waiting patiently in the starting position. His hand is warm against your back, but it tugs at your heartstrings too.

“And then you’re gonna spin me out like we practiced before”. You help him perform the motion, unfurling yourself from his grip and gliding down to spin a slow circle around.

You bring him slowly through the rest of the introduction, Mark copying the moves diligently. 

“Then when I skate back to you, lift me up in the air like we did last time. You think you can do it?,” you question. The move you’re about to attempt is quite difficult - a little dangerous, even, since Mark is still a beginner - but you trust him to never hurt you.

“I can do it,” he confirms confidently, holding his arms out to receive you. 

“Okay, slow at first,” you nod, skating up to him at half-speed, grabbing onto his shoulders to help lift yourself above his head. Mark’s strong hands connect with your body, hoisting you up by your waist and balancing your body carefully above his. Muscles burning, you steady yourself as he twirls you slowly down.

“Alright, again,” you command.

The two of you repeat the move, steadily increasing the speed until the lift is smooth to your satisfaction. 

“I think that was pretty good,” you compliment, slightly out of breath. 

“Only because of you,” Mark endears, panting as he rests his chin atop your hair.

You sigh into his chest, the comforting feeling of his palpitating heartbeat washing over you.

If only it could always be like this.

“y/n?,” Mark mumbles. His tone was almost unsure, as if he was about to say something you don’t want to hear.

You hum an affirmation.

“Is everything okay these days?,” he asks the question you dread answering, “I know,” he continues before you can blurt out your default lie, “I know you keep saying that it is, but I feel like...you know you can tell me anything, right?”. 

Mark changes his phrasing midway, always taking your feelings into consideration. The all too familiar wave of guilt fills you up to your ears and you step slightly away. The stadium is dim, only lit by the natural light of the night sky, but you can see the concern that creases his face out in your peripheral vision. 

Your eyes focus instead on his jacket button. The second from the top has a few loose threads. 

And that’s just how you feel too; the button was made for this coat - it wants to hang on and be there forever. But how could it persist when the world wants to rip it off?

“It’s nothing,” you insist bitterly, your peaceful mood tainted gray. You were so close to successfully ending another day without confronting your demons. Why must Mark sense it so well?

Please stop, Mark. Please stop.

“I don’t think it’s nothing”. There’s nothing but kindness and concern in his voice, but when he reaches his hand out to you, fear overcomes your rationality and you jerk yourself away. 

“It is nothing!,” you exclaim, overly defensive. Half of your mind screams at you to halt, to filter your words before you say something you would regret, but the fuse was already lit and they come tumbling out anyway. “Can you please stop asking? It’s annoying,”.

A beat passes. Two. Five.

The sharp words tear through your mouth like knives, but even then you can’t stop to think. The energy in the rink changed so quickly, your head spins with shock. Turning away from the pained expression you don’t want to see, you skate quickly towards the exit. 

The ice is solid as ever, but why does it feel like you’re sinking?

Slamming the dormitory door shut behind you, your skating bag hits the floor before you do. Back pressed against the concrete wall, shaking sobs rack through your body as you sink down to your feet.

“y/n, what happened?,” Yuna peers over her computer screen. Your roommate had finally returned home a few days ago after her leg had finally healed enough to be discharged. 

You don’t answer, only burying your teary face into your arms as you cry harder.

The metallic creaking of crutches ensues as Yuna approaches your slumped form. A comforting embrace wraps around your shaking shoulders and the smell of her daisy perfume engulfs you. Her scarred hands stroke through your hair as she says nothing, waiting for your hiccups to calm down.

Guilt eats away at you like nitric acid. It mixes with your frustration, concocting a perfect poison that destroys your last thread of self-respect. 

“Can you please stop asking? It’s annoying”

“Can you please stop asking? It’s annoying”

“Can you please stop asking? It’s annoying”

The hurtful words don’t stop echoing in your head. What’s worse is, even though you didn’t stay to look, you can imagine the pain that crossed his face as you left without another word. You feel absolutely disgusting.

This is it. He’s finally going to be done with me.

Moments pass, Yuna sitting patiently by your side as you manage to find your voice. The dam you built around all your secret cracks, disintegrating to pieces as you let everything out to your best friend. 

You tell her about all of the hate messages you’ve been getting for months now - how you tried to ignore them, but some of them hit too way deep to forget. You tell her about the dilemma with Mark. He’s never done any wrong to you, ever, but you feel like you can’t keep forcing your problems on him. When you confided in your financial situation with him, he dropped everything to help you with the competition. You at least want to be able to handle one thing by yourself, to not be a burden, but it’s tearing you apart at the seams.

“I don’t deserve him and he’s going to realize it sooner or later,” you lament, gripping onto Yuna’s arms for dear life. Gasping sobs ensue, even as you hold your breath desperately to stop them. “He’s probably already realized it after what I said. Yuna, what do I do? I’m horrible”. Bitter tears choke at your throat.

“Oh honey,” Yuna coos into your hair, “you don’t even know, do you?”. 

Hiccupping uncontrollably, you take gasping breaths, trying to calm down. Your roommate understands, patting you gently on the back. 

“When you’re in a relationship with someone, the line between having enough communication and enough privacy is tough to figure out. Should you tell him about the lint between your toes? Maybe not. But talking to him about what’s bothering you is not only okay, it’s the right thing to do”.

Yuna lifts your chin up to face her. She looks empathetically down at your watery eyes as she takes her sleeve to dry the fallen tears. You press your eyelids shut, taking deep breaths punctuated by hiccups.

“And Mark,” she continues, “this guy, he looks at you like you’re all the stars in the sky and he’s the first astronomer. There’s not a thing you could tell him that would bother him, that’s what I think. And I think he’s dying to know how he can help you”. 

“Yuna I- you don’t understand. I just left him there after saying that. And I can’t even go on a date with him without feeling like people are talking about us,” you gasp out, “So the person sending the messages is right; I’m not good enough for him and he deserves someone way better than me. Maybe this is for the better”.

“y/n, don’t you see?,” Yuna snaps sternly. You open your eyes. They’re pink-red, matching the tip of your nose. “You’re letting other people ruin a once-in-a-lifetime relationship for you. Do you know what happens when you leave to go to the bathroom when we’re all hanging out? Mark’s looking towards the women’s room every two seconds, waiting for you to come back. This guy will manage to find a way to bring up your name at least twice in the five minutes you’re away. He likes you so much, anyone with a brain knows, so it’s not fair to him for you to tell him what, or who he deserves. At least let him make his own decision”.

The advice resonates in the air. Your hiccups calm to a sniffle as it sinks in. Yuna’s right, you’re being so selfish right now. Actually, you’ve been selfish this whole time. By forcing everything to yourself, you were creating an even bigger problem than any of the ones you were trying to hide.

“Yuna, what do I do now?,” you whisper, dread setting in.

“Girl, go talk to him. Now.”

You must look a mess, but you don’t bother fixing yourself up before you’re out the door.

Yuna sends you off with a ‘good luck!’ as you run down the corridor. Rushing down the metal stairs, your frenzied steps echo through the empty stairwell. They sound as desperate as you feel.

Oh god, please let it not be too late.

Once you reach the first floor entrance, you notice through the glass door that it is now, in fact, pouring rain. You were too distracted before to notice the heavy sounds of precipitation pelting down over you. 

Hands shaking to send Mark a message, you tell him you need to talk and you’re coming to him. You have no umbrella, but you push open the door anyways. The freezing rain soaks into your skin but you run on, unfazed.

You’re drenched and shivering by the time you stand panting in front of his building. Dying street lights illuminate against the dark, night sky. Waiting, the rain stings your eyes.

Through the blur, Mark’s figure finally appears at the door window. You can’t quite make out his face, but you know it’s him. The metal frame creaks as he pushes it open.

“y/n, what are you doing?”. His voice is raspy and as he comes closer into view. You notice that his eyes are pink-red, matching the tip of his nose.

“I have to talk to you,” you state, voice wavering as fresh tears mix with the ice-cold precipitation. Mustering up all the courage you have, you ready yourself to tell him everything you’ve been holding back.

“Let’s go inside”. His voice is soft as he tugs at your drenched jacket sleeve. 

“No I-,” you choke, “I want to say it right now”.

The rain bears down hard as he lets go of your sleeve, allowing the frigid water to soak through his own self, waiting.

“You asked me if something was wrong,” your resolve comes crashing down, “and a lot has been wrong”. You squeeze your eyes shut to force out the unwanted raindrops. “The truth is, I’ve been getting hate messages every day since we started dating. Probably even before that. They say I’m a slut, or I’m fat and ugly. The details don’t matter”.

Mark takes a step towards you, the concerned expression creasing his brow in full view. 

“But then they say I’m not good enough for you,” your voice breaks as you admit the most painful part of all, blinking up at him, “and I can’t help but believe them”.

Futily, you swipe your drenched sleeve across your eyes to dry them.

“But even if I don’t deserve anything that you are, I need to tell you right now that I didn’t mean what I said today and I need to know if you still want me-”

Before the next raindrop could hit your skin, you feel yourself lifted up into a crushing hug.

There’s no sound except the heavy pitter patter of rain around you, but you can swear that there’s a symphony playing as he spins you around. His breath huffs against your neck. He’s crying too, you realize.

“y/n,” he croaks, body quivering with tears and from the cold, “I always want you. I-, you-”. Mark pulls you in extra tight as he struggles to find the right words.

“You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” the words strain against Mark’s throat, “when I first saw you, I dropped my shit and ran away”.

You pull slightly away, looking up at him quizzically.

He shakes his head and continues, “You were so beautiful and even when I thought you hated me, I couldn’t stop thinking about you all the time. I don’t want anyone else-”.

Grabbing your face with both of his hands, he presses desperate kisses to your forehead. The rain bears down hard, lightning cracking in the sky, but you’re numb to everything else except the feeling of his lips pressing their love onto your skin. 

“You’re it for me,” his voice wavers. The vulnerable confession sends you into a fresh wave of emotions and you grip onto the back of his neck, crying into his shoulder. “You’re my heart. I knew it from the first moment I saw you”. 

Pulling back just enough to look you in the eyes, he brushes back the wet strands of hair stuck to your face. You’re tempted to do the same, the once golden locks now almost black against his brow. 

“I love you”. 

The words leave his lips so suddenly, but they’ve been at the tip of his tongue for so long they roll off with ease. Your heart drums against your chest as time seems to stop. 

“You love me?” you choke, not believing your ears. His forehead is pressed against yours.

“I love you,” he repeats, “I love you. More than anything. So much that I can’t breathe. I was so scared when you left today because I thought I did something wrong and I was thinking of what I said and I was sitting at my desk waiting for you to call because I wasn’t sure if I should call you first after what happened but then I almost did and then-,”

You shut him up with your lips. 

He sinks into your touch, responding naturally as you kiss him with everything you have.

Your mind spins with a mixture of relief and excitement as you let all of your worries go. It was never about other people, you realize, it was about your own insecurities and you were tearing yourself down. Without realizing it, you forgot to take into account the other half of the relationship: Mark’s opinion.

But now you know for sure, the opinion that actually matters, not the anonymous person who doesn’t know better. He loves you. It’s you he’s chosen. Out of all of the people he could pick from, Mark holds you in his arms, whispering soft ‘I love you’s’ between each kiss. Kisses to your lips. 

How could you ever want him to be with someone else when you’re the one he wants?

“I love you too,” you reply breathlessly into his open kiss. 

We deserve to be happy.

He doesn’t say anything, instead responding by tugging your waist closer to him, moving his jaw feverishly to indulge you deeper. Water drips down from his hair, splashing onto the bridge of your nose.

“Let’s go inside,” you gasp. The heat of the moment made you temporarily forget, but the icy November weather slowly started to soak past your jacket. You shiver as a strong gust of wind blows past your drenched body.

Mark leads you inside and you hustle up to his suite. His hand is warm against your wrist and you can’t wait for it to be tangled in your hair again.

Slamming open the door, Mark’s arms are around your waist before it could drift shut. You jump up, wrapping your legs around his hips as he carries you to his room, lips never leaving yours.

Jeno, unsuspecting, is lying on his bed with a book in his hands. If your eyes were open, you would flush at the incredulous look the poor boy shoots towards you. 

Meanwhile, your boyfriend works at your jacket zipper quickly, removing the wet outer layers as he sits you on his bed. 

Pausing a second, he turns his head to speak to his roommate. 

“Out”. 

You don’t have time to feel embarrassed before Mark’s jacket is on the floor and he’s lying you back, hovering over your body. The bedroom door rams shut as Jeno scurries out, not keen on seeing the scene progress any further. 

I’m sorry, man.

Your mental apology doesn’t last long as your wet hair soaks into the pillowcase beneath you. Mark kisses a line from your jaw down the side of your neck, raindrops wet on his tongue. The heat of his body contrasts the cold of yours and you want all of it against you. 

Rain-stained articles of clothing gather on the floor in no time.

“God, I love you so much,” Mark hushes against your ear. His gruff tone sends shivers down your back and you scratch your nails through the base of his hair. Your legs find their way around his hips again, pulling him down impossibly closer.

“I love you too,” you gasp back. 

He kisses between your collarbones, then looks back into your eyes, “do you want this?”. 

You nod frantically, your voice nothing short of breathless. “I want this”.

Peace you haven’t been able to feel for a long time blankets you as you lie on your lover’s chest, the two of you fresh out of breath. Such a revelation- him telling you he loved you was. And you want to savor the feeling forever.

It feels as if there was a thorn lodged in your heart, festering for months from your terrible, insecure thoughts and you’ve finally yanked it out. It feels like you can finally breathe.

Well, metaphorically. Physically, you may need a few minutes.

Mark’s hair sticks up in every direction, frizzy from being half-dried and from your constant tugging. Nonetheless, he looks beautiful to you in the dim, lamp-lit room. His chest rises and falls in your embrace and your fingers work to delicately trace the toned muscles of his torso. Mimicking your movements, he grazes his thumbs over the blue-purple masterpiece he’s painted across your neck and chest.

“Good?,” he asks nonchalantly.

You let out a soft snort at the sudden question.

Men will always be men.

“Great,” you admit. Heat creeps into your face as you recall the last hour or so. 

You guess there’s more benefits of hockey than just the uniform: the stamina and athleticism. 

His inflated ego fills the room palpably as he shifts in the messy bed, tugging the covers more over your tangled bodies. Noises arise from the kitchen, probably from his other suitemates. Embarrassment fills you to the brim when you realize that everyone probably heard the two of you. You were far too busy caught up in your passionate feelings to consider this, and now it’s come back to bite. 

Huffing shyly, you hide your growing blush into the nape of your boyfriend’s neck. Clanging of kitchenware resonates clearly through the room’s thin walls. You can’t help but distress over how clearly the others could hear you. And for such a long time too.

Oh my gosh. How will I ever face them?

Mark seems to sense your thoughts and lets out a light chuckle. 

“Babe, we’re fine. They all hookup all the time. And Yuna-,”

“I don’t need to know, thank you,” you interrupt sharply. Squeezing your eyes shut, you fight off the disturbing imagery.

Ten’s voice drifts through the suite and the sound of the front door shutting rings through them with unnerving vigor. You jolt at the bang, stiffly turning your neck towards the locked bedroom door, as if it would reveal any answers. Mark looks at you, the confused expression on his face making it apparent that he doesn’t know what is happening either. Slowly, he shifts up into a sitting position.

“You’re fucking kidding me - it was that bitch?”. The senior boy’s voice cuts through the nighttime quiet abruptly. Struggling to stitch together the context of the overheard conversation, you force your sore body to sit up as well. From how it sounds, it seems like Ten is on a phone call.

You look at your boyfriend for confirmation. With a nod, the two of you mutually agree to silently withdraw from the comfort of the covers and get dressed. 

“I don’t - listen to me, do they know for sure?,” Ten asks anxiously from the other side of the door.

With increasing concern, you hastily pick up your wet, discarded clothing. The cold, uncomfortable sensation makes you wince. Mark grabs your wrist, preventing you from putting on the still-soaked yoga pants. Shaking his head, he takes the garment and tosses it over his desk chair. From his dresser, he hands you a dry set of his own clothing. 

The gesture makes you smile and you gratefully pull on the warm sweats and hoodie. They’re obscenely large for your frame, but it’s a sure upgrade from your sad, rain-ruined outfit. Mark ruffles your hair, cheeks like strawberries as he kneels down without a word to roll up your pants. 

A small giggle escapes your lips. He’s just seen you naked, but of course it’s this that gets him blushing.

The happy expression is quickly wiped off your face as Ten continues abruptly, anger apparent in his voice. 

“Fucking hell! Hillary Choi? The bitch even admitted to it?”. The senior captain’s voice is nothing less than a yell now. Mark’s mouth hangs open in shock as he stares towards the door. The concern and shock shining in his eyes allude to how uncharacteristic his friend’s behavior is.

“Hillary Choi…,” you mutter under your breath, the name ever so familiar to your ears. 

“Wait she’s…,” Mark turns his gaze to you carefully, silently confirming his correct assumption.

“She’s the one who hates me…,” you confirm bitterly with a nod. 

Mark stands up, grabbing both your hands as you sit back on his bed. His expression is sad, perhaps also peppered with anger - something you’ve never seen in your boyfriend. Gently, he tugs you to your feet.

As you push the bedroom door open slightly, the common room comes into view. Ten’s figure is hunched over the kitchen sink, listening intently to the person on the other side of the phone speak. His breathing is rushed - you’ve only ever seen him this mad the day Yuna entered the hospital. 

Then it all makes sense.

Opening the door fully, you reveal Jeno and Haechan sitting on the common room couch. You make eye contact with them as you and Mark stand at the doorway, listening. Their expressions tell that they’re equally as concerned as you.

Mark’s hand in yours, you tiptoe your way to join the two friends on the sofa. 

“The fucking psycho bitch,” Ten spits. His hands run furiously through his raven hair as he begins pacing around. The senior sees all of you gathered together, but makes no move to acknowledge any of you other than a hard stare.

The tension is suffocating. Everyone wants to say something, but the waters seem too rough to test. Anxious glances are exchanged, but not a word leaves any of your mouths as Ten continues pacing around, the other speaker on the phone relaying more information. You conclude to wait until the call is over before you try to ask.

“Okay so she’s at the police station right now? ”.

Mark’s hand squeezes yours in silent shock. 

“Okay… fuck,” Ten rubs tiredly at the bridge of his nose, “alright okay, thank you, officer. I- yeah I’m okay, thank you. Tell Yuna I’m on my way now”. 

A moment of silence suspends heavily over the air as he hangs up the call. The breath you didn’t know you were holding escapes in relief as Haechan clears his throat awkwardly and takes one for the team.

“Uh…,” the sophomore calculates for a bit, eyeing the enraged senior carefully, “Ten, what’s going on?”.

For the first time ever, it seems, the mischievous boy’s voice rid itself of its usual snide tone, replaced by refreshing sincerity. 

Ten sets down his hand, revealing tears building up in his previously covered eyes. Jeno doesn’t waste a second, getting off the couch without a word and wrapping his arms around his crying friend. 

You hesitate before asking, “It’s Yuna’s case?”. Keeping your voice as steady as possible, you hope you’ve succeeded in masking your growing fear.

Ten sniffs, patting Jeno’s back, prompting the younger to let go. Wiping away the stray tears, he nods. Everyone waits patiently as the distraught senior calms himself down with deep breaths.

“They caught the person who tried to kill her- or is it people? I don’t even know. And yes - they tried to kill her,” Ten rubs a stressed finger between his brow, “It was Hillary Choi, some junior girl who’s obsessed with Mark - she’s in our fanclub or whatever. They said she confessed it was all part of a plan? I don’t- I don’t know,” his voice breaks off as he tugs at his hair before heading over to grab his keys. 

“Wait, I don’t understand. If she’s obsessed with me why would she go try to hurt Yuna?,” Mark’s voice rings with alarm. A sinking feeling of dread sits in your stomach like a block of cement.

“It’s-,” Ten huffs into his hands, “let’s go to the station first and the bitch can tell you herself, she’s there apparently. Yuna is too. I don’t want to keep Yuna waiting there alone any longer so let’s go”.

The drive is silent, save the rumbling of the pavement below the car’s tires. Mark’s hand grips yours like a vice, but you don’t say anything. In fact, it kind of keeps you grounded as your anxiety goes through the roof. You’re no Sherlock, but hearing news that a girl who’s obsessed with your boyfriend (as has been sending you hate messages for months, no less) tried to kill your best friend, almost succeeding, bodes terribly for you. 

It had stopped raining a while ago and the five of you hurry your way through the fresh puddles dotting the police station lot. 

“Yuna?,” Ten calls out as the glass doors slide open. 

“Here,” a weak reply voices from behind a partition. 

Rushing over, you see that Yuna’s usual perfect composition is instead worn-down: her platinum blonde hair falls limply down her shoulders and her face is gaunt with distress. 

You had just seen her a few hours ago and she was even the one comforting you then. But now it’s your turn as you carefully kneel down beside her chair and pull her instinctively into a hug. 

“Officer, can you please tell us what’s going on?,” Mark stops a nearby woman in uniform. 

“You’re all friends of Ms. Kim?,” she inquires, continuing as a chorus of confirmations fills the room, “Okay, just a second”.

The woman appears visibly tired, probably pulled out of bed at an ungodly hour to cover this shift. Taking a long sip of her coffee, the white curls of steam prance around the air as you itch for answers. Setting the hot beverage down on the desk beside her, she straightens her badge. ‘Detective Jeong’, it reads.

“We have a confession,” Jeong relays finally, “earlier today- or yesterday, I should say- we received a call from our traffic security team detailing that they spotted the same model of car as the one thought to be involved with the accident on September 15th the uh-,” she stops to check her clipboard, “black 2018 Audi A4. We issued a warrant to interrogate the driver as quickly as possible, although not much was needed since the perpetrator, Miss Hillary Choi, confessed to the hit and run almost immediately”.

You hug Yuna tighter, Ten embracing from her other side. 

“You have the confession, did she say why?,” Jeno asks sternly.

“This is where it gets slightly more complicated and I want to ask, is a Miss y/n here?”.

The mention of your name makes you perk up, surprised. 

“That’s me,” you stand up slowly, “why?”.

Mark places a hand at the small of your back in concern. 

“y/n…,” Yuna sobs softly, gripping your arm. A thousand thoughts run through your head as your struggle to understand what is happening. 

“Yes?,” you brush the fallen strands of hair behind her ear.

“I want her to say it,” Yuna directs, speaking to the detective now. 

“Now we do have Miss Choi in our custody right now, but you’ll have to move back into the interrogation room if you wish to speak with her, for safety reasons”.

You nod, helping Yuna onto her crutches as everyone moves towards the back of the station. It feels as if you’re dreaming, that reality has separated itself into a different plane than the one you’re in and your existence has become but a construct. Your legs move on autopilot while your eyes are fixed ahead, but not really looking at anything in particular. 

The room you enter is dark and stuffy. Even with Haechan and Jeno opting to wait outside, it is far too crowded for the four of you. The room is divided into two; the other side is fully visible but unreachable due to a large plexiglass window in between. It’s eerily isolating. Yuna is ushered onto the only fold-up chair on your side of the room.

As the late-night officers go to bring Hillary in, the apprehension in the air is thick enough to be spread on your breakfast toast. The only comfort that comes to you is Mark’s arms wrapped around your waist. It’s the only thing that you can make sense of right now.

The door on the opposite side slams open suddenly, drawing a sharp gasp from you. Mark’s fingers curl protectively into your hoodie as Hillary enters.

It’s surreal. This woman - handcuffs and all - carries a plain, calm expression as she sits down casually in her own fold-up chair. You hadn’t seen her in a while, but her beady-eyed gaze is as intense as ever. The red streaks in her hair are outgrown, falling awkwardly around the bright orange of her jumpsuit. 

“What’s up?,” Hillary asks, tone cool as if she were not being held for attempted murder at the moment. Her dark eyes settle on you, the arms around your waist, then back to you. Hillary’s stoic face is unreadable, yet it sends chills down your spine like a thousand spiders.

“What’s up? You absolute psycho bitch-,” Ten rails, banging on the glass barrier with a clenched fist. He pulls back as the officer gives him a warning. Yuna pulls him back to calm him down.

Your eyes don’t leave hers. They’re a dark brown, almost black, and you find yourself sinking into them - pulled into them like they’re black holes of concentrated hatred.

Closing your eyes, you pull your mind back to yourself. 

For months on end, you’ve been the recipient of her constant torment. It not only affected your mental health, but almost cost you the relationship of a lifetime. This whole time, you’ve been afraid of her words, letting them eat away at your dignity from inside out until you were nearly gone. 

But if you had the weapon of confidence - if you had simply chosen to stand up and reply, to say ‘no, you’re wrong’, her arrows would have fallen limp to the ground and she couldn’t have hurt you. Hurt your friend.

You open your eyes, this time staring back hard. Hillary’s expression is unfazed, but you imagine she’s surprised at your change in mentality.

“Tell me everything,” you demand firmly. 

Hillary scoffs, as if the situation is amusing. 

“Fuck you, tell us everything,” Ten hisses.

Hillary rolls her eyes. “Fine. Only because she wouldn’t want me to be mean to you, Ten”. 

“Who?,” you ask rigidly.

“I’ll get to that, bitch,” she sneers.

“Hey, don’t call her that,” Mark warns.

The psychopath in orange laughs maniacally, though you can’t place your finger on what she finds funny. 

“Funny,” she gasps for breath, slapping her knees vigorously, “funny how now you talk to me!”. 

“She’s nuts,” Yuna states.

“The whole damn Planters factory,” you agree.

“You people wouldn’t know a thing!,” Hillary fires, pointing an accusing finger around the room. Her face is red from her laughing fit, almost as red as her disgruntled bangs. Eyes now glistening with rage, you press back into Mark’s embrace when her personality flips 180 degrees in under a second. “You don’t know anything!,” she screams, “You don’t know! You don’t know!”.

The four of you watch in shock as Hillary melts down, the guard coming up and restraining her to the chair. She’s thrashing around, chanting the phrase over and over again.

“You’ll never know how much I love you, Mark,” Hillary shrieks, smiling hauntingly as she’s forced back into the chair and cuffed to it, “and you’ll never know how much she loves you, Ten”. 

“What the fuck?,” Ten rightfully shouts.

“Tell us who!,” you raise your voice. 

“I’m getting there, b-,” she stops in the middle of the slur, glancing at your boyfriend. In the blink of an eye, her expression jumps from pure disdain to sickly sweet, “baby”. 

Anger flushes through your body. Wanting to provoke her a little, you turn your gaze to your boyfriend. Predictably, he immediately turns his full attention to you. A scrunch of his brow asks you if you’re okay. 

“Did you enjoy them?,” Hillary’s voice is ‘normal’ again as she asks the out-of-context question.

“What?,” Ten pries, unamused.

“Did you,” she points her finger directly at you, “enjoy my messages?”.

Oh boy, oh boy. I was waiting for you to ask that.

The words rush to your mouth, every comeback you’ve ever made manifesting into the pinnacle of all comebacks, “As a matter of fact, I did,” you smile brightly, ���I especially enjoyed the one’s where you said Mark doesn’t love me and doesn’t want me. I like to think of the irony of it all when we’re sleeping together and he gives me these”. 

You tug down the collar of your hoodie (that’s actually his which makes it even better) to reveal the hickies blooming down your neck. “If only you could know how good it feels, but you’re undoubtedly alone”.

Yuna snickers beside you, but Mark’s signature laugh shamelessly fills the limited space around you. The mood of the room changes completely at your words, the seriousness dissipating like sugar in hot water. It’s so refreshing, the feeling of being in control of yourself. Hillary, the person you used to be so afraid of looks so small in her isolation. There’s nothing to her at all, now that you know to stand up for yourself. You’ve never felt so… powerful. 

In any other situation, you would have died in embarrassment from sharing personal information like that, but you’re on a roll. And it’s bitch ass Hillary we’re talking about here. Even Ten looks mildly impressed by your new attitude, a tiny smile quirked on his lips.

“You-,” Hillary pouts, “how could you, Mark, how could you do this to me? You and I both know we loved each other first. We still love each other”.

“I have literally no idea what you mean,” Mark emphasizes, moving his hands to grip your shoulders, “you need some serious help, man”.

“I’ll fucking kill you!,” she screams at you again. 

“No you won’t,” you chuckle, “you’re locked up! At this point it’s a little amusing.

“You wanna know what the plan was? Me and Seojung were gonna kill you both. I take the bitch that’s dating Ten and she takes the slut who took Mark from me. I got so close, following you, blondie, to the party, but you just had to live-”

“The fuck did you just say?”

“Sick psycho oh my god”

“Yeah good luck doing that from prison, asshole”

The room erupts in replies that cut her off. 

“Alright, time’s up,” the guard announces. The door on your side of the room opens, a gust of cool air welcoming you as Detective Jeong appears to usher you out. Turning around to give Hillary one last word as the officer drags her back to her cell, you’re not surprised to meet her menacing eyes. 

“He loves me,” you state confidently, “and he always will. Enjoy hell”. 

With that, the door shuts behind her and the worst chapter of your life dots its last concluding period. It’s the last one that you’ll let someone else write for you. You’re more than ready to pick up the pen and turn the next page. Excitedly, you head out to your friends waiting on you outside.

“Don’t worry, we’ve monitored that whole conversation and everything will be used against her in court,” Jeong assures, “Miss y/n, you might remember Choi mentioned a ‘Seojung’ and we want to make sure you know that she has been detained and held at the Gangnam Police Station. We’re waiting on her statement, but if what Choi testified is true, we’re looking at life in prison for both parties”.

“Not death?,” Ten scoffs.

“Not death, no,” the detective shakes her head.

“So basically, they’re both insane. And they did all this because they thought Ten and Mark belonged to them,” Haechan follows slowly, having just been filled in.

“We gotta put an end to this fanclub shit. Why are our lives controlled by these freaks,” Jeno groans.

He’s right. He’s so right. The whole thing is disgusting, especially when none of the Lee’s ever asked for it to be formed. If it’s already gotten to the point where members are caught in homicidal attempts, there’s no way the Lovelees club can continue to exist.

The station is nearly empty now, almost all of the officers handling the case calling it a night and heading home. Not wanting to keep Detective Jeong any longer, the six of you head out to the car. It’s nearly four in the morning and the adrenaline is wearing off, exhaustion replacing it.

“Hey but y/n, you were so good in there,” Yuna smiles, bumping you with her shoulder as you walk through the parking lot. The night air is cold against your skin, filled with the scent of petrichor.

“Yeah, you,” Mark looks at you with doe eyes, arm slung around your shoulders.

Letting out a short laugh, you press your lips quickly to his cheek.

“And I’m assuming based on how this looks, the conversation went well?,” Yuna adds.

“Only thanks to you,” you appreciate, turning from your best friend to Mark, “I think we’re all good now”. 

Mark beams at you as Ten unlocks his car, bringing you in for an elated kiss.

Groans erupt from all around. 

“You’ve seriously been going at it all night, none of us have gotten any sleep,” Haechan whines loudly.

“Bruh,” says Jeno.

“Then get yourself a girlfriend, fatass, I don’t know what to say,” Mark retaliates.

You reluctantly pull away as everyone piles into the vehicle. Haechan, you don’t feel bad for. He could cry and pout all day and you wouldn’t bat an eyelash. Jeno, is a different story. 

Memories of earlier cause your fingers to curl up in cringe; the way he was minding his own business in his own room only to be caught in the middle of your… make-up methods. 

“Hey…,” you apologize as you cram into the seat next to him, “I’m uh- I’m sorry about earlier”.

“I don’t want to talk about it”. The blue-haired boy massages the crease between his brows, stressed. 

“Right okay,” you nod. 

“Not to ruin the mood, but are you okay y/n? I feel like we’re moving too fast past what you’ve been dealing with for the past few months. I mean… I just want to make sure I’m not in the dark about your feelings again,” Mark asks softly.

Silence falls upon the car as the group awaits your answer. You look to the passenger seat, to Yuna, as Ten cruises down the city street. 

“I’ll never forgive her,” you finally admit, “either one of them. They can literally rot in hell for all I care. But for me, I’m okay. If anything, this whole thing has taught me a lot and I’ve grown a lot from it. Both of them are locked up, so I’m not scared anymore. Oddly, I feel really free”. 

Packed into a tiny car, cruising down the streets of Seoul, you admire the friends around you. You’re surrounded by love. Your best friend and the love of her life. Your soulmate and his two best friends (who have become like family to you). Back on campus, Hope and Lisa sleep away, unaware of the chaos of today. You can imagine the looks on their faces as Yuna and you fill them in. Irreplaceable, every one of them. 

Life is full of way too many amazing things for any number of crazy bitches to ruin. Just as your friends have become irreplaceable to you, you are irreplaceable to them too. It’s due time that you give some credit to yourself. 

I am truly confident. I am worthy. I am loved.

previous || m.list || playlist || next

[pumpkin-pi-e]

News reporter who’s thirst for views causes them to get a little too close to the action. All Smite was never one to shy away from the limelight. He broadcasted his dastardly deeds for the world to see. If you wanted a close up, he’d oblige you. He’ll give the good folks at home some real entertainment. The sun might hide the stars, but that doesn’t mean they can’t shine. He’s going to make you into a star. It’s your time to shine.

Your greed made you too big for your britches. You’d flown too close to the sun. All Smite had no choice but to burn you along with this city. As so the idiom goes. Although you’d be burning in something different, you’ll be burning with lust.

“Don’t hide behind heroics and false self-righteousness. Views are what you wanted, aren’t they?” Cerulean pinpricks flick up towards you.

N-no! You were doing this to spread news! The people had a right to know, and you had a duty to deliver on the devastation wrought by this villain.

You remain silent. Those lips curl into a tight smile that’s amused and needlessly cruel, smug.

You’re furthering his belief. There was no such thing as truly good individuals. Even those heroes the masses liked to fawn over fell short. Humans are selfish by nature, and by default no better than he.

You can’t deny traveling closer than the other casters for more ratings, to get a better shot of the damage. However, that doesn’t mean you’re desire to spread awareness was misguided and tainted in something selfish.

“You don’t need those to make you feel better. Not when I’m going to do a better job of it. You don’t have to play pretend.” He purrs, kneeling over your hyperventilating chest. All Smite caressed your quavering thighs, petting you as is if you were but a frightened animal. “I can understand. It makes for better television. People love damsels in distress.” His tone is dripping in derision, concealing a snort. “And perhaps you want to hold on to your reputation.”

Your watery eyes plead up at him, begging him to stop with barely perceptible shakes of your head. His smile sharpens into something sadistic, something that held no sympathy for your plight, only revelry for your horror. His pleasure was your pain. It crinkles his eyes, narrowing them to slits. His signature grin is a rictus, baring his teeth in cruel mockery of everything a smile should represent. Instead of offering warmth, it chills you down to bone—living up to its namesake, striking fear in your overworked heart. “That’s what the people wanna see.”

“Please…”

“Again, there really is no need for the theatrics, but I can see you wanting to put on a show.” Your chin is seized by impossibly large hands, their grip is so firm you’re loath to imagine what his handshake is like. His eyes bore down at you, staring into you. They’re clear blue diamonds, pearls shrouded in darkness. A light in the night, yet this one was deceptive. It lured you in like an angler fish to your demise. So he could eat you alive.

There was no hope at the end of that tunnel, only death and chaos.

“You think-you think I’m pretending?”

“Aren’t you?” His return is casual. It sent you reeling.

He groans, long and deep—purring as his generous bulge presses into you. It’s size put more fear into you than his reputation ever could. “You think I haven’t noticed you?” He braced himself on his palm, sparing you his full of weight and being crushed under pure muscle as he slowly grinds into you. “Wherever I go, you’re always there.” Rough fingers trail along your skin. Bored of the clothes separating you from one another, your top is ripped in two by those very hands. He isn’t a selfish lover. He exposes his midriff, giving you a front row seat to muscles upon muscles and a peak at his buxom pecs; there’s a glint of silver, a hint of a nipple piercing. “You’re chaos’s cheerleader, documenting my handiwork. Tell me, does it intrigue you? Does it offer excitement from your boring nine to five?” All Smite’s powerful hips jut forward, bucking into you harshly. Your gasp is gladly received, paid back with a low growl of tribute.

“Don’t tell me you like the struggle.” Toshi laughs, feigned disbelief with a touch of delight. “I wouldn’t be too surprised. I’ll be your villain.” Lips demand of you, hard and unwilling to compromise. “And you, bunny, you’ll be my queen.” Your white coat will be stained red.

What is the point in all this, you ask? He really thought you’d know better. Everything had a reason. Even chaos has a mission.

“Claiming you. Corrupting you.” He’d do it for all the world to see—tainting that snow white purity you held as red as an apple when he planted his own seed.

Did you think he hadn’t noticed you? He had, although before today, he never turned from his wreckage to acknowledge you. In the sea of cowardly faces, yours stood out, the only one some might call brave, and others foolish enough to venture closer than they should.

He called it gluttony.

[Yandere All Smite films himself taking you, so that everyone can see how perfect his bunny is, he purrs over your cuteness.

All Smite fits that trope of hating everyone and everything except for his s/o.

Alpha! All Smite forcefully cuddling his frightened mate. He drops his full body mass on you, pinning you to the ground. Growling out a soothing purr, he keeps you there. It’s a gentle command to sit still. Toshi grins down at your squirming form, increasing their volume and depth until you’re forced to obey his whims. You want to tell him to stop, but opening your mouth would be like opening a bird cage. All the sounds you want to keep in will come flying out. You’d give him what he wanted.

Your obedience isn’t all he’s after. Deepening his currs to rumbling snarls, he forces the noise you’ve been smothering from your throat. Mortified tears streak down your warmed face as you purr in response to him. Toshi’s rumbles pick up. He knows he takes good care of you, you just seldom let him hear it.

[choose-your-own-pronouns]

CYOP - Tutorial Sword

(This one might have some mistakes, because at one point I accidentally copied half of one and pasted it into another, but I think it’s all fixed now...let me know if there are any sets I missed.)

she/her type pronouns: she/her/hers/herself “she was”

Replace:

[Name]

[she]  

[her]  

[hers] 

[herself]

“Hey, who’s that Necromancer over there? Do you know ter pronouns? The one with the silver sword and the skeleton dog over by the forge. Do you know where mys got that sword? It looks awesome. Do you think mys’d trade me?”

“Oh, [Name]? [Her] pronouns are [she]/[her]/[hers]/[herself]. And as for the sword, no, I don’t think [she]’d trade you for it. That sword is Sentimental for [her], since it originally belonged to [her] parent, and they got it off a commander they defeated, so no, I don’t think you’ll have any luck convincing [her] to trade it for yours. No one wants one of the standard issue ones, they’re all too impatient and reckless.

“Why do you think you’re the only one who still has theirs? These idiots  say they’re cursed, can you believe it? A sword that can’t be looted, that tells you everything you need to know about this game, and they want nothing to do with it. Most of these idiots get rid of it the first battle they face. If you didn’t know, when you defeat an enemy in battle, you can loot any items from them that you want except for their base layer of clothing, and any Sentimental items. You know how I said [Name] got [her] sword from [her] parent? Yeah, that means it’s Sentimental, and no one is allowed to loot it, since the Sentimental Exemption applies to it. The rules for what can and can’t be Sentimental are pretty complicated, so I won’t go into them now, but that’s also why [Name] has two swords, since everyone has to carry at least one weapon that can be looted. Anyone can carry multiple weapons, but after a while it just becomes cumbersome.

“You don’t get an extra carry slot when you have a Sentimental object, and with the extra weapon you’re required to carry if you have a Sentimental weapon, you end up permanently losing a slot, and especially when it comes to the higher tier battles, every item you bring counts, which is why not a lot of people keep Sentimental items, or at least not Sentimental weapons.” 

“So let me get this right, everyone hates the default swords because they give you a tutorial, but then you’re also going to give me a tutorial?”

“Yeah, because I get paid to tell the new people how things work. Everyone gets rid of their standard issue sword the first chance they get, so they end up not knowing how to do even basic things like bathing or weapon and armour maintenance. So since I decided to keep mine around until I actually knew what I was doing, everyone decided to elect me the official tutorial tutor, since none of the other experienced players have the patience to teach new people. Everyone who survives a battle using techniques or skills I taught them gives me at 10% of any coins they picked up during the fight.”

“Wait, so now I’m going to have to pay you since you’re telling me this? You could have lead with that! That’s not fair!”

“No, no, you’re still Level 1, so you’re exempt. Plus, you still have your sword, so it could teach you anything I can. You’d only have to start paying me once you hit Level 3 if you’d already gotten rid of your sword. You don’t have to worry about paying me as long as you have that sword. The lessons it gives you run out at Level 50, so you can imagine the slack I’m picking up by teaching the people who got rid of their sword during their first fight. Without me, this team wouldn’t have any idea how to do Spells or Techniques or Crafting. I was one of the founding four, and trust me, if I hadn’t had the common sense to keep my sword, this team wouldn’t even exist right now.”

“Wow. So you’ve been doing this for five years?”

“Yep. Almost six, actually, the anniversary is next month on the 2nd.”

“Woah. So, okay, if you know everything, is there a way I can change how my sword looks without getting rid of it? I like the tutorial feature, but it’s really plain looking. I want something dramatic or cool. Or at least I want to change the color, I have my eye on an outfit from the Jareq’s and I want it to match.”

“Well, you’re in luck. Remember our sentimental Necromancer over there?”

“Yeah.”

“[She]’s our Craftsmaster. [She] can reforge your sword into different shapes and styles, and can dye it different colors for you too. If you’re patient enough, [she]’ll even teach you how to do it yourself. [She]’s always complaining that [she] has to do everything because no one else wants to learn. I think at this point [she]’s literally paying people to become [her] apprentice, just so [she] can have someone to help out with the list of orders.”

“Wait, really?”

“Well, you’d have to ask [her] if that offer is still on, I’ve been too busy with the new recruits to hang out with [her] the last few days. [She]’s friendly, especially towards new people, and [her] skele doesn’t bite anyone that doesn’t threaten [her], so don’t worry about talking to [her] or anything. 

“If you want, I’ll even walk you over and introduce you and ask [her] about reforging your sword. But before we do, you should think of a name for your sword if you haven’t already, you have to give it a name when you reforge it, and it has to be unique. If you open your journal, you can check which names are available, and it’ll suggest some for you if you can’t think of one.”

“Well, I’ve been calling it Chirithy in my head...uh, it’s from a video game, one of the older ones that you played on a cellphone.”

“Well, lets go to your journal and check if that name’s available. It definitely sounds unique so I bet it is--ah, look at that, it is! So we’d better hurry and get your sword reforged now, someone else out there might have the same idea! Trust me when I tell you that when you find a name you want, do not hesitate to claim it. Just don’t. Don’t worry about picking the new form for it yet, you can just reforge it into something quick and basic just to save the name, then you can come back later and choose a more intricate form. Come on, I’ll introduce you!”

“Okay, yeah, let’s go!”

 “Hey, [Name]! Get that forge started back up to five, we need you to reforge a sword quick before the name gets taken!”

“Don’t yell at [her], [she]’ll get mad!”

“Oh, don’t worry kid, this is just what we do. Plus, it takes time to heat the forge to the right temperature, and [she] hates having to wait when [she] could be doing something productive. Trust me, if we waited until we got all the way over there to tell [her] what temperature we need, and then [she] had to stand around and wait for it to get to the right heat even after [she] already knew what [she] was going to make, [she]’d be a lot less happy to help.”

“Oh. Hey, wait a second, do I have to pay [her] to reforge my sword? I only the have fifteen coins the opening fight gave me, and I don’t know what the economy is like yet…”

“[She] usually charges around fifty coins for a reforging to cover the cost of the materials, but this one’s on me. Fifteen coins isn’t a lot, it’s mainly supposed to get you buying things, since the basic gear from Jareq only cost two coins each. While you’re buying the basic armour, you also get to look at all the cooler stuff you can buy later, so you’ll want to get more coins to buy them, so you’ll keep coming back for more fights. And since they release new outfits every other month, you always have a reason to keep coming back.”

“Please take this as a compliment--I can tell you’re the teacher around here.”

“I do take it as a compliment. Thank you!”

“So why are you paying for my sword? I mean, I’m grateful, and I’ll pay you back later, but why? Do you just have a lot of coins?”

“I’ll tell you why. It’s because you’re reforging your standard issue sword. The more you like that thing, the more likely you’ll keep it, and the longer you keep it, the less work there is for me as long as you stick around. You know how I said [Name] is sick of being the only crafter? Well I’m sick of being the only one around here who can or will teach anyone how to do stuff. We need another jack of all trades, and if you’re willing to keep that sword around, you might just become it.”

“So [Name] will pay me to be [her] apprentice, and you’re bribing me to become your apprentice too?”

“Yep.”

“Are there any other teachers around here who are willing to pay for students?”

“Oh you better believe it.”

======================== 

he/him type pronouns: he/him/his/himself “he was”

Replace:

[Name]

[he]

[him]

[his]

[himself]

“Hey, who’s that Necromancer over there? Do you know ter pronouns? The one with the silver sword and the skeleton dog over by the forge. Do you know where mys got that sword? It looks awesome. Do you think mys’d trade me?”

“Oh, [Name]? [His] pronouns are [he]/[him]/[his]/[himself]. And as for the sword, no, I don’t think [he]’d trade you for it. That sword is Sentimental for [him], since it originally belonged to [his] parent, and they got it off a commander they defeated, so no, I don’t think you’ll have any luck convincing [him] to trade it for yours. No one wants one of the standard issue ones, they’re all too impatient and reckless.

“Why do you think you’re the only one who still has theirs? These idiots  say they’re cursed, can you believe it? A sword that can’t be looted, that tells you everything you need to know about this game, and they want nothing to do with it. Most of these idiots get rid of it the first battle they face. If you didn’t know, when you defeat an enemy in battle, you can loot any items from them that you want except for their base layer of clothing, and any Sentimental items. You know how I said [Name] got [his] sword from [his] parent? Yeah, that means it’s Sentimental, and no one is allowed to loot it, since the Sentimental Exemption applies to it. The rules for what can and can’t be Sentimental are pretty complicated, so I won’t go into them now, but that’s also why [Name] has two swords, since everyone has to carry at least one weapon that can be looted. Anyone can carry multiple weapons, but after a while it just becomes cumbersome.

“You don’t get an extra carry slot when you have a Sentimental object, and with the extra weapon you’re required to carry if you have a Sentimental weapon, you end up permanently losing a slot, and especially when it comes to the higher tier battles, every item you bring counts, which is why not a lot of people keep Sentimental items, or at least not Sentimental weapons.” 

“So let me get this right, everyone hates the default swords because they give you a tutorial, but then you’re also going to give me a tutorial?”

“Yeah, because I get paid to tell the new people how things work. Everyone gets rid of their standard issue sword the first chance they get, so they end up not knowing how to do even basic things like bathing or weapon and armour maintenance. So since I decided to keep mine around until I actually knew what I was doing, everyone decided to elect me the official tutorial tutor, since none of the other experienced players have the patience to teach new people. Everyone who survives a battle using techniques or skills I taught them gives me at 10% of any coins they picked up during the fight.”

“Wait, so now I’m going to have to pay you since you’re telling me this? You could have lead with that! That’s not fair!”

“No, no, you’re still level 1, so you’re exempt. Plus, you still have your sword, so it could teach you anything I can. You’d only have to start paying me once you hit level 3 if you’d already gotten rid of your sword. You don’t have to worry about paying me as long as you have that sword. The lessons it gives you run out at level 50, so you can imagine the slack I’m picking up by teaching the people who got rid of their sword during their first fight. Without me, this team wouldn’t have any idea how to do Spells or Techniques or Crafting. I was one of the founding four, and trust me, if I hadn’t had the common sense to keep my sword, this team wouldn’t even exist right now.”

“Wow. So you’ve been doing this for five years?”

“Yep. Almost six, actually, the anniversary is next month on the 2nd.”

“Woah. So, okay, if you know everything, is there a way I can change how my sword looks without getting rid of it? I like the tutorial feature, but it’s really plain looking. I want something dramatic or cool. Or at least I want to change the color, I have my eye on an outfit from the Jareq’s and I want it to match.”

“Well, you’re in luck. Remember our sentimental Necromancer over there?”

“Yeah.”

“[He]’s our Craftsmaster. [He] can reforge your sword into different shapes and styles, and can dye it different colors for you too. If you’re patient enough, [he]’ll even teach you how to do it yourself. [He]’s always complaining that [he] has to do everything because no one else wants to learn. I think at this point [he]’s literally paying people to become [his] apprentice, just so [he] can have someone to help out with the list of orders.”

“Wait, really?”

“Well, you’d have to ask [him] if that offer is still on, I’ve been too busy with the new recruits to hang out with [him] the last few days. [He]’s friendly, especially towards new people, and [his] skele doesn’t bite anyone that doesn’t threaten [him], so don’t worry about talking to [him] or anything. 

“If you want, I’ll even walk you over and introduce you and ask [him] about reforging your sword. But before we do, you should think of a name for your sword if you haven’t already, you have to give it a name when you reforge it, and it has to be unique. If you open your journal, you can check which names are available, and it’ll suggest some for you if you can’t think of one.”

“Well, I’ve been calling it Chirithy in my head...uh, it’s from a video game, one of the older ones that you played on a cellphone.”

“Well, lets go to your journal and check if that name’s available. It definitely sounds unique so I bet it is--ah, look at that, it is! So we’d better hurry and get your sword reforged now, someone else out there might have the same idea! Trust me when I tell you that when you find a name you want, do not hesitate to claim it. Just don’t. Don’t worry about picking the new form for it yet, you can just reforge it into something quick and basic just to save the name, then you can come back later and choose a more intricate form. Come on, I’ll introduce you!”

“Okay, yeah, let’s go!”

 “Hey, [Name]! Get that forge started back up to five, we need you to reforge a sword quick before the name gets taken!”

“Don’t yell at [him], [he]’ll get mad!”

“Oh, don’t worry kid, this is just what we do. Plus, it takes time to heat the forge to the right temperature, and [he] hates having to wait when [he] could be doing something productive. Trust me, if we waited until we got all the way over there to tell [him] what temperature we need, and then [he] had to stand around and wait for it to get to the right heat even after [he] already knew what [he] was going to make, [he]’d be a lot less happy to help.”

“Oh. Hey, wait a second, do I have to pay [him] to reforge my sword? I only the have fifteen coins the opening fight gave me, and I don’t know what the economy is like yet…”

“[He] usually charges around fifty coins for a reforging to cover the cost of the materials, but this one’s on me. Fifteen coins isn’t a lot, it’s mainly supposed to get you buying things, since the basic gear from Jareq only cost two coins each. While you’re buying the basic armour, you also get to look at all the cooler stuff you can buy later, so you’ll want to get more coins to buy them, so you’ll keep coming back for more fights. And since they release new outfits every other month, you always have a reason to keep coming back.”

“Please take this as a compliment--I can tell you’re the teacher around here.”

“I do take it as a compliment. Thank you!”

“So why are you paying for my sword? I mean, I’m grateful, and I’ll pay you back later, but why? Do you just have a lot of coins?”

“I’ll tell you why. It’s because you’re reforging your standard issue sword. The more you like that thing, the more likely you’ll keep it, and the longer you keep it, the less work there is for me as long as you stick around. You know how I said [Name] is sick of being the only crafter? Well I’m sick of being the only one around here who can or will teach anyone how to do stuff. We need another jack of all trades, and if you’re willing to keep that sword around, you might just become it.”

“So [Name] will pay me to be [his] apprentice, and you’re bribing me to become your apprentice too?”

“Yep.”

“Are there any other teachers around here who are willing to pay for students?”

“Oh you better believe it.”

========================

they/them type pronouns: they/them/their/theirs/themselves “they were”

Replace:

[they]

[them]

[their]

[theirs]

[themself]

“Hey, who’s that Necromancer over there? Do you know ter pronouns? The one with the silver sword and the skeleton dog over by the forge. Do you know where mys got that sword? It looks awesome. Do you think mys’d trade me?”

“Oh, [Name]? [Their] pronouns are [they]/[them]/[their]/[themself]. And as for the sword, no, I don’t think [they]’d trade you for it. That sword is Sentimental for [them], since it originally belonged to [their] parent, and they got it off a commander they defeated, so no, I don’t think you’ll have any luck convincing [them] to trade it for yours. No one wants one of the standard issue ones, they’re all too impatient and reckless.

“Why do you think you’re the only one who still has theirs? These idiots  say they’re cursed, can you believe it? A sword that can’t be looted, that tells you everything you need to know about this game, and they want nothing to do with it. Most of these idiots get rid of it the first battle they face. If you didn’t know, when you defeat an enemy in battle, you can loot any items from them that you want except for their base layer of clothing, and any Sentimental items. You know how I said [Name] got [their] sword from [their] parent? Yeah, that means it’s Sentimental, and no one is allowed to loot it, since the Sentimental Exemption applies to it. The rules for what can and can’t be Sentimental are pretty complicated, so I won’t go into them now, but that’s also why [Name] has two swords, since everyone has to carry at least one weapon that can be looted. Anyone can carry multiple weapons, but after a while it just becomes cumbersome.

“You don’t get an extra carry slot when you have a Sentimental object, and with the extra weapon you’re required to carry if you have a Sentimental weapon, you end up permanently losing a slot, and especially when it comes to the higher tier battles, every item you bring counts, which is why not a lot of people keep Sentimental items, or at least not Sentimental weapons.” 

“So let me get this right, everyone hates the default swords because they give you a tutorial, but then you’re also going to give me a tutorial?”

“Yeah, because I get paid to tell the new people how things work. Everyone gets rid of their standard issue sword the first chance they get, so they end up not knowing how to do even basic things like bathing or weapon and armour maintenance. So since I decided to keep mine around until I actually knew what I was doing, everyone decided to elect me the official tutorial tutor, since none of the other experienced players have the patience to teach new people. Everyone who survives a battle using techniques or skills I taught them gives me at 10% of any coins they picked up during the fight.”

“Wait, so now I’m going to have to pay you since you’re telling me this? You could have lead with that! That’s not fair!”

“No, no, you’re still level 1, so you’re exempt. Plus, you still have your sword, so it could teach you anything I can. You’d only have to start paying me once you hit level 3 if you’d already gotten rid of your sword. You don’t have to worry about paying me as long as you have that sword. The lessons it gives you run out at level 50, so you can imagine the slack I’m picking up by teaching the people who got rid of their sword during their first fight. Without me, this team wouldn’t have any idea how to do Spells or Techniques or Crafting. I was one of the founding four, and trust me, if I hadn’t had the common sense to keep my sword, this team wouldn’t even exist right now.”

“Wow. So you’ve been doing this for five years?”

“Yep. Almost six, actually, the anniversary is next month on the 2nd.”

“Woah. So, okay, if you know everything, is there a way I can change how my sword looks without getting rid of it? I like the tutorial feature, but it’s really plain looking. I want something dramatic or cool. Or at least I want to change the color, I have my eye on an outfit from the Jareq’s and I want it to match.”

“Well, you’re in luck. Remember our sentimental Necromancer over there?”

“Yeah.”

“[They]’re our Craftsmaster. [They] can reforge your sword into different shapes and styles, and can dye it different colors for you too. If you’re patient enough, [they]’ll even teach you how to do it yourself. [They]’re always complaining that [they] have to do everything because no one else wants to learn. I think at this point [they]’re literally paying people to become [their] apprentice, just so [they] can have someone to help out with the list of orders.”

“Wait, really?”

“Well, you’d have to ask [them] if that offer is still on, I’ve been too busy with the new recruits to hang out with [her] the last few days. [They]’re friendly, especially towards new people, and [their] skele doesn’t bite anyone that doesn’t threaten [them], so don’t worry about talking to [them] or anything. 

“If you want, I’ll even walk you over and introduce you and ask [her] about reforging your sword. But before we do, you should think of a name for your sword if you haven’t already, you have to give it a name when you reforge it, and it has to be unique. If you open your journal, you can check which names are available, and it’ll suggest some for you if you can’t think of one.”

“Well, I’ve been calling it Chirithy in my head...uh, it’s from a video game, one of the older ones that you played on a cellphone.”

“Well, lets go to your journal and check if that name’s available. It definitely sounds unique so I bet it is--ah, look at that, it is! So we’d better hurry and get your sword reforged now, someone else out there might have the same idea! Trust me when I tell you that when you find a name you want, do not hesitate to claim it. Just don’t. Don’t worry about picking the new form for it yet, you can just reforge it into something quick and basic just to save the name, then you can come back later and choose a more intricate form. Come on, I’ll introduce you!”

“Okay, yeah, let’s go!”

 “Hey, [Name]! Get that forge started back up to five, we need you to reforge a sword quick before the name gets taken!”

“Don’t yell at [them], [they]’ll get mad!”

“Oh, don’t worry kid, this is just what we do. Plus, it takes time to heat the forge to the right temperature, and [they] hate having to wait when [they] could be doing something productive. Trust me, if we waited until we got all the way over there to tell [them] what temperature we need, and then [they] had to stand around and wait for it to get to the right heat even after [they] already knew what [they] were going to make, [they]’d be a lot less happy to help.”

“Oh. Hey, wait a second, do I have to pay [them] to reforge my sword? I only the have fifteen coins the opening fight gave me, and I don’t know what the economy is like yet…”

“[They] usually charge around fifty coins for a reforging to cover the cost of the materials, but this one’s on me. Fifteen coins isn’t a lot, it’s mainly supposed to get you buying things, since the basic gear from Jareq only cost two coins each. While you’re buying the basic armour, you also get to look at all the cooler stuff you can buy later, so you’ll want to get more coins to buy them, so you’ll keep coming back for more fights. And since they release new outfits every other month, you always have a reason to keep coming back.”

“Please take this as a compliment--I can tell you’re the teacher around here.”

“I do take it as a compliment. Thank you!”

“So why are you paying for my sword? I mean, I’m grateful, and I’ll pay you back later, but why? Do you just have a lot of coins?”

“I’ll tell you why. It’s because you’re reforging your standard issue sword. The more you like that thing, the more likely you’ll keep it, and the longer you keep it, the less work there is for me as long as you stick around. You know how I said [Name] is sick of being the only crafter? Well I’m sick of being the only one around here who can or will teach anyone how to do stuff. We need another jack of all trades, and if you’re willing to keep that sword around, you might just become it.”

“So [Name] will pay me to be [their] apprentice, and you’re bribing me to become your apprentice too?”

“Yep.”

“Are there any other teachers around here who are willing to pay for students?”

“Oh you better believe it.”

[reydelcastill0]

Are They Selfish?

Tubbo likes their friends a lot, don't get them wrong. But seeing Tommy with his family reminds Tubbo how much they yearn for their own family. They hope it's okay to have found one in Manberg.

Tommy has always had it all. Friends, family... And often times, the spotlight. Tubbo wasn't jealous of it, because they always had second-hand whatever Tommy had, but it was tiring experience everything like that. They wanted Wilbur's attention, too, or to be acknowledged as more than an errand boy. And they also didn't want to suffer alongside Tommy. They know that sounds rude, but sometimes Tubbo has to pay for things Tommy does and he doesn't.

They like hanging out with Tommy, being their best friend and all. It's just exhausting to be forced into a supporting character role. They probably don't want the main character role anyways, but they want more than they have. They're not jealous of Tommy, who seems favored by Wilbur. They're not jealous, and they don't think they ever could be. They love Tommy too much to... Well, Tubbo just knows they wouldn't abandon Tommy, not on purpose, and not out of jealousy. They can only imagine under one specific condition, but Tubbo knows Tommy loves them just as much as Tubbo loves him, so it would never happen.

Tubbo, who had initially thought Tommy and Wilbur's drug scandal was not good, but quickly changed over because of Tommy, knew they would never leave Tommy. They weren't even mad when Tommy left them, he was exiled. Even if all Tubbo wanted to do was follow him, but couldn't, Tubbo wouldn't be mad at Tommy. If anyone, they should be mad at Schlatt. Schlatt separated the boys, immediately doing so by blinding Tubbo with fear and a promise of power.

"Tommy?" Tubbo had called out, forgetting to turn on their walkie-talkie as they realized that he was truly gone, standing in shock as they watch their friends run away from an onslaught of arrows. They remain in L'Manberg, primarily out of shock, but mostly hoping for a sign that perhaps Schlatt is joking. That maybe after talking about the fountain and lowered taxes... That maybe Schlatt would say that he was joking. Tubbo quickly learns the new president— the emperor— wasn't.

"Tubbo? Where's Tubbo? Where's Tubbo" They hear Schlatt say, the mic amplifying his voice with an echo. It can be heard all across L'Manberg, the walls failing to dampen the sound.

"I'm right here," is all they can bring themselves to say. They stand at the top of the walls, watching Schlatt speak to the podium. Schlatt grins, the action being just shy of a smirk, when he spots them.

"Tubbo, get— get up here, get up here on my podium," Schlatt says, but Tubbo immediately stutters, "C'mon Tubbo, you're the secretary of state." He spoke matter-of-factly, catching Tubbo off guard. It filled them with a sense of hope and joy. They can keep their job? Surely not...

"Wait, what?— ok?" They hear Quackity chime in with 'Effective immediately, Tubbo.' "Wait I'm secretary— am I?"  The promise of it is extremely intriguing. For a moment, it makes Tubbo forget about Tommy. They begin heading back to where the podium is, exiting the walls of L'Manberg.

"Yeah, I think that's, think that's— I think he's always been that? I dunno," Schlatt says. He doesn't seem to really bother much about the facts, he still seems keen on keeping Tubbo around. That makes Tubbo a slight bit happy, too. Schlatt doesn't care what Tubbo's status of power was, all that matters to him was Tubbo. Tubbo!

"Yeah, yeah that's... I didn't know I got to keep my—"

"Well I'm not gonna fire you! I mean you're Tubbo! What am I, gonna fire Tubbo?" He speaks of Tubbo as though they are extremely valuable to him. As if their worth to the nation is obvious. It's not, at least, Wilbur has never made it seem that way. This seems like a step-up, but Schlatt is conveniently making them lose sight of what's important here.

"Uh, okay?" Tubbo agrees, confused on to why Schlatt even wants to keep them. Everyone treats them like an errand boy. Besides, they're Tommy's best friend, shouldn't they be exiled as well. What good is Tubbo to Schlatt if Tommy isn't there, too? Everyone always wants Tommy around.

Schlatt's tone had remained slightly jovial, but then all of a sudden his tone becomes frighteningly serious. "Tubbo, get up here. Now." It makes Tubbo a slight bit scared, worried about what happens if they don't comply with the 'emperor'.

"I've- I've— I'm actually currently—," Tubbo decides for a moment what they want to do. Standing at the start of the path leading to the podium, they weigh their options. They could go find Tommy... Or they could stand beside Schlatt as a secretary of state. They make their choice, but they don't truly consider it. "Ok, I'm on my way," they repeat so that Schlatt does not assume otherwise. Their words have a hint of fear, no doubt because Schlatt is single-handedly the most intimidating man on the server. Far more than Dream could ever hope to be.

"Get up here now," Schlatt commands. It's frightening, so Tubbo hastens even more. They walk up the steps and rush to Schlatt. The fear driving them more than the desire for the position. They continue repeating, "I'm on my way."

Schlatt continues to goad Tubbo onto the podium, his tone returning to a more friendly and inviting one when he spots them. "Take my spot on the podium!" He cheers. He begins to praise Tubbo as though they were the very reason the nation is worth anything. It makes them feel more wanted than they have in a while. Being called the goat-man's right hand man even further solidifies the thought, overpowering their need to find Tommy and join him. Tubbo is caught off guard by the positive attention, of Schlatt's claims and appraisal.

They only snap out of it when Schlatt says, softly yet with an underlying tone of menace, "I need you to find Tommy, and I need you to show him the door. Rumor has it, he's around here..." Tubbo complies, defeated beyond belief. At least they can still go and find Tommy. Unfortunately, not under the ideal conditions. They turn on the walkie-talkie and ignore Tommy as he tries to convince Tubbo not to go through with this. They don't want to, but they chose Schlatt over their friends— their leader and their best friend. Tubbo chose Schlatt... They hope they won't regret it; they know they will.

(Thankfully, they eventually manage to convince Wilbur and Tommy of their support— their allyship. If only they would have been allowed to join Pogtopia.)

Perhaps, Tubbo shouldn't have chosen to side with Schlatt. Then, maybe, they would've been with Tommy, Wilbur, and Techno... The brothers. Tubbo would have loved to have been apart of that. But Schlatt treats Tubbo as though they're valuable and Tubbo wonders if that's how they would've been treated at Pogtopia. Schlatt even takes time to talk to Tubbo. To ask them about their day, their progress with assignments, and even tries to hang out with them.

It makes Tubbo feel wanted— more wanted than anyone has made them feel in the longest time.

And everyone is so supportive of Tubbo, even when Tubbo says they're pregnant. They're not, but Schlatt is so respectful about Tubbo's privacy that Tubbo actually enjoys it. Schlatt doesn't ask who the dad is, or how long they've been pregnant, or what they'll name the baby (that doesn't exist). Instead, Schlatt makes a slight effort to even give Tubbo less labor intensive work. After all, it's bad for the baby. At least, that's what Quackity had told Schlatt. No doubt to ease up the work on the child.

Quackity and Fundy fully support Tubbo, not batting an eye at the pregnancy. Fundy seemed skeptical at first, but they brush it off eventually. Tubbo wonders why, but forgets to ponder it any longer when Fundy asks if they're is anything Tubbo needs. Fundy is so kind to Tubbo. Has been since Tubbo officially became a member of the L'Manberg SMP.

Fundy seems to have bought the pregnancy story, even going so far as to tell Tubbo that he'll support them. Tubbo is glad, regardless of the validity of their own child. Tubbo remembers that once, they and Fundy had say down inside of L'Manberg's walls and talked. It was the night that Wilbur had said that Fundy was born a girl. Curiously, Tubbo asked what that meant, only to find out that they themselves were in a similar position. They became much closer than ever, bonding over being trans and how they wish Wilbur would give them a fraction of the attention they give Tommy.

Now, Fundy and Tubbo have room to bond over more things.

"Schlatt's really nice," Tubbo says randomly while they're hanging out. He is, Tubbo wouldn't argue otherwise. Schlatt is very considerate of his citizens. He takes time to check in on all of them. Tubbo attributes most of that to the need to hold control and to make sure no one is forming an inside rebellion. Tubbo wants to attribute it to that, but Tubbo feels like the man genuinely cares.

"Yeah," Fundy responds, "He calls me son."

"I've noticed. He's called me son once, too," Tubbo says. They ponder over it. Schlatt is a nice man. He acts like a dad and makes sure everyone is in good health. He let's everyone have their fun. He's very different from Wilbur, even though the former president wanted his citizens to be in good health. Schlatt treats everyone respectfully and equally. It doesn't matter that Fundy is a Soot. He conveniently ignored that fact, accepting that Its Fundy Soot is simply Fundy.  He doesn't even care that Fundy and Tubbo are trans. He just treats them like any other citizen.

"He treats me like I'm normal," Fundy says with a sigh. Wilbur never did. Wilbur always baby-talked him and called him Champion. It was patronizing. Schlatt gives them all a default level of respect that Wilbur never really gave. It's a very welcome change.

"You are normal," Tubbo says.

"We are normal," Fundy corrects. After a bit, they direct the conversation to Tubbo's baby. Fundy is as respectful about Tubbo's privacy as Schlatt, but he seems exited no less. Tubbo is glad to have someone like Fundy in their life. He's like a brother. They've always wanted a brother.

Tubbo feels like he was lucky to get another brother, too. Quackity is the most concerned about Tubbo, seemingly trying to prevent Tubbo from doing mentally scarring things. He tried his best to stop Tubbo from the tearing down the walls, yelling as he watches do so with tears. Quackity also gets very concerned and stressed whenever Schlatt scolds Tubbo. Yeah, at times Quackity is more in tune with Schlatt, trying to keep the child in check and making sure he isn't part of any rebellion. Yeah, Quackity is most of the reason Schlatt is in power in the first place, but Quackity's loyalty wavers. If they could've done so, they would have tried to get Quackity to support Pogtopia.

Quackity is loyal, even if it seems like at times they reevaluate their stance, and won't turn against Schlatt. Tubbo tried to gauge Quackity's allegiance and came up with nothing. Quackity is pro-Manberg through and through. But at least the loyalty he pours into the nation is poured into Tubbo as well.

He always checks in with Tubbo when Schlatt is being a bit mean. He tells Tubbo that he'll always be there for them and if they ever need someone to help or step in, to let him know. Quackity is adamant that Tubbo knows he can be trusted. After all, Tubbo is a Manbergian. Tubbo matters to Quackity, and Tubbo likes to think that they still will even if things go south.

Tubbo likes that. He always worried Wilbur would ignore them like he does with Fundy. But neither Schlatt nor Quackity, and not even Fundy, ignore Tubbo. Everyone is so considerate of Tubbo's feelings.

Tubbo is glad that people care about him.

His feelings about Schlatt, Fundy, and Quackity become fully realized during one meeting with Tommy. Tubbo ends up in possession of all the discs. The discs that started a mess. A mess that has eventually become Manberg. They were with Tommy, who seemed worried and anxious. Wilbur has gone crazy, but Tommy doesn't say much about it. Instead he proposes to run away. Tubbo is almost on board with the idea.

They have all they've ever wanted. They're part of a war because of the discs. They could run away, take the discs with them and never look back. Except... Well, Tubbo has made a family in Manberg. Schlatt is so kind to Tubbo. Manipulative, they know, but Tubbo knows how genuine Schlatt is most of the time. Schlatt cares, even if he tries to appear otherwise. Fundy and Tubbo are closer than they ever have been. Bonding over the fake baby (not fake to Fundy's— or anyone's— knowledge) or their enjoyment in the nation. Quackity is there, too, concerned about Tubbo almost every step of the way. Tubbo can't leave that behind. Tubbo doesn't want to. They love everyone too much.

But Tubbo can't tell Tommy that. If Tommy decides to leave, they will. They've made heartbreaking decisions before. But Tommy changes his mind, and they both end up agreeing that for Wilbur, they'll keep fighting. Tubbo knows that, deep down, they're going to stay because the people in Manberg matter to Tubbo, even if they're the enemy.

Are they selfish? Are they selfish for wanting  the family they've never had? Even at the cost of what's 'right'?—

Once about to part ways with Tommy, Schlatt, Fundy, and Quackity arrive at the embassy. Tubbo and Tommy become panicked, and Tommy leaves the excuse to Tubbo. It's not hard to think of one, it's very easy to reuse one after all. The same one they've been having to use this whole time.

Schlatt quickly asks Tubbo about this. It does look suspicious. Tubbo is from Manberg; Tommy was exiled and is now a vital part of Pogtopia...

Tubbo rushes to Schlatt's side and tugs on the goat-man's arm. Schlatt understands that Tubbo wants him to lean down a slight bit. "You know how I said I was pregnant?"

"Yeah?" Schlatt answers, wondering why Tubbo would need to meet up Tommy. He tenses, and Tubbo thinks it's a sign of him being a slight bit angry. Tommy looks a bit worried, shocked, and slightly scared (from what Tubbo can see) Tubbo, before continuing, realizes that maybe they think Tommy will be claimed as the dad.

"He's my pediatrician," Tubbo states. There's no hesitation. Both Schlatt and Tommy relax.

Schlatt seems confused, until he realizes what Tubbo means to say. "A gynecologist," he corrects Tubbo. Tubbo instantly agrees. Schlatt doesn't seem content, though, especially when Tommy starts pointing his gun at Schlatt for breaking apart the embassy.

Schlatt seems like he's about to sick everyone on Tommy, but Tubbo just furthers that Tommy is a perfectly fine gynecologist. "I like them rude," "I crave bad behavior," and what-not.

Everyone seems sold on the cover story, but a bit disappointed.

"Maybe you should let us know you're going to handle your pregnancy," Schlatt says, and everyone agrees. Tubbo feels happy when he realizes Tommy is not the issue here, but rather Tommy's qualifications. They don't want Tubbo to suffer from any sort of malpractice. They care about Tubbo's health and will set aside differences for Tubbo.

When Tommy leaves, shooting Quackity before doing so, everyone tells Tubbo that they want to help. They even suggest asking if Bad knows how to be a gynecologist. They trust their ally more, after all. They trust Bad with Tubbo, who matters to them. They all tell Tubbo that they matter and that they want them to be able to say they need to visit a doctor. They want Tubbo to trust all of them.

Tubbo feels bad that their whole pregnancy story is a lie. They feel so loved and supported by everyone it almost makes them cry. Tubbo hopes no one will be made when they have to come clean about the pregnancy.

When everyone is at Manberg, Schlatt takes Tubbo to the White House and talks with them.

"Tubbo," Schlatt starts. "Do you trust me?"

"Yes, Schlatt."

"Then can you please talk to me about your health. I know I don't know anything about babies, but you're going to have one! I want... I want to be there for you, ok?" Schlatt tells them.

"I— Thank you," Tubbo earnestly tells him, "Thanks, dad." It slips out of Tubbo too quickly for them to pull it back. They knew they had been thinking about the man as a sort of dad, but they didn't expect their thoughts to ever be vocalized, much less on accident.

"Dad?" Schlatt whispers. He seems baffled, eyes wide and ears pointed directly at Tubbo. Tubbo can see a bit of a smile form on his muzzle as he becomes a bit relaxed. "Dad... I like the sound of that," he mutters softly. He stands up and walks to Tubbo.

Tubbo stands up and when they realize that he is offering a hug. Tubbo instantly accepts. They wrap their arms around the man and hug tightly. This is nice, they think, very nice.

"I'm here for you Tubbo. You're my right hand man... My son." That alone means the world to him. Schlatt is his dad now, and Tubbo almost cries out of joy. This is all he's ever wanted. A dad... brothers... A proper family who values them.

Tommy has always had it all. Tubbo knows now that they were jealous. Jealous of it all. Tommy has brothers who would kill for him, a dad who cherishes him. Tommy has it all, even during exile. Tubbo wanted a piece of that, but alongside him? They would never have even been close to having that. Tubbo thinks they finally have it all, too. Tommy and their family. The discs...

Tubbo has it all now. They decide they'll enjoy it while it last. They'll help plan the festival and they'll enjoy it! With their family. They've finally found their family. Tubbo would fight for their family. Tubbo thinks that they'll choose their family... They just hope Tommy can understand, because Tubbo doesn't really want to make that decision, but they will if they have to.

[grailfinders]

Fate and Phantasms #127: Leonardo Da Vinci

Today on Fate and Phantasms, we’re making the one person with enough free time to be both a universal genius and the best ninja turtle, Leonardo Da Vinci! Like many casters you’re super power is Being Adaptable, so just imagine every level summary ends with “Adjust your spell list to fit what your party needs” a lot.

Check out her build breakdown below the cut, or her character sheet over here!

Next up: Tamamo... 3!

Race and Background

Like a couple other servants you’re technically a homunculus, but we need that feat bonus, so we’re making you a Variant Human. This nets you perception proficiency, +1 Intelligence and Dexterity, and the War Caster feat. This gives you advantage on concentration checks, the ability to use cantrips for your attacks of opportunity, and the ability to use somatic components with full hands. That glove’s cool, but it’s probably hard to flash gang signs in that thing.

You’re Chaldea’s resident Izzet Engineer, giving you proficiency with Arcana and Investigation. You also get the ability to look up public building’s schematics to look for secret entrances and the like (it definitely would make the opening to Descent into Avernus a lot easier...) You also get enough background-based spells to make your first level spell list look downright silly. We’ll get into those at the levels section though.

You should probably try and keep that “Izzet” part under wraps. Mixing servants and mizzium could only end in disaster.

Ability Score Improvements

As the poster child of the Renaissance Woman, your Intelligence and Wisdom should be pretty goddamn high. After that is Dexterity- you literally made your body, and your craftsmanship is impeccable. Your Charisma isn’t amazing, because despite your body being a literal work of art you get a demerit due to the writing team’s transphobia, and also the standard array’s inability to give you all 20s. Your Constitution isn’t great for the latter reason as well, but we’re dumping Strength. Once again, the caster class’s 90% damage modifier is not going to help you get buff.

Class Levels

1. Wizard 1: You’re smart and magic, that’s a wizard. You get proficiency with Intelligence and Wisdom saves, as well as two wizard skills. History and Insight would be my pick, but you’re good at everything, so pick your poison.

You also get an Arcane Recovery once per long rest, allowing you to regain a couple spell slots on a short rest as a freebie, but their total level has to be half your wizard level rounded up. Oh yeah, you get spells too. They use your Intelligence to cast.

As the Universal Genius, your entire schtick is about being adaptable, so I’m not going to list spells in the breakdown this time around. If you want them, my personal picks are in the character sheet. 

That being said, you do get some guaranteed spells from your background. Thanks to being an Engineer, you get Produce Flame and Shocking Grasp as cantrips, and Chaos Bolt, Create or Destroy Water, and Unseen Servant at first level.

2. Wizard 2: Another problem with being a renaissance woman is that there’s no “everything” specialty for you to grab. That being said, the Transmutation school will help make your body a bit stronger on a more permanent basis than bladesinging would. You become a Transmutation Savant, meaning it takes half the time and cost to transcribe transmutation spells into your spell book. You also learn some Minor Alchemy, spending ten minutes per cubic foot of your target object, turning a nonmagical item made of wood, stone, iron, copper, or silver into one of the other materials on that list. This lasts for an hour, or until you drop concentration. I’m sure you can come up with fun ways to abuse this.

3. Wizard 3: Third level wizards get second level spells, including your background spells Heat Metal and Rope Trick. Everyone needs a bit of alone time. And also to slowly set people on fire. Also, you should probably grab Enlarge/Reduce. It’s a secret tool that will help us later.

4. Wizard 4: Your Ability Score Improvements are all going to intelligence, but we can be smart about it. Your Keen Mind gives you a small boost to Intelligence, but it also helps you navigate, tell time, and be a jerk to your DM by forcing them to keep notes on literally everything. Use this power wisely.

5. Artificer 1: You’re not just a mage, you’re also an inventor. And an artist, but we’re sticking with int casters today. Maybe for rider. With your Magical Tinkering, you can add minor effects to tiny items, because it’s not like you’ve already got prestidigitation or anything. Speaking of, you get another Spell list, which also uses your Intelligence to cast and prepare. Again, you’re a caster-almost literally any spell is canon for you, aside from maybe the divination ones. Specifically the futury spells.

6. Artificer 2: Second level artificers can Infuse Items, allowing you to create magical items for your party. Again, you can make almost anything, so take some liberties. Or check the character sheet. Either or.

7. Artificer 3: As an inventor who’s specialty is “inventing”, you’d think picking a subclass here would be hard. Normally you’d be right, but I want to make the Bastenyan X, so we’re going Battle Smith. This gives you some specialty spells, like Heroism and Shield, as well as making you Battle Ready. This gives you proficiency with more weapons, and you can use your intelligence instead of strength when using magical weapons. You also get a Steel Defender, a construct to help you in battle. You have to use your bonus action to command it, but you weren’t using it for anything else, so that’s fine.

You can also make the Right Tool for the Job after rests, creating a set of artisan’s tools until you make another.

8. Artificer 4: Another ASI, and another half feat. The Observant feat rounds out your Intelligence, allows you to read lips, and gives you a +5 bonus to perception and investigation checks.

9. Artificer 5: Fifth level battle smiths get an Extra Attack with each attack action, for when you really want to slap someone with your giant hand. You also get second level spells, like Branding Smite and Warding Bond. 

10. Wizard 5: Third level spell time! You also get your background spells, Call Lighting, Elemental Weapon, and Glyph of Warding. And that’s not even counting your normal spells.

11. Wizard 6: Sixth level transmuters can make a Transmuter’s Stone over the course of eight hours, and a creature holding possessing the stone gets one of several benefits. These include darkvision, and extra 10 feet of speed, proficiency in constitution saves, and resistance to acid, cold, fire, lightning, or thunder damage. If you’re holding onto the stone, you can even switch up the effect every time you cast a leveled transmutation spell.

12. Artificer 6: Hopping back into artificer gives you Tool Expertise, giving you doubled proficiency with any tool. I’m not sure if I was explicit enough here, but you’re very smart.

13. Artificer 7: So smart, in fact, that you can use your Flash of Genius to add your intelligence modifier to a nearby ability check or save, a number of times per long rest equal to your intelligence modifier. You might not be great at athletics, but you do know a lot about the technique!

14. Artificer 8: Nope, we’re not maxing out intelligence yet. Use this ASI to become a bit Tougher. No real reason for it, but you’re kind of a melee fighter with less than 100 hp at the end, which isn’t good. This gives you +2 hp every time you level up, and a nice +28 hp immediately.

15. Artificer 9: You get third level spells again, including your specialty spells Aura of Vitality and Conjure Barrage. You also learn how to add an Arcane Jolt to your magical weapon attacks, either dealing extra damage or healing a nearby creature. You can use this once per turn, and a number of times per long rest equal to your intelligence modifier.

16. Artificer 10: Tenth level artificers see a lot of their infusions become a bit stronger, and they become a Magic Item Adept, which gives them an extra attunement slot and makes building magic items from scratch much easier.

17. Artificer 11: Eleventh level artificers can make Spell Storing Items at the end of long rests, allowing you to give your Bastenyan a Knife of Enlarging so you can ride in style by hasting and growing it at the same time. Despite the name, these items have to be weapons or focii, you can only have one item at once, and they only hold a number of charges equal to your intelligence modifier.

18. Artificer 12: With our final ASI, we can finally max out our Intelligence score for the best spells, the strongest hits, and the most effective magic items.

19. Artificer 13: With your fourth level spells, you get specialty and background spells at once, netting you Aura of Purity, Fire Shield, Conjure Minor Elementals, Divination, and Otiluke’s Resilient Sphere. And again, these are all spells that don’t count for your prep.

20. Artificer 14: Your capstone level makes you a Magic Item Savant, allowing you to attune to five items at once and ignore all requirements for using magic items. True genius knows no limits, after all.

Pros:

By mixing some wizard levels in with your artificer, you can learn a frankly silly number of spells by default, allowing for a lot of magical versatility. Multiclassing also lets you steal higher level spells from other spellbooks, negating some of the weaknesses you’d normally get from multiclassing. By the end, you can still copy over seventh level spells! Not bad for someone who just got fourth level spells on paper.

With pseudoproficiency and advantage in concentration saves, you’re pretty good at holding onto spells even with your lackluster Constitution score.

Your DM’s going to have a really hard time keeping secrets from you with a maxed out Investigation checks, plus good insight and perception, plus the ability to perfectly remember everything that happened in the last month. Proficiency is +6, intelligence is +5, Observant is another +5, Flash of Genius is another +5... That’s a base of 22, even if you roll a one. Rogues aren’t that good at investigation. Okay, maybe rogues are, but still. 

Cons:

Multiclassing still has downsides. You don’t get ninth level spells, which is a bummer, and you also don’t get the capstone ability of Artificer, which is downright broken. That being said, it’s not like most games get to level 17-20 anyway, so it’s probably not that big a deal.

I don’t like making builds that rely on DM fiat, and this build kinda does. In a low magic setting, or against a DM who just doesn’t like you, you’re stuck with, at max, fourth level spells. A situational weakness, but one you should be aware of.

Despite having tons of abilities to join in the melee with your other party members, you’re actually pretty bad at surviving there. You have an AC of 15 with mage armor (the in-character option), and your HP is probably somewhere in the 130s without a magic item we get at level 20. That’s not to say you can’t get in a fight, you just really don’t want to stand out.

[homeformyheart]

the sunshine of life - beckett harrington x f!mc (te)

author’s note: i wanted to write a “meet the parents” type fic for beckett meeting mc’s parents but then it turned into a pend pals/holiday fic. i didn’t particularly want to use the default mc name for this fic, even though that’s what i usually do, so hopefully the name i chose here fits. also, i suck at coming up with names of characters that didn’t have one in canon. i hope you enjoy!

copyright: all characters owned by pixelberry studios. series/pairing: the elementalists – beckett harrington x f!mc (celeste russell); minor f!atlas x shreya rating/warnings: 13+; kissing and fluff word count: 2.1k based on/prompt: i started working on this two months ago in anticipation of @teappreciationweek! the title is based on the phrase that “friends are the sunshine of life.” summary: celeste is excited to introduce beckett to all of her parental figures over the holidays and has a surprise in store for atlas. guess which parent makes beckett the most nervous?

the sunshine of life

celeste squeezed beckett’s hand reassuringly. her boyfriend was understandably nervous since today they were meeting her parents, definitely plural. she reached up and poked the frown lines appearing between beckett’s eyebrows, giggling as he appeared startled before softening as he looked at her.

“they’re going to love you, beckett. you have nothing to be nervous about. unlike your parents, who clearly did not like me,” celeste said, muttering the last part to herself.

she felt beckett wrap an arm around her waist and pull her close. “that wasn’t about you, i promise.”

two months ago

celeste cleared her throat nervously as she stood outside the tall, intimidating mahogany doors that led inside the harrington mansion. even though she had some idea of what the harrington name meant in the attuned world and thanks to shreya, knew how influential and wealthy some magickal families could be, she was still wholly unprepared for how unnerving it would be to feel as small as she did in that moment.

suddenly she was going over her appearance piece by piece in her mind, evaluating everything she was wearing against the unknown standards she presumed beckett’s parents would have. the blue and gold waistcoast and matching dress that seemed like a safe bet at the time given beckett had picked it out for their lunch date with katrina last year, now seemed to pale in comparison to what she imagined they expected their only son’s girlfriend to wear.

beckett wrapped an arm around her shoulders and leaned in to leave a kiss on her forehead. “it’ll be okay, celeste.” she nodded and took a deep breath before following him into the mansion.

just as expected but worse than anticipated, the evening was one awkward moment after another. her introduction included her nervous rambling about how she was raised attuneless and the shared looks between beckett’s parents made celeste want to slouch down and disappear underneath the table. dinner wasn’t any better given the conversations seemed to focus on advancements in magick technology that their company was working on as well as ground-breaking new research in the fields of elemental biology and medicinal magickal plants.

they were mildly impressed with the stories of how they defeated raife highmore, but that passed quickly once they zeroed in on the danger that beckett was in. it was clear that they were going to blame her for putting their son in danger. celeste couldn’t wait for the evening to be over.

“if you say so,” she said, glumly.

beckett lifted her chin and lowered his head to give her a sweet kiss. “i love you, celeste.” he straightened up and celeste could tell he was about to give himself a pep talk. “if you can get through dinner with my parents, i can get through an evening with yours… even if one of them is a source.”

“that’s the spirit! and well, there will be two sources, actually. nome said he’d stop by,” cadence quickly explained as beckett’s head turned so fast she thought he was going to give himself whiplash.

before he could say anything, the doors to the cottage swung open as they climbed up the short steps. celeste was immediately pulled into a hug from her adoptive parents who quickly wrapped beckett up too before he could protest. theia smiled warmly at the four of them before wrapping celeste up into a tight hug.

“i missed you sweetie. and i am so excited to meet your sweetheart!” theia exclaimed, grabbing beckett’s outstretched hand so she could pull him into hug.

“yes, i am sweetheart – wait, no, i’m harrington, um, i mean beckett. beckett harrington. it’s, uh, very nice to meet you, ms. sun source,” he said, licking his lips nervously and trying not to wipe his palms on his jacket.

she waved at him dismissively. “call me theia, you’re practically family!” she looped her arm in beckett’s and started pulling him toward the house. he turned to look back at celeste, who gave him a small supportive wave while trying really hard not to laugh.

fortunately for beckett, theia was filled with questions for her future son-in-law, as she so embarrassingly put it despite celeste’s protests. that left celeste with a few minutes alone with her adoptive parents; her father cleared his throat awkwardly in her direction and she sighed.

“how was school this semester?” john russell asked awkwardly.

celeste rolled her eyes. “school was fine.” with all the events of the last three years, including discovering and bonding with her twin, fighting for her life twice over, and being reunited with her birth mother, she hadn’t really spent much time processing the fact that her parents lied to her about her birth family, her magickal nature, and the fact that a madman was after her. all in all, it felt reasonable that she’d be pissed and her parents knew it.

anne russell cleared her throat. “how was dinner at the harringtons?”

celeste gave her mother a pointed look just shy of an outright glare. “it would’ve gone a lot better had I been raised with a working knowledge of the magickal world.”

john had the decency to look a little ashamed. “we’re really sorry, honey. we thought you’d be safer as an attuneless and when raife had seemed to all but disappear, we thought we were in the clear. but we shouldn’t have kept your true identity a secret.”

“i guess i understand since you were trying to protect me. i forgive you,” she said, wrapping both of her parents in a big hug before turning toward her boyfriend who was being grilled by her other parent.

even though she was sitting on the opposite end of the living room from beckett and theia, she could tell by his rigid posture that he was tense. the gentle, but commanding lilt of her mother’s voice carried softly across the room.

“so beckett, i’ve heard a lot about you from celeste. what i want to know is, how do i know you’re not just attracted to her magick?” theia asked. although she was smiling, celeste knew the underlying tone did not go unnoticed by beckett.

“because i love her! she’s smart, brave, beautiful, compassionate, and she feels so warm and i can tell my innate metal attunement is drawn to her,” he blurted out a little too loudly for the level of conversation in the room.

“but that makes sense since she’s a sun-att and you’re the sun source and you feel like celeste which was still surprising since she doesn’t really look like you, i mean, not that i can’t tell you’re related, it’s just—augh, sorry.” beckett’s ears and neck were flushed a bright pink.

“wow, harrington, real smooth,” atlas teased. “no book in the library to study up for this, huh?”

“atlas!” celeste said through clenched teeth.

theia chuckled. “beckett, it’s alright. just ask me the questions you have, i promise i won’t bite. i could make it miserably hot, but i won’t.”

“man, this is sooo entertaining. better than all that trashy reality tv you got me into,” atlas said, grinning from ear-to-ear.

“could you be a little more supportive, atlas?” celeste asked, annoyed.

atlas grinned cheekily. “nah, i’m good. i will make more popcorn though. hey harrington, don’t stumble over yourself until i get back.”

celeste could feel her eyebrow twitch in irritation before realizing that she could get some of the attention off beckett and get back at atlas at the same time with a single phone call.

* * * * * just a little while later, a knock on the door made everyone pause and look around at each other. since everyone that was expected was there already, except for nome, and he never knocked, it was natural for everyone to look confused.

celeste couldn’t help the mischievous smile that crept over her face. “atlas, why don’t you go see who it is?”

atlas turned to glare knowingly at celeste as she stood up. “what did you do?”

she barely had the door open before she was bombarded by the rest of the pend pals all fighting to simultaneously hug her and get out of the cold all at once.

“double trouble, double trouble’s mom source, mr. and mrs. russell, happy holidays!” zeph cheerfully shouted out, his arms full of containers of his grandmother’s cookies, which atlas grabbed from him ecstatically.

“i hope you guys didn’t have too much fun without us! and atlas, i hope you save me a spot under that magickal mistletoe,” shreya said, giving atlas a flirtatious wink.

“what? we don’t have mistletoe and why would i—” atlas’ confused thoughts were interrupted as shreya glided through the hallway, stopping briefly to give atlas a kiss on the cheek before making her way to the living room and greeting everyone properly.

atlas flushed briefly before she noticed the huge smirk on celeste’s face. “you are so going to pay for this.”

“i have no idea what you’re talking about, i just thought it would be great if all of our friends could hang out with us over the holidays,” celeste said, grinning before she went back to the living room to see if she could save beckett from further questioning.

all the lights in the house suddenly went out. almost immediately, theia snapped her fingers and the lights all flickered back on to reveal a tall man with long white hair standing in the middle of the living room, surrounded by nine stunned faces.

“always with the dramatic entrances, nome,” she said, but there was a lightheartedness to her tone.

“it’s more fun that way,” nome responded, giving her a quick peck on the cheek before introducing himself to everyone.

with everyone distracted by nome’s arrival, celeste slipped her hand into beckett’s and gave him a small tug. he looked at her inquisitively as she signaled toward the staircase with a tilt of her head. a few moments later, she closed her bedroom door behind them before wrapping her arms around beckett’s neck and standing on her tiptoes so she could give him a kiss.

“thank you for coming – i’m so proud of how you handled yourself,” she murmured, looking up at him.

beckett gave her his signature smirk. “well, of course, you shouldn’t expect anything less from a harrington.”

celeste let her eyes roll lightheartedly. “you know i heard the entire conversation and can tell how nervous you were just from the back of your head?”

his smirk faded into a warm smile. “you know nothing.” before she could protest further, he bent down to capture her lips into a kiss, his hands tightening around her waist to pull her flush against him.

celeste pressed against him as much as she could, intertwining her fingers at the nape of his neck. beckett deepened the kiss, coaxing her mouth open so his tongue could play with hers.

“hey, where’d beckster and celeste go?” zeph’s voice wafted up the stairs, reminding her that their alone time was limited.

“dunno, probably doing it upstairs in her room.”

celeste pulled back at the sound of atlas’ voice and winced. she knew she could count the seconds before her mother’s voice rang out right on cue.

“celeste russell, get down here right now! no boys alone in your room!” theia’s voice boomed through the house, reverberating through the walls.

she let out an embarrassed huff as beckett chuckled. “we really should be used to atlas’ comments by now,” he said, giving her one last kiss on the lips before opening the door and holding out his arm for her to take.

as they descended down the stairs she got a full view of the living room and realized everyone she loved was under one roof. atlas and shreya were sharing the loveseat while zeph and griffin were listening to whatever crazy and embarrassing story nome was telling about theia, with theia refuting and sharing her own stories about nome; aster was showing her adoptive parents how to care for some of the trees and plants in the garden with butterball and navi playing in the snow at their feet.

she felt her eyes fill with happy tears and looked up at beckett, who was giving her a warm, knowing smile. he gave her hand a squeeze and headed out to join aster and her parents in the garden and celeste took a moment to acknowledge the gratitude she felt. even though she had gotten used to being a sun-att and feeling a strong warmth emanating from within her all the time, never had she felt warmth like this. it was gentle but all-consuming, starting in her heart and slowly spreading outward throughout her body. but she knew that if love and gratitude could be summed up in a feeling, this was it.

* * * * * taglist: @robintora; @miss-smrxtiee; @eleanorbloom; @itsjustwinter; @mm2305;

[shattered-mirror-fanfic]

Chapter 1 is out! Already working on chapter 2 but it may be a while. If you wish to reupload my work then please contact me first for my consent.

Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/32206135/chapters/79807672

Chapter below the cut for readers who don’t use Ao3:

The days ticked by, at a rate humans can't understand, all they know is that it's slow. But compared to the time other days tick by as, it is short, which no one can seem to get a grasp on. As the sun was ticking down, a group of four individuals, all connected by a large, officially interspatial, crime group, slowly walked up the large mountain, praying the days had ticked at a satisfactory rate, for them to reach the location of their desire. 

"So I was thinking...to spice things up a bit-" the oddly bobbing ghost started, before being cut off by their white-haired companion.

"For the last time, I'm happy with how everything is going. Now shut up!"

"Henry, you don't need to be so rude, I was just asking if you wanted to set up camp since sleeping beauty can't walk by himself anymore" Ellie chimed in.

"Uh, shucks, sorry Elles, I wasn't talking to you, I was talking to...a figment of my imagination, camp sounds great, we could use some rest!" Henry said apologetically, glancing at the air next to him when he said 'imagination'. Ellie chuckled and nodded as she spun around, somehow still walking, to speak up.

"Hear that boss? Someone actually agrees saying that we should rest!" She mocked as Right Hand Man's expression went from his usual scowl to a sour and bitter frown.

"I'm jus' saying! We're already close! It's not 'at further!" He barked back, still dragging his feet behind as he carried a half asleep Reginald on his back.

"Tell that to princess sleepy head!" The red-headed woman laughed in return. Roughly 18 minutes ago, Reginald was in a state of nearly passing out from exhaustion so his right hand man logically thought to carry him until reaching the cave they were meant to go to was impossible in that day's time frame. The unfortunate part was that their two underlings kept teasing Right's actions as though they are similar to what prince charming would do in fairy tales. But Right was not taking any of that bullshit, what he was doing was completely normal between two friends. 

“Right...we’re all tired, just put me down and let’s set up camp” Reginald tiredly chimed in. Right sighed and gave a low "fine…" before setting down the brunette. After taking a moment to regain his footing, Reginald stretched his arms before promptly asking, "So where shall we set up?"

"I think we should look for some sort of open area and just lay down some….." Henry began before cutting himself off.

"What? What's wrong?" Ellie asked before Henry stopped her from going any further. 

"Do you hear that?" Everyone froze, listening closely to what sounded like talking. It seemed like it was coming from just a bit further up the mountain, where the group was aiming to get to. 

"Permission to look ahead and potentially dispose of threats?" The ghost chimed in with a non-existent grin.

"Let's all go ahead together, stay close, and stay alert" Henry quietly told the others, ignoring the ghost's request. The group moved forward slowly, careful to not alert the people ahead.

~~~

The surface was great, the sun was shining, the birds were singing, flowers were blooming, and on days like these, kids aged around 10 would be playing outside in the garden or at a friend's house, but frisk was not like other kids, while other kids were playing cops and robbers, frisk was saving monster society. It hadn't even been 20 minutes when the ambassador came across their first issue, 

Where would the monsters stay before they could join the humans in towns and cities?

 The idea that first came to mind was that until a place was established to be available for monsters, they would remain underground. It wasn't the best idea, but it was better than just letting them fend for themselves on the surface, plus, it would only be worse when other humans got involved. For now, the main issue was dealing with lodging for their friends that came with them in the first place.

And that is what they were doing. Right now the young child was sitting in front of the underground's exit, talking with Asgore, the king of the underground, and Dr. Alphys, the head royal scientist. They were mainly discussing how to proceed with getting the monsters a way to live with humans, with alphys there to bring in human facts that she knew (mainly from anime) on how they would react to such sudden actions. It seemed to be going…. neutral, no good ideas, and no bad truths. But logically, the lovely sunset ahead was rushing the discussion into being about setting up some sort of camp, which they neither had the materials for, nor the means to get some. It would be difficult to go back down to get supplies while having a logical enough excuse for others on why going to the surface is going to take longer. Regardless, those of Frisk’s new friends who had seen the surface would probably be against the idea of going underground again for a presumably long while, since it was at this point obvious that getting the monsters their own place on the surface would take months and months.

“Dang, only a miracle could be able to fix this, and what’s worse is the town of ebott is known for being a super anti-monster.” Chara stated while hovering next to Frisk. Frisk thought for a moment, a miracle could happen. Frisk knew it, something would happen. They were DETERMINED.

File Saved.

“Y’know, that’s not always gonna work Frisk, it was cute the first time, but now it’s-” Chara started, but as if on queue, there was the sound of something slipping on rock, a yelp, and a few loose rocks dropping down the mountain. Frisk, Chara, Asgore and Alphys immediately turned around to see 4 people, all with shocked and scared expressions on their faces.

“N-no way...it can’t be” Ellie said, staring in awe at the group. “I thought it was just legends, stories to scare kids who don’t behave…..”

“Ellie? What do you mean? Do you know something?” Henry asked, pulling his gaze away and towards his friend. She sighed and lowered her head.

“It’s long to explain but… I used to live in this town and there was a legend about monsters living under the mountain, I never knew it was real.” She explained.

“Well, it seems you all don’t mind that much.” Asgore chuckled.

“Don’t get used to it Mr. Asgore, not all humans act friendly at first.” Frisk chimed in.

“Eh, you all don’t seem like a threat, I don’t mind bein’ hospitable” Right Hand Man casually mentioned. This statement led to Henry and Ellie sarcastically gasping and giggling as they knew that Right was never the ‘hospitable’ type.

“Neither do I, I am Asgore the king of the monsters, and this is our ambassador, Frisk” Asgore said, gesturing to the young child. “And this is our royal scientist, Alphys.” Alphys gave a nervous wave.

“Pleasure to meet you, your highness. I am Reginald Copperbottom, leader of the Toppat clan. These are my employees, my Right Hand Man, Ellie Rose and Henry Stickmin.” Reginald introduced while bowing slightly (As a way of respect? Henry was puzzled by this, but the chief always had a tendency to be dramatic, so he shrugged it off). 

“Please Mr. Copperbottom, no need to be so formal, I understand the title is grand but it doesn’t suit me.” Asgore said with a soft voice.

“Of course, apologies, I normally default to being proper with new people.” Reginald corrected himself. 

“It’s no issue, it’s very welcoming to see such wonderful humans, even after my past opinions.” 

While the two leaders were busy discussing formality, Henry took it upon himself to chat with the ambassador. He walked over and sat down next to Frisk giving a calm smile before seeing a red glow behind the child. He looked and saw a ghost, a child whose appearance was similar to Frisk’s, with a few changes.

“Who’s that?” He asked, directing his gaze at the idling bobbing ghost, who was only paying attention once Henry pointed them out.

“You...can see them?” Frisk asked, shocked as no one else had been able to hear or see them.

“Yeah? Wait...did they die and through strong determination they’re now stuck to you?” Henry asked.

“Yeah! I was dead until I met Frisk!” Chara responded. Frisk nodded frantically, showing off their red soul. “How did you know this?!”

“I’m in a similar boat myself” Henry responded, slowing his words. Out of the corner of his eye he saw his own ghostly companion fluttering about like mad, shouting silently with their non-existent mouth. Henry stood up and walked to where the ghost was dramatically pointing at, only to be greeted by three familiar figures, dressed in their military best. They hadn’t noticed him, thank god, but this was still bad. His throat grew tight as it normally did under stress, he figured it was best in multiple cases to just sign. He picked up a rock and threw it at Reginald which hit the brunette with slight force. The chief turned around to see Henry frantically signing and gesturing around the curve that the group had originally taken. It took a minute but, after a few loops of the same signs he recognised, they were in danger.

“Ellie, Right, Henry is calling a code green, get your weapons drawn and stay quiet. Henry, I’m trusting you to keep the king, ambassador and doctor safe. Got it?” Reginald commanded in a whisper shout, pulling out the revolver he kept under his hats. The three nodded in response, each pulling out their own weapon, with Henry also rushing their new friends into the cave for cover. With a few skids of rocks from the government soldiers rounding the corner, it had begun, the fight that would set where the ending would start. The government may have had strong JUSTICE, KINDNESS and BRAVERY. The toppats would fight their hardest with the PATIENCE, PERSEVERANCE and DETERMINATION they had.

~~~

Mr. Williams sat there, staring at his mirror. He brushed his soft hand over the blue gems, chipped and shattered, yet still retaining their natural beauty. He smiled softly as he pulled his dark chocolate hair back into its usual ponytail before placing the mirror back on its wall. Walking over to the door, he smiled, he could tell from the graying clouds crossing past the mountain it was going to rain. He liked the rain, always so peaceful for a nice book and a cup of tea. He was in an earl grey mood, but he was also tempted to have some coffee.

~~~

It seemed easy enough, the toppats had been practising soul magic for a while at this point, and they had the advantage in numbers. But, the government came prepared with better weapons, especially made with intent on doing damage to souls. That fight had been going on for about 15 minutes at this point with neither side taking major damage. At this point something in the fight needed to change or it would be a will of who gave up first. The government’s side had a secret advantage that was making things easier for them, and that was Charles Calvin, a  KINDNESS soul who has rather low level healing magic, but healing magic non the same. That was what was making things so difficult, until Ellie used her own magic and COORDINATED a plan.

“Aim for Calvin, right on the top of his headphones, that’ll distract Galeforce and the other one and I’ll get a clean shot” She whispered to Reginald, as both were ducked behind a rock that had fallen during the chaos. Her boss nodded and sat up aiming for the center of Charles’s headphone, perched exactly above his blonde hair. It felt like time was slowed, as he pulled the trigger, sending a bullet speeding ahead, grazing the red artificial leather on top. As the bullet raced by it grabbed the attention of the three soldiers, as well as Right Hand Man, distracting them long enough so Ellie could make her move. She pulled out her own gun and shot at Rupert, managing to hit him just below the liver a few times. He let out a loud yelp as he fell over and clutched his side. With a sorrowful expression the general declared,

“You won’t get away with it next time!” He shouted as he picked up his subordinate. Ellie and Reginald rose from their spots and walked forward, watching in a sort of victory as the pilot helped the general pick up their wounded comrade. 

“Hell yeah we will! You’re just lucky you chose to run!” Ellie cheerfully yelled out in response to the general’s statement. 

“Still don’ see why we have to spare ‘em. Would’ve been more beneficial to just end ‘em.” Right Hand Man mentioned to Reginald. “Seriously, we’re jus’ gettin ourselves into a bigger mess, an them bastards aren’t worth pissin on to put out fire on ‘em.” 

“Righty, it’s only fair that we spare them, none of us got hurt.” Reginald spoke in response. Rupert turned his head to stare at the criminal brunette, who dared to pity them after nearly shooting one of their best pilots. With what little strength he could, he gripped his pistol, and raised his arm.

“That’s…..what you thought...asshole,”