#I made the different versions during a call so I was distracted

[jessicas-pi]

So, given that I actually have an AU where Anakin and Ahsoka secretly co-authoring a trashy obitine novel is a major plot point, it seemed pretty obvious to me what the setting was gonna have to be for my fic for @sabezraweek's Sabezra Day! I had it all planned out. It was gonna be set in this hilarious No-Order-66 AU, and Luke and Leia and Mara and Kata and Shin were all Ezra's friends in the Jedi Temple and they all totally shipped sabezra and went so far as to write a play based on the Trashy Obitine Novel for the Bi-Annual Jedi Theater Night as an excuse to make sabine and ezra play the leads (and therefore kiss) and...

...well, needless to say, I did not come anywhere near to finishing that fic. So instead, here's a bit of a really old WIP, from an entirely different AU, wherein Sabine and Ezra watch (a holofilm adaptation of) Anakin And Ahsoka's Top Secret Trashy Obitine Novel! (Yeah, the Trashy Obitine Novel is a running gag in my fics.)

------

Ezra sits with his knees pulled up to his chest as he waits for Sabine to get the holoprojector set up.

He’s wearing his dumb Loth-cat pajamas again. He has others, but it’s pretty much tradition by now. He wears the Loth-cat onesie, she wears her hideous green-and-purple pajamas with glow-in-the-dark stars, he’s the one to gather the blankets for the fort while she gets the snacks, they always take a selfie… they have a lot of traditions for Movie Night.

It’s a whole thing now. Once every month, they have a not-sleepover in her room. (They’ve only had six so far, but he hopes this is a tradition that will last until they’re old and pruney.) It’s awesome, because for that single night, they get to be just a couple of goofy kids staying up until exactly 3am. They forget about the Rebellion and about the Empire and about everything they lost and just have fun.

That’s turning out to be a little harder than usual for Ezra today, though.

It’s Empire Day.

It’s been nine years since he lost his family. They’re gone; gone and dead, and he knows that now. But the ache remains, and he’d been prepared to stay shut up in his room all night, except Sabine barged in and threatened to throw him over her shoulder and carry him fireman-style to the blanket fort if he didn’t get moving already.

Ezra knows she’s trying to make light of it all, but he can’t help noticing the worried glances she keeps giving him. In the end, it’s more for her sake than for his own that he decides he just won’t think about it anymore tonight.

So he thinks about something else.

The story behind tonight’s holo is pretty wild. Hera sent the rest of the crew on a supply run into a market town a week ago, and Ezra… okay, maybe he got a little distracted, because he ended up wandering into a spooky old secondhand shop run by a guy (looking back on it, Ezra is 99% sure he was a Jedi) and his creepy wife, where he saw a holofilm case with Mando’a writing—he couldn’t read it, but he could recognize the letters—on it, and as it turned out, not only was it a Mandalorian holofilm, it was also a very very banned Mandalorian holofilm based on a book, and the book was based on, supposedly, a true story. The maybe-Jedi claimed to have known the real-life version of the male lead of the story.

(Honestly? Ezra believes him.)

Anyway, he bought the holo for Sabine (for no reason, really, except maybe a little bit because it would make her smile), and he did not expect the reaction he got (which was her nearly falling over from laughing so hard.) Then she told him that she had read the book and it was just completely terrible, we’re totally watching this next movie night.

Sabine nudges him over and sits down next to him.

“What do I need to know about this?” he asks, as the beginning credits start to appear.

“It’s a Mandalorian holodrama called Tigaanur Te Ka’ra. It’s very loosely based on a novel written during the Clone Wars. Apparently, the film was pretty controversial, because it was a more traditional Mandalorian studio that made it, but a couple of the heroes in this are Jedi. Which is also why I’ve never been able to get my hands on it. I’ve heard it was different—better, than the book.” She makes a face. “It couldn’t be worse. I couldn’t get through Chapter 39. I had to skip it.”

Ezra grins at her. “I didn’t know you liked novels.”

“Guilty indulgence. I bought Touch The Stars because the Mandalorian main character was named Sabine, and she had Jedi friends.”

He breaks into a grin. “Hey, like us?”

Sabine turns her head and stares at him with exaggerated vacancy in her eyes, like she’s having flashbacks or envisioning something horrible, and says distinctly: “There were a few differences.”

He gets enough of the vibes of her tone to understand more or less what she’s hinting at.

“You, uh. You don’t need to elaborate.”

“I won’t.” He clears his throat awkwardly. “So, is this going to have, um…”

“A racy scene that Kanan or Hera will inevitably walk in on even though it’s only twenty seconds long and the entire rest of the holo is nothing they’d blink twice at?” Sabine offers, filling in the awkward blank.

“Yeah.”

“Heck no. Mandalorian holodramas don’t even usually have kissing. We Mandos show affection by going to war at each others’ sides, and sometimes bonking our heads together.”

Then the holo starts, and it occurs to Ezra that he doesn’t speak any Mando’a and this film has no subtitles.

“What’s happening?” he whispers as the opening scene plays out, showing a bunch of Mandalorians sitting around a table. (Ominous music plays whenever one of them talks, and a mysterious sort of wind-chime motif follows a different one around. Then there’s a heroic melody for a third Mandalorian. Villain, love interest, hero, Ezra decides.)

“Peace conference. Never ends well.”

Sure enough, about three seconds after Sabine says that, Bad Guy Mando whips out a blaster and starts shooting. The Wind Chime Mando jumps up on the table and starts swinging a lightsaber—the Jedi in disguise?

The fight scene lengthens on gratuitously, until finally Wind Chimes grabs Hero and does a jump that Ezra is pretty sure even a Jedi Master couldn’t pull off that carries them out through the stained-glass ceiling.

They escape, and then they stop, and argue, and argue, and argue more. Finally, Wind Chimes rips off her helmet to yell at Hero better, and Ezra notes that she looks a little ragged. Her curly red hair is falling out of its braid, and her face is sweaty-looking. (She’s also stunningly gorgeous, because of course she is. But she is worse for the wear, which is surprisingly realistic for a holodrama.)

Ezra glances over at Sabine and is surprised to see that she’s sitting forward a little, watching with rapt attention. She can understand the dialogue and he can’t, which explains some of it, but she looks invested.

The movie continues on for another two hours—he wonders just how long Mandalorian holodramas are, because they’re not even close to coming to a plot resolution—and from what Ezra can put together, the story goes something like this:

Beni is the name of the red-haired lady. She’s a Jedi Padawan who disguised herself as a Mandalorian to attend the peace conference for… some reason. She rescued Tian, aka Hero Mandalorian, and Beni, Tian, and Beni’s Jedi Master, Quinn, are traveling to an important place that they have to get to so they can do something important.

There’s also been, like, six musical numbers.

Yeah, Ezra’s not really sure what’s going on anymore.

[writeriguess]

Hey hun! Welcome back 😘

So, i have a kind of slow burn idea for a Bakugo x fem!reader fic. They both like each other and when she tries to ask him out or talk to him about it, he's kind of an ass 😅

He thinks she'll be in the way or a distraction to his goal, so he pushes her away. He can't get her out of his head though and their friends tell him he's being an idiot. Eventually, he cracks and tells her (in his very 'katsuki' way) that he does want to be with her.

Angst ending with lots of fluff, confessions, and a kiss please!

author's note: Thank you so much! <3 I just wanted to say that your idea was incredible, and I had such a great time writing it. It turned out to be much longer than I expected, but it was definitely worth it!

Heart of Dynamite

It started with stolen glances. You weren’t sure when you first noticed, but something about the way Bakugo Katsuki acted around you was different. He wasn’t nice, not by any stretch of the imagination, but there was something else buried beneath the rough edges and sharp remarks. A fleeting glance when he thought you weren’t looking. The way he always seemed to hover nearby during group exercises, subtly ensuring you didn’t get caught off guard.

You weren’t blind. You saw the way his crimson eyes would flick to you during lunch, only for him to look away just as quickly if you caught him. You noticed how his explosions during sparring would seem almost… controlled when directed your way—less destructive, more calculated. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to make you wonder. Enough to make you hope.

The problem was, Bakugo being Bakugo, he’d never admit to something as human as feelings. If he did like you, he was keeping it buried under a mountain of anger, pride, and whatever complicated emotions made up Katsuki Bakugo.

But still, the moments added up. And with each passing day, your crush grew stronger. You hated the way your heart fluttered when he called you by name instead of his usual nicknames for everyone else. You hated how you’d secretly look forward to his biting remarks because, in some twisted way, it was his version of paying attention to you.

And most of all, you hated how much courage it took to even consider confessing to him.

After weeks of agonizing over it, you finally decided you couldn’t live with the "what if." No matter what, you needed to know.

The opportunity came on a rare quiet evening at the dorms. Everyone else had gone out for karaoke, leaving you and Bakugo alone. He was sprawled on the couch in the common area, his arms crossed, staring at some mindless action movie playing on the TV.

You hovered at the doorway, your heart racing. You almost turned back, but then his gruff voice interrupted your thoughts.

"What the hell are you standing there for? You look like a damn idiot."

You flinched, but quickly steeled yourself. "I just… needed to ask you something."

His gaze flicked to you, crimson eyes narrowing slightly. "Then spit it out already. Don’t waste my time."

Your hands were clammy as you stepped closer, each word feeling heavier than the last. "Do you… want to go out with me? Like, on a date?"

For a moment, Bakugo just stared at you. His usual scowl didn’t shift, but you could see the flicker of surprise in his eyes—so quick you almost missed it. His jaw tensed, his hands clenching into fists on his lap.

Then, he scoffed. Loudly.

"You serious?" he said, leaning back against the couch like your question was the stupidest thing he’d ever heard. "Why the hell would I want to go out with you?"

The words hit you like a punch to the gut. Your throat tightened, and your chest felt like it was collapsing in on itself.

"I mean, come on," he continued, his tone sharp and cutting. "What makes you think I’d waste my time on something dumb like that?"

You felt heat rise to your cheeks, but not from embarrassment—from the sting of his rejection. You struggled to keep your voice steady. "I just thought… maybe—"

"Well, you thought wrong," he cut you off, his voice cold and unrelenting. "So stop acting like some lovesick idiot and get over it."

The silence that followed was unbearable. You felt like the floor had been ripped out from under you, like you were standing on the edge of a cliff with no way to step back.

"Got it," you said finally, your voice small and strained. You turned on your heel before he could see the tears pooling in your eyes.

Bakugo didn’t move. He stayed on the couch, staring at the TV that he wasn’t really watching. His nails dug into his palms, his jaw clenched so tight it hurt.

"Idiot," he muttered under his breath, though he wasn’t sure if he was talking about you—or himself.

Hours passed, but Bakugo didn’t leave the couch. He replayed the scene over and over in his mind: the look on your face, the way your voice had cracked when he tore you down.

He hated himself for it. Hated the way he’d lashed out, even though he knew it was because he was terrified. Of what? He didn’t know. Maybe of admitting to himself that he cared. Maybe of the fact that you could make him feel so out of control with just one stupid question.

But now it was too late. He’d pushed you away.

You, on the other hand, locked yourself in your room, curled up on your bed, and let the tears flow. You couldn’t believe you’d been so stupid, so naive. Of course Bakugo didn’t like you. Of course he didn’t care. You’d just been projecting your feelings onto him, imagining things that weren’t really there.

Still, the hurt lingered. You tried to convince yourself it didn’t matter, that you’d move on, but the ache in your chest said otherwise.

Little did you know, Bakugo was sitting downstairs, fists clenched, consumed by his own turmoil. Because for all his bluster, he’d never wanted to hurt you. He just didn’t know how to deal with the truth: that he did like you, more than he was willing to admit.

Bakugo tried to convince himself that what he’d said to you was necessary. He had goals—real, tangible goals—and nothing, no one, was going to distract him. Becoming the Number One Hero wasn’t just a dream for him; it was a mission, an obligation, a destiny he was determined to carve out with his own blood, sweat, and tears. He didn’t need complications. He didn’t need feelings. He didn’t need you. That’s what he told himself over and over as he sat alone in his dorm room, glaring at the wall like it had personally offended him. His fists were clenched tightly in his lap, the tendons in his hands straining from the pressure.

But no matter how hard he tried to justify it, he couldn’t shake the image of your face from his mind. The way your expression had crumbled when he snapped at you, the hurt in your eyes as you turned and walked away—it all replayed in his head on an endless, agonizing loop. He could still hear your voice trembling when you’d asked him out, soft and vulnerable in a way he wasn’t used to hearing from you. You weren’t the kind of person who let your guard down easily, and he’d taken that rare moment of courage and crushed it underfoot.

“Tch,” he growled under his breath, running a hand through his hair and gripping the strands in frustration. “Stupid.”

He thought that pushing you away would make things easier, but it didn’t. If anything, it made everything worse. You were everywhere. Every time he walked into a room, his eyes automatically searched for you, even when he told himself they wouldn’t. When you laughed with your friends, the sound sent an irritating warmth through his chest, only to be followed by a sharp pang of regret when he remembered the look on your face that night. During training, he found himself tracking your every move without even meaning to, his instincts on high alert every time you dodged an attack or threw a punch. He hated it. Hated how you’d wormed your way into his head and refused to leave. Hated how much he wanted to be near you, even after he’d made it clear that he didn’t want anything to do with you.

It didn’t help that everyone else seemed to notice his turmoil. His friends had started giving him strange looks during meals, their eyes darting between him and you as if they were waiting for something to happen. Kirishima, in particular, had been annoyingly persistent, watching him with that infuriatingly knowing expression he always wore when he thought Bakugo was being an idiot. Bakugo did his best to ignore it, but the tension was impossible to escape.

One evening, when the others were hanging out in the common area, Kirishima finally confronted him. Bakugo had been sitting on the couch, staring at his phone without really looking at it, when Kirishima plopped down beside him with a heavy sigh. Mina and Kaminari weren’t far behind, hovering nearby like vultures waiting for a meal.

“Alright, spill it,” Kirishima said, his voice casual but firm. Bakugo barely spared him a glance.

“Spill what?” he snapped, his tone as sharp as ever.

“Don’t play dumb,” Mina chimed in, crossing her arms and narrowing her eyes at him. “You’ve been acting weird for days, and we all know why.”

“I’m not in the mood for this crap,” Bakugo growled, standing up to leave, but Kirishima quickly stepped in front of him, blocking his path. Bakugo glared at him, his crimson eyes blazing. “Move.”

“Not until you admit what’s going on,” Kirishima said, his voice steady despite the obvious tension in the air. “You pushed her away, didn’t you?”

Bakugo froze, his scowl deepening. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about,” Kirishima said, his tone unusually serious. “Come on, man. It’s so obvious you like her. Everyone can see it.”

“I don’t—”

“Save it,” Mina interrupted, stepping closer with a look that could cut through steel. “We’ve seen the way you look at her. And don’t even get me started on the way you lose your mind whenever she partners up with someone else during training. You care about her, and instead of doing something about it, you’re being a total dumbass.”

Bakugo’s jaw tightened, his fists clenching at his sides. “I don’t have time for this crap,” he muttered, shoving past Kirishima and heading for the door. But before he could leave, Kirishima’s voice rang out behind him, stopping him in his tracks.

“You think pushing her away will make you stronger,” Kirishima said, his voice softer now, almost sad. “But all you’re doing is proving how scared you are.”

Bakugo’s shoulders tensed, his hand gripping the doorknob so tightly his knuckles turned white.

“You’re scared because you like her so much it freaks you out,” Kirishima continued, his tone unwavering. “But running from it won’t make it go away.”

For a moment, Bakugo didn’t move. The room was silent, the air heavy with unspoken tension. Finally, he yanked the door open and walked out, slamming it shut behind him without another word.

That night, Bakugo lay awake in his bed, staring at the ceiling with an intensity that could have set it on fire. Kirishima’s words echoed in his head, mingling with the memory of your voice and the image of your face. He hated how much it all got to him, how much he couldn’t stop thinking about you no matter how hard he tried. He hated the way his chest ached every time he thought about the hurt in your eyes and the way you’d walked away from him, your shoulders slumped in defeat. But most of all, he hated how much he wanted to see you again, to fix things, to say something—anything—that could make up for what he’d done.

Meanwhile, you were doing your best to move on. You’d been avoiding Bakugo as much as possible, throwing yourself into training and schoolwork to keep your mind occupied. It wasn’t easy, though. Every time you saw him, whether it was in class or during meals, you felt a sharp pang of hurt that refused to go away. You hated how much he still affected you, even after he’d made it painfully clear that he didn’t feel the same way.

But no matter how much you tried to convince yourself that it didn’t matter, that you’d be fine without him, the ache in your chest lingered. You couldn’t help but wonder if you’d been wrong to hope, if you’d been foolish to believe that he might have cared about you even a little.

Little did you know, Bakugo was sitting in his room, wrestling with his own feelings and cursing himself for the way he’d handled things. Because for all his bravado and pride, the truth was unavoidable: he couldn’t stop thinking about you. And the more he tried to push you out of his mind, the more you consumed his every thought.

The days following your rejection from Bakugo had been a haze of hurt and confusion. You tried to keep yourself busy—extra training, study sessions, anything to keep your mind from replaying the harsh way he’d dismissed you. But no matter how much you told yourself to let it go, it lingered. You still felt the sting of his words, the way he’d looked at you like you were an obstacle instead of someone he cared about. That wound didn’t heal easily.

You avoided him as much as you could. You’d shift to a different group during training, sit at the far end of the cafeteria during meals, and leave the common area whenever he showed up. It wasn’t as subtle as you hoped; your friends noticed, and you were pretty sure Bakugo did too. Still, you couldn’t face him—not after everything he’d said.

What you didn’t know was that your absence weighed on him far more than he let on.

Bakugo was not a man who easily admitted to mistakes. Pride had been ingrained in him from an early age, and he carried it like armor. But lately, that armor felt suffocating, like it was pressing in on him from all sides. He couldn’t stop thinking about you, couldn’t stop replaying the hurt in your eyes when he’d lashed out. Every time he saw you purposely turning away from him or laughing with someone else, he felt a sharp pang of regret that he didn’t know how to fix.

Kirishima’s words lingered too. “You’re scared because you like her so much it freaks you out. But running from it won’t make it go away.” As much as Bakugo wanted to punch him for saying it, he knew it was true. He’d been running from his feelings because they terrified him. You terrified him—not because you were weak, but because of how much power you had over him without even realizing it. And that was what scared him most of all.

Eventually, he couldn’t take it anymore. Watching you avoid him, knowing he’d been the one to hurt you—it was eating him alive. If he didn’t do something soon, he was going to explode.

That’s what led him here, standing awkwardly a few feet away from where you sat on the bench outside. You hadn’t noticed him yet, too focused on the notebook in your lap. For a moment, he hesitated, his chest tightening with something unfamiliar. Was this… nerves? He growled under his breath, frustrated with himself. He was Bakugo Katsuki, for crying out loud. He didn’t get nervous.

“Oi.” His voice came out rougher than he intended, and you jumped slightly, startled by his sudden presence.

You looked up, your eyes widening for a split second before your expression hardened. “What do you want?”

Bakugo flinched at the coldness in your tone, though he tried to hide it. “We need to talk.”

“About what?” you asked, already sounding exasperated. “If this is about training or some stupid lecture—”

“It’s not about training,” he cut in, stepping closer. His jaw tightened as he tried to find the right words. He wasn’t good at this, but he had to try. “It’s about what I said to you before.”

Your eyes narrowed, suspicion creeping into your expression. “Why are you bringing that up now? You already made your feelings perfectly clear, Bakugo. I don’t need to hear it again.”

He winced at the way you said his name—so formal, so distant. You used to call him Katsuki, back when things were simpler. Back when he hadn’t ruined everything.

“Just shut up and listen for a second, will you?” he snapped, though there was no real heat in his voice. He took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down. “I… I screwed up, alright? I said some shit I didn’t mean, and I hurt you. I shouldn’t have done that.”

Your expression softened slightly, but your arms remained crossed, a barrier he knew he’d have to break through. “Then why did you do it? Why push me away if you didn’t mean it?”

“Because I’m a goddamn idiot,” he admitted, his voice quieter now. His gaze dropped to the ground, his fists clenched at his sides. “I thought… I thought if I let myself like you, I’d lose focus. That you’d get in the way of my goals.”

“And now?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Now I know that’s total bullshit,” he said, finally looking up to meet your eyes. “You don’t make me weaker. You make me want to be better. And no matter how much I tried to ignore it, I couldn’t stop thinking about you. You’re in my head all the damn time, and it’s driving me insane.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his confession, but you still hesitated. “You really hurt me, Katsuki,” you said softly, the pain evident in your voice. “I don’t know if I can just forget that.”

He stepped closer, his gaze intense and unwavering. “I’m not asking you to forget it. I’m asking for a chance to fix it. I was a dumbass, and I don’t deserve it, but… I want to try. With you.”

The vulnerability in his voice was so raw, so uncharacteristic, that it left you speechless. You searched his face for any sign of insincerity, but all you saw was regret and determination.

“Katsuki…” you began, your voice trembling slightly.

“Look, I know I’m not good at this,” he interrupted, his hands twitching at his sides as if he didn’t know what to do with them. “I’m not some smooth-talking idiot like Kaminari, and I’m probably gonna screw up a hundred more times. But I’ll do whatever it takes to prove I’m not gonna hurt you again.”

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as his words sank in. This was Bakugo Katsuki—the same boy who never admitted when he was wrong, who bulldozed his way through life without looking back. And here he was, laying his pride at your feet, just for a chance to make things right.

“You’re really bad at this, you know,” you said finally, a small smile tugging at your lips despite yourself.

He huffed, his cheeks turning pink. “Yeah, well, it’s not exactly my strong suit.”

You laughed softly, the sound making his chest tighten in a way that wasn’t entirely unpleasant. For the first time in weeks, you felt the tension between you start to dissolve.

“So, what now?” you asked, taking a tentative step closer.

“Now I do this,” he said, his voice low as he reached out to cup your face in his hands. His touch was surprisingly gentle, his thumbs brushing against your cheeks as he leaned in. His crimson eyes searched yours for a moment, and when you didn’t pull away, he closed the distance and kissed you.

The kiss was tentative at first, almost shy, but it quickly deepened as you responded, your hands reaching up to grab the front of his shirt and pull him closer. He kissed you like he was trying to make up for every moment he’d wasted, pouring all the unspoken feelings he couldn’t put into words into that one act.

When you finally pulled away, your foreheads resting together, you were both breathless. He smirked, his usual cocky confidence creeping back in. “Told you I’d make it up to you.”

You rolled your eyes, laughing softly. “You’ve got a long way to go, Katsuki.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he muttered, but the warmth in his gaze betrayed the gruffness of his tone. “Guess I’ll just have to stick around and prove it.”

And for the first time in weeks, everything felt right.

Feel free to request <3

[imsobadatnicknames2]

You once said you mostly like playing Dwarf Fortress in adventure mode nowadays, right? Any adventure mode tips you can give for a total noob?

Okay I'm not any kind of expert by any means, but...

For combat, there are weapon skills (e.g. Crossbowman, Swordsman, Hammerman, Bowman) which determine how good you are at using a specific weapon, but there are also two I like to call "parent skills": Fighter, which determines how good you are at using melee weapons in general, and Archer, which determines how good you are at using ranged weapons in general (as well as attacking with thrown objects). Attacking with a sword uses (and trains) both your Fighter and Swordsman skills. For character creation I think it's better to put points into Fighter and/or Archer, and train in the use of specific weapons during play. That way, if you ever need to switch to a different weapon from the specific one you're trained in you'll still be able to use it competently.

Always put one point into the Reader skill, otherwise your character will be illiterate. Since the only way to train skills in game is by using them, there is no in-game way to ever learn to read if you start with an illiterate character.

There is currently no implemented in-game way to fulfill the needs to be with family, be with friends, or make romance in adventure mode, so you should avoid creating a character with a personality and set of values that gives them these needs, otherwise they will inevitably become distracted from being unable to fulfill them. Also, the need to eat a good meal is technically possible but extremely hard to fulfill (since it requires either eating an extremely valuable meal, or a meal made with one of your character's randomly selected preferred ingredients) so you should probably avoid it too.

For purposes of trading, carrying small high-value items such as gems or high-quality crafts is a lot more useful than carrying coins around, since coins don't have any monetary value outside of the civilization that minted them, so you can only use certain coins for trade in certain sites.

However, with a high Thrower (or Archer) skill, coins make for a surprisingly decent and easily replenishable thrown weapon.

In certain climates, the water in your waterskin may freeze at night, or even stay frozen all the time. This took me a while to figure out back in the day, but: If you need to drink but your water is frozen, you'll need to interact with an adjacent empty space to make a campfire there, and then interact with the campfire and select the ice to heat it (or, in pre-steam versions, press g and then choose the option to make a campfire, and then while standing next to it press I to open advanced interactions with your inventory and then select the ice and choose the option to heat it)

If you find it annoying to constantly have to find food and water, play as a goblin, since goblins don't need to eat or drink.

I haven't tested if it works the same way in the post-steam versions, but in iirc performing anything at a tavern and then talking to the tavern keeper about your performance would get them to give you a discount on your room and drinks, regardless of the actual quality of the performance. I don't think this has been changed, but still.

Offloading a site by moving in travel mode will instantly heal you of all temporary damage, such as wounds, broken bones, bleeding, etc. If you're bleeding out during combat you can avoid dying by running away from your enemies until you're far away enough to initiate travel mode and then moving in any direction.

The only way to heal permanent damage such as lost body parts or severed nerves is to become a werebeast, since your body will be completely restored every time you transform. You can become a werebeast by getting bitten by one and surviving (the bite has to tear at least one tissue layer or it won't pass on the curse), or by getting cursed either by toppling a statue at a temple dedicated to a deity you worship, or by rolling one of the divination dice found at shrines three times (although when you get cursed it's randomized if you become either a vampire or a werebeast). However, being a werebeast will make you vulnerable against a random metal, and transforming will unequip and drop all your worn items (including backpacks and pouches) unless the size of your werebeast form is relatively similar to your normal size (plus destroy all non-leather clothing you're wearing regardless of size change)

If you don't start with a high Armor User skill, wearing a full set of armor can actually be more harm than good, since a low Armor User skill makes you more susceptible to the armor's encumbrance penalty, and makes you tire more easily while wearing armor, making it harder to dodge attacks and get attacks in.

However, any leather clothing counts as armor for the purposes of training, and doesn't have encumbrance penalties. So if you don't have a high armor user skill you should equip yourself with maybe a metal helmet, gauntlets, and or/boots, and then put on as much leather clothing as you can, so you can avoid the penalties while you train the skill to the point that you can wear a full set of metal armor.

[shigayokagayama]

What are the biggest losses between the manga and anime? I just finished watching mp100 and I'm curious what the manga has!

ok biggest losses are kind of hard to define because like. anime and manga are two inherently different mediums and there are a good amount of cuts that improve pacing and then a good amount of cuts that people sort of argue over the merit of so im just going to go for biggest differences. i would also highly recommend reading the manga just because it is a pretty different experience tonally along with the minor plot differences and cut scenes + theres a bunch of omakes that both flesh out characters that dont get too much focus and have some really good bits in them. putting the rest of this post under a cut bc i ramble

mogami arc

this one is kind of inescapable i feel like but the anime version of the mogami arc had a LOT of things trimmed for a couple different reasons. season 2 already got an extra episode in order to do the fire scene as a cliffhanger so with the way things shook out the director had to choose between a. cutting a bunch of stuff out of separation arc to make it one episode so mogami arc couid stay three episode or b. cutting a bunch of stuff out of mogami arc so separation arc could stay two episodes. imo they made the right choice, whats even the point of adapting mob psycho if you dont get confession arc right, but some of the cuts to mogami arc will be dearly missed and others will be fought over to the end of time. cuts include:

minori being established as a brat in a video everyones shown and the video being part of how reigen deduces shes possessed (reigen deducing her possession in the manga is generally just a lot better done and after you read the manga the scene in the anime feels so awkward because you know whats missing

the psychics deciding to band together to beat this little girl to death to save themselves and shinra stepping between them to protect her and getting utterly thrashed, not by mogami, but his fellow psychics

reigen trying to convince mob to leave without him and call for help while he distracts him which leads to this

the general mogamiland section lasting a lot longer and being more brutal (notably the stray cat mob feeds getting killed in front of him)

mob getting fucking torn to pieces by spirits during the fight instead of ambiguously dying offscreen

generally would recommend if nothing else reading the manga version of this arc and confession arc because i feel like these are the only two where you lose like. a significant amount of the story and themes from the cuts. speaking of....

2. WHY THE FUCK DID THEY CUT THIS I WILL BE MAD UNTIL I DIE

maybe its just because i reread this arc on its own probably 50 times before the anime came out but this is the only arc where the cuts actively piss me off because there is absolutely no reason they had to do it. they cut a bunch of important shit, left in things that didnt need to be there, and added scenes that contribute literally nothing to the overall point. if they just did any one of those things or combo of two of those things i wouldnt be as mad but it feels like they put a bunch of filler in then speedran the actual story

cut #1 that pisses me off: HOMOPHOBIA?????

THERE WAS SUPPOSED TO BE A HEART IN HIS EYE. WHY DID THEY NOT INCLUDE THIS. THIS IS THE CULMINATION OF TERUS ARC. THIS IS HIM SEEING THE PERSON HE HAS IDOLIZED AND DEIFIED IN HIS HEAD AT THEIR LOWEST AND STILL CHOOSING TO LOVE HIM, AND THROUGH THIS HE IS CAPABLE OF BEING LOVED EVEN THOUGH HES NOT PERFECT BECAUSE NO ONE IS. WHY WOULD YOU CUT THIS?

cut #2 I NEED WHOEVER CUT THE DIALOGUE FROM THE FIRST PANEL IN PRISON

the lack of inclusion of the first panels dialogue along with the cuts to the mob and shigeo conversation (WHICH WE WILL GET TO) make me think the person who adapted this arc fundamentally misunderstood what was happening. this line. is. THE POINT. THIS ISNT SOME SEPARATE SCARY THING. THIS IS MOB. HE IS CHOOSING TO DO THIS BECAUSE HE IS SCARED AND ANGRY AND HURT BUT HE IS IN CONTROL OF HIS ACTIONS AND ALWAYS HAS BEEN.

cut #3 HE DOESNT WANT TO BE HELD ACCOUNTABLE FOR HIS ACTIONS

this entire conversation is so good and i was looking forward to watching it voice acted for so long and its just. gone. for me the "i am shigeo kageyama who are you" reveal felt like a gut punch because the opening being "i knew i would be needed" made me go "oh hes like possessed or his powers are sentient or something" and this conversation was the slow unraveling of my view of these as two separate people and instead as a scared, traumatized teenager who has convinced himself that the parts of himself he hates are something else outside of his control instead of an intrinsic part of who he is because if he's convinced that the parts of him that are able to feel desire and frustration and anger and malice are him then he'll lose all these relationships he's worked so hard to cultivate as his perfect, non confrontational self. and of course that isnt true. all his friends and loved ones are making their way to the center of a damn hurricane because they see he's in distress and want to help him. but he cant see that so he pushes them away. ugh. mob. protagonist of all time.

cut #4 WHY WOULD YOU CHANGE THE COMPOSITION OF THIS I CAN LITERALLY SEE HOW THIS WOULD BE ANIMATED IN MY MINDS EYE W

can you imagine how beautiful this would be in motion. just. god.

cut #5 HE WAS TALKING OUT LOUD. REIGEN HEARD ALL THIS

:(

cut #6 the bowling arc

so the scene where reigen takes his shoes off is supposed to be a lot more solemn bc like. taking your shoes off before killing yourself is a trope in japanese media (ive heard it started in media and bled over into real life but i might have it backwards?). reigen knew he was probably going to die. anyway i cant take this scene seriously because of this edit

the bowling arc.

cut #7 WAAAAAAAAAAAA

WAAAAAAAAAAAA *sniff* AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

cut #8 homophobia again

rip pensive fruity tea sip

cut #9 mob threw the cake directly in reigens face on purpose

i literally experienced every stage of grief realizing this got changed. why. its so perfect. why would you change this.

3. World Domination arc

so WD arc is in a very interesting place where it had a lot of scenes cut but unlike the other two most of the cut content youre like. yea probably best not to include that. ill start with the good content that got cut then go into the weird content

serizawa got his power drained by toichiro. i am quite sad this scene didnt make it in because its sorta heartbreaking

teru fighting off the claw assassin is shown and we see that teru can both make shadow clones AND hold a barrier while attacking, he seems to be the only esper with this ability!

the reason dimple could tell mob's family was alive is that there was no sense of grudge at the house which would have been left behind by people passing in a violent manner

mob briefly goes unconscious during the start of the toichiro fight and dimple possesses him and says "shit"

dimple possessing mob shoots shibata with a gun

we get mukai lore.

it doesnt make any sense and just raises more questions but we get it.

toichiro has a team of telepaths to recap where everyone is because this arc took an entire calender year to update

literally everyone shows up to fight shimazaki. i cannot stress enough how many people show up to fight shimazaki. it would be faster to list espers who dont show up to fight shimazaki

the middle school delinquents show up and start fighting the claw grunts literally completely out of no where and this is never brought up or referenced ever again

when mob and ritsu get home ritsu says all their stuff is in boxes and they need to hurry and redecorate the house before their parents get home which implies that shou packed the entire households worth of belongings into boxes and hid it somewhere before lighting their house on fire which is such a funny mental image that i cant even be mad at it. loony toons ass plot point.

4. other random interesting cut things

takenaka is just generally more of a bitch during alien arc. "ah i think they took him" remains one of the funniest goddamn panels in the manga

peak

alien arc overall is a lot funnier in the manga, i have a slight preference for the manga version just bc theres a lot of really good bits that didnt make it to anime but the anime version is so heartfelt and nostalgic it makes me happy

between omakes and small things that got cut or changed for the anime teru just feels way more fleshed out in the manga. like. anime teru is a completely different person. its hard to explain if youve never read it.

the all girls school part originally went right before the ghost family stuff and was the beginning of mob's existential crisis about why spirits and people get different treatment but tbh it works well where it is i just wish it werent. like that.

the scene where ritsu and teru shake hands was teru draining ritsus power which he seems to have learned to do from encountering ???%

teru.

ow

thats all i can think of off the top of my head, im sure ill realize i forgot something some time after posting this but. yeah. read the manga its good

[delphi-shield]

kiss it better ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

Jill Valentine x Reader Smut / MDLG mdni wc: ~5.6k i don't have to explain myself, so i won't. 🙂‍↕️ dividers by @/adornedwithlight.

summary: Jill's got reservations about this whole 'mommy' thing. She's not the maternal type - but for you, she can try.

content: mommy dom!Jill, little!reader, afab!reader, boot riding, dumbification, extensive depiction of cgl dynamics/lifestyle, humiliation, finger-sucking, spit, fingering, titsucking, aftercare, use of sippy cups/coloring book/the word 'stuffies', ruined orgasm, orgasm denial, implied age gap (di era jill, mid-late 20s+ reader).

In hindsight, the sippy cup should have been the first red flag.

Jill didn’t even bat an eye when you bought it. You'd tucked it to the back of the belt during a grocery trip, hiding it amidst the other canned goods, tried your damnedest to distract her while the cashier rang it up. She didn't know how to break it to you that she had seen you pick it out. She'd watched you deliberate between pink or green - strawberries or watermelon - before settling on pink.

You'd said you were going to look at candles - probably the truth, because you'd put one in the cart, too. Jill had doubled back to pick up laundry detergent and had caught you lingering in the kids aisle. She had always been able to pick you out of a crowd, had a sixth sense for where you were, hand practically magnetized to the small of your back. You looked so focused alone in that aisle that she had swallowed the call of your name and marched back to the cart.

So yes, she’d glossed over the (rather obvious) way you had tried to hide the purchase from her. That was as far as she was letting it go, though. Once you got home, you tried to bury it behind all the coffee mugs. Weird, she thought. You just bought the goddamn thing. You'd been talking about wanting a water bottle with a straw for a full month. It would be out of sight out of mind if you put it way back there, eaten up by the cabinet. 

You shuffled away to put up the rest of the groceries and Jill plucked the cup from the back. She put the pink plastic front and center, right next to the rest of the glassware, as though it belonged there.

“That’ll cut down on our carpet cleaning,” she had even joked when she heard you traipsing back in.

A beat. She turns to look at you over her shoulder, brow raised. You look like a deer caught in floodlights, waiting to be gunned down. It took a moment for you to dig your voice up from the pit of your stomach.

“I know. All the regular ones didn't have the latching lid. Like, I need that anti-spill technology. I have to be baby-proofed.”

Yeah. It was a little out of place that you felt the need to justify the cup to her. Again - in hindsight, maybe it was a little odd. Surely there had been a water bottle that wasn’t pink and covered in cute little strawberries, but you were an adult. You made your own money. If you wanted the sippy cup with the strawberries on it, then you could have it. She wasn't about to police your tastes. After all, at a certain point of maturity you started to realize that the difference between kid stuff and adult stuff was just marketing. So many 'kid' versions of things were just the same as their adult counterparts. Covered in smiling bunnies and rainbows, maybe, but functionally the same item. 

Suffice it to say, Jill didn't give two shits what stuff you bought for yourself. You were prone to spilling drinks, so the latching lid excuse made sense. Her singular complaint was the size. As your designated drink-getter, her trips had doubled. (She'd found some online in a bigger size, all muted, muddy colors, no cartoon strawberries. “Anti-spill technology,” she'd pointed out. You had shrugged, sipping at your little drink. It was the perfect size for one bottle of your favorite apple juice. That, she couldn't deny.)

She'd been unintentionally feeding into your preferred lifestyle the whole time, buying you the cutesy set of stickers for your scrapbook, picking up glittery markers when she saw them on sale. 

The coloring books certainly weren't a bridge too far. You wanted to turn your brain off after a long week at work. That was all, really. Jill hadn’t asked for an explanation - she had asked which ones you liked, that she might pick one out for you. The first few she chosen had been branded 'adult coloring books' but again - what was the difference, other than subject matter and the complexity of some of them? You'd dutifully sat next to her during movie nights and colored regardless of difficulty. Your hand-eye coordination was developed, see? Made staying in the lines so much easier. And the colors you picked out - they don't (usually) clash. That all ties back to that developed eye for style.

‘Babydoll’ might not have been the best choice of pet names for you, but it had slipped out. It felt right, more sincere than ‘dear’ or ‘babe’. If she had known she was unintentionally enabling you, sending the little plastic gears in your head grinding to a halt, she might have picked something different. 

The first time she'd said it, you'd given her a blank look. Jill had sworn not to say it again, already marking that off the list of options, but your response had been quick.

“No–” you reeled yourself in, a little too forceful there. Like a kid stomping their feet. “No, it's okay. I like it.”

How was she supposed to know that you had dubbed her ‘mommy’ in your internal monologue? That ‘babydoll’ did nothing but feed into your perception of her? 

After it had all come out, after your first little slip-up that had sent both of you hurtling headlong into a series of changes in your lifestyle, you'd confessed that you had been thinking of her this way since you had moved in. Jill had been synonymous with ‘mommy’ since your possessions had spilled from the open mouth of the U-Haul and flooded her apartment. Her sparse, curated collection of decorations had been swallowed up in a wash of stuffed animals and plush blankets, and she had done nothing to stem the tide. Hell, she’d piled more on. Bought you stuffed animals from boutiques, airport giftshops, gas stations - anywhere, so long as it made her think of you.

Jill hadn’t thought twice about the stuffies. If most of her keepsakes hadn’t been obliterated via air strike, courtesy of the U.S.A. back in 1998, she’d probably have a collection of decor to contend with yours. Maybe less of the fuzzy variety, but she understood the appeal. She had never been one to get jealous of an inanimate object. If you wanted to lay your head on her lap, favorite stuffed animal coiled tight in your arms, then she had no objection. She’d willingly cocooned you in the fluffiest blanket within reach, her hand settling at the bend of your waist.

So, the stuffed animals? Totally normal. The sleepy, nonsensical babbles you’d catch from time to time during a night in, when it was just the two of you? She didn’t think twice. That had hardly been an adjustment.

Jill felt a little slow for not catching on before you let it slip. There had been so many signs. Piles of evidence all around her, some of which she had contributed to. She must be getting lax as the years wear on. Normally, she's sharp as can be. She'd know things about you before you did.

You’d been riding her boot the first time you said it. Jill had been busy - too busy to spend a couple hours folding you in half and fucking you to sleep, she told you. You'd dragged yourself into her office in your barely-there shorts, nipples pert and peaking the flimsy fabric of your tank top. Wait a minute - not your tank top. Hers. An old, faded Depeche Mode tank, white, damn near see-through.

She kept track of you in her peripheral as you dragged your bean bag chair (she'd offered to get you a real chair, something with back support, but you'd insisted; when you hit thirty, she’ll be able to gloat) right up next to hers, and dropped into it. Foosh. Makes your tits bounce when you plop down like that. That's probably why you did it.

She scooted forward in her chair, flipping the armrest up and kicking one leg out. Your eyes lit with glee. Horny little goblin. You moved to straddle her thigh, hands braced on her knee while you wobbled into position.

“Ah-ah.” Jill didn’t take her eyes from the screen. She kept hammering away at her report, the deadline looming. She stopped at a paragraph break to snap her fingers twice, pointing to the floor. “Down.”

You’d cratered to your knees without so much a second thought. See? Obedience wasn’t new to you. How was she supposed to know it was a different sort of devotion, different from the submission she was used to?

Something warm curls around her ankle - your hand, she realizes with a glance. Jill sighs. She hadn’t said not to touch. It’s difficult to be mad at the way your thumb circles her calf, especially for a command she hadn’t issued. Jill’s chair creaks backwards, her hands stilling on the keyboard. Your chin settles on her knee, eyes big and pleading for her touch.

Jill folds her arms under her chest. Your eyes track the way her chest moves. It's almost cartoonish - she half expects your tongue to loll out of your mouth.

“Get on.” Jill wiggles her boot back and forth. Your head tips to the side, confusion drawing your brows up. “On my boot, babydoll.”

She sees it - the brief flash where you’re drawn out of play time. The quickest twist of annoyance in your pout. How many times did you have to tell her to stop wearing her shoes inside? Especially her work boots, crusted with mud and shit and god knows what else. But if you’re worried about that then you’re too horny to protest. Her babydoll comes back in another blink, pressing your cunt down onto her steel toe.

There you go. Jill starts typing again and you get the hint. You're independent enough that you don't need her direction at every turn. Thank god - she'd never get anything done if you couldn't find a rhythm on your own, if you couldn't use whatever part of her body she dictated to get yourself off.

It doesn't take long for you to start whimpering. Your arms wind around her leg, chest pressed tight to her while you grind your drippy pussy against her. You use her body as leverage to drag yourself back and forth. Poor baby. Reduced to humping her leg like a damn dog.

Your pretty little whimpers come quicker, louder. Jill's fingers scrape against your scalp, urging your head upwards. She pools spit at the tip of her tongue, considers dripping it into you. Your mouth is popped open for her already, moans punctuating every push of your hips.

Any thought of tormenting you with the anticipation disappears when she sees you pinch your nipple, hips circling against the toe of her boot frantically. Your eyes flutter, thighs pulsing, so close–

“Stop.”

Jill rips her boot away for you. You plop against the floor, whining at the loss. Your hand flies to your pussy, rubbing your clit desperately through your shorts.

“I said stop,” Jill grinds out. 

Her hand grips your jaw, fingers curling. You pull your hands away from yourself, fingers glistening when you lay them flat against the tops of your thighs. A whine squeaks out of you. Jill’s eyes narrow.

“Open,” she demands. Your mouth pops open obediently. When Jill gives you a directive, you follow it. Jump— how high? Cum— how hard?

Look at you - perfect little slut, tongue plopped out for her. She spits a fat glob of spit dead center and drops your jaw.

“Swallow.” It’s said carelessly. She looks away from you as if uninterested in you display. Her clit throbs in time with her heartbeat. Perfect girl, perfect, trained little–

You swallow. From the edges of her vision, she sees you stick your tongue back out as proof. “Thank you, mommy.”

The air in the room shifts, suddenly colder. Her skin feels as though it’s been pulled taut. Confusion swirls with her arousal. You said ma’am. Surely you said ma’am.

“What?” She blurts out, hands at a full rest on her keyboard.

You’ve still got that floaty, airy look about you. Jill wonders if it’s even possible to get a straight answer out of you right now.

“Thank you?” You repeat, unsure yourself. You blink quickly. She can pinpoint the moment you come back into your body, shoulders tensing, eyes widening, skirting away from her. “Uh– ma’am?”

Nice try. Not buying it.

“Did you call me mommy?”

Jill will probably regret the way she had spat that out until the day she died. It hadn’t been worth seeing the crushed look on your face, the shame flushed through you in a full-body shudder. In the moment, though, she can’t deny the pulse of disgust.

That night had ended on unsteady footing. She’d asked you not to call her that. You’d apologized again and again throughout the conversation, set her teeth on edge with how small you’d made yourself. It felt worse, seeing you slink out of her office, knowing you were going to curl up in bed - knowing you’d pretend to be asleep when she came in to check on you a few minutes later.

She had already been doing this for you, she realized. The new context was uncomfortable. She had sat in that feeling for a few days, tried to fall back into the patterns of your relationship without thinking of them these new, strained terms. Despite reassurances, she’d watched you shove away the things that had made you so comfortable.

No more coloring books - not in front of her at least. You’d left a stray marker lying out when you scrambled to hide the evidence of your coloring from her. Your sippy cup had been pushed to the back of the cabinet again, no matter how many times she’d moved it back to the front.

The final straw was when you’d started packing your stuffed animals away.

She could have been gentler about the whole thing, admittedly, but it had made her so goddamn angry to see you shove away things that made you happy. You had misunderstood her - or she hadn’t communicated clearly, or – or something.

“Quit,” she demands, pulling the stuffies from their cardboard prison. She set them firmly back on your side of the bed (never tossing - you’d told her before, tossing them was mean). “Stop doing this shit, babe. You don’t have to quit doing stuff you like.”

“But you don’t like it.”

“I never said that.”

“Yeah, you did.”

“No, I–” Jill pinches the bridge of her nose. This is going nowhere, round and round in circles. She takes a deep breath, lets it out slow.

“I don’t want it in the bedroom.”

“Then where do you want them?”

“Not the– the stuffed animals can stay. Okay? I just don’t like it when we’re having sex. The ‘mommy’ stuff. But you– I want you to be how you want to be with me. We were already doing the little stuff before. Right?” Jill’s hand cups your cheek, urges you to keep looking at her. There’s no hiding from this, not from her.

You still struggle to meet her eyes. She can tell you’ve picked a spot over her shoulder, staring past her. She ducks her head, puts herself into your vision.

“...Kinda. Yeah.”

“Then we can keep doing that.” Her answer is firm. She’s spent hours thinking about this, analyzing where her discomfort came from, why it hit her so goddamn hard – how to ensure you never felt so rejected by her again. The discomfort lingers, smaller than before. Dwarfed by how greatly she misses having you next to her and comfortable. There had been an openness that she had stolen from you. “...Just don’t call me mommy when you’re getting off on my boot anymore, okay? I’m not ready for that.”

In time, the discomfort faded. Having you next to her at the end of a hard week, eyes wide and vulnerable, trusting her completely to take care of her - it became a little intoxicating. Her boundaries expanded, pushed farther and farther from where they had started as she slipped back into routine.

It surprises her how well she takes to it. Jill hasn't got much in the way of maternal instincts. She's good with dogs, though, and kids and dogs both need discipline. It's the same thing, right?

No. Not at all. But you're not really a kid. Your real mom did all the hard work, and now Jill gets to sweep in and have all the fun. Sit. Roll over. Speak. You're good at those. 

Stay, not so much. She knows she’s got you in the right headspace when you won't stop wiggling. Jill's grown accustomed to slinging an arm across your stomach when she buries her face in your pussy. The squirming never ends, and pressing your hips into the mattress had only ever made you curl upwards, arms bracketing her head, shoving her face into your cunt.

The real danger is letting you sit on her face while you're like this. You squirm and buck, squeal out your pleasure while she laps at you. She rocks her head from side to side, her nose bumping against your pudgy clit. The way you thrust down into her - christ, you’re going to send her to the hospital one day.

That was how it had been the first time Jill had opened up the floodgates, the first time she’d let these little games back into your bedroom.

Her hands palm the globes of your ass, spreading you open for her tongue. She keeps you nice and tight against her face, her neck craned at an angle that would hurt later. A problem for tomorrow. Today’s problem is that you keep biting your knuckle, tucking those pretty little sounds away from her.

Jill swats your ass, quick, sharp. She pulled away only far enough to reprimand you – “Don’t hide from mommy” – before she wrapped her lips around your clit and churned her tongue against you, again and again.

You let out a surprised squeak, garbled behind your fist. Your hips shot forward, pressing her face into the mattress, suffocating her with your cunt. Jill moaned, gripped you tighter, held you to her face and tongue-fucked you through an orgasm that made your spine twist, your thighs clamp tight around her head.

Jesus Christ - that’s what she’d been missing out on? All because she’d been too squeamish about a title?

That was all it took to convince herself that she was fine with it, really. Jill helped you roll off of her. She lowered you back to the mattress as if you were a priceless, fragile little thing. The urge to care for you, to pamper you, had never been stronger. You’d nearly had to force her to quit flitting around you. It took insisting that you needed to cuddle for her to stop, for her to let you settle against her.

“I think you broke my nose,” Jill teases.

“Stop.” You hide your face in the top sheet, but she hears you bite off a giggle. Her hands float to your sides, long digits brushing along the curve of your ribs, snaking up your stomach to cup your breasts. She rolls them in her palms - together, then apart, thumbs flicking over your nipples. Languid, no heat behind it. No need for another round, not yet, but she wants to appreciate the art before her.

“I'm serious.” Jill turns her head to the side. Her profile silhouettes in the lamplight.

She's the kind of woman they make statues of. Her nose cuts a proud shape from the light, the slope of her brow relaxed only here in your bedroom. It occurs to you to trail a finger along contour of her face and, uninhibited, you do. Jill holds still for you, let’s you marvel at the work before your eyes. Her nose has been broken before - not by your weight, but by fists. Her throat bobs as you trail a knuckle down her chin, against the delicate skin of her neck, childish in your wonder. 

Jill still had her boundaries, the same as you had yours.

Your appreciation is every bit grown. You tuck yourself against her side, kiss along her jaw until you reach her lips. You mutter your ‘I love you’ against her there. She can be ‘mommy’, she realizes. Just for you, just within your home.

No disciplinarian stuff, not while you're acting all little. It makes her feel grimy. You don't get in trouble for little stuff, not for leaving your coloring book out or for flooding the living room with stuffies while she's away. You do get in trouble being an absolute brat and pawing at her leg while she's in the middle of a meeting.

That had been fun. You'd been all curled up in your beanbag chair, tucked out of frame while Jill listened in on the eastern European division’s quarterly report. Evidently, reduction in bioterrorism incidents weren't thrilling enough for you. She’d popped her leg out to the side, wiggled her boot at you - a command you knew well enough by then. 

What kind of mommy makes her baby girl ride her boot? A strict one. It had always been a favorite punishment, denying you her touch and making you get yourself off however she dictated. But when you were all soft and malleable? Desperate for her attention, for her touch? Now it has her soaking herself. An added, unexpected side effect? You'd stopped nagging her to take her boots off as much.

On the other hand, you staunchly refused for this to be a 24/7 arrangement. You were an adult. You contributed to the house, had goals and ambitions just as much as she did. As happy as Jill was to pamper you, to be your mommy when you needed it, she wasn't ever to hold that over your head. 

Once, she'd dared to tease you in the middle of a discussion about utilities - gas bill's so high 'cause my babydoll like the house too warm - and the look you'd given her had been enough to make her backtrack immediately. You hadn't even been willing to entertain the notion that she might treat you as less capable, less of an equal partner just because you enjoyed her care.

That had been a rocky discussion.

“I don't want to do this with you if you're just going to think less of me for it.”

Christ, she wants to pull her hair out, stuff her words back into her mouth and just pay the goddamn gas bill. It wasn't like you couldn't afford it.

“I don't think less of you.”

“Then don't say stuff like that.”

“Babe, you're kind of overreacting.”

Your eyes harden. Obviously, that hadn't been the right thing to say either.

She'd nearly lost you in that conversation. Not entirely, not your whole relationship - just this soft, needy part that craves a softer touch, a nurturing hand. Maybe a better, more experienced mommy would have stepped it back better, assured you that wasn't what she meant. But Jill's not built for this, not naturally.

It's your thing. She's just indulging you.

She gathers up your coloring books, piling them neatly on the coffee table. She takes a minute to thumb through them, to admire the work you'd done that evening. Spooky Cutie, Gummy Bear World, the more complicated dinosaur coloring book from the Smithsonian. You'd been rotating - proudly showing her your work from page to page, polling her on what color you should use from time to time. One moment it was a bear and a cat cooking stew together in a simplified, cutesy kitchen. The broth was dark brown because mommy had decided they were having beef stew, not chicken and dumplings.

The next, you were asking for her favorite dinosaur, then her second favorite, then her third, and flipping through your book to find any one of them. She'd never seen a more elaborate backdrop for a triceratops. You'd dutifully laid out every shade of green you had and set to work on the foliage. Halfway through the movie she realized she'd missed a plot point, too busy checking in on your coloring.

It's not her thing. She just ended up at a craft store one day for something completely different. It was a good deal on markers, honest. Yeah. The deal had been on the ones that were high-end, that had the shades of green you needed to really make that cretaceous-era flora pop.

Jill is so fucked.

Right. Definitely just your thing.

She's above this. Keeps her personal life and her professional life neatly separated, despite the Redfield's best efforts. Claire knows she has a serious girlfriend. She'd done the detective work on Jill's limited social media, pored over new friends and comments like it was her job. 

(“I had in-flight wi-fi.” Never a sentence you want to hear Claire Redfield say.

“So you wasted your time stalking me online?”

Claire shrugs. “Your girlfriend posts a lot and she likes everything you post. It wasn't hard to figure it out. She seems nice. Not subtle, but, you know – nice.”)

If Claire knows, then Chris knows. For years he's maintained that he hates gossip, but he's always suspiciously well-informed.  

So when Chris sets a big hand on her shoulder and asks how the detective work is going, the appropriate answer should be ‘fine’ or ‘I'm going to blow my brains out if I have to dig through another financial record’. It should not be:

“Mommy's tired.”

Silence. God, she can't have said that. That wasn't what came out of her mouth, surely. She just said ‘I'm tired’, right?

Jill looks up at Chris. His eyebrows are in the fucking stratosphere. Before she can tell him not to say a goddamn word, his face splits into a grin.

“Does mommy want a coffee?”

“I'm reporting you to HR.”

Chris laughs, full-bodied, the sound bursting from his chest. He looks years younger in that moment, and when she huffs a laugh she wonders if she does too. All of that gets wiped away when she remembers how utterly fucked she is. Her cover is blown, her personal life finally hemorrhaged into the office.

“I'm reporting you to HR,” he counters. He swings himself into the chair opposite her desk. “Anything you want to talk about?”

“Fuck you.”

“Not if I have to call you mommy.”

Jill’s more than a little pent up when she kicks the door closed that evening. You turn your head, hands plunged in the basin of the sink. Domestic, homey - not quite her babydoll, but her girlfriend.

As you can imagine, the rest of the day was a nightmare. Chris didn’t know how to let a joke die, but at least he had the sense to keep it between the two of them.

She can change that.

“How was work?” You greet.

“You got me in trouble today.”

Confusion clouds your eyes. You try to turn from the sink, but Jill's arms cage you in. She's not a tall woman, but it's never stopped her from being imposing. She wedges her knee between your legs and lifts, pressing against your cunt. The heat pouring through you short circuits your brain, leaves all your intelligible thoughts fizzling out of your mouth in a confused heap.

“Huh?” Is what you finally manage to muster.

Jill snorts. Very intelligent. Her hands grip your hips. She turns you to face her, presses you down against her thigh, rocks your hips back and forth for you until you get the picture. Your movements are slower, uncertain. She has to battle the urge to force your movements quicker. Patience. She can rip the pleasure from you later.

Her mouth latches onto your neck, open-mouthed kisses pressed against your skin again and again, your pulse quick and unsteady under her lips. Your hands hover inches over her sides, water dripping from your fingertips, iridescent suds drying against your skin. You're not going back to the dishes, not if she can help it; leave them to soak in the sink.

Jill shifts a hand under your waistband, fingers ghosting just above your panties. A shudder rattles down your spine, stomach rolling against her hand. She slips her other hand up your front, ghosting between your breasts. Her knuckles catch under your chin.

“Everyone knows, babydoll.”

It's cute, watching you try to put the pieces together. Your poor little brain is frying and she still turns up the temperature on you. She shifts her leg away to palm your cunt through your panties. Goddamn, you may as well be molten heat at this point. Won't be much longer before she has you dripping into her palm.

It takes all her restraint not to shove your panties to the side and plunge her fingers into your needy little pussy then and there. Patience will make it sweeter, wetter, make you cling to her shoulders, clamp around her so tightly she loses circulation.

Her hand moves from your chin the moment you start forming a question. She presses her middle and ring finger to the seam of your lips and you open before she can so much as muster the first syllable. She chuckles, derisive. Your tongue swirls around her, laving against the pads of her fingers. Dutiful, obedient, her perfect little babydoll lapping at her skin.

You suckle, sloppy wet noise spilling from your mouth. A rush of love hits Jill square in the chest. It drops, settles in her gut right next to the need to claim.

“Everyone knows you need mommy to take care of you,” she coos, mocking. You squirm, something between fear and arousal sparking in your eyes. You suck harder. Definitely arousal.

It’s easy to walk you over to the counter, hips pressed tight to yours. She lets you suck at her fingers as long as she can before she needs that hand to pick you up and drop you on the countertop. Jill shoves your shorts down, tugs your panties to the side. Her spit-slick fingers trail along your slit. You shuffle down, greedy for more of her touch. Her poor baby, alone all day - and already so wet for her.

You suck her fingers in greedily. Her hand presses at your hip, a silent urge for you to stay still, to let her prep you. You can get so ahead of yourself, she knows - but she’ll take care of you. Jill’s mouth latches onto your neck. She only detaches to shuck your t-shirt up and off.

Your legs latch over her hips, trapping her hand between your bodies. Greedy little girl, taking more than she wanted to give. Jill can’t be angry about it, not now. She pumps her fingers into you steadily. Her mouth trails down to your chest, lips latching onto your nipple.

“Take it, babydoll, there you go – take it for me.” Her breath fans against your breast. She buries her face between them, moans against your sternum. Your back arches, tits pressing into her. Your arms press your tits together around her head, smothering her, and her pussy clenches around nothing.

Jill's fingers drill into you, grind right up against that spot that makes you squirm. She could find it blindfolded. No more long, slow-strokes with her thick fingers. Hard, deep, just how you need, thumb rubbing your clit.

Fuck - you must need this as badly as she does. You snap after a few more strokes, moan strangled and high. Your chest arches, your hands flying into her hair, holding her tight to your tits.

“Good girl, perfect girl for mommy– gonna have you cumming all night.” Promises seared into your skin just before her mouth latches above your breast, sucks a bruise into your skin.

Your hand pushes at her wrist, babbling about too much. Jill nearly goddamn growls, as if you’re trying to take her favorite toy away. Her thumb slows against your clit, fingers drawing languidly out of you. One last pump for good measure, just to watch your legs twitch.

Her cheek rests against your chest, rising and falling with your breaths.. She watches you recover with half-lidded eyes.

“Do– do people really know?” You ask once you’ve managed to regain the ability for language processing.

Jill pouts. Clearly she hasn’t fucked you good enough if you’re still worried about that. She shifts to grip your hips, tugging you the the edge of the counter. She cants her hips up, trying to fit them flush with yours. Promises for later.

“Just Chris.” You groan. Honestly, it could be way worse. You’re overreacting. She knows better than to say that out loud now. “He’s not gonna tell anyone.”

“Not even his sister?”

Jill hesitates. She steps back from the counter, helps your newborn deer legs find their foot on the floor. She thumbs the button of her jeans open, stumbling out of them while she helps you over to the couch. You’re easy to position like this, malleable to her wants. Just how you both like it. Jill swats your ass - playful, not punishing.

“You worry too much. They’re not gonna care.”

“What if I care?”

Jill sinks to the floor in front of you, guiding your legs up to her shoulders. She kisses her way up your sweat-slick skin, savoring the taste on her tongue on her way to your core.

“Just let mommy kiss it all better.”

[gallifreyanhotfive]

Random Doctor Who Facts You Might Not Know, Part 50: 50 Facts for 50 Parts

How the hell did I get to part 50?!?!?! This is insanity.

The Eleventh Doctor once got hit with an electromagnetic pulse that left him needing to rebuild his mind, during which time he lived as Mr. Foreman. Valarie would sell her cybernetic enhancements to Mr. Foreman in exchange for money and the chance to check on the TARDIS, often telling him stories about the Doctor as she did so. Mr. Foreman used so many of her enhancements that she lost herself. (Audio: Curiosity Shop)

The Fifth Doctor has been tied up in strappado before. (Audio: The Church and the Crown)

The Ninth Doctor has lost or forgotten the ability to play the spoons. (Audio: Station to Station)

Aspirin is fatal to Time Lords. (Novel: The Left-Handed Hummingbird; Burning Heart; Audio: The Condemned)

The Brigadier lost his virginity as a Second Lieutenant when he was 21 years old. (Novel: Deadly Reunion)

The Thirteenth Doctor has introduced herself as "Sarah Jane Smith" before. (Short story: Mission of the KaaDok)

The Third Doctor was able to sense that he was near the end of his life before being irradiated. (Audio: The Children of the Future)

Mozart got cloned in the future many times because they were inspired by his creativity. This made one clone travel to the past to make Mozart immortal with the intention of draining him of that creativity, which would make sure those clones were never made. The Sixth Doctor traveled to Mozart's deathbed to convince him not to trust the clone, and Mozart eventually dies very confused by what was going on. (Audio: My Own Private Wolfgang)

Ace once tried to use the Seventh Doctor's "look me in the eye, pull the trigger" manipulation tactics, but because she's not a hypnotist or psychic like him, she ends up shot anyway. (Audio: The Fearmonger)

Hannah Bartholomew stowed away on the TARDIS, looking for an adventure. She ended up being instrumental in saving the day on the God-King's Tomb Ship and joined Nyssa and the Fifth Doctor more officially. (Audio: Tomb Ship)

Iris Wildthyme has her own version of the Valeyard called Bianca. She rebuilt her TARDIS as a nightclub and tried to steal Iris's regenerations. (Audio: The Wormery)

The Thirteenth Doctor and the Master, locked together in a psychic link, once talked about their issues. They talked about their pasts, but the Master refused to tell her about the "mystery" he was keeping from her. (Short story: The Doctor vs the Master)

After being irradiated, the Third Doctor wandered the time vortex for an entire decade, his body breaking down the entire time. It got to a point where he could not reach the console and was left drifting until the TARDIS finally landed herself. (Novel/Audio: Love and War)

The Thirteenth Doctor once tried to celebrate Yaz's birthday with a tea party in Boston, 1773. (Comic: The Forest Bride)

The Eighth Doctor was separated into his three different sides once. One side was sensible. The other was quite bouncy and excitable, and it was a wonder he didn't get killed while being distracted by something. The third side was incredibly nasty and could be quite violent without the other two sides there to balance him out. (Audio: Caerdroia)

The Fifth Doctor is so good with a bow and arrow that he could shoot an arrow with a piece of parchment attached to it through a window in a tower and snuff out the flame of the candle he was aiming at. (Audio: Son of the Dragon)

The Ninth Doctor once invited a woman named Adriana to travel with him in the TARDIS, only for her to almost immediately die. (Audio: The Bleeding Heart)

When taking into account the battered appearance of his TARDIS console, the Second Doctor realized that the Time Lords had been sending him on missions for a long time, using him as a pawn. Unfortunately, every time he realized this, they erased his memory. (Short story: Save Yourself)

The Twelfth Doctor recalled pulling the Sword from the Stone, becoming King of England for a day, and then abdicating to King Arthur. (Novel: Silhouette)

The Eleventh Doctor used the alias Jean Valjean to infiltrate Alcatraz. (Comic: Escape into Alcatrax)

The Toymaker once turned the Eighth Doctor into a ventriloquist's doll, and he was unable to move or speak unless Charley was holding him. When he did speak, he would shout and protest desperately against the situation. (Audio: Solitaire)

About six hours after the events of The Tomb of the Cybermen, Captain Hopper and his crew ran into the Fifth Doctor, Tegan, and Nyssa, and Hopper was killed by two cyber-converted crewmembers. (Audio: Secrets of Telos)

The Third Doctor became a British citizen at some point. (Audio: The Doll of Death)

After leaving the Eighth Doctor, Zagreus became Perfection, who was a huge flirt towards the Doctor. (Audio: The Next Life)

William Shakespeare once spiked the Fifth Doctor's drink with ginger, leading to the predictable drunken effects. (Audio: The Kingmaker)

The Thirteenth Doctor also really likes ginger nuts, garibaldis, and fig rolls and gets them from the biscuit dispenser in her TARDIS. (Comic: The Forest Bride)

The Sixth Doctor considers Braxiatel condescending and doesn't really like him, but he still trusts him. (Audio: The 100 Days of the Doctor)

When the Fifth Doctor was stabbed in the chest, he was able to survive due to his characteristic heart anatomy, but he was still out for the count for a while. (Audio: Son of the Dragon)

The Sixth Doctor had been known to play with swivel chairs, even going "wheeeee!" while gliding around in them. (Audio: The Sandman)

The Ninth Doctor used his sonic screwdriver to seal the Compassionate away in the rift. He also rigged the sonic to explode. However, this sonic screwdriver was the model commonly used by the War Doctor, not the one from the first series of nuwho. (Audio: The Bleeding Heart)

The Twelfth Doctor thought he might regenerate when he was infected with the Venusian flu, but he also worried that the flu would take such a toll on him that he wouldn't be able to regenerate. (Audio: The Lost Flame)

Kwundaar looks so terrifying that the Doctor screamed after merely looking at him. (Audio: Primeval)

Erimem - a companion of the Fifth Doctor - brought her cat Antranak on board the TARDIS, whom the Doctor despised. There were several reasons for this, including that the Doctor was occasionally unable to set the controls because Antranak was lying on top of them. (Audio: The Church and the Crown)

C'rizz's father almost drowned him once as punishment for deviating from the Church of the Foundation. (Audio: The Next Life)

The Twelfth Doctor's sonic sunglasses have a Telepathic Emergency Beacon, which allows him to take control of another person's body. (Short story: My Dad, The Doctor)

There was a murderer in a place called the Needle, which should be impossible since everyone there has a chip inside of them stopping them from being violent. This killer traveled from person to person, something referred to as "redlining." The Seventh Doctor immediately redlined after being chipped. This whole situation began because a time traveller came to the needle, and the time travel mechanism was organic and a part of her, which made the computer go mad. The Doctor was drawn there and was sensitive to redlining due to his time sensitive nature and his biology. (Audio: Red)

Simon and Joanne, two characters in Lant Land, thought that Tegan and Turlough's names were unbelievable and proposed they change them to Yvonne and Derek. (Audio: Lant Land)

The Eleventh Doctor once gave the name Colonel Lethbridge-Stewart as a pseudonym. (Novel: Shroud of Sorrow)

Gemma, one of the Eighth Doctor’s companions, has called him Dad before, but the Doctor preferred to be called a cool uncle. (Audio: Terror Firma)

Turlough hates the cold and will complain if put in it. (Audio: Singularity)

The Sixth Doctor and Evelyn once thought they had accidentally cockblocked Julius Caesar's parents on the night of his conception. This meant that instead a baby girl named Julia was born, which Evelyn thought would be a brilliant chance to revolutionize the world. She kept trying to stop the Doctor from convincing Julius Caesar Sr. and Aurelia from hooking up at the proper time. Eventually, the two realize that 101 BC is before 100 BC and that they were doing this for no reason at all. (Audio: 100 BC)

The Spriggan was an alternate universe version of the Doctor, who terrorized a planet and used their youth to power his TARDIS. He even created an new Leela, but she fought him to protect the Tenth Doctor and threw him into the vortex. (Audio: Splinters)

The Galyari are a species of 8-foot tall reptiles that had extraordinary eyesight. Because of their exceptional vision, they found the Sixth Doctor to be literally painful to look at because of his coat. They were afraid of him and called him "the Sandman." (Audio: The Sandman)

The Tenth Doctor referred to the Seventh as the mysterious and manipulative type, the sort of rebellious phase someone goes through when they turn 1000 years old. (Novel: Legends of Camelot)

Joshua Douglas was a companion of the Third Doctor but stopped traveling with him after a disagreement. He was later killed while with the Fourth Doctor and Leela. (Audio: The Catalyst)

Mandy Litherland was incredibly fond of and sweet on the Ninth Doctor. After traveling to the past, she kissed the Doctor. The Doctor almost invited her to travel with him but didn't because he knew she probably wouldn't accept. (Audio: Auld Lang Syne)

Sometimes, when the Sixth Doctor is distressed and going off the deep end of his emotions, he has been known to break down in Evelyn's presence and cuddle with her. (Audio: Arrangements for War)

The Veil left the Twelfth Doctor a spade made of duralinum and a dwarf star alloy, which would have been strong enough to break the azbantium wall. The Doctor was wary of it, assuming it was a trap, and he used his fists on the wall instead. (Short story: The Veil)

Missy once saved the life of a young girl whose sister had asked her for help. She had stopped to rescue the child stuck high up while being chased by an assassin, without further witness, and without reward. The Doctor does not know of this. (Audio: The Chaos Cascade)

A young version of the Fifth Doctor post-Four to Doomsday once got displaced in time. Experiencing time slippage, he swapped places with his future selves and learned that Adric had died far too early. Eventually, he ended up in the body of an Auton duplicate the Master had made of the Doctor. He eventually faded away and died as the time slippage unraveled his past and his memories to an extent where he was running on his most basic desire: to save Adric. He had been convinced that if he was put back in his own time he could save him, and for that reason, the older Fifth Doctor refused to return him. (Audio: The Auton Infinity)

First 1 Prev 49 Next 51

[tinycheesecakedetective]

...I'm baaaack.

I mean, I made one post about Swap!PV and then got distracted for months, so I wouldn't really call this a comeback. The moment I did come back though, apparently a bunch of lore just fell from the sky! Beast Yeast is upon us and all of a sudden I remember making an alt. version of this goober.

Turns out there were a few things I wasn't satisfied with in the first one, so here I am with my Swap!Vanilla 2.0 human edition! Even after all this time I still don't have a name for him. There's more white in his design, he has four horns instead of two and they form a crown on his head(that might be a bit hard to see), he also has a halo, his staff changed drastically, and he lost his soul gem. Instead he has two new smaller gems on his "ribcage".

This time around I tried to invoke more death themes, hence the ribcage, more wrappings, the halo, and the burn marks from, y'know, being re-baked and essentially reborn. The halo also makes for a nice double meaning, showing his somewhat good intentions behind the violence and spreading chaos gig.

Speaking of intentions, I maybe or maybe not have mentioned the only swaps happening in this proposed AU are between PV and WL and [possibly] Black Raisin and Red Velvet. I say maybe because if I checked, all the writing would disappear and I would have to start over again. However, I have wondered if those two swapped, how would PV handled the kingdoms? Would it be the same as DE or would the fates of each kingdom end up being swapped as well? It's something I definitely need to think on and develop.

Anyways, ramble break, here's a few doodles I did for Swap!PV!

Yeah, I had a lot of fun doing this. SO! A few changes not mentioned prior. Eyes! There are more eyes, especially on his coat. I took a bit of inspiration from a certain blue jester and his realm of nightmares. It also plays nicely with the whole "truth revealed" theme. Why not give the holder of the light of truth a bunch of opened eyes to represent his awakening? Also they looked good and his cape-coat was too plain without it.

Fun Head Canons: He's always floating, even when he's relaxing his feet never touch the floor. This PV still has a lily garden, it's just hidden away because while he still misses WL despite everything, he refuses to show weakness in front of others. His coat can take the shape of angel wings when angry and multiple eyes can appear when furious or in distress. Speaking of eyes, the ones on his coat glow. Those gems on him are pieces of moonstone that got corrupted after saving him.

As for the story behind him, I had to make a few adjustments. For one, DE and WL are two halves of the same whole, and the only reason either of them exists is thanks to precautions taken by Elder Faerie. Which means Pure Vanilla somehow has to get the stuff from Lily, who came to Beast Yeast without saying much of anything to anyone beforehand. Secondly, it means the Pure Vanilla Kingdom can't be the last kingdom explored. Pre Beast Yeast, the order in which the kingdoms would be explored would change, where White Lily's area would be explored first instead and the Vanilla Kingdom would be last. I'll address the second issue on a different post related to White Lily, but first things first. Fair warning, I wrote quite a bit.

~~~

After forming the seal, White Lily falls ill due to the immense amount of power used. She's not used to using so much of her soul gem, much less creating a seal to lock away ancient evils. Seeing her faltering state, Elder Faerie takes her away to his palace to help her recover. During her time in the palace, White Lily becomes distressed because not only does she feel like she's being a burden, but she won't be able to continue her research on how cookies were made. That was the whole point of coming here, after all. She left her friends and home behind to find the truth and ended up sick and bed ridden instead. The least she could do to redeem herself was to find the truth.

Racked with guilt and regret, she asks Elder Faerie for two favors; she wishes to know the secret behind cookies' creation, and she requests a pen and paper to write with. Before long, White Lily gains a messenger(Silverbell) who gives her books from the library to read, and a way to reach the one other person she understands. Someone who should've known where she was most of all. Pure Vanilla Cookie.

From there the two keep exchanging letters as White Lily brushes up on fae and beast lore. But eventually White Lily would learn about the Night of the Witches in a similar enough way to canon, i.e. finding the book about it. While she's recovered enough, she's still not well enough to go, and Elder Faerie isn't risking her well being and safety for a banquet. She's devastated that her questions may never be answered. If only she could go, if only there was some way to witness it while being in the Fairy Kingdom. And then... she realizes something. Perhaps there is a way for her to know after all...

White Lily, in the discomfort of her hospital bed, writes a letter to Pure Vanilla and asks him to go to the Witch's Banquet in her place. She knows that this is a huge ask, and he has every reason to refuse the favor, but it would mean the world to her if he did. Elder Faerie hears about this and is rightfully worried, telling her about the dangers, and any cookie that goes doesn't come back the same, if at all. He sends his own letter to Pure Vanilla to warn him of the dangers that lie ahead. A few more letters come in from WL apologizing for her request, saying it was out of line and inappropriate. "What a selfish request," she thinks, "after leaving him in the dark for so long, I have the nerve to ask him for anything at all?"

However, despite everything, he eventually decides to go. He knows that this means everything to her, and a part of Pure Vanilla secretly wondered about it as well. White Lily searched heaven and earth to find the truth so she could help others. Why would he keep avoiding it for so long? If he knew the truth as well, perhaps he could use these secrets to help the people of Earthbread alongside her. Maybe now he would finally understand White Lily more.

He wrote a letter addressed to both WL and EF about his final decision. White Lily is surprised at his decision, and is eternally grateful, while Elder Faerie is more resigned and concerned, knowing that he won't be able to change his mind but still wanting to help. He asks her to help write her next letter, and the two send a package to Pure Vanilla. Inside was another letter with the faint smell of lilies, as well as a map to the location of the banquet and a moonstone from Elder Faerie as a show of goodwill and for protection. He in turn sends what would become his final letter to her, unbeknownst to the two reading. He expresses his gratefulness to both WL and EF and declares his determination to find answers both for her and for the sake of everyone, stating, "Let me be your hope when you have none, and you my guiding light in shadows..."

Pure Vanilla proceeds to head to the Witch's Banquet, discovers the bitter truth, and in his attempts to save the other cookies falls into the ultimate dough. The fleeting scent of lilies is the last thing he grasps in his final moments, and the faint glow of a moonstone ensures his survival. His soul gem shatters under the weight of the truth and is scattered across the world, longing to be made whole once again.

~~~

Well! I think I have said everything I can say about him for now. I'm sure I can come up with more things later, but if you read this far, thanks for reading! I did not know I was going to say this much, so yeah. Next post is for White Lily specifically, I hope. I'm also taking suggestions for ideas about the other kingdoms and ways this could go, so if you have anything to suggest, let me know. Y'all have a good evening!

[kathlare]

curls of the past

Lando Norris x Amelie Dayman

Summary: Lando reflects on his past relationship with Amelie while sitting in a salon chair, contemplating how to style his hair.

Wordcount: 1.1 k

Warnings: none

full masterlist // request over here!

October 1st, 2022 - Marina Bay, Singapore

Lando stared at himself in the mirror, the buzzing of the clippers vibrating through the air. He’d been sitting in the salon chair for a while now, fingers tapping nervously on the armrests. The Singapore Grand Prix was just around the corner, and the last thing he needed was to be preoccupied with his hair. Still, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. He didn’t quite know how he wanted it to look.

—Just a trim, yeah?— the stylist asked, glancing over at him as he worked his way through his messy curls.

Lando hesitated for a moment, unsure of what he wanted. He usually just let the stylist do whatever, but today something felt different. His mind wasn’t focused on the race, or the next media day, or even the fans. No, today it was different. Today, his mind kept wandering back to one person.

Amelie.

She had always loved his curls. It had been one of the first things she’d said when they’d hung out for the first time, back during their pandemic gaming sessions. She’d called them "wild" in a teasing way, but there was something in her eyes that made him feel... seen. He hadn’t really given much thought to his hair before that, but after she said that, it kind of stuck with him. She always ran her fingers through his curls when they’d hang out—before everything fell apart.

Lando rubbed the back of his neck, looking at his reflection again. His curls had grown longer over the past few months, not quite as wild as they used to be, but still thick enough to fall out of place at the wrong moment. He thought about just getting it cut short, neat, clean—something professional—but that wasn’t it. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but he remembered her touch.

—Actually,— Lando said, breaking the silence. —Maybe just leave it... leave it a bit longer. Just... keep the curls.—

The stylist looked at him with a slight raise of the eyebrow, clearly surprised. —You sure? Most people want it a little more controlled. I can cut it shorter and tidy it up a bit more, if that’s what you want.—

Lando stared at his reflection. He could already picture her face in his mind, the way her eyes would light up when she’d run her fingers through his hair. That was the look. The real Lando. Not some clean-cut version of himself that didn’t quite feel like him.

—Yeah,— Lando said, his voice firm now, a slight smile playing at the corners of his lips. —Just leave the curls. Let them be what they are.—

The stylist shrugged and continued working, but Lando’s thoughts were a million miles away. He thought about how much he missed those moments. It wasn’t just about the hair. It was about her. The way she made everything feel so easy, so light. They’d been good together, or at least, he’d thought so. But the timing, the distance, everything about their relationship had fallen apart. He knew that, and he also knew that she wasn’t coming back. Not now, not ever.

She’d gotten busy, he’d gotten distracted, and before they knew it, everything they had—whatever it was—had crumbled into nothing. It was a mess, and it hurt more than he’d cared to admit. But after a while, he buried it. He buried the part of him that had wanted something more with her, something real. She’d been too busy for him, or so he’d told himself.

But Lando never really got closure. He just... let it go. He buried it under distractions—other girls, races, whatever he could find to fill the empty space she’d left.

Now, here he was, sitting in a salon chair, letting the stylist shape his hair in a way that wasn’t for anyone but himself. It wasn’t for the public, or sponsors, or anyone who expected a neat, polished version of him. No, this was for the Lando who had shared quiet, private moments with Amelie. The one who had let her run her fingers through his curls, who’d laughed and talked with her until late hours, who had let her become part of his world in a way no one else had ever managed to.

He stared at his reflection again, his fingers trailing over the curls that still clung to his scalp. It wasn’t just hair. It was a reminder of something real—something that no amount of flings or distractions had been able to replace.

The stylist finished with a final snip and stepped back. —There you go. Looking good, yeah?— he asked, with a smile that seemed to say he knew what he was doing.

Lando ran his fingers through his hair, pulling it back slightly to see the way it fell around his face. His curls were there, unruly and free. They were him. And for the first time in a long time, he felt a strange sort of peace.

As he stood up and paid the stylist, the reflection staring back at him wasn’t just a version of Lando Norris that was ready for the Singapore Grand Prix. It was a version of himself that was closer to the one he had been when he was happiest. The Lando who didn’t need to hide behind perfection, the Lando who just... was.

He walked out of the salon, the night air hitting him in a way that felt almost refreshing. But even as he took in the familiar sights and sounds of Singapore, his mind couldn’t stop drifting back to Amelie. He had no right to expect anything from her anymore, especially with everything that had happened between them. But somehow, deep down, he couldn’t help but wonder if there was still a part of her that remembered him the way he remembered her. Would she ever forgive him for how things ended? Could they ever be something again?

But that wasn’t something he could control. He couldn’t force it. He could only move forward, do his job, and let whatever happened, happen. He was a professional—he knew how to keep his emotions in check. But tonight, with his curls just the way they used to be, a small part of him wished for something more. Something he had once had, but lost.

As he made his way back to his hotel, he didn’t think about the race. He didn’t think about sponsors or press conferences. All he thought about was the quiet moments he’d once shared with her—the easy way they’d talked, laughed, and just been together. It wasn’t just the curls she loved. It was the raw, unfiltered version of himself he had let her see.

And for the first time in a long time, Lando wondered if he could ever get that back.

[marsbutterfly]

Another Form of Love

a/n: this was originally written a couple years ago for my wife, @tsukidrama. I did revamp it a little bit but it is entirely based on her fic called "The Road Not Taken."

warnings: lmao, none. this is pure fluff. wc: 1.4k

Late-night meetings with the Alliance had become Annie's new routine. There hadn't been a single night throughout the week where she didn't get home before 11 p.m., maybe even later than that. She would barely listen to a single word they were saying, not even pretending to pay attention to the boring sentences that left Armin’s mouth. Her mind was completely elsewhere, a place she had left her heart at before making her way to the boat.

She couldn’t stop thinking about you. She barely had time to spare for even a cup of coffee, let alone for you or her father, and, to make things worse, she couldn't stop worrying about how the two of you would get along spending so much time together without having her around.

In the past, the two of you had been known to bicker. Small disagreements over what to make for dinner had turned into yelling matches about all the mistakes he had made while raising his daughter. All the times you have bitched him out while telling stories of a sobbing version of Annie that you had to comfort as she cried about her past.

She couldn’t deny that she was afraid of leaving the two of you alone for too long, but her presence during these meetings seemed to be more and more important these days, even if she was a silent shadow, unable to focus on whatever the subject was.

This night was no different: dealing with Armin talking about politics for over three hours and Pieck outsmarting him at every step of the way as he described his plan. Jean and Connie cracking jokes here and there while Reiner looked so tired, he might actually have fallen asleep with his eyes open for a second there.

By the time the car dropped her off at the cottage, she was exhausted and ready to go to bed. Her feet were hurting from wearing these ridiculous heels, her head was pounding and the idea of walking from the gate to the house seemed like an actual nightmare, but before she could get too distracted by her own misery, a distant sight caught her eye. The image of you and her father, the man spinning you around with certain difficulty but graciously at a certain level.

Her heart speeds up in her chest and she doesn’t even notice just how big her smile is until her cheeks start to hurt.  It is the most endearing thing she has ever seen and, before either of you have time to see her, she quietly rushes to hide behind a relatively large bush.

Though she doesn’t need to be super careful, you are using every bit of your attention to make sure you don’t step on his toes, giving him the fake sensation that he is the one leading the dance. Your arm rests on his shoulder (upon his request), even though you don’t put nearly any weight on it in hopes of not putting extra stress on his injured leg.

From inside the house, the upbeat melody continues to play and it blends with the sound of your laughter. The two of you stumble around, dancing to the music. Though you would never tell him this, he was the one who taught you how to dance like this, who taught you how to spin and embrace the music with a relaxed body and mind.

Finally, the music comes to an end, and the two of you part ways. Your face feels warm, though you can’t tell if it is from embarrassment or from this workout session, your forehead is sweaty and your breathing is heavy, but the smile on your face could not mean anything short of absolute joy.

"Think you have one more in you?" He taunts and you laugh softly, already thinking about what vinyl you will play next once the final song is over but, as you are about to make your way into the house and take a look at his collection of records, a few drops of rain begin to fall from the sky. With the back of your wrist, you wipe away the droplets of salty liquid that rest on your forehead.

"We always do at least three albums," you say, taking your place back against him, his hand finding its way back to yours, "I'm not going to chicken out now, not because of a bit of rain!"

Finally, the last song begins to play and your feet gain a life of their own. Papa's hand finds a way towards your lower back and you, once again, support most of his body weight so he will be able to move in a more swift manner.

When the rhythm starts to pick up, the two of you begin a battle of wills, trying to see which one is more fit to lead the other. One arm crosses over the other, legs trip over on themselves and, ultimately, the two of you end up on the ground.

For a few seconds, you have a concerned look on your face, scared that the man would find himself in more pain than usual. The tension in the air is so thick that you could nearly cut it with a knife and Annie wonders if she should rush to assist her father.

As she takes one step out from behind the bush, she hears a sound she is not at all used to: her father’s laughter. The man places both of his hands behind his back for support, his legs extended before him while you immediately stand up.

It’s hard for her to see from the spot she is in, but from what she can tell, Papa has his ass on the ground, hat resting by his hands while you place both of your fists on your waist, head tilting to the side as you think for a couple of seconds about what is the best way to deal with the situation at hand.

The rain gets stronger and there is nothing you can do to lift this heavy, disabled man off of the ground, at least not without Annie's help. The best you can do for the time being is to loop your arms underneath his armpits and drag his body underneath the closest tree.

Lucky for you, as soon as his back comes in contact with the trunk of the tree, Annie's figure begins rushing towards the two of you, her heels in one hand while the other holds her purse above her head in an attempt to protect herself from the rain.

"What are you two doing out here?" She asks, holding back a smile while knowing damn well what the two of you were up to. You look away for a second, trying to come up with a lie but you realize that there is no reason not to tell her.

"We were dancing in the rain," Papa responds before you have a chance to. The two of you share a look before glancing at the blonde girl before you, her heart overflowing with love. There is nothing she wanted more for you and her father to get along and small things like this were enough to make her realize how lucky she is.

"Why are you on the ground?" She asks, placing her things down and putting her hair up in a bun, trying to get as much visibility as possible, even with all the water falling down her face. She wraps one of her father's arms around her shoulders and nods with her head for you to follow her lead, which you do without a second thought.

Together, the two of you manage to get the man up on his feet and, with the three of you working together, you make it to the house with enough time to not be completely soaked and still catch the last twenty seconds of the melody.

Once Papa is fully situated and has gone into the shower, Annie turns to you, lacing your fingers with hers as she looks deep into your eyes, "Will you give me the honor of dancing outside with me?"

“In the rain?” You laugh and she smiles, her thumb brushing over your knuckles.

“What? You haven’t had a Leonhardt Overdose yet, have you?” She teases and you continue to laugh. She may not be his biological daughter, but she sure has the exact same type of humor her father does. Your free hand comes up to her face, gently cupping her cheek as you bring your face closer. Once your foreheads touch, you close your eyes and enjoy her warmth for a split second before whispering,

"I would be delighted."

[sleepingdayaway]

You're my baby and I love you so much!

I got Hyrule Warriors on the switch and I was able to get Young Link unlocked as a warrior. Just seeing him and how tiny he is makes me love him even more. Idk if it's obvious yall but I might have favorites (Time)

Characters: Warriors, Time (younger version), Reader.

Warnings: Mentions of fights? We're in Hyrule Warriors yall

The air was tense.

The screeching of bokoblins following the attack of hyrulian soldiers.

The pains of anguish from said soldiers as they fought back against them.

Currently the Princess of Hyrule is leading an army against the opposing commander of the monsters around Hyrule field. Being completely honest, this was a unexpected attack but who ever is leading was pretty damn good.

Taking the charging attack on the final keep was the Legendary Hero, Link. Who recently saved the castle from the forces of Ganon. It was supposed to be another simple clean up, since there are still monsters from when the portals brought them in from different ages.

Including other warriors from those ages; Daruina, Ruto, Fi, Midna, Agitha. They all helped to protect their homes from the evil that wanted to spread across the realms. Gradually, with long and enduring battles with a few close calls did their efforts finally show.

But that meant that whatever was leaked out was still around, and that meant having to continue fighting.

The training sword cuts through flawlessly in the enemies, as Link expertly moves through the the fight. Never once removing his eyes from the monsters in front of him, which made him slightly vulnerable from behind.

A huge bokoblin notices this small error, and sneaks up with it's weapon at the ready. Making sure that he's surrounded as the others distract him, it lunges for a strike before it gets knocked down suddenly. The surrounding bokoblins jumps away when the body falls to the ground, they all screech in realization and furiously turn towards the person that attacked.

There stood [Name] with a huge frown on their face as they readied their weapons, twin cross bows. Credits to Linkle who happily lent them extras. Zeroing in on the monsters without hesitation as they backed up Link, speeding up on taking over the keep.

Once the rest of the soldiers appear to take over on guarding did they both rest for a bit. Link, sheepishly stared at [Name], as said person narrowed their eyes at him.

"You need to watch out from behind too, I can't warn you like how I used to, Link."

"I know, I'm sorry. I guess I got used to you always being with me, that I forgot you have an actual physical body now."

This was something they also were getting used to, being physically in the battle and not just controlling Link. When [Name] first appeared they panicked and refused to interact with anyone since they were afraid that the others would assume that they were a spy. Thankfully, it was Lana who found the [hair color] first and helped before leading them to the others; it wasn't until the battle was over did they all finally introduce each other.

Link recognized their voice immediately, the person who helped him during the war, and latched onto them like a leech.

Now here they were assisting everyone in making sure everything goes smoothly. Only 1 keep remains and it's the final one, the one that holds the person that orchestrated this attack.

Sprinting across the land to reach the final keep before they could think about running away. Link and [Name] made it to one of the entrances as they prepared their weapons.

Looking inside the building, it was filled with the other monsters that filled the other keeps. Except in the middle where it appears they're all surrounding their leader.

The sound of the monsters fades away as the familiar melody of an ocarina fills their ears. Link tights his grip on the master sword as he prepares his body to attack, meanwhile [Name] perks up at the melody, having recognized it from somewhere.

The song plays before it falters for a moment. It picks up again, but stops once more as if they're trying to play by memory.

The monsters part out of the way, so [Name] and Link can see the figure much more clearly.

A small child, who looks no older than 10 years old stands with his back facing them, a mask resting on the belt stares at the duo. As if knowing they were behind him; did he put the ocarina away before fixing the mask on his head. The other mask is still boring holes onto them, a dark menacing aura flows freely from it.

Until it stops.

The blonde turns around as he places the mask over his face; pulling out a sword that's slightly bigger than him and swings it around clumsily. That causes the Keaton mask to slip from his face, but he catches it before it call fall to the ground. Rearranging it to it's original position on his head.

He lifts up the sword again and looks up at [Name] and Link. A smile on his face.

How do they explain to Zelda that this is a child who looks exactly like fucking Link.

Link's grip on his sword falters, a child-

There was no way he could harm one. It must be some sort of twisted joke, but it couldn't be. Before heading over here the entire army searched every inch of land to make sure everything was cleared.

The Hero looks at his companion to see if they could do something that doesn't involve fighting, but he noticed that they're no longer next to him. Instead [Name] has already jumped in; their crossbows discarded on the ground.

Now, in their arms in the young boy, who looks up at the [hair color] person as they held him close. "LINKKKK- OH LOOK HOW SMALL YOU ARE"

The boy, Link, scrunches his face at their voice before they widen once he realized who was holding him.

A grin grows on his face as he tried to embrace [Name] back with his small limbs. Which in turn causes them to cry at the action.

Quickly rushing in to finish off the monsters that surrounded them, (Warriors) Link attacked the enemies as the other two hold each other.

Warrior's made sure they're all gone before staring at the duo with a dumbfounded expression. "Uh, sorry for interrupting a heartfelt moment, but how do you two know each other?"

[Name] looks at him before setting down Young Link, "Well, for starters he's also another person that I helped before-"

Young Link, once on the ground throws himself back towards them and attached his body at [Name's] hip.

That causes them to choke up again as tears welled up in their eyes.

"Augh-! You're my baby! You're my baby and I love you so much-"

[mcuamerica]

The Shadowsinger: Seventeen

Warnings: 18+. Minors DNI. angst, Az is a bit of an asshole in this, mentions of parental abuse, mentions of death/grieving, fluff, canon level violence, ACOTAR series spoilers. If I forgot anything, please let me know!

Pairing: Azriel x Fem!Reader

Summary: You join the IC in their visit to Hewn City.

Disclaimer: I do not own SJM’s characters or plot lines, only the ones I create for the purpose of this story. This is a work of fiction. I do not give permission to repost my work on any other platform or medium. Please be respectful.

My graphics are my own. If you wish to use them, please give credit!

Series Masterlist

Twelve - Thirteen - Fourteen - Fifteen - Sixteen

“Rhys wants you to join us at the Court of Nightmares.” Azriel said the next day during your breakfast. 

You looked up from your meal, glancing around at the Illyrians sitting around you. “You’re going to the Court of Nightmares?” You asked. 

“Yes… unfortunately. We’ll need to call in the Darkbringers soon… and we need something for the Queens.” He said. 

“Why does Rhys want me there?” You asked, moving around your food. The thought of going to the Court of Nightmares didn’t sit well with you. You might be able to handle the Illyrians… but the residents of Hewn City were different. You remember being stuck Under the Mountain, fashioned after the city. Your thoughts drifted to the horrors you went through there. If Under the Mountain was fashioned after it… 

Azriel rested a hand on your knee, low enough under the table the other Illyrians couldn’t see. He and the shadows sensed the direction of your thoughts. “Because you’re part of the Inner Circle now.” He said. “And you’re one of us. We would never let anything happen to you.” 

Your eyes shifted to his hand, the gentle squeeze he gave you grounding you back to reality. “I’m part of the Inner Circle?” You asked. 

“I’m pretty sure Rhys thinks of you as his sister, so yes.” He said, pursing his lips to hide his smile. 

“And what do you think of me as…” You asked, leaning closer to him. To hell with what the Illyrians thought. You were falling hard for the male next to you and if that made you weak… then so be it. 

Azriel studied your eyes, the smile finally slipping from his lips. “So much more.” He whispered, then leaned back. “Finish your meal. I have a surprise for you.” He said and stood up, squeezing your shoulder. “Meet me at the Far East training ring in ten minutes.” He said before walking out of the mess hall. 

You took a deep breath, shaking the thought of him from your mind as you finished your meal. In five minutes, you appeared at the training ring, seeing a smaller version of the qualifying course set up. “This is where the males practice before they officially try the course.” Azriel said. “Five laps for warm up, stretches, and then you’ll run this until you finish in under ten minutes.” He said. 

You bit your lips. “Powers at all?” You asked and he shook his head. “Only training weapons.” He said, nodding to the weapons rack. 

“When did you set this up?” You asked and started stretching out your arms and legs for the day. A flash of his head between your legs went through your mind and you turned away, studying the course. You couldn’t be distracted. 

“When you were still sleeping this morning.” He answered. 

He made you run the course all day, only breaking for lunch. By the end of it, you had finished it in 15 minutes. You couldn’t get past the large rock wall that was set up. How in the Cauldron Azriel dragged that over here, you couldn’t figure it out. Unless Rhys came over and transported it with his magic. 

You were sore and exhausted by the time night fall came, just in time for Rhys to walk into the cabin. Azriel looked up from where he was rubbing your shoulders. Your felt heat rise to your face, hoping Rhys wouldn’t say anything. Friends could give each other massages… 

“I see you two are on speaking terms now.” Rhys said and leaned against the table next to the door. “Did Azriel tell you about Hewn City?” He asked. 

You shifted and faced him, Azriel’s hands falling from your shoulders. His shadows came and swirled around your back instead, the cool sensations relaxing you further. “Yes… I’ll go.” You said. “He also told me you had Feyre go to the Weaver’s Cottage to retrieve a ring? Please don’t tell me you plan on proposing to her with it.” 

Rhys only smirked in response. “How’s training? You’re using your Siphon properly? Don’t need two?” He asked. 

You shook your head. “As powerful as I am, one training Siphon is enough. I can’t imagine what it was like when you and Cass were trying to use them.” You said, turning to face Azriel. 

Azriel shrugged, putting on that cool mask he wore almost all the time. “Anyway, I’m doing fine. When do we go to Hewn City?” You asked. 

“Tomorrow… you’ll be there so I can introduce you as the emissary to the Illyrians. It may come in handy when we’re in battle with the Darkbringers.” Rhys said. 

You hummed and took a shaky breath. “I don’t have anything to wear.” You said. You remembered what they wore in Hewn City and you definitely didn’t have anything close to their fashion. You weren’t sure you even wanted to wear that. If you were being shown as an emissary, you would need to be dressed as one of his court, not a warrior like Az or Cassian. 

“Amren will find you something… it might be revealing.” He said, looking at you for a few moments. You simply shrugged, knowing exactly what he meant. 

“I can handle it.” You said and smiled. “You want me back at the House tonight, I assume?” You asked. 

“Only if you want to come.” He said and you nodded, looking at Azriel as he stood up and held out a scarred hand. You took it and stood up slowly. “This one here had me running all day…” you said and nudged Azriel’s shoulder. Your wings were even sore. He refused to let you use them in the course. 

Rhys chuckled and held out a hand for both of you, quickly winnowing you above the house. You all glided into the balcony and you grabbed Azriel’s bicep to steady yourself. 

Amren did find a dress for you to wear. Well… dress was a strong word for the fabric. It had a tight fitting bodice, only covering your breasts, abdomen, and your underside, thankfully covering your rear. Other than that, it was completely sheer black material, with swirling designs that complimented your shadows. Mor helped you curl your hair and put some kohl on your eyelids. You knew it wasn’t as much as most of Hewn City, but you would fit in well enough. You were representing Rhysand’s Court. And you would do as good of a job as you could. 

You were glad to see Feyre, and she actually pulled you in for a hug. She had filled in all of her curves, you could tell she was sleeping better. She told you about her trip to the Weaver’s Cottage. And that she went to the Bone Carver in the Prison. Az hadn’t mentioned that. 

“Training with Cassian going well?” You asked as you slipped on the heels Mor gave to you. Her outfit for the Court was much more revealing than yours, but you knew she was playing a certain part. You may not agree with it, but you knew Rhys had a plan. You knew Feyre was meant to play a part while they went to get the Orb to show to the Queens. You were glad Rhys didn’t ask you to join them in the Mortal Lands.

“He really doesn’t let up.” Feyre said and you laughed. 

“You should try training with Az… he’s even worse. But I’ve heard Mor is the worst.” You said and smiled, standing up. “You need anything in Hewn City today… you let me know.” You said and squeezed her shoulder. 

She nodded and gave you a small smile. You went down to the living room and waited for the boys to come down. Instead, you saw Azriel step out from the shadows, staring intently at you. You were very aware of the lack of clothes. It was much different than your leathers. 

You couldn’t help but shift under his gaze, watching as he slowly stalked over to you. “You look… perfect.” He said, stopping so close to you that you had to look up. 

“Perfect for Hewn City or just perfect?” You asked, eyes wide as you stared into his own. 

“Both.” He rasped. 

You weren’t sure you could stand next to him this entire night if he was staring at you like that the whole time. Luckily he would slip in between the shadows to grab the Orb while you stayed with Cassian. You were also to be there as another distraction, similar to Feyre, but to serve as another female in the court. With you, hopefully they wouldn’t notice Az.

“I have a mission for you,” Rhys chipped in. He most definitely was in your mind. 

“Yes?” You asked, turning towards your High Lord. 

“I’m introducing Feyre and you… but Feyre has a different kind of job. Your job tonight is to show you are one of my warriors as well… so if anyone gets out of line… I’m going to give you permission to test out your new Siphon on them.” He said. 

Your eyes widened slightly. “You- you want me to hurt someone?” You asked. 

“You will have to do it eventually…” Rhys said. 

“They’ll deserve it.” Azriel said and you glanced towards him. 

“So I get to be your guard dog? A lackey?” You asked. “No… Rhys no. I was Amarantha’s Shadowsinger for too long. I- I can’t take orders… not like that. Not to hurt someone.” You said and shook his head. He always gave you a choice. He wouldn’t make you do it if you didn’t want to. 

“You can’t seriously think that someone in the Court of Nightmares is as innocent as the ones you hurt under her.” Azriel spoke up. It struck something in you. What did he know of the people you hurt… killed for her? Did he understand that at some point, you enjoyed it? When you were slowly torturing Illyrians that turned their backs on the Night Court, on their own families? Like that one male had done to you? Did he know that Amarantha made you stand and watch as she killed hundreds of children in the Winter Court? That you were the one to help the daemati slip in between the shadows? He didn’t know any of it. He couldn’t possibly understand.

You turned towards him, narrowing your eyes. “I will not be someone’s lackey. I will not hurt someone under another’s orders.” 

“Rhys is your High Lord. You will have to do it eventually.” He said. “What happens when someone threatens him? Or Feyre? Will you just stand by?” 

“That’s different.” You growled out. How could he expect you to just.. follow Rhys blindly. What if he asked you to harm someone that you didn’t want to hurt. What if he thought they were guilty when they weren’t? You trusted Rhys with your life. And he’s never led you wrong before. But that doesn’t mean you’ll follow him to no end. 

“Is it?” 

“I don’t take orders to harm others anymore.” You said firmly. 

“Some Illyrian you’re going to be…” He growled. 

Your heart dropped, looking at him for a moment. “What’s your problem?” You asked, narrowing your eyes. It was like all the progress you made these past two months went out the window. 

“Ready?” Feyre called from the stairs. You all turned towards her. You could smell the arousal that came from Rhys and you shoved him to the side. 

“Let’s go.” You ground out, watching as Mor and Cassian came down. The simmering rage that subsided these past few weeks was about to boil over. You took Mor’s hand, staying away from Azriel. Your skin was crawling at what he said. Some Illyrian… as if you can’t be a strong Illyrian and have your own principles. 

Mor glanced between the two of you and winnowed you to the Moonstone Palace atop Hewn City. 

Soon enough, you were waiting before the throne room with the rest of them. Rhys wanted to make a certain entrance. 

“Don’t be upset with him. Trips to Hewn City puts everyone on edge.” Rhys said in your mind. 

You glanced over to him and didn’t answer, but let the irritation show on your face. When he didn’t say anything, you shifted. “You’re my High Lord, I have to protect you.” You snapped back to him, still sensing him in your mind.  

“I’m your brother,” he said and you looked over to him. “By bond. Like Az and Cass are my brothers. You’re my sister. And you have no obligation to defend me if I don’t deserve it.” 

You looked at him for a few moments, frowning slightly. Flashes of Oran ran through your thoughts. He was your brother by bond… and he was dead. You couldn’t save him. What made you think you could save Rhysand, the most powerful High Lord you’ve ever heard of. But Rhys deserved you defending him. He’s given you a new life and you owed him everything. More than everything. 

“I’ll speak with you mind to mind if something happens. You tell me if you want to handle it or not.” He said, most likely seeing the same thing. You nodded to him as you watched the doors open. 

Once Rhys was seated with Feyre on his lap, Az disappeared to go get the Orb and you waited with Cassian. Your wings were stretched out as much as his, and your official Siphon was displayed on your left hand. It was a dark purple, your killing power swirling inside of it. Your shadows swirled around you, as if protecting you from the eyes of the people. You almost wished you were in ironclad armor like Cassian was. It would make you look a lot less like a side piece and more like the warrior Rhys wanted you to seem. Why did he have you dress like this when he also wanted you to be his warrior? You know it was for distraction, but you wondered if it would’ve caused too much uproar to have a female here in armor. 

You stood next to Rhys and Feyre once they got up. You heard what Keir said to Feyre: you’ll get what’s coming to you, whore. 

At that moment, Rhys asked you mind-to-mind to restrain Keir. You didn’t need another moment to think about it. Maybe it was Hewn City indeed putting you on edge. But you knew it was to protect Feyre. She was your friend. She saved you. And you wouldn’t let someone like Keir get away with calling her a whore. 

You put out your hand, your power swirling around him until he was on his knees. Your shadows did the rest and held his hands behind him. You might have instructed them to go just a little tighter than necessary. He wasn’t getting out but that didn’t mean you wouldn’t inflict a little pain. Did he not understand that Feyre was the one who saved all of you?

Rhys ordered Keir to apologize, and when he didn’t, he began breaking bones. You were happy to watch. Mor told you what he did to her. And insulting Feyre… you would’ve gladly broken his bones. But this was Rhys’s right. This was his mate he was defending. 

You saw Feyre sink closer to Azriel and Cassian while you kept Keir restrained. You let go, watching as he fell to the ground. 

You walked over to Az, Cass, and Mor. You took Mor’s hand, letting her winnow you and Cassian back to the House. 

You changed into your fighting leathers quickly, not wanting to stay in the dress much longer. You didn’t want to even think about Azriel coming to see you in your bedroom. In that dress. Especially after what he said to you. 

You needed to let off some steam, especially after seeing the Court of Nightmares. So much of it reminded you of Under the Mountain. It was much worse, but the memories it dragged up… you couldn’t just go to sleep. 

You ran a few laps around the ring, then started using the weights to do warm ups. As you worked, your thoughts drifted to your family in Valorworth, how your father used to beat you. How you were never good enough for him. You thought of Sirona and Igna, how you knew they would have protected Oran that final night when the fire roared through the camp. You eventually picked up a training sword, letting out all your thoughts into the wooden post. 

Your shadows told you that Azriel was in the stairwell before you heard his feet. The fact that you heard him made you aware that he wanted you to know he was there. “What?” You asked, striking the post with your training sword again. 

“Are you okay?” He asked. 

“I don’t know. Would a real Illyrian be okay after that?” You ground out, dropping your sword to the ground as you looked over to him. “Because I clearly am not. I guess you were right. I’m not a real Illyrian. I have emotions and principles and I won’t just blindly kill and hurt if it isn’t right.” You said, stalking over to him. “I won’t allow another high powered person to tell me to kill. To force me to tell them secrets. And I certainly won’t let anyone else let me feel smaller because of it.” You said, stopping not even a foot away from him. Your chests were almost touching. 

“Sounds like a real Illyrian to me.” He said and you pushed him back. His eyes widened and you clenched your fists. 

“I’m glad that you think so. Because I don’t care.” You did care. A lot. “Because your opinion means nothing to me.” It did. “Not when you insult me for standing up for myself.” That was true. 

“I-“

“No, you don’t get to talk. You don’t get to apologize. You doubted me.” You said, arms dropping to your sides. “You didn’t think that I would defend Rhys. Feyre. You- Do you have such little faith in me?” You asked. You failed your family before. You weren’t going to let it happen again. 

Azriel stayed silent, only walking over to you slowly. “I’m sorry.” He whispered. “I won’t justify what I said. I have some issues I clearly need to work out… but (Y/N)….” He tilted your head up. Tears were welling in your eyes. Why did his opinion mean so much to you? Why were you so frustrated? “You are the strongest female I know. And I have all the faith in the world in you. You’d go to any end to protect your family. To protect us…” he said, wiping away a stray tear. 

“I couldn’t protect them.” You whispered, your throat catching. 

“You did everything you could.” He replied, knowing exactly who you were talking about. You fell apart, a sob releasing as you cried into his chest. His arms wrapped around you, both of your shadows swirling to comfort you as well. He repeated himself, rubbing your back just under your wings as you cried. You couldn’t save your mother. You couldn’t save Sirona, Igna, or Oran. And the one person you thought would understand that doubted you today. If anything, you thought Azriel would understand that you didn’t want to keep doing the dirty work of a High Lord. Even if it was Rhys. 

Azriel promised himself to never doubt you again. He knew you would do whatever you could to keep them safe. Above all else, he knew that you would have more trouble forgiving yourself than you would anyone else. But Azriel would always be there to pick you back up, and put you back together.

A/N: Moving the story along...

Comments/Request Here

Series Masterlist

Join the taglist here

Tagging (thank you to everyone who is keeping up with this story! Let me know your thoughts so far!)

@cherry-cin@cleverzonkwombatsludge@nickishadow139@mybestfriendmademe@atomolvnar

@complete-randomness-2@lilah-asteria@tele86@mariahoedt@6v6babycheese@secretsthathauntus@krowiathemythologynerd@fightmedraco@he6rtshaker@kayla-rose15@aelincaddel

@mfri06@hauntedstudentobservationus@brieflyclassymortal@read-write-sleep-startover@krowiathemythologynerd@chxosangxl@ialwayscryatendings @tanyaherondale @randombibitch @plants-w0rld @etsukomoonbeam @riorgail

[heaven-s-black-box]

Notes- Like my Dad!; Jing Yuan & more

Return to File

Recovery date: December 19th, 2024

Description: Hello, I just had the cutest idea, for Jing Yuan, Blade, Sunday, and Jiaoqiu, what if the reader dressed up their toddler in a mini version of their father's outfit, ngl lie I think that would be so cute.

Notes: This work was recovered in conjunction with an anonymous researcher, we thank them for their contributions. This would be adorable, and probably angsty for some of them

Back to directory

Jing Yuan

His outfit is a pain and the only reusable part is the pants

The armor is all thin foam and stiff fabric

You don’t know where your child got their energy from because it certainly wasn’t their father

They. Will. Not. Sit. Still.

And they’re partial to the lion onesie Jing yuan got them, so they keep insisting they can just be Mimi

But Jing Yuan’s been having a rough week, so you’re determined

You get them dress just as the door opens, which means they’re too distracted to try and take it off

“Daddy!” “My, my, is that the dozing general of Luofu? To what do we owe the pleasure of such a distinguished guest?” “Daddy, it’s me!”

All in all, he thinks it’s adorable and is overjoyed

Blade

Your child’s development has been quite the journey for Blade

Even before his turn to cynicism he never saw himself as the fawning type

Sure, kids were cute, but cute kids were just cute kids

It was very different when it was his own, at least that’s how he found it

Your kid could never wear this outfit outside, unfortunately it was inappropriate to dress up as major terrorists

But Blade was away and even though he hadn’t said anything, the uptick in calls and texts told you he missed you two

So you had Kafka get the tailor that made Blade’s uniform to make you a smaller version

Your kid was overjoyed to dress up as their dad

“Where did you get that?” “Hi daddy!” “Hello little keeper. Now, Y/n, where did you get that?”

He’s happy, and honestly it reassures him that neither of you fear him

Sunday

I think Penacony Sunday’ kid would be dressed as him by accident

As the head of the Oak family, appearances are important and so it only makes sense his child would be well dressed

It’s not identically though, mostly just the same colors in a more child friendly outfit

If you were to actually dress your child up as him, i think he’d be sad because I don’t think he wants his child to end up like him

Fugitive Sunday though, I think like Blade he sees it as an extreme act of love

He’s done some bad things, he’s abandoned everything he ever knew but you’ve accepted that and love the new him

If you got together after he became a fugitive he sees it as an affirmation that he’s on the right track, and if you were together during Penacony he sees it as an affirmation that you still love him

“Da! Daaaa!” “What is it little-” “I’m you!”

All in all, a bittersweet moment

Jiaoqiu

If it’s before he’s blinded, he uses it as an excuse to take them to work and teach them stuff

He lets them play with some of his less expensive and easily acquired ingredients

Turns out his child has a knack for making poison… maybe he should start by teaching them how to cook

It’s a bit of a game, honestly, you and your kid stifling giggles as they ask to be picked up

You got the fabrics and textures matched exactly in hopes that he’ll be able to figure it out by feel

The way his face wrinkles in confuses as he doesn’t recognize the clothes is funny, and the outfit certainly isn’t right for a playful child

“What are you wearing? Did you get new clothes?” “I’m dressed like you!” “Is that so? Are you going to help me with my work then?”

All in all he has fun with it

[thisismeracing]

Midnight rider | MS47 (patreon)

read the full piece here

read the smau version for free here

* part of the 'college!mick' universe

― Pairing: college!mick x reader (she/her) ― Warning: curse words; mentions of insomnia and a brief mention of drug addiction (song context); 1k words. ― Summary: When you're in the middle of an insomnia night and text Mike, you weren't expecting him to show up at your dorm suggesting a ride on his bike.

▸ my masterlist | my taglist | patreon guide ▸ support my writing by reblogging, leaving a comment (don’t forget to follow me if you like the piece), or buying me a coffee

preview

Everything was perfect for a great night’s sleep. The weather was pleasant. Your comforter was warm enough. For the first time in forever, the girls from your building weren’t playing loud music or throwing a random party. There was no pending assignment from those typical hard classes. And you were done with all the extra readings – not that this was unusual. The point was: you should be sleeping. Any person in these temperatures, pressures, and conditions would be asleep. But as it happens, you had insomnia. It would visit you every once in a while. Depending on your grades, it could stay with you most of the semester, or show up only twice. 

And the thing about insomnia, and late-night thoughts was that they usually lead you to do things that in other conditions you would not – such as text your classmate who started to give you rides whenever you found each other late at night in the library. 

The worst thing was: you were tired! You wanted to sleep. So maybe that’s the reason why your brain couldn’t function properly and made you type a message that sounded more like a booty call especially considering the time. 

“So…mmh…you up?”

Mick, however, answered quickly and with humor.

“Is that a booty call?No way! Lol” and then, “Jokes aside, what are you doing up this late?”

He knew how to be funny in a discreet way. It was as if he was whispering his jokes only twice daily and you spent the whole time waiting for it. Maybe that was his nightly personality – funnier than during the day. 

You giggled and answered the text with a new thread of your own.

LOL stop!!!!

It’s my insomnia

What about you? Don’t you have any early classes?

It took him less than a minute to confirm that he did have an early class, and explain that he was studying, to which you apologized for interrupting, but Mick shot back:

Nah, dw

You wanna ride around town? It usually helps me relax when I can’t sleep

And just like that, he was at your door, honking his bike to tell you to hurry up, which led to you leaving your dorm wearing pajama pants and a random hoodie.

────── ⋆🪩 VOICEMAIL: Hi! I'm finally back for good this time (fingers crossed). I'm going through a lot family/personally-wise so feel free to reach out, request, interact, or whatever, I'm all in to distract myself with scenarios and fics <3 hopefully, this will help you guys as well. I hope you guys liked this lil sneak peek! Make sure to like and reblog if you did *mwah*

If you liked this piece and want early access to new ones and exclusive access to others, subscribe to my patreon!💘  ▸ check my main masterlist | patreon guide and my taglist.

©thisismeracing ― do not copy, steal, or translate my work; do not repost on a different media platform.

[no-ones-sunshine]

(Ooc)

It was kind of like going to a new place during my 11-14 year old era, playing that game where people ONLY focused on me, and had you guys but a lot more were actually evil, and the roleplay happened in real life- so not rp.

It started in a new house where I'm sure I stole it from someone else because it was beautiful and full of items, but I don't remember moving stuff in so. After babysitting 3 cats(Cookie and Greg's 2 cats), I started to work on a cat room they can all play in while texting you guys like friends in a group chat. I have no memory of what was being said, but I remember being happy to talk to you all and it was a little chaotic cus there was so many people online at once. A couple started asking why I was so quiet, so I texted what was going on, but I think my text actually sent something that felt concerning. I know it was yet don't remember.

Then my grandma came around and started shopping with me as the house morphed into a store. That's when I felt a bit of fear because of my dad possibly showing up again after years from that attempted kidnapping and grooming me. Then I phased through a wall only to check behind me and find the store gone, and I was in my hometown. I had a feeling that someone I knew was there from the groupchats so I started searching with people not being realistic (i.e. swallowing air until they puff up like a frog and squish on the ground, wearing knives through their flesh like extendo-weapons, or having very very long legs).

I kept running around until meeting maybe one of your vampire characters and he said he was waiting for me(I believe at this point I was a fusion of Miki and Night, my first character that is just me). He took me off to a school but it did not have that function at all and there was possibly a pizza party which I could hardly tell because I also saw a forest created with visuals of gore and static. I saw more of characters like yours with Kris, Fukuzawa (different design), and maybe Fyodor? While you guys had a party, I had a Miki moment where I couldn't see what was happening but I saw so many demons made out of those trees I saw, like a Van Gogh painting of malformed pain.

Then it somehow rained and washed all of you away where I felt myself standing in the house I started with. My step-nephew was there and he was still 9 so I had to babysit him along with everything else which wasn't so bad especially now that I was even bigger still to overpower him if he still acted like a witch over nothing. Then I got a call from a character who I can only describe as Taneda to find them, and another voice saying "Good job good job good job". Nonstop.

And so I ran off, I saw past locations my dreams had like a giant field you'd see in a 70s movie about the army. Empty too, where I once drove off the side and fucked up a semi-truck chasing me to the school. Then there were these roads from a field trip nightmare that I had to escape a murderer that was on the bus with me, on a farm. Finally the last place I clearly remember was this trailer park that I dreamt burnt down after a flood where the grown up versions of these kids that assaulted me irl died. The place I stopped at was in the town again and I stopped not cus I arrived to the needed location, but I heard a voice. I don't remember much audio in my dreams, I actually see a lot of speech in text, when it's kind enough to show me that.

The voice called me over to get me to be distracted, which I already was because for some reason I was thinking of these aesthetic pictures of abandoned playgrounds and fields with fairgrounds rusted and grainy. I still came over to what looked like a vampire/evil scientist/lonely poet/evil demon king's house. The second I entered this walkway with dog statues on either side, I felt I couldn't stand, walk, nor make a noise. My head stayed low while laying on my side and I heard the voice or my brain said I did again. He said something like how naive I was or some generic thing I was blamed and coddled for when I was younger on the roleplaying game.

I tried to give snarky remarks like always but I was given a heavy dose of shocks, and I could feel it. I felt it like that axe in my arm, or being assaulted by an ex. He came over Teen Titans Slade style but I can't remember his design so my brain just pictures Fyodor in his Halloween outfit. Then next thing I know it's the next day and I'm outside.

I tried to ignore the fact I got kidnapped and, whatever happened to me so I could text you guys. You guys thought I died too, which sorta makes sense. But I was very close with @tilskkarishma online. We talked about what happened and whenever I chatted to them, I saw the dark house. They come back soon.

Then my sister was with me at a row of computers while I got up to leave. Then her friends were yanking me back to play a game with them even though I had to meet with I think Fukuzawa and "Taneda". Then my sister questioned who the online friend was(Mori's mod) and I began to ask them about doing the kidnapping now. They didn't exactly agree.... but it's kidnapping so...

I had a vision that behind me they were making a very messy cow balloon full of organs and such, using the utters to twist into a shape. So I headed off but I guess my dream got sick of me postponing this meeting so I fell onto a wet sidewalk in the rainy night. Then I was guided by Taneda out of there to the location where I had a very heavy worry I would be assaulted cus of my age again but I woke up.

The End.

@paintedgrilledcheese here ya go!!

[collectingsorrows444]

Y’know how there are multiples of the different toons and they’re like.. technically their own species or something?

Operation Ichor Au! by @slumbrr-r (sorry again for the @ 😔)

I just HAD to make different versions of Kiran (this post will only show one for now <3) literally idk what about school makes me cook up ideas on the spot

Atlas! Atlas is modeled after the Atlas Moth (obviously). (I FORGOT TO DRAW THEIR HAIR IN THE LEFT CORNER??) (their cane has a wheel attachment to easily zoom around/it’s their personal preference) (They are ‘Kiran 3’ because there are technically more than one, but for now I’m sticking to three, so they’re literally family :> )

You guys already know what time it is.

(Yapping time)

Atlas (Kiran [ # ]1 or Kiran 2.0 but more yappy and loud) is cheerful and eccentric, constantly looking for Kiran and following around like her own shadow (if she’s not on the job). They are blind/visually impaired, but it doesn’t mean they’re helpless. They are aware of their surroundings with echolocation, feeling the vibrations and sounds around. Downside is that Atlas is a little less likely to notice anything if it’s in the air. Part of their own strike team, their ability is a branch of Kiran’s, but it’s called ‘Medusa’ and is more apparent.

I believe Atlas is around the same age as Boxten and Poppy is from the first two chapter during the exams?

[‘Medusa’ makes Atlas’s eyes glow and temporarily stun or shock the opponent for a few seconds enough for an escape or distraction— basically a flash-bang itself. They get migraines and too much adrenaline from it. The views from others seeing it being used may be just a ‘flash-bang’ as previously said, but to Twisteds (or the opponent), it’s practically analogue/analog horror. (Recommend me some analog horror please?? The Tangi Virus on YouTube was so crazy amazing!)]

Image 1: I also made this shawl irl :) I just too lazy to individually color each row 😭

Image 2: Atlas’s outfit is based off of my cultural background! The little illustration that they wear is called an Paj Ntuab (“flower cloth” — essentially a story cloth— and they were used to tell stories when there was only oral storytelling to those who did not speak the same tongue)

The ‘Kiran species’ are more likely to have carrier genes to cause physical disabilities or psychological issues.

You moths just always have tragedy in your blood, don’t you?

Also concept art of Atlas :)

Drawing Analysis

- Snakes: a symbol of protection, a dual between evil and good, wisdom, temptation, and healing.

- Four Snakes: a symbolism of toxicity in your life— you need to cut that person or thing out of your life if you want to find peace.

- Two-Headed Snakes: duality between opposing forces, a connection between two different worlds, renewal.

- ‘Medusa’: protection, guardianship and protection, warding off evil, ‘don’t believe yourself to be equal to gods’.

(Can you tell I love symbolism? I hope so)

The siblings btw <3 (The taller one is named Vienna.)

Song of the day :)

[miss-allsundays]

maybe it’s been said before but fuckkkk

i had known of course that just look my way had two versions, the og which was made by paranoid dj and the one sung by stolas’ VA, but i never really paid attention to the changes in lyrics??? well. until today.

(for reference, white background is the one from last december, the one in purple is the og version)

the first change i’ve noticed is the last two lines in both of these screenshots: in the og stols calls blitzø his ‘little impish plaything’, just like in truth seekers (fyi: the song was first dropped days before ozzie’s), whereas in the latest mv he uses a more affectionate petname- dearest- claiming also that he now “knows better” about the mistakes he made, about the nature of their arrangement (or at least what it’s based on), which is why he says he must let blitzø choose what he wants to do.

in the second change, there is a change in lyrics like before, but not just that; an entire part of the song (please bear with my lack of music-related vocabulary lmao) was taken off.

the main difference here is the broken heart≠ broken house line: it shows that, despite stolas surely caring for blitzø during s1, he doesn’t yet have strong romantic feelings for the imp, and instead he still views their relationship as something fun and carefree, a way to distract himself from the problems at home.

after everything that has happened, after s02e06, stolas has come to terms with being in love with blitzø, and he fears this rift between them will soon become permanent if he doesn’t act soon. he knows it’s not just about the full moon deal anymore, he’s putting his heart at stake.

the last difference is towards the end of the song; the pronoun changes (although i have no idea who stolas might be referring to when he says ‘she’ lmao), and now it’s clear to him that blitzø behaves the way he does because of trauma.

he knows he’s been hurt and left by those he cares about before, and he is aware that blitzø doesn’t believe his (stolas’) love to be genuine because he took advantage (even if subconsciously) of the fact that the imp needed the grimoire to make a living.

all in all, the song shows just how much stolas has grown. he understands and he cares for blitzø on a deeper level, which is why he doesn’t want to leave things as they are; or rather, stolas wants more out of their relationship than just sex, but he knows that if things stay as they are the two of them won’t work out.

he’s aware it might not end well, that blitzø might reject him and might not want to have anything to do with him aside from the deal. but he’s desperate, and he can’t stand this limbo in which their relationship has been thrown into, so he might as well try.

because the worst that could happen is being lonely and unfortunately he’s well accustomed to loneliness.