#I just want to get this theory out right now

[aftersunsz]

ME AND MY HUSBAND (QUINN HUGHES)

summary: while doing press for your new movie, you call quinn your husband despite now being married.

warnings: y/n mentioned :/

an: thank you for all the support on my sidney crosby fic!! also this is a completely random movie that i came up with so yeah lol

“Is that a Sofia Coppola pin?” You pointed to the lanyard the woman, Lucy, who was going to interview you and your co-star, Ralph Fiennes, had around her neck.

“Yes! She’s my favorite director.” Lucy mentioned before the interview started.

“Mine is Spike Jonze. . .” You said quietly as Lucy gasped dramatically. “But I love Sofia as well. My husband and I watched ‘Lost In Translation’ two weeks ago and then we started ‘The Virgin Suicides’ but I believe we got halfway before he fell asleep.”

It came out of your mouth so naturally. Ralph knew whenever you said ‘my husband’ you weren’t actually talking about your husband, but rather your boyfriend of many years. Quinn had met Ralph on your first day of filming and teased that he wanted to see a ring on your finger as soon as possible, as if he was your dad.

Lucy heard you mention your husband, but didn’t want to push you to talk about your ‘marriage’. She was here to talk about your new movie.

But some people took the video clip and started their own theories.

‘Did quinn and y/n break up?’

‘She moved on too quickly if they did break up’

‘NOOOO MY WIFE IS MARRIED TO A MAN’

‘So when the fuck did they get married?😭’

It didn’t take long for you or Quinn to hear about the internet’s theories about your relationship. You found some of the comments funny.

“Listen to this one . . You’re telling me quinn and y/n got married and not one photo was leaked by either of his brothers?” You laughed as you showed Quinn the tweet on your phone.

“That would be such a Luke move.” Quinn chuckled.

“You think Luke would leak our wedding on social media? That screams Jack!” You reply.

“No, it’s definitely Luke.” He corrected.

“Babe, I love you but you’re so wrong. Jack would do it.”

“Jack would do what?”

Quinn and you turned towards the new voice, which was Jack, Luke right behind him with a bag of snacks.

“You would leak our wedding pictures on social media.” You say casually as you get up from the couch and walk towards the kitchen of the lake house to get a water bottle.

“Me? That sounds like Lukey boy over here.” Jack poked Luke’s side as he walked into the kitchen as well.

“That’s what I said!” Quinn yelled from the couch.

“Well you’re both wrong because it wouldn’t be me, it would be Jack.” Luke corrected. He then started passing out snacks to you and his brothers. You gave a quick ‘thank you’ to Luke when he gave you your favorite chips.

“Wait, why are we talking about wedding stuff? Are you two actually married and forgot to invite us?” Jack wondered, hopping on top of the kitchen counter.

“No, we were just looking at tweets. Ever since I said my husband, the internet thinks we actually got married,” You explain. “Which people who are still dating do all the time!”

“Yeah except you two are like the internet’s favorite couple. You’re like princess diana and her husband.” Luke spoke.

“Her husband? You mean Prince Charles?” You couldn’t help but giggle at his choice of words.

“Yeah that guy.”

“You do know he cheated on Diana, right? And when he was asked if him and Diana were in love, he said ‘whatever in love means’, and—”

“Okay! So I chose the wrong guy to compare Quinn to, sorry!” Luke held his hand up in defense. “But my point still stands, you’re princess Diana so obviously it’s going to be a big deal if you keep saying my husband when you talk about Quinn.”

“Firstly, thank you for calling me the people’s princess, Lukey, that was really kind of you,” You smiled. “Secondly, I’m practicing for when I’m actually married. Quinn isn’t getting rid of me that easily.” You said as you walked back to the couch.

“If I ever say ‘let’s break up’ that isn’t me.” Quinn grabbed you by your waist and placed you on his lap.

“Disgusting,” Jack started to gag loudly as Quinn layed you down properly on the couch. “Oh come on! People sit there!” He had enough of the scene that was going on in front of him so he and Luke exited the kitchen quickly.

“Maybe we should get married, you know, finally make you my wife. I did promise you in chemistry class that i was going to marry you. Remember?” Quinn flipped you over so now you were on top of him, laying your head on his chest.

“Yeah. You even promised we would have red velvet cake even though you think it’s just chocolate cake dyed red.” Red velvet cake is your favorite. While Quinn thinks it’s just chocolate cake in disguise, teenage Quinn promised red velvet at your wedding.

“And our cake will be red velvet.” Quinn kissed the top of your head.

“I’m so excited for our day.” It didn’t take long for you to fall asleep in Quinn’s arms. Thankfully you didn’t feel the small box in Quinn’s pocket.

[demie90s]

Winter Smoke

Paige Bueckers x fem!reader

MASTERLIST | MORE

Summary: Paige is home for winter break. No practices, no pressure—just family dinners, small town snow, and that one girl who’s always been around.

Genre: SMUT. WLW, slow burn, emotional tension, questioning sexuality, winter break setting, pothead x athlete, domestic vibes, closeted yearning

Warnings: Weed use, internalized confusion, soft flirtation, light physical intimacy (touching, closeness, implied attraction), emotional vulnerability, questioning identity

Word Count: ~ 4.1k

Winter break had the same rhythm every year: Paige came home, parents hosted dinner, folks laughed too loud in the living room, and I minded my business from the basement.

I didn’t mind her being around. We weren’t close—just the kind of familiar that comes from small towns and mutual obligations. Her dad and mine coached together in high school, so technically we’d “known each other forever,” but we’d never really talked. Not like that.

She played ball. I played the system.

They wanted us to be friends, though. My dad always hinting about it, asking me to tutor her in something she didn’t need help with just to get us in the same room. Her mom dropping comments like, “You should bring Paige on one of those study trips you go on, maybe it’ll rub off.”

As if intelligence was contagious.

Didn’t matter. I was too far gone into my own world now. I had my weed, my theories, my books, my silence. I wasn’t even mad about my dad pushing me into academia instead of ball anymore—he got over it. He saw what I did with it. I finished high school early, left with an associate’s before I could legally drink, and now I’m 21 working on a master’s degree while barely blinking. A little weed wasn’t going to be the scandal that ruined me.

So when they pulled up again this winter—her whole family—I didn’t blink.

I was in the basement, like usual. Hoodie on. Socks mismatched. Blunt lit. Some quiet instrumental R&B bleeding out the Bluetooth speaker. I was reading an abstract on cognitive reinforcement while simultaneously plotting which chips I was going to eat next.

And then the door opened. I didn’t look up right away. I already knew. Paige.

“Your mom said you were down here,” she said casually, a soft thud as she dropped down onto the other end of the couch.

“Clearly,” I murmured, barely lifting my eyes from the page. “She send you to babysit me or something?”

“Nah. I just wanted to get out of there. It’s a lot.”

I hummed. “Yeah. That house too full of opinions.”

She laughed lightly, then went quiet. I could feel her eyes scanning the room—my scattered notebooks, the rolling tray, the cloud of sweet smoke hanging heavy in the air.

She leaned back, legs stretched long across the carpet, and asked, “Is that your study routine or your spiritual practice?”

“Both.”

That got a laugh out of her. I liked the way she laughed. It was light, not forced, and just dry enough to tell me she wasn’t as straight as she tried to act.

“You ever try it?” I asked.

She glanced over. “What?”

I tapped the blunt between my fingers. “This. You off-season now, right?”

She tilted her head like she was thinking. “I mean… I’ve been around it. Never really did it.”

“Now’s the perfect time. No games, no drug tests, no interviews. Just you and the void.”

She looked at me, a little too long, and I knew then she was considering it.

“You don’t gotta impress me,” I said. “But you curious. I see it.”

Her eyes narrowed, amused. “You always talk like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like you’re narrating a Netflix show no one’s ready for.”

I smirked, slow. “That’s ‘cause they’re not.”

Eventually, she took it. Sloppy first inhale, a cough, another laugh. She settled into the feeling quicker than I thought. And then came the real problem—we started talking. Like really talking.

I don’t even remember what cracked it. Might’ve been a joke about her old baby photos upstairs or some memory we shared at a fourth-grade birthday party neither of us remembered happening until now. But the laughter settled into something thicker. Slower.

“People don’t really know how smart you are,” she said out of nowhere.

I blinked, caught off guard. “You stalking my résumé or something?”

“Nah, just… people talk. My mom brags about you to everyone. Said you had college credits before you had a prom.”

“That’s true. I skipped prom.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

“Cause I was gay and bored. And the DJ was trash.”

Her lips twitched like she didn’t know whether to laugh or process the information. “So you’re out?”

“Out? Baby, I was see-through.”

I stretched out further, dragging the blunt to my lips again. She was watching me now. Too closely. Her eyes darkened a little, the haze from the smoke mixing with the curiosity already crawling under her skin.

“And what about you?” I asked, soft. “You ever… explore?”

She didn’t answer immediately. But she didn’t break eye contact either.

“Not really,” she murmured. “Not in a real way.” I nodded. Said nothing. I didn’t need to press it.

She leaned closer. Just a little. Her hand brushed mine on the couch, slow like a test. I didn’t move. Just let the tension sit there.

“You ever think about what it’s like?” she asked quietly.

My eyes locked on hers, and for once, I didn’t say something witty. Didn’t joke. Just let my voice drop into something honest.

“All the time.” There was a pause.

“Can I… try something?”

I nodded. “Yeah.”

She leaned in. Lips brushed. Slow. Careful. She tasted like nerves and chapstick and a little leftover smoke. And when I deepened it—just slightly—she let out the softest sound I’ve ever heard from her.

That’s when I knew I was in trouble. Cause I knew who I was. On the surface? Calm. Chill. Smarter than I look and twice as calculated. On the inside? Horny. Starving. Ready to fall to my knees and make her forget her last name.

But I held it in. Barely.

Our kiss broke and she smiled, dazed. “That was…”

“Yeah.”

She laid her head on my shoulder. I felt her fingers graze the hem of my shirt. Not sexual. Just curious. But I was holding on by threads.

We’d been like that for a while now—somewhere between silence and casual conversation, like neither of us knew how to say, “Hey, are we gonna talk about the way we kissed and didn’t stop thinking about it for the last hour?”

We hadn’t moved from the couch. Weirdly enough, it held both of us just fine. Just enough room. Just enough quiet. Except now Paige was laying on top of me.

Her legs tangled between mine, her body pressed down in a way that didn’t feel innocent anymore. Head on my chest, one arm hooked lazily around my waist, like she’d done this a thousand times. Her eyes were closed, but she was still talking—something about childhood basketball trophies and how her little cousin found her old highlights on YouTube.

I could barely register a word. Because all I could think about was how her thigh was right there—pressed between mine. Not moving. But not still either.

And I was high. Which made it worse. I don’t get stupid when I’m high—I get hungry. And every slow exhale from her nose onto my collarbone was pushing me closer to losing it.

I bit my lip. She didn’t notice.

Her voice was soft. “He said I looked mean. Like, ‘Auntie, why you look so mad when you play?’ I was like, bro, that’s my face.”

I huffed out a breath. Tried to shift. Tried to be normal. But she moved with me—adjusted her leg without even opening her eyes, and suddenly her thigh dragged right over where I’d been trying not to feel too much.

I clenched my jaw. She still didn’t notice.

“I used to hate watching myself,” she murmured, voice low and gentle against my throat. “Now it’s kinda cool, seeing where I started. You ever feel like that? Like—”

“I have to move you,” I cut in, voice tighter than I meant.

She lifted her head a little, brows furrowed. “What? Why?”

I sat up slightly, forcing her off me and into her own seat like it didn’t hurt. Like it wasn’t killing me to put space between us.

“Are you alright?” she asked, concerned, leaning closer. I licked my lips slowly, trying to keep my voice steady.

“I’m trying not to fuck you,” I said calmly. Deadass. Unapologetic.

She blinked once. Then again. And smiled. That slow, knowing smile.

“Oh,” she said, sitting up straighter. “That’s why.”

“Mhm.”

“You could’ve said something.”

“I did.”

“No, I mean earlier.”

“You were literally laying on me. I could barely breathe. You were talking about youth basketball and I was this close to snapping your waistband and licking your spine.”

She grinned wider, leaned in like she was about to say something smart, and kissed me instead. Not light. Not curious. Firm. Intentional. Her hand cupped my jaw while her mouth moved slow and deep over mine, and I was holding on by a damn thread.

Then she started licking my neck. Not just kissing—licking. Small, warm, deliberate strokes right beneath my ear, and then soft open-mouthed kisses trailing down to my collarbone. And I was still. Frozen.

Not because I didn’t want to touch her. But because I did. Because if I moved, I was going to flip her. Make her cry out. Make her feel every second of what I’d been holding in since she laid on me like that couch was neutral ground.

She sat in my lap now, straddling me fully, rocking just barely. Smirking.

“You good?” she asked in that fake innocent tone, head tilted, lips still swollen from kissing.

I looked at her. Stared. She thought she was winning. Thought she was in charge. But when she leaned in close again and whispered, “Yes…”—that was it.

Everything inside me snapped.

My hand wrapped around her waist and pulled her down flush. The soft gasp she let out told me all I needed to know. She didn’t expect me to take it that seriously.

I kissed her hard—like I was making up for every second I held back. My tongue slid into her mouth like I owned the space. My hands gripped her thighs, pulled her down tighter into me, and I felt the shift in her body—the sudden surrender. The way she melted under it.

“You thought you’d in charge?” I muttered between kisses. She tried to say something cocky. I swallowed it with another kiss.

“You laid on me like I wouldn’t do something about it.”

Her hips shifted. My fingers dug in. She moaned—soft, breathy, and fuck, I wanted more.

I kissed her jaw, her neck, the space just under her ear where she shivered like I found a secret. My voice dropped.

“Girl you got one chance to tell me to stop.”

She didn’t. Her hands gripped my shoulders. She leaned in again, kissed me like she was already gone.

I didn’t ask again. Didn’t need to. Paige had already told me everything I needed to hear—between her eyes, her breathing, her “yes,” the way her thighs clenched the second I kissed under her ear.

And I wasn’t about to waste that permission.

I flipped her slow. Nothing rough—just smooth and deliberate. Her back hit the cushions while I stayed above her, steady, calm, calculated. Her hands gripped my hoodie like she was holding herself together. That wouldn’t last long.

Then I was on her. Hands sliding up under her hoodie, fingertips dragging over bare skin, tugging fabric higher as I kissed down her neck. She lifted her arms, let me take it off, hair falling across her flushed face like some forbidden secret I wasn’t supposed to see.

But I was gonna see all of her. Every fucking inch.

No bra. Just her. Skin flushed pink, breathing shallow, chest rising. I stared. Just for a second. Just to memorize the shape of her. Then I dropped my mouth to her chest—tongue licking a slow circle around her nipple before pulling it into my mouth, gently, then harder, until she gasped and arched up.

My hands weren’t still either. One slid down, thumb dragging under the band of her sweatpants. I felt her tremble when I grazed the front of her, the heat, the way her body reacted instantly. My eyes were on hers the whole time.

I didn’t say anything. I just pulled them down. She lifted her hips to help me, quiet, legs parting slightly, thighs tense. No panties. She knew what she was doing. IM not mad at it.

She always looked so clean-cut. So composed. But here she was, laying back in my basement with nothing on from the waist down, wet and ready, thighs trembling, eyes locked on me like she didn’t know whether to speak or beg.

I dropped to my knees on the floor between the couch cushions. Didn’t rush. Just kissed the inside of her thigh, slow and firm. Then the other. Licked the softness just above where she needed it, blowing cool air across her pussy until she squirmed.

I didn’t tease her long. Not tonight.

I leaned in and kissed her there—deep, full tongue pressure, slow licks that flattened against her clit, then slid lower, tasting her. Her hips jumped immediately.

“Oh my god,” she breathed. I hummed against her. The vibrations made her moan. Then I really got to work.

My hands gripped her thighs and pulled her forward. I spread her wider, licking long and slow—up and down, circling, pausing only to suck her clit gently, then hard enough to make her back arch off the couch. She was losing it already, one hand tangled in my curls, the other gripping the pillow like it could ground her.

But I wasn’t done.

While I ate her, one hand slid back into my sweats—already soaked from how long I’d been holding it in. My fingers rubbed slow circles over my own clit, matching the rhythm of my mouth on hers. It made the pleasure sharper, more focused. Like I was feeding off her sounds.

She moaned louder. Her thighs started to tremble.

“Don’t stop,” she whispered, voice cracking.

I didn’t. I licked her like it was my purpose—slow but relentless. I flattened my tongue, sucked her clit again, then moved lower and slid my tongue inside her, moaning softly when she gasped and rolled her hips into my face. Her whole body tightened. She was close. Right there.

I pulled back just enough to say, “I want you to come on my mouth.”

She whimpered. “Fuck. I’m gonna—”

Her whole body jerked. Her legs shook around my shoulders. I didn’t stop—kept licking through it, softer now, coaxing it out of her, letting her ride it. She cried out, breathless, shaky, and her fingers pulled hard at my hair.

I stayed there until she twitched. Until she couldn’t take anymore. Until she pushed at me with a whimper and begged, “Wait—baby, stop—too much.”

I finally pulled back. Licked my lips. Looked at her. Wrecked. Flushed. Breathless. Still trembling.

I climbed back onto the couch beside her, wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, and leaned in to kiss her neck—tasting her skin, dragging my tongue up her throat slow and dirty.

“You taste so fucking good,” I whispered.

She blinked at me, dazed. “You’re high.”

“And you’re lucky I didn’t eat you through the fucking floor.”

She laughed weakly, still breathless. And then her fingers slid between my legs.

“Ohhh…” I smiled, slow and wicked. “You trying to be grown?” She looked at me.

“Say yes again.”

She hadn’t even caught her breath yet, still folded into the couch cushions, legs slightly open, chest rising in soft uneven waves. Her skin glowed in the low light—pink from heat, kissed red around her chest and throat. And yet she still looked hungry.

Paige shifted, climbing into my lap like the tremble in her thighs didn’t exist. She pushed me back into the cushions and settled over me, straddling me fully, hands on either side of my neck, gaze low and steady. There was something new in her eyes. Bolder. Like now that she knew what my mouth could do, she wanted to see what her hands could make happen.

“You good?” I asked, low.

Her lips curled into a smirk. “Shut up.”

“Excuse me?” I raised a brow.

But she was already kissing me—hot, slow, and wet, tongue teasing mine like she wanted to reclaim her breath through me. Her hand slid under my hoodie, trailing along my ribs, my stomach. She tugged it up, impatient. I let her pull it off.

She looked down at me now, eyes scanning everything, like she was seeing me for the first time. Then her hands cupped my chest, thumbs brushing over my nipples, and I sighed into the kiss, my back arching just a little.

“Tell me what you want,” she whispered, voice husky.

I opened my mouth to respond, but she kissed down my neck before I could answer—slow and messy, lips dragging across my collarbone, then lower. Her tongue flicked over my nipple and my breath caught. She smiled against my skin.

“Oh, you like that.”

“Mhm,” I managed. “But don’t get cocky. You still shaky.”

She ignored that, kissing lower. Her hand slid between my legs, over my sweats, slow pressure that made me sigh and grind into her palm.

“You’re soaked,” she whispered, surprised.

“Yeah. You. Did that.”

Paige hummed, dragging her fingers up and down through the fabric. Teasing. She didn’t rush. Didn’t try to prove anything. Just moved with confidence—like she’d been thinking about this longer than she admitted.

She tugged my sweats down, enough to get her hand in, and the moment her fingers slid through how wet I was, she moaned.

“Fuck.”

I grinned. “You good?”

“Yeah,” she muttered, dazed, like she forgot where she was. Her fingers rubbed slow circles over my clit while she kissed me again—deep and dirty, moaning into my mouth every time I twitched.

Then she slid one finger in. Then another. I grabbed her wrist on instinct, not to stop her, but to feel it. She started thrusting slow, her other hand gripping my thigh, and her breath got uneven again.

“You’re so fucking warm,” she whispered, looking down at where her fingers disappeared inside me. “I—I can’t—”

And then she froze. Her eyes fluttered. Her legs trembled.

“Oh my god.”

She gasped, sharp and loud, grinding down against me like she didn’t even mean to. Cumming. Again.

Right there. On top of me. Legs shaking, forehead pressed to mine, fingers still inside me but frozen. She whimpered, soft and stunned.

I bit my lip, smiling. “You were saying?”

“Shut up,” she panted.

“No, no, please,” I laughed breathlessly. “You were being in charge. Continue.”

She blinked down at me, red-faced. “I—I forgot what I was doing.”

I gripped her hips and started to move them. She moaned.

“Yeah,” I whispered. “Let me help you remember.”

I guided her—slow grind, right over my thigh now, slick and sensitive, her hands on my chest for balance. I kept moving her, small circles, steady pressure, and watched her fall apart all over again.

“You think I needed more than this?” I muttered, voice low. “Just you on top of me, making all those sounds…”

“Stop talking,” she gasped, but her hips didn’t stop.

“I came already, Paige. You know that, right?” Her eyes widened.

“I came while I was eating you.” (Literally a dream of mine.. don’t mind me)

She whimpered, grinding harder. “Fuck…”

“And now you’re gonna come again. Because you turn me on that bad.”

She didn’t argue. She just shook. Collapsed into my neck and came again, softer this time. Just a long, trembling sigh, her breath hot against my throat, body loose and weak and completely undone.

And I held her. Smiling to myself. Because yeah—she tried to be in charge. But I had her. Every. Single. Time.

It was sometime past midnight when we finally pulled ourselves together—sweatpants back on, hoodies thrown over bodies still warm, limbs still a little shaky. We laughed too much in the bathroom while brushing our teeth, hands knocking into each other, grinning like two kids who knew they weren’t supposed to be doing what they just did.

She stayed.

Of course she stayed.

Now we were in my room, the lights dim, comforter kicked halfway off the bed. She laid on top of me, hoodie half-zipped, cheek pressed against my chest like it belonged there. Her thigh was tucked between mine again, but this time I wasn’t grinding—I was too tired. Too satisfied. My hand rested on her back, fingers tracing lazy lines along her spine while she talked soft and slow, her voice fading in and out like she was about to fall asleep mid-sentence.

“You sure I’m not crushing you?” she mumbled.

I rolled my eyes. “You weigh, like, five pounds more than me.”

“But I’m taller. Got broader shoulders.”

I slid my hand down to squeeze her ass. “You’re not heavy, Paige. I lift.”

She chuckled, sleep in her throat. “Okay, hot girl.”

We laid there like that for a while. Comfortable. Quiet. Her breath evened out, her body melted against mine. I didn’t move.

I didn’t want to.

Morning came like a slap to the ego. The sun peeked through my curtains just bright enough to hit Paige’s face. She scrunched up like a cat and rolled off me with a groan, taking the covers with her.

“Damn,” I muttered, dragging my hoodie down.

“Shut up,” she grumbled. “Your bed’s too comfortable. I didn’t wanna wake up.”

“You drooled on me.”

She blinked. “What?”

I smirked. “Right here.” I tapped my chest. “Dead center. Like a badge of honor.”

She covered her face, laughing into her sleeve.

We got dressed in a mess of mismatched clothes. My sweats, her hoodie. My bonnet that she definitely did not need but still tried on for jokes. I tossed her one of my oversized tees to wear under her jacket and she looked at herself in the mirror like she didn’t hate it.

“You good?” I asked.

She nodded. “Yeah. Just don’t know how to walk out of here like I wasn’t literally—”

“Say it and I’ll drag you back in this bed.”

She bit her lip. “That’s not a threat.”

We made our way to the kitchen like two teenagers sneaking in past curfew—except it was 9 a.m., and both of my parents were already awake.

I should’ve known something was up the moment my mom turned from the stove with that look. That mom look. The one that says, “You think I don’t know, but I know.”

“Mornin’ girls,” she said sweetly, sliding pancakes onto a plate. “Y’all sleep good?”

Paige damn near tripped over the chair. I cleared my throat. “Yup. Great. Comfy.”

“Yeah,” Paige added too fast. “Really good. Slept really… peacefully.”

“Mhmm,” my mom replied, smirking. “Sure did look peaceful when I checked on you two. Cozy.”

I froze. “You what?”

“Oh relax. I didn’t open the door all the way. Just enough to see her head on your chest like a baby possum.”

Paige looked like she wanted the floor to eat her whole. And then came my father. He walked in holding his coffee like a championship trophy, grinning like he hit the lottery three times in one night.

“I knew it,” he said, loud as hell. “I told you, baby! Didn’t I say?”

He turned to my mom, eyes wide. “Didn’t I say, ‘Those two gone end up together. It’s only a matter of time’? Didn’t I say that?!”

“You said it,” my mom replied flatly, rolling her eyes.

My dad clapped his hands together once, loud and proud. “Welcome to the family, Bueckers!”

Paige’s eyes got so wide I thought she might pass out. I dropped my forehead to the table. “You’re embarrassing. Please stop.”

He ignored me completely, walking over to Paige and slapping her on the shoulder like he just drafted her to the Lakers. “I mean this girl right here—man! Best in the league. Smart. Focused. Got a crossover and a sense of humor.”

“She’s sitting right here,” I muttered.

He leaned in closer, whispering too loud to be subtle. “If you break her heart, I’m takin’ your jump shot. You hear me?”

Paige choked on her juice. My mom finally rescued us. “That’s enough, Mr. Hall of Fame. Go fix the screen door like you said you would.”

He walked off still talking. “Three for three! That’s what I’m talkin’ about. Three for three!”

I turned to Paige, deadpan. “You wanna run? Now’s your chance.”

She leaned over, bumped my shoulder, and whispered, “Actually… I’m kinda into it.”

I blinked. “Into what?”

She smirked. “Being yours.”

My heart did something stupid. Like real stupid.

But all I said was, “Better be. You drooled on me.”

@xxsnowxx213 @draculara-vonvamp @kcannon-1436-blog @let-zizi-yap @perksofbeingatrex @soapyonaropey @julieluvspb @non3ofurbusiness @kcannon-1436-blog

[my-castles-crumbling]

alchemy - june 14 - jegulus - @taylorswiftmicrofic - word count: 551 (I was so tired when I wrote this, sorry if it's not like what I usually write!)

Regulus Black had always loved the Restricted Section. The perfect combination of quiet, deserted eeriness made him feel unimportant, in the best way. Like for once, he didn’t have to worry at all about what people were thinking about him or how people were perceiving him. He could just…disappear into the shelves.

So he frequently studied there. Finding peace in the solitude, he spread his work out over the empty tables and lost himself.

Of course, Potter always found him.

“Amazing Alchemy for the Subpar Sorcerer?” Potter read in an amused voice, picking a book at random from a shelf as he slowly, casually made his way towards Regulus. “I can’t decide if that title makes me feel excited or offended.”

Regulus sighed, trying to just seem annoyed even though he felt a million things in reality. “What do you want, Potter?”

“Someone to do my homework for me. An entire treacle tart. To win the House Cup,” the older boy listed off playfully as he settled in an old, creaking chair next to Regulus. “But right now? To see you.”

He worked very hard to not blush. “And what do you want from me?” he asked, trying to keep his voice light.

Potter studied him for a long while before he said, his voice completely serious, “To hold your hand.”

Regulus nearly choked on his own spit. “To–to what?” he demanded, sure he’d misheard. Sure, they’d been hanging out a bit lately, but…Potter was straight. Wasn’t he? Regulus hadn’t allowed himself to hope otherwise.

“I have a theory. I need to hold your hand to prove if it’s true or not,” Potter explained, not an ounce of humor on his face.

Studying the older boy’s expression for a hint of teasing, Regulus decided to give into both desire and curiosity. Partially because he desperately wanted to know what James Potter’s hands felt like and partially because he knew he’d hate himself forever if he said now. “Fine.” He held out his hand, forcing it not to shake. 

Hesitantly, as if touching something fragile, James took it, interlocking their fingers and gazing at their hands with a look of slight awe on his face.

And as for Regulus, heat burst through his fingers, travelling up his arms, making him breathless. Fuck, he had to get it together. They were just holding hands, for Merlin’s sake.

“Is this…helping prove anything?” he asked shakily after a long while, biting at his lips, refusing to meet James’s eyes. The tension in the air was palpable.

The older boy chuckled. “Yeah,” he said, his rough voice drawing Regulus’s gaze. His thumb soothed over the back of Regulus’s hand, causing him to shiver.

“What does it prove?” Regulus asked softly, unsure if he wanted the answer.

James laughed outright, his eyes bright but nervous. “It proves I like holding hands with boys. Or…with you, anyway.”

And somehow, something took over Regulus and he spoke without thinking. “I wonder what else you like to do with boys?” he asked breathlessly, internally wondering where that courage came from.

But now, James looked at him with nothing less than desire. The air was tense, and Regulus could hardly breathe with anticipation. “We should find out,” James murmured, not breaking their gaze.

They both lunged forward at the same time.

[localferalgoblinreblogs]

THANK YOU !!!! THANK YOU !!!!!

I was beginning to be so DONE with people saying that ! Toby Fox would never do something as straight forward as that in his game !!!

Adding that, he makes us see that we have a positive influence on thr whole ordeal when we want to- Without us Susie might have never gotten the fucking guitar. And that's the thing too. Kris may be our vessel to keep us from interacting with the world but we can still have a huge influence on it. And the prophecy is already fucked up if some theories are right, so the theme might more be that even if you don't think you have a choice you can make a change. Susie is the litteral embodiment of that message.

And also i do believe that we can get along with Kris in the end. I think they agreed to trap us because theyre being manipulated by the caller, so i think they could get rid of us whenever they want. They just don't because they know they have something to gain from us, and the caller knows that as well. I still think they suffer from us being there sometimes (tearing your soul out looks like it hurts like hell) but not like THAT you know, and like you said us being there might help us develop their own wants and needs more actively.

Also, the underlying theme seems to be about adolescence and growing up, with everything that is happening in the overworld. About becoming your own person outside of societal expectations. I don't know yet what the SOUL represents in my interpretation but it's clearly not a negative influence (except in snowgrave, this route fucks up all of my theories about that).

Also unrelated but i just want to give the poor kid a hug. I hope at some point theyre comfortable enough to accept our help in a healthier way that what's happening right now (which might be where Toby is leading us, too).

I think any Deltarune analysis is incomplete if it doesn't acknowledge the fact that the player has no agency in this relationship either. A lot of early theorizing was that playing the game itself was bad, and comparisons were made to spec ops: the line.

Spec Ops has become something of a cliché in game criticism/theorizing because it represents one of the first times where the relationship between the game and the player was more complicated than just being a player insert power fantasy. Where it was explicitly part of the text that by playing this game beyond the first minute, you were already defying orders and risking lives. If Captain Martin Walker turned around, everything would have turned out much better.

That's not the case here and I hope that is clear by now.

We were *tricked.* The intro is us being promised a blank vessel, then forced into an already occupied body. We had no choice in this. Our only other option is non-existence, and that's not a choice anyone can really make.

Of course, we can make this relationship positive or negative. There's every sign that before we entered Kris's life, they were almost an empty shell of a person. They hadn't been to school in a while. They're extremely unkempt. They have nothing on display in their room. What friends they had have been alienated. Whatever happened to them before the game started, it seemed like they had stopped *living.* like they lost their soul, or, perhaps, their Determination.

We give that back to them.

Each chapter shows them growing progressively more autonomous. They take a more active role and show more of their personality. They defy us when they don't like what we tell them to do in increasingly forceful ways. They have fun without us telling them to. On a normal route, we are mostly a positive influence in their life. Of course, they resent us still. They're a teenager and we're a force of control in their life. Of course, they want freedom.

Maybe we can help each other with that.

(Weird route is, quite literally, another story)

[nekonaps0]

You are NAUGHTY!! Pt2

✦part1 part3

✦ characters: second years

✦ gn!reader

✦ dirty jokes

✦ their partner suddenly cracked a naughty, suggestive joke

Riddle Rosehearts

“So… if I break any more rules, does that mean I’ll have to ‘bend over’ for punishment~?”

Riddle chokes.

No, really he stumbles mid-sentence, goes cherry red, and tries desperately to pretend he didn’t hear what you just said.

“W-What?! H-How dare you say something so inappropriate! That is—That is not at all—!”


He’s absolutely flustered.

His hands flap, his ears are glowing, and he sputters out a million rules that don’t help anything. But behind all the outrage, he’s secretly dying inside.

Later, when he’s alone? He remembers it, turns bright red, and buries his face in a pillow screaming silently.

Reggie Bucchi

“Ruggie, if I were dessert, would you eat me before dinner or save me for a midnight snack?”

Dead.

He laughs so hard he snorts.

“Wh—Pfft—Whaaat?! Are you tryna kill me here?!”

He drops his snack, clutching his stomach, cackling and red-faced. But once he recovers, his grin turns wicked.

“Midnight snack, huh? Guess I’ll just have to find out if you taste as good as you sound~”

Oh, he's cocky now. You're in trouble.

Azul Ashengrotto

“Azul, your are a octopus right? 'Cause you’ve got the perfect grip to wrap around me at night~”

Azul.exe has stopped responding.

He blinks. Coughs. Adjusts his glasses twice. You can see his mental calculator exploding behind his eyes.

“T-That’s… rather inappropriate—! Not that I… I mean, I would never… Unless you…!”

He wants to flirt back but doesn’t trust himself not to say something even worse. He hides behind his businesslike demeanor, though his whole face flaming red.

Later, when he’s more composed?

“I may be skilled with contracts, but I’d never entrap you. Unless… you asked for it.”

And then he winks. And he avoids you after how embarrassed he got after saying that. But he learned!

Jade Leech

“Jade, you’re already so good with your hands in potion class... I’d love to see what else you can stir up.”

He turns to you slowly, a sharp smile curling his lips. Eyes half-lidded. Head tilting slightly in mock innocence.

“What a fascinating observation… Shall I conduct a hands-on experiment with you as my subject?”

He says it so calmly that it sends shivers down your spine. You started the fire, and now he’s feeding it.

He doesn’t stop there. He’ll keep dropping quiet little whispers, brushing your shoulder “accidentally,” leaning down too close until you’re the one flustered.

Floyd Leech

“Floyd, if you squeeze me like that again, I might start getting ideas you’ll need to follow through on~”

His eyes light up like someone handed him a brand new toy.

“Eeeeeeh~? Shrimpy wants me to squeeze more? Don’t tempt me~ I’ll squish you all night long~!”

Floyd goes feral. He’s laughing, chasing you around the room, tackling you into a squish-hug and whispering more outrageous things in your ear.

He loves that you flirted like that and now he’s unhinged.

“Say it again, Shrimpy~ Don’t be shy now. I like this game!”

You unleashed him… Good luck.

Kalim Al-Asim

“Kalim, with how energetic you are, I bet you’d be amazing at cardio. Wanna test that theory… horizontally?”

“Cardio? Like training? Sure—wait… horizontally?!”

Cue bright-red face and an audible GASP.

He’s slow to realize it’s a naughty joke, but once he does?

“Oh... OH! THAT KIND OF JOKE!! A-Ahahaha! Y/N!!! That’s—!!”

He covers his mouth, blushes from ear to ear, and probably trips over a chair trying to hide.

He’s too innocent to say anything back but he can’t stop thinking about it later, giggling to himself.

“Cardio… haha...”

Bad? You’re hilarious. And he’s flustered for the rest of the day.

Jamil Viper

“Jamil, if you’re gonna keep calling me ‘troublesome,’ maybe I should earn the title in your bed.”

He freezes like a statue. Blinks. Swallows hard.

“...What did you just say?”

His voice is calm. Too calm. He runs a hand through his hair and breathes out through his nose like he's trying to keep it together.

“Stop playing with me.”

His face turns red. But the eye contact? Intense. Dangerous.

“Keep saying things like that, and I won’t be responsible for what happens after.”

He's rattled. Turned on. Trying not to show it. You’ve absolutely succeeded in knocking him off-balance.

Silver

“Silver, I wouldn’t mind waking you up every morning… maybe even with a few… special techniques.”

He pauses.

Stares.

Blushes.

Then immediately pretends he didn’t hear that.

“...I see. Thank you for the offer.”

But you notice the way he won’t meet your eyes and how his hand trembles just a little. He’s red. He’s quietly combusting.

Later, when you least expect it?

“...About what you said earlier. About the demonstrating...”

Hehe~

..............................................................................................................................

[writingsoftarnishedsilver]

Hiii, i adore your sebastian sm and was wondering if you’ve ever written him in a yule ball setting? just sebastian being pissy and jealous about this random ball because he wants to ask the reader but he doesn’t know how to😭

Three Years Late | Sebastian Sallow x Reader

RAHHHH OKAY I WAS SO INSPIRED BY THIS I COULDN'T SLEEP. HAD TO WRITE IT IMMEDIATELY. TYSM FOR THIS!

Words: ~3,200

Tags: Mid-Size Reader, Female MC, No Y/N, No Hogwarts House, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Longing and Pining, Love Confessions, Fluff

Sebastian hated the Yule Ball.

Not in theory, of course. The music was decent, the cider had been spiked, and the enchanted snowfall drifting from the ceiling was beautiful. But none of that mattered. None of it could be appreciated while he stood in the farthest corner of the ballroom watching you laugh at something your date had just whispered in your ear.

Merlin, he hated that guy.

Gresham was his name. Some well-meaning Ravenclaw who wore perfectly pressed dress robes and was top-of-the-class in Arithmancy. Always polite. Always punctual. Always there, hovering beside you in study groups, carrying your books after class. And worst of all, you let him. Smiled at him. Said yes when he’d asked you to the ball.

You said yes.

Meanwhile, Sebastian had yet to figure out how to stop being a complete coward.

You looked incredible. Hair pinned up, dress clinging to every curve in a way that made his throat go dry. He’d never seen you look so radiant and so bloody out of reach.

“I swear to Salazar, you’re going to chip a tooth if you clench your jaw any harder.”” Ominis muttered beside him.

Sebastian didn’t answer. He just kept his eyes on you, smiling, spinning, dancing with someone who wasn’t him.

Anne, standing on Ominis’s other side in a sleek silver dress, arched an eyebrow at her twin. "Stop sulking, Sebastian.”

“I’m not,” he said sharply.

Anne gave him a look like she knew better, because she did. She’d seen that exact look before when they were kids and he got beaten at gobstones or Ominis outdueled him in Defense. The difference now was that this wasn’t about being second best in class. It was about you and the way Sebastian had somehow managed to let you slip through his fingers without even putting up a fight.

“You’ve been brooding since the minute she walked in,” Anne said, crossing her arms. “Honestly, it’s exhausting."

Sebastian didn't hear her, because across the ballroom, Gresham spun you out and reeled you back in like it was nothing. Like he’d earned the right to touch your waist. Like he’d practiced for this.

Sebastian’s grip tightened around his glass.

“I just don’t get it,” he muttered.

Ominis gave a long-suffering sigh. “What don’t you get, exactly? The idea that maybe you should’ve asked her first?”

Sebastian didn’t respond. Couldn’t. Not with his throat tight and his ears roaring with the low thrum of the waltz and the sound of your laughter, distant but unmistakable.

You looked happy. You were happy.

And that made him miserable.

He’d had weeks. Months, even. There’d been a dozen perfect moments he could've asked: lingering after duels, late nights in the Undercroft, your shoulder pressed against his on the couch.

But he hadn’t. Because asking meant admitting the truth, and admitting meant risk.

Sebastian frowned, his voice low, bitter, “What does he have that I don’t?”

Anne smirked. “Do you want the truth, or—?”

“Don’t answer that,” Ominis cut in. “Look. You’ve got two choices here. Keep standing here like a thundercloud with good hair, or do something about it.”

“I can’t do something about it,” Sebastian snapped. “She already said yes to him.”

Anne tilted her head. “Yes, but she keeps looking over here.”

That shut him up.

“...What?”

“She's looked this way at least four times since you started sulking,” Ominis explained like he was commenting on the weather. “And twice during that last dance. Don’t be thick.”

Sebastian didn’t answer. Just stared. You smiling again, eyes crinkling at the corners, your hand brushing Gresham’s sleeve as he said something undoubtedly dull and inoffensive. The bastard probably complimented your handwriting or your essay margins or something equally Ravenclawish. And you looked like you were enjoying it.

Sebastian reached for the nearest tray and grabbed a drink and knocked it back like maybe it could cauterize the godawful feeling blooming in his chest.

Anne made a noise somewhere between a groan and a laugh as she watched. “Oh, no. No, no, no. I know that look."

"Relax,” Sebastian muttered.

“Please,” Ominis groaned. “please, do not make a scene."

Sebastian’s jaw ticked. “I’m not going to make a scene. I’m not an idiot.”

But if he had to keep watching you from across the room, he really might combust. Might actually die. Because it wasn’t just jealousy, it was something worse. Something hotter. Something that lived in his chest and in his fingertips and lower.

He’d been a goner since fifth year. Since the day you strolled into Defense Against the Dark Arts with that too-loud laugh, that wicked little smirk, and a wit sharp enough to parry him without a wand. It had been bad even then—he was fifteen, high on hormones and hubris, and already struggling to think straight anytime you smiled too long or touched his arm mid-laugh. There were more than a few shameful nights spent staring at the dorm ceiling, trying very hard not to imagine things he shouldn’t.

But now it was so much worse, because you weren’t a pretty fifth year with a sharp mouth anymore. Now you were a full-grown, impossibly stunning woman, and he was eighteen and half out of his mind because your dress hugged every curve like it was designed for the sole purpose of driving him insane. And maybe it was. Maybe you’d known. Maybe you’d looked in the mirror before coming down to the great hall and thought, yes, this will destroy Sebastian Sallow specifically.

And if so—mission accomplished.

Because you were exactly his type. No, you were the blueprint for his type. Full breasts, thick thighs, wide hips he wanted to get his hands on, and enough fire in your eyes to match his worst moods. He’d kill to bury his face between your—

"Sebastian."

Anne's voice sliced through the haze like a cold wind.

He blinked, yanked out of a fantasy he had absolutely no business entertaining in public, let alone with his sister and best friend standing right there.

"You're blushing," she said flatly.

Sebastian swore under his breath and scrubbed a hand down his face. He needed to get a grip. This was getting ridiculous. It wasn’t as if he could just walk across the ballroom, drag you away from your date, and finally say what he’d been holding in for the better part of three years.

…Except that was exactly what he wanted to do.

And maybe, if you really had been looking his way… if there was even the slightest chance you were waiting for him to do something—

No. He shouldn’t.

But if he didn’t, he was going to spend the entire night thinking about your dress. Your laugh. The soft curve of your waist beneath Gresham’s hand.

“I need air,” he muttered, already setting his glass down and stepping away.

Ominis sighed. “Don’t hex anyone.”

He turned on his heel and strode across the ballroom with the stiff, barely-contained grace of someone trying very hard not to commit a felony.

He managed a few half-hearted nods and smiles as he passed classmates—Poppy waved, Everett said something cheerful he didn’t catch, Natty offered a raise of her glass. He acknowledged them all with the bare minimum of politeness, jaw tight, fists clenched at his sides, pretending he didn’t feel like a live wire in polished shoes.

The music faded as he slipped out into one of the side corridors—a quiet wing strung with garlands and floating candles. He made it halfway down the hall before stopping beneath a tall window, unlatching the old iron lock with too much force.

The pane creaked open, letting in a gust of winter air.

He braced his hands on the stone windowsill and leaned forward, sucking in deep, freezing lungfuls of December night. Snow drifted down in slow spirals beyond the courtyard below, soft and bright against the black sky.

Maybe it would cool him down. Maybe it would snap him out of it.

"...Seb?"

His spine straightened like a bowstring pulled taut. For half a second, he thought he was imagining it. Your voice, soft behind him, just quiet enough to be mistaken for memory.

But then he turned, and there you were.

He shouldn't have been so surprised. You always found him, somehow. Even when he was trying to disappear.

You stood a few paces back, framed by candlelight, your breath fogging in the cold air. Your cheeks were flushed from dancing, curls escaping from your pinned-up hair, and Merlin help him, you were gorgeous.

He looked away before he could drown in it.

“I didn’t think anyone else would be out here,” you said gently, stepping forward. “Needed air.”

Sebastian swallowed hard, gripping the windowsill behind him like a lifeline. “Yeah. Same.”

You nodded, crossing the last few steps between you until you were standing beside him, close enough that he could smell your perfume.

There was a moment of quiet. Comfortable, almost. Or it would’ve been, if not for the static crawling up the back of his neck.

You leaned on the sill beside him, eyes flicking to the snow beyond.

“He’s sweet,” you said after a long silence. “Gresham.”

Sebastian stared straight ahead, jaw tense. “Yeah,” he said finally. “Seems like it.”

“I'm having a nice time. He’s a good dancer.”

His knuckles tightened against the stone. He forced a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “That’s great."

Silence stretched again. When you spoke, your voice was quieter.

"Why didn't ask anyone? Half the girls in school were lining up for you.”

Sebastian scoffed, eyes still fixed on the snow. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“I’m not,” you said simply. “I heard them talking. In the common room. In class. Even in the bloody library.”

He shook his head, lips twisting. “Doesn’t matter.”

“Does to me.”

That pulled his gaze. You weren’t looking at the snow anymore. You were looking at him, eyes steady and searching.

“I thought…” You hesitated, then shrugged one shoulder, trying for casual. “I thought maybe you were waiting to ask someone in particular.”

Sebastian’s heart pounded in his chest.

“I was.”

You blinked. “Oh.”

“I just—” he paused, exhaled, then met your eyes fully for the first time all night. “I waited too long. And then it was too late.”

Another beat of silence.

"I'm sorry, Seb." You reached out, giving his arm a gentle squeeze. “Whoever she is… she’s an idiot for not going with you."

Sebastian blinked.

You were looking at him with genuine sympathy, eyes soft and earnest, and it took everything in him not to laugh. Or scream.

His jaw clenched. “She’s not an idiot.”

“Well,” you said, stepping back with a small, rueful smile, “she still missed out.”

He bit down on the truth before it could escape his mouth.

Instead, he gave a tight shake of his head. “It’s fine.”

It wasn’t.

You were already turning toward the window again, exhaling a little sigh, oblivious to the storm you’d left in your wake.

And then, without thinking, without planning, without the faintest regard for timing or tact, Sebastian blurted:

“It was you.”

You turned, blinking like you hadn’t heard him right. “...What? Me?”

Sebastian laughed, but it wasn’t really a laugh, more like a breath laced with disbelief and something dangerously close to despair.

“Yes. You. Who else do you think I’d be talking about?”

You stared at him, stunned. Completely still, like you weren’t sure you’d heard him right, like the idea hadn’t even occurred to you.

Of course it hadn’t.

You didn’t know. You couldn’t. Not after he’d spent three years burying his feelings beneath sarcasm and smirks and the safety of being your best friend. And god, he’d tried so hard to be content with that. With friendship. With late-night walks to the Astronomy Tower and falling asleep in the Undercroft with your head on his shoulder, your leg draped over his like it meant nothing. Like it didn’t undo him every time.

He’d sat through conversations about your crushes. Snuck you chocolate from the kitchens when you cried about exams or homesickness or the injustice of being partnered with Leander Prewett in Potions. You’d given him your warmth, your loyalty, your everything, and he’d taken it all with a smile, pretending it was enough.

Sebastian pushed off the windowsill, running both hands through his hair before letting them drop uselessly at his sides.

“I’ve been in love with you since fifth year.”

There. He said it.

“You—Merlin, I’ve held your hair back when you were sick. You’ve patched me up after every dumb idea I’ve had. We’ve fought like hell, we’ve made up like nothing ever happened, and somewhere in all of it I forgot how to exist without you."

He stepped closer now, eyes locked to yours.

“We’ve been inseparable. Every spare moment, every late-night run to the kitchens, every time we snuck out just to walk the damn grounds and talk about nothing—I kept thinking, this is it. This is where I say something.”

His voice cracked slightly.

“But I couldn’t. Because what if I said it and everything changed? What if you didn’t feel the same and I ruined the best thing I’ve ever had? So I kept my mouth shut and I told myself being your best friend was enough.”

He stepped forward, now, hands clenched at his sides. "But seeing you tonight, with him... I realized I’m going to lose you anyway. Or at least, it feels like I am. And I can’t do it quietly. I can’t just sit in the corner and smile while someone else gets to touch you like—like he’s allowed.”

His voice cracked on the last word. He didn’t care.

“I should’ve told you a thousand times by now. But I’m telling you now. It’s you. It’s always been you.”

Silence.

The kind that pressed in on his ears and made the hallway feel suddenly too still, like the air had been sucked out of the castle walls.

You were staring at him like he’d grown a second head. Like he’d just rewritten every memory you thought you understood. Three years of friendship. Of knowing each other like second skin. Of shared looks and late nights and every secret you never told anyone else.

And now this.

Sebastian stood perfectly still, barely breathing, bracing for it. The inevitable. The gentle let-down. The you’re my best friend speech. The soft smile and the heartbreaking kindness that would crack him wide open.

He could hear it already. “Seb, I love you, but not like that.” “You mean so much to me, I just never thought of you that way.” “I don’t want to ruin what we have.”

He’d rehearsed it. Lived it a thousand times in his head, because he knew that’s how this would end.

And still, it didn’t stop him from hurting.

He dropped his gaze, suddenly exhausted. “You don’t have to say anything. I just needed you to know before I watched someone else fall in love with you while I said nothing at all.”

A beat. Two. Then—

"...You’ve been in love with me this whole time?"

He looked up cautiously, afraid to meet your eyes, afraid of what he’d see there. Pity, maybe. Or confusion. Or worst of all, that careful, familiar gentleness that meant you were letting him down easy.

He ran a hand down is face. “Yeah.”

“...And you thought I didn’t feel the same?”

Sebastian rubbed the back of his neck. “You never said anything,” he muttered at length. “And I figured if you did feel something, you would’ve. You’ve always been braver than me.”

You let out a breath that was somewhere between a laugh and a gasp.

“For fuck’s sake, Sebastian.”

You surged forward before he could respond—hands on his collar, pulling him down—and kissed him.

The world stopped.

You were kissing him. You were kissing him. Not as a joke. Not by accident. Not in a dream.

For real.

It was nothing like the fantasies he’d tortured himself with in the quiet hours of the night. It wasn’t soft or cautious or polished. It was real. Warm and messy and desperate and aching.

And perfect.

A broken sound caught in his throat—half a groan, half a laugh—as he deepened the kiss, one hand sliding up your back, fingers threading into your hair. Your lips parted against his, and that soft sound you made, just the faintest hitch in your breath, lit him up from the inside out.

Merlin, you felt good. You tasted like cider and adrenaline and everything he’d ever wanted.

And the worst part, no the best part, was how familiar it felt. Like this had always been waiting. Like this was the missing thread that finally made the rest of your story make sense.

You broke apart just barely, your nose brushing his, your forehead pressing to his cheek as you caught your breath.

Sebastian’s eyes were wide, stunned, and far too shiny. His heart was doing something reckless inside his chest.

“You kissed me,” he said dumbly. “You—you kissed me.”

You rolled your eyes grinning, and he couldn’t help it, he reached out, touching your face like he was afraid you might vanish. His thumb brushed your cheekbone, then your jaw.

“You... feel the same?” he asked, voice low, awed.

You didn’t even blink. “I've loved you since fifth year, you absolute moron.”

Sebastian let out a choked laugh, relieved and wrecked and filled with something wild and weightless.

“I think I might be hallucinating,” he said breathlessly. “Or worse, this is some sort of cruel, well-crafted illusion from Peeves.”

You laughed, your eyes shining, and you looked at him like he was something precious.

Sebastian Sallow,” you murmured, voice thick, “I've been yours since the day you hexed Leander for making me cry.”

Sebastian remembered that day. Of course he did. Sebastian hadn’t even thought. One second he was watching you storm out of the classroom, the next he had his wand out.

You hadn’t said a word about it then. Just sat beside him at dinner that night like nothing had happened, nudged your shoulder against his, and stolen the pudding off his plate.

He hadn't known what to call the feeling in his chest back then. Now, he did.

“I’d hex him again,” he said quietly. “Twice as hard.”

You smiled, slow and fond. “I know.”

He leaned in again, just enough to press his lips to your forehead.

“So,” you said, muffled into his jacket, “...do we go back to the Ball now?”

“Absolutely not.”

You looked up.

He laughed. “You think I’m letting anyone else near you now?”

You grinned. “Possessive, are we?”

He smirked, leaning down to brush another kiss against your lips. “About you? Always.”

Banner Credit

[cowboylikemac]

the way everyone is coming at Sabrina is lowkey giving the summer of 2020 all over again. People feel powerless about the state of the world and latch on to small things online and create a huge discourse.

1. that “lolita” reference that everyone is talking about was in a magazine issued last year and no one had a problem with it then (she apologized after the shoot saying she wasn’t trying to reference it and if it’s anyone’s fault it’s the issuers), people are only bringing this up now because people are hungry to cancel someone new. obviously the lolita shoot was wrong but it was for a magazine where she had no creative direction. In reference to the sprinkle picture everyone keeps throwing around: The photographer is Zoë Ghertner and she’s very into nature, water, warmth, and what she describes as ‘goey’ aesthetics. None of the other pictures she took of Sabrina in that shoot have any resemblance to anything from ‘Lolita’. According to W Mag, it was the last picture of the shoot because it was very hot out and it would ruin her makeup and hair. And many of Zoë’s other shoots depict models in wet conditions, tights, covered in organic elements like sand, showing off the body in some ways. I sincerely doubt Zoë, Sabrina, or W Mag wanted her to mimic ‘Lolita’. If after this information you still want to believe the internet theory, go right ahead.

2. Everyone is talking about Sabrina’s cover like have you seen some of these male rapper’s album covers? one for example is partynextdoor this just shows that if it was a man’s album cover no one would be freaking out like this.

3. the album is literally called man’s best friend and features a man treating a woman like a dog. the lead single is manchild. how are people missing that it’s clearly satire? she’s mocking the way women are dehumanized under the male gaze. it’s not that deep unless you don’t get it, then it kinda is.

4. people making this political or thinking it’s political are just wrong. Sabrina’s not suddenly being political, she’s being intentional. the album isn’t about policy or activism, it’s social commentary. it’s satire. she’s playing with the male gaze, gender roles, and how women are seen, using irony to make a point. that’s not politics, that’s art.

[necrami]

Disproving a common misunderstanding when it comes to the info provided in the logs/recordings in SOTM (spoilers, obviously)

A lot of people have been getting a pretty major detail wrong and it's been driving me absolutely crazy. I'm sure it will get sorted out once big theorists begin posting their theory, summary, and analysis videos but I've been genuinely losing my mind while scrolling through freddit so I felt the need to make this post.

Henry and William DID NOT work for Edwin OR steal his designs! A different company called Stan's Budget Tech did. In Freddy Fazbear's Pizzaria Simulator, a company by that name sells the Mediocre Melodies. The mediocre melodies cast includes: a purple hippo, a green frog with a yellow bobble on it's head, and an orange elephant. These are the EXACT designs we see throughout Murray's costume manner, which means they were most likely stolen.

The log that proves this is actually the same log that caused the misunderstanding in the first place:

Log: Me and Stan are out of here. It's time to jump ship before things get ugly. I have a bunch of Fiona's character patterns and Stan is taking what he can. Join us. With everything we know about the restaurant project, we can start our own machine shop.

A lot of people believed that this was William sending a message to Henry. However, the details directly contradict. "With everything we know about the restaurant project, we can start our own machine shop." The restaurant project is obviously Freddy Fazbear's Pizza. We know for a fact that MCM was commissioned to work on the designs and prototypes of the main 4 animatronics thanks to both the ending and multiple logs. It doesn't make since for this message to be coming from William to Henry since we know that the restaurant project Stan's friend was talking about is about the restaurant that Fazbear Ent is creating.

There is even more proof in the tapes and other logs that prove that William and Henry were NOT former employees OR the ones to steal Edwin's designs.

Tape: Edwin, never forget, they're behind it. Don't trust them. Never tell them. They want to destroy you. Dad was right. -Edwin

In this tape, Edwin is most likely referring to his employees being stolen by Fazbear, or specifically Willam. In a different tape we learn that Edwin's father previously owned MCM and passed it on to Edwin after his death. Since Edwin's dad told him not to trust Fazbear/William/Henry, then Fazbear Entertainment in some capacity had to exist before Edwin got control of the company. Which means they couldn't have been employed at the MCM during Edwin's time.

There's also the proof that Fazbear was commissioning designs, not stealing them.

Logs: Chica's Party World - Dear Mr. Murray, Fiona is amazing. The client is very happy with her chicken designs. Their sales are through the roof. I just wish the costume looked a little bit more like Fiona's art...I'm worried about how it will work with kids. It gives me nightmares. -Milton

Logs: Fiona, the new springlocks are working well, even with the water damage. They should be ready for the diner soon. I'll just make sure to warn Hen about some of the more...odd behaviors they might have. -Edwin

Tape: Test, test. I got the change order from Hen last night. None of this makes sense. I'm almost done. Why change it now? It would be so much easier to keep using the Springlocks. Just hire some teens to wear the suits like we always do. -Edwin

These all prove that Fazbear was paying for the designs of the original 4 animatronics, not stealing them. There's another tape in the ending part of the game where Edwin refuses to change the designs of the original 4s prototypes because Fiona designed them for them.

There's another misconception that Edwin made the original 4 animatronics that we later see in fnaf 1 and 2. This is incorrect since, as stated before, Edwin refused to transiton them from springlocks to regular animatronics. MCM also most likely burns in the end which means Fazbear never got the prototypes. So, the only way the unwithereds and fnaf 1 animatronics could exist is if Henry and/or William made them themselves.

Also, the reason the prototypes resemble Fnaf 1 originals and not the Fnaf 2 originals is likely because after the closing of Fnaf 2, Fazbear returned to Fiona's original designs.

[mullermilkshake]

Eight legs? I’ll cut them off.

Part 23 <- Part 24 -> Part 25

Jinwoo goes head to head with the dungeon boss, but forgets something crucial.

Yandere! Jinwoo Sung x Fem Pregnant!reader Canon-typical violence, Spiders

<<< For more Dark/Yandere content, click this link to go back to the Masterlist! >>>

<<< Or back to this fic's Master list. >>>

I have only watched the anime and haven't gotten round to reading the manhwa yet. Please refrain from spoilers.

TAG LIST CLOSED

“Ugh… Why’d it have to be something so gross?”

Jinwoo noted the spider's aura fluctuating like smog, smoke, a misty boundary beyond the lower rank hunters' perception. It was probably why half of the hunters were trapped inside.

Curious though. The same amount of hunters taken from each group, each stuck on the wall in a pattern mirroring the other like a shrine, a place of worship, like the spider was some sort of god. There were other treasures and mana crystals in piles like they were offerings from other magical beasts, perhaps to keep it from killing them.

That would be a first.

The first thing Jinwoo thought of coming face to face with something so deadly to civilians was you. If that thing managed a dungeon break and got out, you’d be at risk.

The system shot up in Jinwoo’s periphery. 

Weaver of fate

Geodaehan Geoumi

“You’re bigger than a ‘giant spider’ you’re huge!” Jinwoo scratched his head and studied the amber writing above its head. “At least I won’t have to work too hard. I wanted to get some insane experience from this at least… But I’m taking all that home.” 

The treasure in piles, collected in the corners by what Jinwoo presumed was its nest.

Despite being an easier dungeon boss for Jinwoo than some he’d faced already, this wasn’t some C or B-Rank magical beast either. It must have been an upper A-rank. Why was an upper A-Rank doing in a dungeon like this? As far as Jinwoo knew, it wasn’t even an insect dungeon.

“So you’re bigger than the last guy- woah, you’re more colourful than the last one too.” The spider emerged from the pit it dug, cobwebs tugging on its abdomen and catching on the hairs of its legs. “Think you’re pretty cool, huh? Well, I’ll tell you one thing, I don’t know why you’ve kept people alive to make this messed up shrine of yours, but you’re no god…”

Jinwoo summoned his shadows, Iron and Tusk thumped behind him, awaiting their orders just like the others. However, at the sight of his shadows, a dungeon boss would usually charge or react in some way that initiated the battle, defending itself from a threat. Yet the spider did no such thing, it continued stalking its way out of the tunnel and waited there, glaring back at Jinwoo and his shadows with its eight, putrid looking red eyes.

“Are you gonna move, or?” Still nothing. “Look, I get it, my shadow army can be quite overwhelming, but this is ridiculous. Hello?!” He haved his arm in the air arrogantly, huffing and preparing himself just to take it out by himself if it was stuck there. 

Idiot. 

“Mmphh! Mmpph!” Jinwoo waited and listened out for the struggle. One of the cocooned hunters.

Jinwoo called back. “I’ll get you out after I kill the giant thinks-he’s-god spider! Just hold in there.”

“Atc out fo, mphmm!” 

“Yeah… I can totally understand that.” Jinwoo disregarded them and pushed off to close the distance.

“Wait- hel- you hav-” 

“What now?”

Everything stopped, the spider did not move, stuck in suspended animation. One of the cocoons moved, wriggling like a distressed maggot. One on the far right, dangling against broken, moss covered stock bricks, clinging to a desperation Jinwoo just didn’t have.

A person emerged from it, their face poking out enough to speak. “Watch out for its poison!” 

Jinwoo glared at the spider, noticing the purple smoke emanating from its abdomen. “Oh, so you’re a poison boy too? Want to test that theory, buddy?”

“You’ll forget!” 

Jinwoo smiled, put his dagger into his hand and commanded  “Let’s make this quick… Iron, you know what to do.”

Iron bounded forward and shouted at it, hoping to pull the spider into a frenzied attack, that way, Jinwoo could see how it moved, how it defended itself. Yet it didn’t. Again, it never moved, just released the poison that was beginning to fill the room like a smoke screen.

Maybe this is how it hunts? It doesn’t have to move, it just poisons people. It could be why half the teams made it out. 

“Try using your poison on me then-”

Jinwoo stopped, mouth open and watched Iron sprint towards the spider, a feral wolf growling and snarling at it. Iron was pissed off because the spider ignored his battle cries. Fucking hell. 

“Iron- Iron!” Jinwoo was ignored.

The shadow swung his battle axe at the spider's leg, slicing through its exoskeleton but not cutting it off. That’s when it moved. That’s when it was done stalking its prey. The spider swung its rear leg at Iron, catching his axe at the last minute, hitting each other back and forth. The main body remained like stone, subconsciously using independent limbs to fight while it continued to poison the room.

“Tusk, light him up.”

The shadow took position, preparing himself for an attack that was probably unnecessary, but it would end the bullshit dungeon in no time. Jinwoo made his own move, running to the hunters in time and severing the cocoons from each section for the protection of the shadow army.

It was then that Jinwoo finally encountered the true dungeon, the spider was disappearing and the smokey poison flooded his senses. It smelled like your shampoo from the bathroom, your own perfume with a woody, vanilla aroma. All familiar scents filling his nose like you could have been right in front of him inside that place.

Wait… Who am I thinking about? 

He placed the cocoons down, some moved, some remained lifeless. Jinwoo rubbed his temples, pinched his nose and thought really hard. Tusk unleashed his attack on the spider and waited for further instruction, sitting there in his posture awaiting for the smoke to clear. The purple poison remained, the spider remained, fighting with Iron as though nothing happened.

Who was I thinking about again? I know that face, but what’s her name? She’s pretty. 

“Tusk, hit him again.”

Jinwoo took his dagger and prepared himself, if that spider wanted to fight with poison, he’d give it back to him in kind. He sprinted towards it, keeping to the side as Tusk let off another attack, he waited until the powerful blow had ceased and the fire was starting to fade away.

The dagger came down in the spider's eye and only then did it move, quicker than anticipated, screeching and squealing in Jinwoo’s direction.

“Y’know the best way to kill a spider? Now, I don’t have a cat, but I have a bear, close enough, right?” Jinwoo went to blows with the spider, slicing at its legs and cutting and ripping the blue blood from its circulation. “Tank!”

I want to summon Beru, but where is he? I don't remember assigning him anywhere. 

Jinwoo tried concentrating, but the features of a woman he couldn't remember were blinding him. He kept inhaling the smoke, resilient to poison yet he wasn’t resilient to the woman he couldn’t remember.

Wait, she’s pregnant, isn’t she? Who’s the father? Have we spoken before? 

He just couldn’t fucking remember.

Tank lunged and rammed the spider as Tusk prepared again, waiting on the word. Jinwoo nodded him over and withdrew. He wasn’t at full fighting strength, and he didn’t know why. Jinwoo couldn’t think of anything other than that woman.

The spider was finally showing cracks in its exoskeleton, one large crack across its face. Jinwoo took the opportunity and jumped up to it, ramming the knife straight through its skull until it whined and struggled and collapsed, the smoke ceased and started to dissipate.

Why was his mind so blank?

His soldiers released the other hunters, Jinwoo wanted to delve deeper into the spider’s poison, a gland or two would suffice-

“Iron?”

The dunce brute smashed the deceased spider’s head in, growling and snarling, pummeling it into the ground. What an absolute idiot.

“Iron! You can’t get pissed off every time someone ignores you.”

He looked hurt almost, slouching his shoulders and stomping off to the side, this was usually when Igris would look on with disappointment and a shake of his head as though to scold him.

Where the hell was he?

“Mr Sung!” Jinwoo didn’t ignore the Hunter running over to him, but he kind of did.

When a specific little trinket caught his eye, he knelt down to study it. A gold bangle, smaller than expected, like it could fit a goblin or a small child. For some reason, he was drawn to it. Perhaps it was the way it sparkled under the crystalline glow of the cave, emitting its own light almost, maybe it was the name the system gave it.

Good luck charm.

Simple, not linked to anything except increased luck. Jinwoo could not benefit from it, but he slipped it into his pocket anyway.

“Mr Sung!”

“I’ll need a hand with all this…” Jinwoo summoned Igris and Beru back from wherever they we gallivanting off to. “There you are, you missed one hell of a fight. Carry some of this stuff out, we’ll look through it all properly-”

“Mr Sung, did you breathe any of that poison?!”

Easy man. What’s with all the drama? 

“The smoke, did you breathe any of it in?”

“I guess, but I have a high tolerance to poisons, I’m sure I’ll be fine.” He rummaged through the items again, not bothering to fight the compulsion to find one more trinket before he left the dungeon.

“No, no, no, it’s a targeted amnestic-” He pulled out an old looking sketchbook from the bag covered in some sort of goo that Jinwoo didn’t bother to question. “There’s only ever been one of these types of spiders ever recorded.”

“Okay…”

Jinwoo shot a brief glance at the pages but didn’t ask him about them, he was too engrossed in the pile of trinkets. Another gold bangle, similar in size and weight, however, this one was duller, less prone to absorbing the light. It had more mana attached to it, a complex string of code bound around it.

Its name was Hero’s pride.

Jinwoo tucked it in his pocket like the other one instead of putting it into the system inventory. Safe keeping for something he wasn’t sure about.

“The spider’s poison removes targeted memories, usually fear, but there was one case that it dissolved a hunter's memories of their loved ones. T-This spider is a trickster, a manipulator and won’t engage in a fight unless absolutely necessary.”

“Your point is?”

The hunter shuffled around nervously, fiddling with the pages of the sketch book. “Sir, I study magical beast biology, I’m on the recording team for the association's archives. You saved us just in time to stop our bodies being ingested and most of us have regained our memories through lack of fear when you arrived... But you don’t fear anything, not from what I saw.”

“So?” Jinwoo was getting impatient.

“Mr Sung, You’re getting married, aren’t you? You have twin babies on the way.”

What? No he didn’t. It wasn’t like he could forget something as crucial as a fiancé and not one, but two babies, could he? The thought was entirely preposterous.

“What kind of comment is that? I’m single last time I checked.”

“Oh no…”

Jinwoo turned to Beru who hadn’t moved from the spot he appeared, Igris too. They never even kneeled. “Why are you two moping about?”

“Sire, you have left your mistress without protection!”

Who the hell was this ‘mistress’ ?

The hunter grabbed at his shirt and shook him without care of his S-Rank status. “Listen to me! You have to get out of here and see her before your memories don’t come back! It’s happened once before and that guy had an entire family he never remembered, go now!”

Okay, Jinwoo had no clue what he was talking about, but he had a certain tier of logic applied to his brain. Still, his mouth overtook his brain. “Where do I go?”

“Follow me, I’ll take you to her my lord! We must be swift!”

Beru led a rather confused Jinwoo back through the tunnel with the two bangles in his pocket, Igris followed behind. Once out of the gate, Jinwoo ignored Jin-chul completely and allowed Beru to carry him to the apartment.

“I live here? I thought I was still living back home.” The front door of the apartment had no familiar ring to it, not the colour nor the number. 

Though who was behind it made this entire interaction that much more confusing.

“You're back.” A woman opened the door, smiling and positive.

“It’s you.”

The same woman from his, what should he call them? Visions from inside the cave, fighting that spider.

And you were heavily pregnant.

What the hell?

Part 23 <- Part 24 -> Part 25

Thank you for reading and all of the support on this fic! ❤️ Likes, reblogs and comments are appreciated and I appreciate you all! See you next time 🤗

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DISCLAIMER - Crossposted from my AO3 - I do not own any of the characters or anything from the anime or manhwa. This is a work of fan fiction and is absolutely not representative of the views or intentions of the original creator(s).

Also please don’t post any of my work without permission thank you!

[mollysunder]

The Plot Thickens: A Confirmed Timeline in Noxus

Riot recently flew LoL creators in to showcase some new developments. Necrit, a creator who attended the event, was able to get confirmation on what's going on with Noxus.

Timeline

By the time Mel arrives in Rokrund (Noxus) as we see in the "Bite Marks" cinematic, Swain is the new Grand General of Noxus, but Swain has NOT formed the Trifarix council yet. (The "Mel is Guile" theory is back on!)

Another thing that was cleared up in the cinematic was the nature of Katarina's job. Sure we know she was sent to kill a man, but who was he and why did he need to be killed?

It turns out that the masked man Katarina killed was meant to be the "host" that Vladimir mentioned in the "A Dark Gambit" cinematic. That means that LeBlanc wanted that dude seen above to become the host body for one of the darkin, a corrupted god warrior, soul weapons.

That's not all of course, because it turns out it was Swain who sent Katarina to kill LeBlanc's host like many of us assumed, it was Vladimir! Even better, there's proof!

For Katarina's bio for her Masque of the Black Rose skin, she's given her assignment via unsigned letter. Within it was a drawing of the target's (host) mask, soon after the Bite Marks cinematic premiered, Riot Twitter released this art with the following caption:

"You should know by now, darling: There are no coincidences in Noxus 🩸"

This room belongs to Vladimir. You can tell not just by his trademark "Darling" used in the caption, but by the vials of blood, the green jeweled crest (for Camavor?) he wears in the cinematics, and the metal claws the metal claws give it away.

More importantly, in the foreground is a sketch of the masked man Katarina was tasked to kill. In fact, it was almost certainly the exact sketch sent to Katarina for her mission.

Now that data mined lore tip that goes:

"Even the best-laid plans can be foiled by two-faced hemomancer. That's why LeBlanc always has a back-up plan".

is a lot more clear.

What Does Any of This Mean?

The story hasn't officially started, but the lines are already being drawn. LeBlanc and Vladimir's centuries' long partnership (frenemy-hood?) has reached a key break because of the darkin plot. LeBlanc has more major enemies than friends now. Vladimir's now a rogue element that likely still has plans for Mel and his "kingdom".

Whatever Vladimir's actual plans are they almost certainly run counter to Swain's own designs. Right now Vladimir has Katarina, a future key ally of Swain's (and a daughter figure I think) in his service, and they've both clearly set their sights on Mel. It's a scramble for Noxus' most emotionally orphaned heiresses to rule!

Sidenote: It's really funny to go back and watch those cinematics and understand all the effort Vladimir went through to stop LeBlanc from going through with a bad idea, and lobby for his idea to get Mel, all for LeBlanc to double down and pull out a back up. She's gonna start twenty apocalypses to stop the Mordekaiser one even if it kills them all. I adore their dynamic so much!

[makialene]

An Analysis/Breakdown of Alien Stage Round 6

I've seen a couple of people give their interpretations of this round, so I figured I'd share my own thoughts. I wanted to specifically focus on how this develops IvanTill's relationship with each other, specifically in a ship context.

We start with Tills verse, so naturally we get his perspective first. The first flashback scene we get (beyond the intro) is of Till in the bar with Urak (his guardian), being forced to sing "My Clematis" but refusing. To punish Till for disobeying, alongside throwing something at Till, he forces Till to look at a newspaper about how Mizi is missing, deliberately harassing him because he knows how important Mizi is to Till. A few seconds later, we cut to a clip of Ivan fighting the Aliens in the bar off of Till.

After this, the next time we see this scene, it is Till lying on Urak's lap, reaching out into the distance. There we see Mizi, dressed in all white like a Guardian Angel, even though Ivan is the one who saves him here.

What this scene is telling us as an audience is that Till sees Mizi, and only Mizi. Despite the fact that Ivan is physically present in that moment AND the one who actually saves him, Till doesn't see Ivan. He just sees Mizi.

"Seeing" people is used as a metaphor for love a lot in Alien Stage, ESPECIALLY with IvanTill. We see this a lot with their (usually Ivan's) actions, but it's a bit more explicit in the song itself that they're singing

Cue lyrics like: "네 눈에 날 녹여주길//Dissolve me in your gaze" "읽어줘 날//Read my soul" "지금 나의 상처를 봐줘 지금 나를 치유해줘//Notice my pain And mend me right now" And, of course, most explicitly: "날 보는 네 눈동자에 마셔줘 날//In your gaze where I'm seen Consume me"

"Being seen" is symbolic of love in this world, at least for IvanTill. The previous scene establishes that, despite how desperately Ivan wants it, Till only "sees" Mizi. This is a very important establishing scene for setting up where IvanTill is as a relationship BEFORE the events of Round 6. In order to shift a dynamic, we need to know where we stand originally. Ivan "sees" Till, but Till does not "see" Ivan.

We now switch to Ivans verse and perspective. We start by seeing a continuation of the previous flashback from Ivans perspective, where he approaches an unconscious Till. He removes Till's… collar? gag? and leans over him, looking at him. Here is another moment where Ivan "sees" Till, and Till is unable to "see" Ivan.

Important note here: if you look at Ivan's eyes, you can see a slight highlight towards the bottom. This is a visual representation of "love" in IvanTill. Till, notably, does not have any highlights in his eyes while singing, furthering the notion that at this point in time, he only "sees" Mizi. The video even zooms in on Ivan's eyes, showing the highlights in greater detail to emphasize this to the viewer.\

We then cut back to Ivan singing on stage, and he has highlights in his eyes. Even though he isn't LITERALLY looking at Till in this moment, the song is for him. He's thinking of Till, and this is how the art shows us that he can "see" him.

We then cut to another flashback, but this is of another scene. This scene starts off by Ivan stepping on some flowers and Till attacking him for it, likely because, as we know, Mizi adores said flowers (once again, establishing Till's affection for Mizi). However, it s important to note that the reason Ivan did this wasn't to upset Till at all- it was to protect him.

A popular fan theory that got confirmed canon with the art book was that the artificial flowers were actually cameras, so that the Aliens could monitor the children in Anakt Garden. We have to assume that Ivan knows this, as we are shown time and time again that Ivan seems to know more about the facility they're in than the rest of the cast. He finds the hidden Alien that they mess with, he is able to break himself and Till out (before Till runs back for Mizi), etc. Given this, he is likely stopping on the flowers to protect Till from the Aliens.

Of course, Till doesn't know this and (another theme of IvanTill being miscommunication) Ivan, in all his wisdom, doesn't tell Till- he just gets attacked. And even then, despite fighting back in self defense, Ivan doesn't truly mind what's happening. He's surprised, sure, but Till is looking at him, and that's all he wants.

We can see in the scene how Ivan's initial reaction is surprise rather than anger, how he doesn't seem to enjoy retaliating, and the joy he feels at being seen. (Notice: Highlights in his eyes when Till first attacks him, no highlights when he's fighting back, highlights again after the fight is over)

Not to stay on eye highlights for too long but the scene immediately following that we get THIS visual: Ivan, with highlights in his eyes, looking at Till; and Till, with highlights in his eyes, distinctly not looking at Ivan. Vivinos, you way at visually conveying unrequited love... I envy you

The next scene I want to discuss is a few seconds later, where Till shows up to what appears to be a cafeteria with a cut on his face. We can assume this came from treatment of the Aliens, Urak or otherwise. Ivan gets up from his seat to come over and touch the cut on Till's face. Till, caught off guard, reacts harshly by pushing him away. While this is the scene I'm least sure of, I saw this scene as an indirect confession of Ivan's feelings. It's meant to be a conversation; he's trying to tell Till that he sees him and his pain (this scene comes not long after the lyrics "지금 나의 상처를 봐줘//Notice my pain"). Till, of course, doesn't understand, and pushes him and then looks away- which Ivan quietly accepts as a rejection. (and then he licks Till's blood because he's a Freak idk).

This goes along with their theme of miscommunication: Ivan is constantly "confessing" indirectly- trying to tell Till that he sees him and in turn begging Till to do the same, but Till cannot understand what Ivan is doing, so he continues to "reject" him. This also somewhat addresses why Till has not confronted his subconscious feelings for Ivan- alongside a myriad of other reasons, Till does not truly understand what Ivan's feelings for him are.

There is the possibility that this is at least partially internalized homophobia. While we may not know for sure what the "laws" surrounding homosexuality are in this universe (if humans are even legally allowed to love/get married), what we DO know from the comic "The True Face" is that at the very least, it is a heteronormative society. When Mizi talks to The Worst Guy Ever, he isn't threatened by Sua at all; he does, however, see Till as a rival, despite Mizi having no romantic interest in him.

I don't think it's unreasonable for Till to ignore any potential feelings he may have had for Ivan growing up, because it's honestly unlikely he realized what they were at the time. It's not like Ivan was explaining himself well.

And now, of course, we have to get to the iconic kiss scene and what the hell Ivan is actually trying to do there.

What sparks Ivan to act is Till's own self-sacrifice. He gives up and stops singing. Forfeits. Till finally comes to terms with dying; it's not like he has Mizi anymore, so what's the point? and he gives up. Fortunately, or unfortunately, for him, Ivan cannot live without him. Ivan knows this to be true. He also believes that Till doesn't care about him and, therefore, will be fine without him, so he takes action to make sure he survives.

Not to go back to the highlights in their eyes, but they're IMPORANT and SYMBOLIC and I love body language in this show so I'm doing it. When Ivan approaches Till, Till doesn't have any light in his eyes, until he LOOKS AT IVAN AND THE APPEAR FOR THE FIRST TIME SINCE THE SONG STARTED. His eyes also DILATE. Whether or not Till can acknowledge his love for Ivan is one thing, but it is clear that he absolutely does harbor affection for him.

I think it is also important to note that Ivan DOESN'T have any highlights in his eyes. Ivan doesn't like what he's about to do here.

First, I am going to break down the actual scene itself and what we can see from that, then why I think Ivan chose to do this.

First, let's look at the two's reaction to the kiss. Till's is most obvious: he's confused and panicked. Mere seconds ago, he decided to give up and die, and just as he's accepted his own death, Ivan is kissing him for reasons he couldn't begin to fathom. We have to remember that at this point, Ivan has done a terrible job of actually conveying his feelings like a normal person. Till is aware that Ivan feels something for him- but it's unlikely he processed the true extent of it. So now, Till must deal with the shock of his friend kissing him ON TOP of the shock of not being dead when in his mind he very much should be.

So, naturally, he panics and pushes away. He doesn't understand what Ivan is doing, doesn't understand why he would be doing it, and this is interrupting his plans. Till was ready to die, and Ivan is actively preventing that.

From the facial expressions we see, it seems like Till is much more caught off guard and confused/panicked in this moment than truly distressed at the fact that Ivan is kissing him. We, as the audience, know he has subconscious feelings for Ivan, which is likely why his reaction is more panic and confusion instead of disgust.

We also have to look at Ivan's reaction. It would be natural for him to be excited, given that he finally gets the opportunity to kiss the person he's in love with, but that's not what we see on his face at all. His face is very... neutral. Focused. He isn't enjoying the kiss at all. We've seen Ivan when he's happy because of Till, like in the scene where they fight and Till finally looks at him. Till may be looking at him, but Ivan is not happy. This isn't what he wants.

Ivan is stronger than Till, which we know from their fight but also the sheer size difference between the two. There was plenty of forced proximity, Ivan had multiple opportunities to kiss Till before, but he never did. Why? Because he needs Till to want it. Ivan has no desire to force a relationship onto Till. As much as it hurts, he respects their relationship as being nonromantic and chooses to never cross that boundary because he does not want to hurt Till. Ivan is crossing his own boundaries by doing this, and is miserable for it. There is only tragedy for him in this kiss: he finally gets to kiss his love but it couldn't be further from how he wanted it.

Till's eyes also have highlights; his eyes even soften once Ivan finishes kissing him, as if he had finally processed at least a portion of his feelings, but now, Ivan is the one not looking at him. His eyes are away, and there are no highlights.

Now: why did Ivan do this? I think he had two reasons, personally. The primary one is obvious: save Till. Till had stopped singing, which would cause him to lose if Ivan did not act. Ivan needs a way to quickly distract the audience from what Till has done, so what does he do?

Well, what he's always done. He plays to the audience. One of Ivan's greatest strengths in Alien Stage is his ability to see Alien Stage for what it is: a show. This is entertainment for the aliens. So, he plays into it. We've seen this a bit before in the previous episode, Top 3. This is where we get an image of the main four walking and see Till flicking off the aliens. More importantly, though, we see Ivan making a heart towards his fans. This isn't him being ignorant- he knows exactly where he stands among the Alien- he is just also aware of the genre of the show he's on. The aliens want an idol; he can do that. He's good at it, too. In Top 3, we learn that despite all of Luka's popularity, Ivan is actually on top of the alien fandom's popularity poll. Till fights his fans, it makes sense that he isn't popular. Luka is pretty neutral, doing enough to get by with a slightly higher quality of life but ultimately being pretty docile. Ivan, though? Ivan plays to the fans. It gives him a safety net.

This is one of the reasons I believe he chose to kiss Till. He took a very bold action that he knew would captivate the alien audience, immediately distracting them from the fact that Till had lost by no longer singing. In this regard, he is successful.

However, I think there is another, more personal reason he kissed Till- and no, it's not because of his feelings for him. I think he wanted to guarantee that Till would not miss him.

Let's go back a bit.

A while ago, Vivino's posted a comic and FOR THE LIFE OF ME I cannot find a translated version, but, in summary, Ivan mocks Sua for her plan to die for Mizi, saying all she will do is traumatize Mizi and calling her selfish for that.

It is because of this comic that I think Ivan wants to make sure that Till does not remember him fondly. He's attempting to be selfless- a moment of discomfort for Till, so he can "confess" and have Till reject him as he always has. Till does not want him, Ivan is sure, so when he does something explicitly romantic, Ivan is sure Till will hate him for it. Then, Ivan can die at least knowing that Till won't grieve the way Mizi does (did- he doesn't know if she's even alive by this point).

However, this backfires. Till pushes back initially, but I don't think we're meant to take that scene as a full rejection, especially not with how Round 7 takes it. We know Luka uses people that you love to manipulate you when singing against a person, and so, the natural choice here is Mizi. We know Till loves Mizi, throughout the entire series, he has shown his love for her. But, that's not who Vivino's chooses to have Luka mimic- he mimics Ivan. Because, and now Till has realized it, Till loves Ivan. If Luka wanted to choose someone Till hated, he would've chosen on of the Aliens, who Till has much more negative associations with, but he chooses love instead. Love to catch people off guard and mourn.

Back to the remainder of the round. The next thing we see, after Till's eyes briefly soften, is Ivan grabbing Till by the neck and pushing him away before pulling him back for a moment, as he glances at the scoreboard. There, he confirms that Till has beaten him, and his eyes have highlights once again. This is where we see him kiss Tiff, briefly, softly, a kiss Till doesn't reject at all. This kiss was real, one last selfish desire to make his feelings known genuinely, unlike the show he had to put on earlier. But, Ivan doesn't wait for true reciprocation- he knows Till won't give him that. So, he pushes Till away once again and "chokes" him.

Not that I believe Ivan was actually choking him. His hands are placed on the side of Till's throat rather than the windpipe, and instead of struggling against him, Till simply closes his eyes and accepts whatever happens to him (ANOTHER example of Till struggling to look at Ivan). There are also no marks on Till's neck and he imediately snaps back to alert when Ivan falls to the ground, so while the "choke" may have been uncomfortable, I don't believe Till's life was in any danger (from that specifically).

As Ivan chokes Till, he looks similar to how he did when he was kissing him: cold and calculating. Till is supposed to live, sure, but he did decide to forfeit- so Ivan is going to make sure Till survives.

I can't show this in a still image, but I also noticed how Ivan's hands shake and his eyes pulse as he does this. I think he wants to believe this is the right thing, because he's not sure what else to do, and not sure what it means if this isn't, but at the end of the day, he's scared.

Then there's the moment when he coughs up blood and allows himself to finally relax. He's going to die, which means Till is going to live. His plan worked. We see him process this, and his face shifts from this cold version of himself to an expression of utter love for Till (and you'll never guess what. eye highlights came back).

As he falls, Till's eyes snap open, and we see him willingly look at Ivan for the first time, all too late. Now, Till is beginning to process what this all means and how he feels about it. It's sublte, but as he looks at Ivan, there's a shine in his eyes as well.

And, Ivan falls, but he falls happily. Till lived, and he finally looked at him. He finally SAW Ivan. We watch Ivan fall, lifeless, but the very last frame we get of him before he hits the ground is, you guessed it, another close-up on his eyes to show the eye highlights. He died seen, so he can be happy.

Unfortunately, his death is selfish, alongside Sua's. In Alien Stage, selflessness and sacrifice are tied to selfishness. Ivan attempts to be selfless here and not traumatize Till, but he doesn't account for the possibility of Till reciprocating his feelings in any capacity. I'm not sure how to end this exactly LMAO. Anyway, I think it's a tragedy, but it also makes an interesting point about how we have a limited time to work through our feelings. If you read through this whole thing, you should follow me so we can be alien stage brainrot buddies

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Saw your Twst x EAH posts so I wanted to share a hc I have about those kinds of AUs:

Both Maddie and later Kitty are shown to be able to hear the narrators, which makes sense since they’re from Wonderland. Awhile back I saw a theory brought up that it’s those two out of the Wonderland cast specifically because they’re both rebels, so in order to hear the narrators in a EAH context would be to 1) be from Wonderland and 2) be rebel aligned

So. In theory, as the rebel-iest wonderlandian in Twst, Ace would be able to hear the narrator(s)

As you’ve already brought up, Riddle would obviously be a royal, then Trey & Cater are Riddle’s right and left hands, so they’d be royals as well, and Deuce wanting to be an honor student would also align himself with the royals (which adds a bunch of flavor in his role in book 1 too! Because he hates the oppression from Riddle, but he’s really trying to put his rebellious days behind him, in more ways than one)

Leaving Ace, who wants next to nothing to do with that shit. I think he doesn’t mind following his destiny, but to that strict of a tee? That good(or even people who don’t want to have a horrible fate) people will suffer because they have to fulfill their destiny? Yeah, no, he obviously hates that

And so, imagine the potential of him hearing the narrators. My personal thought is Brooke being the main narrator, as a kind of, “We’re narrating this story (EAH) it’s time for you to narrate on your own” and her parents send her to narrate Twst on her own (with some supervision at times, just because of how story breaking it can be to have a character hear the narrator, with that narrator willing to break the story, and especially if the character that can hear them will follow through)

Also I can’t help but imagine in like, Spectral Soirée for example,

Ace: Wait, gimme a minute, let me ask the narrator

Floyd: The who?

Ace: Shush! Brooke, little help here?

Brooke: Ehh, sorry Ace, I don’t think I can tell you much without ruining things

Ace: Bullshit! There’s like, 3 groups out here! Surely one of them knowing the plot, at least a little, won’t ruin things!

Brooke: Not wrong… Uh, I guess I can tell you one thing

:It’s Malleus’s fault

Ace: THAT DAMN LIZARD!

Or something like that lol. Cue the others just being confused about what’s going on/who he’s talking to

(Wow, this is getting long-) And to add on! If the theme of this AU is everyone slowly turning to the Rebel’s side, just imagine all of the main Heartslabyul cast (or even side cast for higher comedic potential) starting to hear the narrators as well lol

I think that’s it for now. I just find this idea really funny/interesting

[ EAH x TWST posts: part 1 / part 2 / part 3 ]

Ooh, that's an interesting EAH theory 🤔 and oddly very fitting for Ace, who is a character that consistently calls others out for their wrongdoings, regardless of their social status, wealth, or power. Even though Ace is often characterized as bratty and pretty mean-spirited for no particular reason, he's also shown to have a heart of gold behind all of that. He abandons the winter break he was willing to cheat on his final exams to avoid remedial lessons for, just to take a tedious transit route back to Sage's Island in response to a SOS text from Yuu. He's frequently standing up for others and hypocrisy that he sees (Ghost Marriage, Endless Halloween Night, etc.). Ace isn't exactly always in the right (he also avoids personal accountability and makes excuses to not get involved in book 7's big fight against Malleus) and doesn't always have the most noble of intentions (in book 2, he only wants to help out only to earn himself a spot in Heartslabyul's team), but this does speak to his rebellious streak.

Him somehow ending up as the only Rebel of his dorm (at least to start off in book 1) is also very par-for-the-course. Trey and Cater were pretty much obediently falling in line with and enforcing Riddle's orders, and even Deuce was hesitant to go against his dorm leader's words for a while. I guess by the end of book 1 though, Trey, Cater, and Deuce would classify as Rebels too since Deuce agreed Riddle was being unfair + joined the duel against him and they later on banded together to fight OB Riddle.

I love the idea of Brooke Page (the daughter of the two Narrators from Ever After High, for those who don't know) maturing a bit and being handed the responsibility of narrating her own story. It would add a lot of chaos to an already chaotic story, since Brooke tends to go on her own tangents and actively roots for her characters to win and to find their happy endings. Her parents would definitely have to keep a close eye on her to keep Brooke from giving everything away. Cue everyone else in the Twst cast thinking Ace just has a habit of talking to himself/j

I think it makes the most sense to keep “hearing the Narrators” limited to only a few characters in the cast. If everyone came to progressively learn to hear them, I feel like it would really kill any tension or suspense and the charm of the ability would be reduced. Maybe just keep it to Ace so there’s one person in the “main” friend group that’s able to hear the Narrators’ voices? Then he can sort of be an interpreter for the others.

It might be interesting to tie this in with his character development over the course of the main story as well. Like maybe Ace confides in Brooke after the end of book 5, wondering why is it that Deuce got his UM before he did?? And then he’s not able to properly protect Grim from being kidnapped in book 6… Is there anything Ace can do right? This could help lead into the big reveal of Joker Snatch in book 7.

Aaah, so many possibilities unlocked 😳

[shelly-vision]

I wanna talk about Catti and Jockington since nobody else is

Alright so like, we all assumed Catti and Jockington would be in the Chapter 4 Dark World, right? It clearly felt like each Chapter would have different Lightners with us, and with this image, we all thought this was their time to shine.

But of course, nobody can truly predict Tricky Tony and we got hit with “all of your theories are wrong goodbye”. Because of this, a lot of people have now kinda ignored Catti and Jockington and assumed they’ll be inconsequential Light World characters. But I really don’t think that’s right. For one, they don’t really *have* a story right now. Most of the other Light World characters have had a subplot that are partway through, but it still feels like Catti and Jockington are only just beginning having any sort of plot. So because of that, I still really do think they’ll get to be actually relevant characters. Lemme explain why.

I’ll start with Jockington since I have a bit less to say about him. He hasn’t had much of any relevance so far, he’s just hyped up as the greatest man alive (he clearly is) and other than that he’s just been chilling with Catti. But, he’s had exactly three Dark World mentions so far. One in Chapter 2, where he had a room in Queen’s Mansion, and twice in Chapter 4. Once where if instead of having Kris think about Susie, you have them think about the Knight. This prompts them to immediately pivot their thoughts from the Knight’s identity to thinking about Jockington instead. And of course, the legendary “Jockington grows the beard” prophecy. Most people think this is just gonna be buildup to a joke where Jockington just randomly has a beard later, but here’s something to think about: every single Dark World prophecy that describes someone doing something is something in the Dark World. “The Pointy-Headed will say ‘Toothpaste’ and then ‘Boy.’” “The Queen’s Chariot cannot be stopped.” “The Lord of Screens, cleaved red by blade.” Considering everything else, this implies that this is also probably something related to the Dark World. This is considered important enough to be part of the Prophecy. Not to mention, he’s the one and only person mentioned by name in the prophecy and not just described. The Girl, the Cage of Human Parts, the Prince from the Dark, the Pointy-Headed, the Queen (instead of just “Queen”), the Lord of Screens, the Flower Man, and then just… Jockington. I swear, there’s gotta be *some* relevance here. Only problem is that I have no damn clue what his story will even be. Anyway I’ll talk about Catti now.

So, let’s talk about Chapter 5. Thanks to these images, we’re pretty certain that Chapter 5’s Dark World will be in Flower King.

Makes sense all around, Asgore is clearly plot relevant, there’s a double door inside Flower King, and the jealously can pretty clearly tie back to good ol’ Sans Undertale considering the ending of Chapter 4. What does this have to do with Catti? Let’s look at her dialogue.

So like, alongside her Chapter 2 dialogue, and the rain blog post in the Spamton Sweepstakes website, it’s pretty damn clear Catti has a crush on Noelle, right? Like, almost all of her dialogue is about her. She also has dialogue about hating Susie for seemingly no reason. Genuinely, I think the entire reason she hates Susie is because she’s jealous that Noelle has a crush on Susie and not her. Like Catti has some similarities to Susie and probably wonders what Noelle likes about Susie and not her, right? What if Chapter Five’s jealousy theming is about both Asgore and Catti’s jealousy? I mean, some might say like “oh why would Catti be in Flower King”, well, the Festival is starting in Chapter 5. Is it that much of a stretch to say Catti might want to buy flowers and attempt to ask out Noelle? Also, Gerson says the field in Chapter 5 is pink and gold, and Catti has a pink and gold color scheme. That might be a connection.

…but hey, y’know what other cat has a pink and gold color scheme?

…it’s gotta be a conscious choice, right? Why else would there be two cat characters with a pink and gold color scheme if it’s not meant to be a parallel? I mean, Spamton parallels Berdly, Gerson parallels Susie, and the Knight likely had parallels to both Kris and Noelle, so like… Friend is supposed to parallel Catti, right?

Am I just coping because I wanted Catti and Jockington to have a role in the plot? I dunno, maybe. But I really feel like they *have* to exist for a reason, right? …I just want them to do something.

As a side note, I found this dialogue kinda funny.

Like, Catti declaring Kris an enemy clan because she thinks they’ll cause some kind of harm to Noelle is funny because Kris obviously doesn’t want to do that.

…but, the player might. If they’re doing the Weird Route, they’re causing her an obscene amount of harm. I mean, by Chapter 4’s end, Noelle is in a trance and obsessed with “Kris”. Surely, someone a close friend of Noelle like Catti would notice something’s up, right? …maybe in one route of the game, Catti declaring Kris an enemy clan will be warranted.

[jeonscatalyst]

Back 3 days and already had several viral hit tweets with over 20k or more for full on lies about Jk by this trash fandom who won't protect him from that cult who keeps targeting him. Edits using JK reaction to what should they do next for dieting, being spread all over SM taken out of context saying he was daydreaming about Tae's body and being reacted to by content creators helping spread it and now lies TK left the concert together in the same car with zero proof. Just lies and their own narrative. A car with one person clearly and another's name being screamed, but its TK. WHY? Because they said so and 20k other people said what they hell, we'll believe ya, even tho we can't see who is the car & everyone said different members, but sure. Its them. Going home together to their mansion where they live together. With a viral post saying protect TK from the intruder who broke into THEIR home. Pray for Tae's safety, even tho he doesn't live there & went home right away after discharge and started up a live from HIS home and posted pics in front of HIS mirror that gives them flashbacks and sends chills down their spine cause they knew who took pics with Tae in front of it. Making Jk's break in about TK is a new low. It's atrocious. We need to do better reporting about spreading misinformation since Jk's solos wont. Tag X & X support directly and call them out on top of reporting. Otherwise JK is never gonna have peace since his fans are useless & don't care its his reputation being harmed.

Hey anon,

Ah, this is one thing I definitely didn’t miss…the cult and their constant stream of nonsense.

But you know what I’ve realized? For so many Taekookers, Taekook is a form of escapism. The version of their relationship that exists in their minds becomes a safe haven….a fantasy they retreat into to avoid the more difficult parts of their own lives. There’s a deep yearning for an ideal love, a perfect bond, and that’s why so many of them resort to fabricating things. They’re so desperate for these imagined scenarios to be true that they either ignore the responsibility of verifying anything or choose to fully invest in the lie, convinced that if they believe it hard enough, it might somehow become reality.

Taekook is an easy ship, anon. It doesn’t require much effort. Tae and Jungkook have an adorable bond already, one that is playful, fun and lighthearted, so even the smallest interaction can spark a wildfire of theories. People latch onto these moments not necessarily because they hold weight, but because the idea of Taekook is comforting. It gives them something to hold onto something to escape into. Thing is though, real romantic relationships especially under these circumstances aren’t that easy.

The cult wants to believe they went home together, so they mass-like posts that say they did. They want to believe Jungkook was thinking about Taehyung’s body on that Live, so they hype up posts that make that claim. That’s how the cult was born and that’s how it survives. On desire, not truth.

Jungkook solos don’t usually react unless someone so much as mentions Jimin being seen within ten blocks of him. Then it’s chaos. Jungkook’s friendships with the other five members don’t bother them, because those dynamics are easy to understand and categorize. But his bond with Jimin? That one unsettles them. They can’t explain it. They don’t get it. And that scares them.

I get that it’s exhausting to keep seeing things like that, but at the end of the day, there’s comfort in knowing that no matter what people believe, post, or theorize online, it doesn’t alter the reality of their actual lives. People can lie to themselves, craft fantasies, or cling to whatever narrative helps them sleep at night….and they will. But ultimately, if those delusions aren’t touching or shaping the real lives of the people involved, then there’s a certain peace in that. Let them believe what they need to. The truth doesn’t need defending when it simply is.

[givemeanaccountalready]

A Who-Swung-It Mystery: The Case of the Switch-Hitter (1/3)

1 / 2 / 3

Despite the humorous title, I want to be serious for a second. I am not a licensed psychologist/psychiatrist/licensed social worker/etc., and I am certainly not an expert on dissociative identity disorder (DID). My knowledge of this disorder comes from the research I have done to try and understand it. I am trying to be as respectful as possible towards the subject matter, and I sincerely apologize if I show a lack of understanding and will do my best to correct it. I want to focus on switching, since we don't really have much information on Mikoto's childhood that led to him developing this disorder and I do not want to speculate. I only say childhood and not adulthood because the literature I found suggests that it is rather rare for this already rare disorder to form past the age of ten. Mikoto could be one of those special cases, but we'll have to wait and see.

Now, before you begin violently shaking me over the length of this post, just know that I am sorry about it. I want to argue that Mikoto’s DID is a red herring. Despite his claims otherwise, John did not directly kill anyone, Mikoto did. Through the voice dramas and the music videos, we get to see both Mikoto and John's individual perspectives and personalities. From what we've seen in MeMe and Double and then heard during John Doe and Neoplasm, I think I figured out what happened the night of the murder.

Fun fact before the post cut: in Japanese, the kanji for baseball are combine the kanji for field and ball (野球) and is read as ‘Kakyu’. The number nine in Japanese is read as ‘kyu’ or ‘ku’ and our baseball-loving prisoner, Mikoto, is prisoner number nine.

Okay, now you can begin violently shaking me.

Milgram's Very Own Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde: Subverting the Evil Alter Trope

Robert Louis Stevenson's The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde is a tale that lives in infamy, and here in the West, it is synonymous with dual personalities. Published in 1886, the story is meant to be an allegory regarding good and evil. Pop culture osmosis usually has it right that Dr. Jekyll accidentally created Mr. Hyde in a lab accident, but here's the thing, it's more of a happy accident than a “Well, the risk I took was calculated but man, I’m bad at math,” one. Dr. Jekyll is a respectable, older gentleman who meant to erase his "shameful urges" (the story never explains what they are exactly, just that they go against the Victorian moral code) and accidentally created Mr. Hyde. As Mr. Hyde, Jekyll is a younger, shorter man whose only identifying feature is that everyone immediately hates him. That is not a joke. People who ran into Hyde can’t really describe him other than having the gut instinct to avoid him. But more importantly, I need you to know that Dr. Jekyll had spent most of the story voluntarily transforming himself into Mr. Hyde so he could give into those shameful urges and then used his wealth as Dr. Jekyll to sweep any trouble that arose back under the rug.

Besides being physically different, the main difference between Jekyll and Hyde is that Hyde lacks Jekyll's morals and inhibitions. Jekyll delights in the freedom he can experience as Hyde, until as Hyde, he beats a man to death with a cane. A few months before the murder, Jekyll had started to realize that he did not have as much control over Hyde as he previously thought and went two months without drinking the transformation tonic. As Jekyll puts it, in a moment of weakness, (yes, it reads like an allegory about substance abuse) Jekyll takes the tonic, transforms into Hyde, and since Hyde is pissed over being locked up for so long, he exercised his frustrations on a rich man's head.

Historically, the nineteenth century is when psychologists started arguing over the existence of multiple personalities, and the public back then was as fascinated with it as it is now. And I can't believe that we're nearing The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde's 150th anniversary, and the evil alternate personality trope is still going strong! I swear to you, it seems like DID is only ever brought up in conjunction with stories involving a murder(s), and the resolution is always, the evil alter committed it. I only know one example (Primal Fear (1996)) where the evil alter didn't do it, but that was because of the twist ending!

Besides wanting the novelty of the core having killed someone rather than the 'evil' alter, I think it would fit in with Milgram's dedication to emphasizing that each prisoner is an individual with their good points and bad. No one is 100% good, or bad, or anything else (Jackalope is 100% chaotic neutral, but he is a mythical creature, not a human, so shh). They have dominant traits that may influence their actions, but as in reality, things aren't black and white. It would make sense for Mikoto and John to reflect this. Mikoto is not 100% good and John is not 100% evil. They both have good and bad traits.

I think that the first trial shows it much better than the second, but Mikoto's main problem is how he constantly denies that anything is troubling him. Es calls him out on it explicitly during Neoplasm. Mikoto’s response is, “Usually, if you just laugh and pretend, things work out in the end,” explaining that the pretending helps him cope. It may not be the healthiest coping mechanism, but it is what he does. The most recent example of this not actually helping anyone is during Mikoto’s 2023 birthday timeline conversation. Mikoto questions himself to see if John really does exist and then he angrily blames John, only for John to front long enough to yell that he did it to save them. John disappears and Mikoto tells himself that that was useless, and that he’s tired and should stop thinking so hard about it. John has repeated quite a few times during Neoplasm and in that timeline conversation that he did it because Mikoto couldn’t handle it. The implication is that it is referring to the stress that built up and led to the murder. I agree with John that Mikoto’s decision to continue putting his head in the sand and to bottle up all his stress would have led to a breakdown. Everyone has a limit, and it is clear that Mikoto was rapidly approaching his. I don't disagree with that at all. What I disagree with is John's claim that he is solely responsible for the murder, because his existence does not make him purely evil and Mikoto's purely good. To think so is to play right into the black-and-white dichotomy of morality and play directly into Yamanaka's hands.

Despite his more sadistic tendencies, John does have some positive traits. We know he cares deeply for Mikoto and wants to protect him, even if his actions aren't acceptable. In Neoplasm, we’ve even heard John express some pride over being a college graduate, something Mikoto has previously downplayed when asked questions by Amane. We’ve seen in timeline conversations that Mikoto is capable of expressing annoyance and exasperation (with Fuuta) as well as anger (at John in the above timeline conversation). John can be cruel and aggressive, but he is active in asserting himself. Meanwhile, Mikoto is considerate to others to the point of his own detriment and is rather passive when it comes to conflict. Just because Mikoto seems to have more desirable character traits than John doesn’t make Mikoto incapable of committing a violent act.

Now, onto the murder, what could lead to Mikoto killing somebody?

"Communism was just a red herring." - Clue (1985)

I firmly believe that John is full of shit. Despite the number of destroyed mannequins, there is only one murder victim: the blond fellow we see at the beginning of MeMe. And just like in the cult classic, Clue (1985), I think the motive was blackmail.

Remember Mikoto's glitched line from the second voice trailer? "DESTROY EVERYTHING! EVERYTHING! EVERYTHING!" I don't know if this is just an accepted fan theory or if it had been confirmed, but it is believed that the lines from the second voice trailer happen before the murder takes place. If it had taken place after the murder occurred, then everything would most likely reference the evidence of the murder. But this takes place before the murder happened. Sure, it could be John's need for one of those rage rooms, but if I'm being honest, I think it was blackmail that could have gotten Mikoto fired from his job. Despite the amount of stress his current job causes him, Mikoto has stated over and over again that he worked very hard to get into the best company in the advertising business, and in his Trial Two interrogation questions, he has stated that he will not leave his current job because he believes that his efforts will eventually be rewarded. Mikoto is fine with being uncomfortable if he believes it will lead to future benefit (AKA, no pain, no gain).

From what I understand about Japan's work culture, getting fired puts a black stain on your record and makes it extremely difficult to find a new job. Getting fired by a top-tier advertising agency isn't just losing his dream job, but possibly destroying any chance of Mikoto gaining any opportunity or prestige for the rest of his career. All his hard work will be for naught. There are plenty of real-world instances where someone lost their job or lost their college acceptance because of poor behavior on the individual's part. If the blond victim had evidence of Mikoto acting badly, regardless of whether it was Mikoto or John fronting, Mikoto's boss could fire him, ruining his chances of ever being rewarded for his hard work. People have certainly killed for less in the real world.

Personally, I lean towards the blackmail being something John did, although this comes from Mikoto's line from Undercover: "Don't lie about me / what did I do?" If Mikoto cannot remember anything from when John fronts and he is aware of his forgetful spells, then not only would Mikoto question whether the blackmail had been doctored but also he'd wonder if there is a hint of truth to it. Remember Mikoto's words to Fuuta, "You're a uni student, right? You can't act like that once you start working properly," as if the angry behavior from Fuuta is only normal until a certain age. Perhaps Mikoto took part in some bad behavior in the past. More likely than not, it’s John in the blackmail. T1Q11 answer states, "Yes, I am [someone who takes others into consideration]. I'm a working adult. Communicating makes work easier." It's almost ironic how his boss constantly texting him and inconsideration causes Mikoto problems, and because he is the new guy and subordinate, Mikoto can't exactly tell his boss to fuck off.

His T1Q10 answer better lays out his beef with Fuuta's behavior: "I don't think I've ever gotten angry before. Isn't it kind of disgraceful to get angry?" Now, Mikoto is a very go-along-to-get-along kind of guy and Fuuta is not. He could be telling the truth that he has never gone into a blind rage (that Mikoto remembers), but to say he has never felt anger is most likely a lie.

Here is how I think the murder went down. At the beginning of MeMe, we see Mikoto waiting in a dark, secluded area near the train tracks. His hair is mostly covered by the beanie and we cannot make out his expression whatsoever, so there is no clue to tell us who is fronting between Mikoto and John. Mikoto does not appear to have a bat on his person or around him, and it seems like he is holding his phone. The blond victim could have just been a stranger walking by, but I think that he was an old friend of Mikoto's from high school or college and was supposed to meet with him. As peers who are supposed to be working adults, Mikoto is under the impression that whatever this is, they can just talk it out. This is all just one big misunderstanding.

Maybe the blond victim even brought the bat for an intimidation factor. Maybe Mikoto brought it just in case. I lean towards the former because you would notice misplacing your own baseball bat (they can get really expensive) is hard to not notice, and the whole thing is easier to deny if you don't even own the murder weapon in the first place. Whatever the case, the blond reveals his blackmail and demands payment or else it's getting sent to Mikoto's boss. Mikoto sees nothing but red, screams at his old friend to destroy all of the blackmail, take the bat, and then swings. The first blow hits the victim's lower back, just like how it hit Es in Undercover, and it is enough to render the victim's legs useless, forcing him to try and crawl away rather than run. Mikoto raises the bat well over his head and brings it down again, killing the victim.

With no one around but his now deceased victim, the red haze lifts and Mikoto realizes what he just did, prompting the first trial glitched line, which is believed to take place after the murder, "My life... it wasn't supposed to be this way." The heartbreak is too much to bear. John takes over and is the one to bury the body, dispose of the evidence, and clean Mikoto up. When Mikoto wakes up the next day, he can disregard it as a bad dream: "All I did was dream / And that's what you found GUILTY?"

Pretty words, but empty ones, I know. Where's my proof? I'm glad you asked. :)

Switch-Hitting

Let's start out with the murder weapon: the baseball bat.

In baseball, a switch-hitter is someone who can bat left- and right-handed. Switch-hitters are prized by coaches, because batters have a higher chance of hitting the ball when they swing opposite of the pitcher; meaning a left-handed batter has a better chance of hitting a ball thrown by a right-handed pitcher than the right-handed batter against that same pitcher. There can be switch-pitchers (someone who can throw left- and right-handed), but because Mikoto's murder weapon seems to be the baseball bat, I'm going to focus on the way he swings the bat. As previously stated, during the third chorus of Undercover, we see Mikoto's silhouette bludgeon Es with a baseball bat.

Now, it has been a while since I've played baseball and softball, but I do still own a bat and I believe that that is a left-handed swing. A left-handed batter would have their left hand positioned above the right hand and the bat would have been held over their left shoulder. When they swing, they step in and turn towards their right to complete the swing. That is what Mikoto is doing in this picture. I tried to mimic the swing, but I am a right handed batter, so it feels awkward when I do it. Right-handed batters are more common that left-handed hitters, and in Double, we see Mikoto/John bat both ways, making him a switch-hitter. In the US, a switch-hitter has to pick one side to hit from during the time he is at bat, meaning that say he batted right, then swung and missed twice (two strikes, one more and he's out), he can’t switch to bat left. He can switch to bat left the next time he is up at bat, but he cannot switch positions once he steps up to the plate. I can’t find much on Japan’s rules about switch-hitting, but there’s a ton of articles about a high school player who kept switching positions for every pitch during the same at bat (pissing off the Americans in the comments section). Now, I can’t speak for professional baseball in Japan, but I guess switching positions during the same at bat is allowed at the level Mikoto played (high school). I do feel confident in stating that the Mikoto featured in Undercover has a left-handed swing. But Gimme, what does that have to do with switch-hitting? Switch-hitting involves batting both ways.

If you continue to closely watch the opening of MeMe, while Mikoto holds the bat in his left hand, but when he readies himself for the overhead swing, Mikoto has his right hand over his left, something a right-handed batter would do. I actually made a list of when we see Mikoto swing the bat, and it seems that when Mikoto swings the bat normally (like how he would in a game), he usually bats left-handed. I could only find one instance of Mikoto holding the bat right-handed as though he were up to bat.

Left-Handed Batting:

at 3:04 in Undercover

at 0:30 in MeMe

at 0:58 in Double

at 1:29 in Double

Right-Handed Batting:

at 1:26 in Double

Buuuut, when we see Mikoto swing the bat abnormally, he uses his right hand to guide the swing as if he were batting right-handed. His right hand is above his left (which is normal positioning for a right-handed swing) when he does the overhead swing in MeMe at 0:37, and when he swings the bat one handed during Double, it is with his right-hand.

Your dominant hand isn't what determines your batting stance. Generally, it's a good indicator, but it's not set in stone thanks to cross-handedness. Cross-handedness is when you use your dominant hand for certain activities and your non-dominant hand for others. But if it matters, Mikoto is right-handed. Most of his actions in both songs involve his right-hand. If you watch MeMe, the only time Mikoto uses his left hand is to move the camera at the beginning and end of the song, and then to pick up the Death tarot card at the very end of the song. In Double, the only time he uses his left hand is when he swings the bat. Also, his shoulder bag is on his left shoulder in both MeMe and Double, and generally, purses and shoulder bags rests on your non-dominant side to give your dominant hand easy access.

Like I said, Mikoto being right-handed doesn't necessarily translate to him batting right-handed. Now, I'm no baseball expert, but I don't think his left-handed swings are all that good. They look 'jerky' to me. We don't see Mikoto complete a right-handed swing; we only see him hold the bat as if he is waiting for a pitch and the positioning seems natural. And there is something that I want to point out. You can train yourself to become a switch-hitter. I am not kidding when I say that switch-hitters are coveted. I think it would be in-character of Mikoto to naturally bat right-handed but try to teach himself how to bat left-handed so that he can become a switch-hitter. He is someone who knows what they want and creates a ten-step plan to get it, (see his "I wanted this job so I chose this art college with this degree"). He also believes in hard work being rewarded, so if he successfully trains himself to become a switch-hitter, his coach will reward him with more playing time (in this case, move him up the batting list). Mikoto is also self-effacing, so when he puts himself down, it needs to be questioned. Are his claims about not being good at baseball an example of his low self-esteem affects his perception of himself, or was he just plain bad because he was batting from the wrong side? He could just plain suck at baseball, but his abnormal, right-handed swings are smooth and controlled. It makes me think he bats right naturally, and that his left-handed swings are him practicing to get better at switch-hitting.

Unlike Mikoto, John is not patient. He would not bother with a swing he is not comfortable with. We saw that in John Doe as they are quick to taunt Es and lash out at them and Kotoko. John did not try to retreat and figure out a strategy to best Kotoko, an experienced fighter, he just went for it. I can only assume he wised up during his fight with Kotoko and that's why she couldn't knock him out a second time. This impulsive, fiery temper reappears in Neoplasm, when John mock Es for chaining Mikoto and for the name they gave him, and then as Es stalls during John's prodding of what will happen to Mikoto, John begins shouting at Es to answer him. I would probably split the two this way: while Mikoto is proactive with his willingness to think ahead and shortchange himself for the chance of being rewarded in the future, John is reactive and his impulsiveness leads to short-term thinking that can screw over Mikoto.

Here's Mikoto in Neoplasm: "I wonder if it's like... some kind of sleepwalking...? After all, I've been losing sleep more and more often recently... Man... It's really troublesome, isn't it?...Usually, if you just laugh and pretend, things work out in the end, right? I'm pretty good at that. Making things work out to the best of my abilities." At this point, he can no longer deny that nothing is wrong, and Mikoto is now forced to seriously consider just what is going on when he has these forgetful spells and falls asleep. Something is wrong, and he is trying to follow his usual protocol of smiling and quietly figuring out how to make things turn out for the best. Except it is not working in Milgram, triggering John's appearance in Neoplasm.

John is surprised by Es's acceptance of the situation, and even says, "I'd just think it's a lie someone came up with to get away with murder." As he and Es continue to talk, John asks Es why they think he was born and confirms that his role is to protect Mikoto from harm. Es is the one to bring up the murder, and suddenly, the chatty John is giving short, vague responses, reiterating that he is the murderer, not Mikoto. Here's some of it, "Yeah, it's me. I killed them off... They annoyed me [so I killed them]... Just someone [a stranger] who was walking around nearby... Can't remember [how many I killed]." When Es demands to know how John can be so calm, John changes the subject to find out what will happen to Mikoto. When Es cannot give him a satisfactory answer, John repeats again and again that Mikoto is innocent and that he, John, is at fault, so please forgive Mikoto. I think John would admit to every wrongdoing of Mikoto's if that meant Mikoto's burden would be lifted. It's why I don't trust him. Not only is his confession too vague to be considered admissible, but as Mikoto’s protector, he also has a reason to take the fall. John is not an evil alter, but he is taking advantage of the trope to get Mikoto the Innocent verdict. An Innocent verdict, in John’s mind, will erase most of Mikoto’s current stress. It is too short term, and relies to heavily on Mikoto’s habit of denial. If Mikoto is found Innocent, there is a chance that he may continue to pull his head out of the sand to figure out what is going on so he can learn how to manage or suppress it so his everyday life won't be impacted.

Oh, and one more thing before I end this first part.

That Wasn't Mikoto at the End of Neoplasm, which is why Double differs from MeMe.

John is playing up the idea that he is an evil alter to get Mikoto out of trouble, and the weird behavior shown by 'Mikoto' at the end of Neoplasm is just John attempting to manipulate us. Do you guys remember at the end of John Doe when Mikoto is back in control and is confused and then horrified as to why he’s hurting and why Es is now covered in bruises? From what I’ve read, that confusion is a common sign of personalities having been switched, and so is the memory loss he has experienced. Now compare that to the end of Neoplasm, when John ‘leaves’ and Mikoto comes back and immediately starts guessing what kind of dog Es owns? And how weird that is because Mikoto had started the interview clearly worried over what is going on with him when he is ‘asleep’? I don’t think Mikoto actually came back. I think that that’s John taking advantage of Es being startled by the bell and pretending to be Mikoto and trying to emphasize how harmless Mikoto. Mikoto is just a little guy. How can someone so friendly be a monster?

1 / 2 / 3

[egophiliac]

still ruminating over Lost In the Book With Spooky Skeletons Part 1, so here's a selection of some of my favorite little bits! (...some more loosely paraphrased than others) (I just feel like Idia has no room to criticize in general, okay)

anyway, I'm sure we're just going to have a fun time celebrating Halloween and nothing bad is going to happen whatsoever! :)