#It's the equivalent of getting possessed in every game)

[desultory-novice]

About the murder game, what would the victims do once they're killed and thrown back into the real world? Do they just wait for the others or do they simply leave to do their own thing?

I was going to say "stuck playing Tetris for hours on end" but then I thought that would be a waste of such immersive VR technology!

Clearly, the answer is to put them in the care of someone who is already a proven, responsible caretaker of people trapped in the digital world until the game resets!

Yes, I watched the pilot a few days after it came out! Dess keeping track of modern trends for once?! It's a miracle! Pomni is a darling(*) So is Ragatha and Caine, in his own special way, though I'm looking forward to whatever knowledge Jax is maybe holding onto as well?

(*) Assuming that the IHNMAIMS parallels end with Caine's inspiration, that is...!

TLDR, I'm enjoying it very much!

[innerfare]

You See His Cabin For The First Time  

Summary: You see their cabin (or in Sabo's case, his bedroom at the RA base) for the first time.

Characters: Luffy, Usopp, Zoro, Sanji, Ace, Sabo, Law, and Kid

Genre: Fluff

CW: None // SFW

——— 

Luffy: He's literally so proud of just his hammock. Insists it can hold the both of you and could probably hold the entire crew if you tried, asks if you want to try, asks you if you’re sure when you say no. Definitely has a couple of dirty dishes that he’s forgotten about, as well as a few wrappers on the floor. Has some fishing poles, a net, quite a few different games, and a bookshelf that’s full of both comic books and snacks so that he doesn’t have to go all the way to the kitchen if he gets hungry in the middle of the night. 

Zoro: Your first thought is, why does it smell so freaking good in here? You expected dirty laundry strewn around and the stench of sweat and maybe a hint of metal from those blades he was always sharpening. And sure, there is a hint of metal in the air, probably more from the many weights against the wall than his swords, but it also smells fresh, like laundry detergent. He has his own wanted posters on his wall- not just the current one, but the old ones, too, all of them lined up in order so you can see his increasing bounty. He also has a collection of unique booze bottles from all over the world, his equivalent of keeping a map with pins in the locations he’s visited. Oh, and there’s an anatomy coloring book and some markers that belong to Chopper that Zoro keeps in his room because sometimes when Chopper is having a bad day, he wants to chill with his dad big bro. 

Sanji: Sparkling clean, and yet, he’ll apologize anyway because the pillows aren’t fluffy enough, the rug isn’t completely straight, etcetera. His closet is very well organized, all of his clothes ironed and properly taken care of (Sanji’s the rare type to actually read labels and do his laundry accordingly). His most prized possession is a book on the All Blue, which he’s poured over countless times, using color coded tabs to flag various pages and writing detailed notes in the margins. He also came across one of Zeff’s old wanted posters in Loguetown, and he keeps it framed next to his own, the closest thing he has to a family photo.

Usopp: You’re surprised to find he has quite a bit of clutter in his small space. He has a collection of different style slingshots and a surplus of supplies to fix them should they ever break, as well as literal boxes full of special stars and ammunition. He has an entire set up rigged on his desk to create more, and some plants in his windowsill to grow ingredients. In addition, his bookshelves are heavy with various collections of fables and tales; he’s working on his own and hopes to publish it one day, but he doesn’t talk about it because he’s worried nobody will take him seriously, and you only learn about it when you see the notebook he left on his bed. He also has a couple of fun hats, crazy sunglasses, and feather boas that he definitely pulls out when the Straw Hats get a little too drunk. Oh, and there’s a picture of his parents on his nightstand. 

Ace: His cabin is pretty sparse because he tends to travel light. He has a collection of animal teeth secured from a menagerie of wild beasts he’s taken down over the years, and he’s very proud of those teeth. He'll tell you about each one if you ask, is practically bursting at the seems with stories. He has way more animal teeth than he does clothing or books. Also has a pretty sick tiger pelt for a rug (he had intended it as a blanket, but he runs so hot he can’t actually sleep with it). He has Luffy’s wanted poster on his wall, and beside it, a note reminding himself to send money back to Dadan on the first of every month. Buried in the chest at the foot of his bed, he has the original ASL flag. 

Sabo: His bedroom at the Revolutionary Army’s base is a total bachelor pad, and when you see it for the first time, it wasn’t planned, so he’s a little embarrassed by the state of it. He has some dirty dishes he forgot about, some dirty laundry on the floor, and a pile of books on his bed. He spends virtually no time there and probably wouldn’t even have furniture beyond a mattress on the floor if it wasn’t provided by the Revolutionary Army as part of his living quarters. That being said, he did pin Luffy’s and Ace’s wanted posters to his wall, and he has a couple of different lotions and skincare products on his bathroom counter. 

Law: You don’t know what you were expecting- would it be sterile like an operating room? You’re surprised to see comic books and a few action figures. He has some records, too- a bit of rock, some low-key emo music- and to your complete and utter surprise, a candy wrapper on his nightstand. And then there’s the coin collection on his desk, tiny pieces of metal he picked up on his many travels. You’re careful not to have a big reaction to his personality showing through for once. 

“I like your action figures.” 

“They’re kind of childish, but-” 

You cut him off before he can dismiss his own interests as dumb. “No, they’re not. They’re cool.” 

Kid: It’s as messy and ostentatious as you’d expect, but he sheepishly tries to fold the leopard-print blanket crumpled on the bed and put some laundry in the hamper, though you quickly deduce he has no clue which clothes belong in the hamper and which go in his closet. It’s shocking to see him care what someone thinks. He has a pile of lipstick and nail polish on his desk and an impressive collection of weapons he’s stolen from various pirates; he could probably open a museum with all the weapons he has. Also has lots of tools he forgot were in there. TBH, he’s probably as shocked as you are by the state of his cabin because he spends most of his alone time in his workshop, anyway. 

———

Hope you enjoyed it! If you want more, you can check out my masterlist here!

[stump-salsa]

A short defense of Tom Nook - not everything I have to say, but I still want to say it nonetheless. I commented it on a YouTube video if you recognise it from anywhere.

In the old games, Tom Nook was freshly hurt from his time in the city - Redd had just scammed him of everything he owned! He had moved to the city to try to accomplish his dreams but he was too pure and kind hearted to thrive in a place like that. Sable will tell you all about it in Wild World, and sometimes you can even get Tom talking about it himself.

“Sweet, young Tom Nook...

His call to arms, his ethos, was

"Dreams before money!"

He was so pure that people wondered if he'd survive this crazy old world. I did too. Every night before falling asleep, I would wish him...

“Please keep Tom Nook's pure spirit protected,"

I'd whisper in the darkness.

"Keep him safe from the apathy that breeds in the alleys of the big city...”

I don't know why I've told you so much about Tom Nook and I...

All those memories of our shared youth must bore you.

Please forgive me."

- Sable

He returned to his hometown with “my tail between my legs” to start all over again. So he didn’t have a house! No money, barely any possessions. In Animal Crossing e+, a version of the game that only released in Japan with some bonus features, you can bang on his door three times with a shovel or axe and force him to let you in. He’ll be in a little nightgown and cap and carry his pillow around, walk super slowly, buy things for less and sell things for more.

This is probably why he seemed more ‘mean’ in those older games. He’s trying to protect you from getting hurt like he did! He’ll even directly say he thinks his real job is to teach young people to not make the same mistakes he did.

“...Young [name]... I bet you think...

...that all I think about is money and how to make more of it, hm? Don't you?

[select Well, yeah.]

Well, perhaps you're right...

But I'm absolutely, 100% OK with that, hm? Indeed!

I like to think that it's my job to show you young people how hard life is!

As an adult, it's my responsibility. It's my TRUE job, if you will, hm?"

- Tom Nook

He donates 90% of his profits to an orphanage 3 towns over from his hometown, and I believe he has a hospital wing named after him - though don’t quote me on that.

And, just to add, while Timmy and Tommy aren’t his biological sons, he did find them and raise them himself!

That man is a SAINT. And I’m not even mentioning the fact that his loans are interest free, but YOU can earn interest on bells you keep in the ATM, and the fact that his loans aren’t even very expensive at all.

Bells are equivalent to Japanese yen (confirmed by the Switch items in New Horizons - the number of bells they cost is the same amount of yen they sold for when first released). Your house in New Horizons comes to around 5.6 million bells (or yen) in the end, which is equivalent to around £29,000 or about $37,000. That is an INSANELY low price for a beachfront house on a nice island like that! He’s mental to sell a house that cheap! He’s an angel.

[laiqualaurelote]

Hellooo! Paranormal investigator AU for Phrack, maybe? Thank you!!

thank you for the prompt! (from this AU ask game) This is a fun one. Though one could easily set it in the modern day, I would still set it in the 1920s, because that was such a fascinating time in terms of the spiritual and supernatural - you've got the Spiritualism revival that the show briefly explores in Death Comes Knocking, the rise of silent horror films like The Cabinet of Dr Caligari and Nosferatu, and the moral panic association between jazz and vampires, which is how you get the Jazz Age Vamp (taken literally in the Rivers of London second novel Moon Over Soho, which has vampires that feed on jazz).

Phryne is one such Jazz Age Vamp (not literally; she is perfectly human). She solves supernatural cases because she remains haunted by her sister's murder at the hands of necromancer Murdoch Foyle, which she has never been able to get him convicted for (it is very difficult to prove necromancy in a court of law). She is descended from a long line of witches on her mother's side. This means that Aunt Prudence is in fact a witch of considerable strength, but chooses to use none of it because Magic is Not Proper. As they have no female descendants, they adopt Jane into their line so she will inherit the power.

Jack is the detective inspector who keeps getting assigned all the cases with a whiff of the supernatural because nobody else wants to handle them. He has inadvertently become the 1920s Melbourne equivalent of the Folly (if you know Rivers of London). This is despite the fact that he is deeply skeptical by nature - had one too many run-ins with scam artists pretending to be mediums (the hypnotist whom Jane is forced to steal for is one such conman) - and is convinced that Miss Fisher is a fraud. After reluctantly solving multiple cases with her, he concedes ghosts are real but remains immensely annoyed about it.

Dot is a real medium who struggles to reconcile her gift with her Catholic faith. She falls in love with Hugh after being forced to exorcise him, because he is exactly the kind of idiot who would end up getting possessed on his first case.

Mac still works at the morgue, which is full of ghosts. She can see them but mostly ignores them ("are you trying to sabotage your own autopsy, madam? no? then go cry in the corner till I'm done. Thank you.")

Bert came back from the war. Cec did not. This has not stopped them from driving a cab together. Their cab can take you to any part of Melbourne, including the city of the dead. They are still Communists. They take the "spectre haunting" aspect of it very seriously.

Mr Butler has been working at Wardlow for the past century and plans to continue doing so indefinitely. Nobody knows if he is alive, dead, or undead; moreover they feel it is impolite to ask.

Every case in this AU has a supernatural element except Death Comes Knocking, wherein it is revealed that every single person involved is scamming everyone else.

Arthur Conan Doyle makes a cameo in Away With the Fairies. Harry Houdini makes a cameo in Death Defying Feats and spends most of it trashing Doyle's views on spiritualism.

Crypt of Tears is greatly improved by the crypt being full of actual undead.

[rubyroboticalt]

Minecrafters grab your pickaxes, and catch up on the QBLR QUATERLY!

What's up guys, update just dropped! It sure is something to try and decipher, huh. We've got pages of new stuff to go over, so let me learn you a thing about all the events and mishaps that happened on the server this week!

Steel gets possessed or something, not many details are available on that. Blood, gore, efforts to contain and combat the possession. I'm sure nothing went too awry. Steel's still possessed though, has all that viscera on their hands.

Mercury makes an underwater garden with every single crop in the game.

A children's library opens up with books for all the creatures to read! We are literate on this server.

Is that the Hollow Knight.

And now, some autistic Minecraft behaviors.

A wizard's tower is built on the beach, with a glassblowing studio outside on the sand. The Angel appears, and a clubhouse is built for it. It is unknown if the Angel actually goes into the clubhouse or if it is just built for it.

Splat finishes part of the solar system project! It's quite lovely. Cellu receives the equivalent of a pipe bomb in the mail for bug phobia havers.

And now, a reading from r/malelivingspaces: Beige carpet floor. Yellowed wallpaper. Popcorn ceiling with fluorescent lights. Extensive room with no pillars or supports. Ominous darkness. I think this is just the backrooms, folks.

In a perfect example of human greed harming the environment irreparably, somebody spilled oil in the bay. Alright, own up, this cleanup will cost millions and the server budget does not have that lying around.

In less disastrous news, Kirk finishes a castle!

Who let the entities out of the backrooms? Who did this? They are contained in there for a reason! We can't be letting them roam all willy-nilly! Who knows what kind of sick and twisted activities Jerma will get up to outside his habitat?

And the week ends with the morning players attempting to summon Herobrine.

[meyousing]

𝘗𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬𝘴, 𝘏𝘪𝘴 𝘏𝘪𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘳𝘤𝘩𝘺

𝘳𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵: yandere phinks + prompt 3 "the sooner you realize that this is for your own good, the easier this will be.”

𝘴𝘺𝘯𝘰𝘱𝘴𝘪𝘴: phinks liked it when you were complicit; when you listened and stayed by his side. you enjoyed freedom, you hated having to adapt to a submissive persona just to please him and keep his temper at bay. you could only continue such an act for so long before your itch to be freed became too much to bear.

𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘦𝘴:  sfw, yandere phinks, possessive behaviour, minor violence, isolation, mentions of past kidnapping. kinda mind games if u squint bc of the isolation?

One thing you learned very quickly when dealing with Phinks, was to walk on eggshells around him, so as to not ignite the short wick that was his temper. Time and time again, other members of the troupe would sing your praises, questioning how you managed to tame a beast such as Phinks to be so different towards you, in comparison to anyone else past who had gotten as close to him as you have now. That would incite your own need for interrogation, completely unsure of what they meant since half of the time that you were in his presence you would shake like a leaf, in a mode of constant fight or flight (though you knew any fight would be an immediate loss for you, and the mere idea of flight was laughably out of the question). Of course, your questioning couldn’t get too far. Any time another Spider got too close to you, Phinks would appear out of nowhere, shooting them a glare that spoke for itself; telling them to get lost, to leave you alone. His standard of closeness was incredibly strict, as your interactions with the others never lasted longer than a minute before greatly aggravating him. What divine timing Phinks always managed to have. These incidents happened almost every day, the severity of them never escalating to become too intense, since nobody dared to step up to him and cause a scene from a matter as trivial as asking his girl a question. 

As it would turn out, when more of these happenings occurred, and the angry look on his face escalated every day, Phinks was too late to realize that the other members would not be the problem in this situation. And maybe you should have seen this coming too, you would have been able to save yourself a lot of trouble that you really did know better about.

By the nature of the Spiders, Phinks was possessive. But you never liked being caged down. The day that you arrived here, bound and blinded by your boyfriend (you would only refer to him as such when in his presence, to appease him. But you had long since broken up with him in your mind), was the day that you were made equivalent to a childhood pet. A bird, or a hamster, who is restricted to only make decisions that are conducted or enforced by her captor. This restriction began to change you. All prey put up fights to regain their freedom whether they come out victorious or not; one must try. 

“Y/N? Y/N Y/N? God, did the guy deafen her or something, the fuck?” 

You blinked a few times, clearing your sight and mind. Glancing up with a soft blur in your vision, you could see the bouncing of broad shoulders, watching Uvogin laugh boisterously at you as he brought his hand down to a knee once he was done snapping those fingers beside your ear. 

Now, this was tricky. Perhaps you should correct your earlier ideology, most members wouldn’t dare to step up to Phinks and cause a scene from a matter as trivial as asking his girl a question. Most members, not including Uvo. He enjoyed the little conflict it would create, and if something did happen (which it likely would), this would not be the first time. You wondered if Phinks was dumb enough not to know that Uvo was talking to you on purpose, to get a rise out of him. Perhaps he did know and enjoyed that fight just as much. How lovely that they get amusement at my expense, you thought.

“Y/N, You can’t be serious. You know I’m talking to you.” Uvo’s face was falsely dumbfounded, a brow lifted with the most mocking smile across his lips. 

“I do, I know” you mumbled, voice groggy from being unused for so long, causing you to clear out your throat with a cough. Uvo let out a gruff chuckle, glancing behind his shoulder to Nobunaga with a mischievous glint in his eyes. You followed his gaze, watching as Nobu only offered a brooding blink while he fiddled with the handle of his katana. He was observing you two, appearing tired but you knew he was getting a kick out of this too. When Uvo turned back to you, your eyes were already on his, open wider than before and eager because you just wanted this to end as soon as possible. Because you knew Phinks would be back soon, and he would see this, then the same old dispute would break out and only bring you stress, making you think that you had done something wrong despite just sitting here. 

“You do know. So can you repeat what I just asked you?” Uvo’s interrogation continued, a playfully contemplative hand becoming a perch for his chin. 

Being aware of him talking to you didn’t mean that you had been listening to what he was saying. 

“I can’t, sorry” you sniffed, stifling a yawn. Your conversations with him went the same way every time; him asking you rhetorical questions that you couldn’t muster the energy to give a genuine reply to, which he was fully aware of. It seemed that he wanted it like this, not minding your lack of liveliness at all.

Before any other words could be exchanged, a new voice interjected.

“Are you really that stupid, Uvo?”

Yaaay. Phinks was back, and so soon!

“Oh no, the boyfriend is back” Uvo stood up, a theatrical hand over his heart as he spun around and leaned away from Phinks, pretending to physically be taken aback. 

“You can call me by my name, Uvogin.”

“You tryna tell me what to do?” Despite the challenging tone, even you could tell that Uvo wasn’t being serious. 

“Yea, I’ll start by telling you to stay away from Y/N. Again. How many times is that now, maybe five?”

Uvogin laughed again, louder than the time before, and more hysterically. You sighed and rubbed your temples, entirely done with these feuds. 

“Come on now, Phinks–”

“Just stop!”

Everyone was silent then. You didn’t even notice that you were standing now, hands in tight fists at your sides following the brief outburst. All of them had their eyes on you now, you could feel it, but you couldn’t bring yourself to look up, to face the results of such a sudden action when you were usually so docile. How you wished to rant further, to scream out your feelings about how much you hated this. Hated being here, hated these stupid scenarios every day that made it feel like you were just part of some big inside joke and served no other purpose. But you didn’t say any of that, you just stayed cemented and kept your eyes down. It felt like hours of this passed, hours of silence and stillness. 

Your ears perked up at the sound of footsteps, watching a familiar set of shoes come to a stop just in front of you. Phinks reached for your hands, taking them into his own. 

“Let’s go.”

He began guiding you out of the room, to the hall. You followed wordlessly, watching your feet as they carried you along with him, ignoring the muffled but definite chuckle that you heard and must have come from Uvo, your grip in Phinks’ hand tightening at the sound.

Once you two were a fair distance from the others, Phinks continued to walk but let go of you and sighed exasperatedly, running his hands through his hair to push it up and away from his face as he grumbled.

“I told them all so many times to stop bothering you, but nobody listens to me, and then this happens. The day that Uvo does listen, I swear…” he didn’t finish the ramble, he only shook his head and sighed; acting all fatigued and dramatically exhausted from dealing with Uvo, like a worn-out parent who finally managed to put their unruly baby to sleep once and for all. You, at the very least, had the right to feel that way as you rubbed at one of your eyelids. All Phinks did to be so tired was willingly partake in an argument that he could have chosen to avoid, whereas you had no choice but to get caught in the middle of it. If only he could tell that he was the one who was bothering you. 

You didn’t know what came over you then, the overwhelming urge to make that clear to him. Or rather, to correct him first, because if either of those two men caused you any annoyance, it certainly wasn’t Uvogin. 

“He wasn’t the one who was bothering me. He was just asking me a question.”

“Please, Y/N.” Instant dismissal. This was your first chance to back down.

 “What?”

“You know better, he was trying to get under your skin. And mine, for that matter.”

“No, he wasn’t. He was just asking me a question.” You repeated yourself. For once Phinks was right, but this annoyed you. He confirmed your earlier thoughts, that he was aware of what Uvo was doing, but chose to partake anyway. You didn’t even have time to be angry at this, because you just blew your second chance to back down.

Phinks stopped walking shortly after you spoke, and you slowed your pace when the sound of his steps was no longer. You lifted your gaze, watching him turn back with pocketed fists.

“You know just as well as me what Uvo is really doing. The same thing every day, with the same snarky smile and challenging comebacks. So, naturally, that only leaves you.”

You lifted a brow, a show of genuine confusion.

“What about me?”

“If you know that I don’t like when the other Spiders talk to you, why do you entertain them? Why don’t you leave, go to another room or something? Do you like the attention from the other members, from the other men?”

He took a step closer to you, head tilting with an ever-deepening furrow of his brows as he looked down at you.

Now he was being ridiculous. You didn’t know where the hell he was getting this from, or why he now felt the need to start another dispute with you this time, but what you did know was that it was making you angry. It became harder to stop yourself from giving in, you couldn’t just comply after an allegation like that.

 “So I’m not allowed to answer when someone asks me something, then? Wouldn’t you go ballistic if I ignored a question from you?!”

“That’s different, Y/N.”

“How?! It isn’t at all and you know it, Phinks. You’re just horribly jealous, is all.”

He was at your side in an instant, grip deathly on your jaw as he tore your head to the side so that your noses were almost touching.

“Who gave you the right to speak to me that way? What makes you think you can tell me what I am?”

Your breath simply stopped, the intense seething behind his eyes stealing any fight you had left. What happened to those fundamentals you had taught yourself, the walls you had built to remain at arm's length and not question his authority to evade that notorious temper of his? You were in too deep now, you had said too much. You couldn’t possibly fix this. He hummed aggressively, his fingers moving to your cheeks to squish them together degradingly as he awaited your response. 

Perhaps captivity had also increased your stupidity because the idea of you being too far gone only encouraged you to become worse. Your next sentence, albeit muffled by his grip, was dangerously venomous. 

“You won’t deny it because you know I’m right.”

His grip tightened so intensely that you were shocked he didn’t just pop holes in your cheeks with his fingernails. Knowing how strong he was, you had to guess that he was holding back an immense amount of his power to avoid making that thought a reality. 

“Not sure where you got this attitude from, Y/N. But you’re gonna be losing it damn soon.” He grabbed your wrist with bruising power, dragging you along with him as he began to stride quickly down the halls, weaving through and around sharp corners and ominous doors you had never seen here before since he would usually force you to stay in the same few rooms.

“Phinks,” you whimpered, feet becoming sore as you struggled to keep up with his fast pace, though his unrelenting hand forced you to whether you could or not. You were sure that if you collapsed here he would simply lug you along like a sack of potatoes, worthlessly and carelessly. 

He stopped without warning, causing you to collapse into his back when you were finally done moving. You held onto his bicep with your free hand, desperately trying to catch your breath as you took a few steps to stand at his side. He was silent for now, clearly waiting for you.

You forced yourself to stand up straighter, taking one last puff of air through your mouth before panting through your nose and focusing your eyes on what was in front of you.

A metal door. 

Scanning it up and down, you noticed how tall it was. It was a floor-to-ceiling door, the first you had ever seen. It was probably heavy and would require a fair amount of strength to get opened and closed by one person. You were curious now, you had never seen a door like this before. Why did Phinks bring you here? Allowing your eyes to wander, your chin met your shoulder as you looked behind. This door was located at the end of a very, very long hallway. With no other doors or windows in sight, and few dimly lit ceiling lights.

Isolated. 

A heavy grating sound echoed out, making you wince as you whipped back around to see Phinks pushing the door open. 

“I almost feel bad putting you through this, but you always were a defiant one. Sometimes I wonder how I managed to get you here in the first place” he chuckled, holding the door open with his foot as he turned to look at you. “How good that I did, though. Don’t you think so? It’s like you were made for me, I love a good challenge.”

You couldn’t answer before his hands found your waist, a startled sound leaving you when he pulled you closer. You didn’t like where this was going. You could see the room in your peripheral vision. It was dark, barely lit, and as far as you could see it was completely empty.

“This should put that defiance to rest. Uh…sorry though.”

He tossed you into the room with ease. He used enough force to make you land a fair distance away, enough so that when you scrambled to your feet and ran back to the door, he was able to get it closed in time to only be cracked open. You already knew you’d be unable to pry it back all the way so you didn’t even bother, hating to admit that defeat, but willing to take your last chance by talking to him face to face. 

“Phinks! What are you doing?!” You began to shiver then, suddenly aware of how it was so cold in here. You felt such a strong need to be held, to bask in the warmth that Phinks’ arms could provide. If you could just get closer to him…

You tried. And he held you back with a hand to your cheek.

“You’re more fun when you listen, Y/N. The sooner you realize that this is for your own good, the easier this will be. I’ll be back soon.”

He leaned in to kiss your forehead, the hand on your cheek lifting to stroke your hair. He gave you a final look, his eyes gleaming with what you thought was a hint of pity before he let the door close. You were able to see his back as he turned away from you before it closed entirely, the loud thud of it doing so sending a chill down your spine. 

He was just… leaving you here. This hideout was already a limited space for you, the few rooms he allowed you to reside in were all within walking distance of each other. The whirlwind journey that was required for you to get to this room left you unable to retrace your steps, you truly had no sense of your surroundings now. In your life before, when Phinks was simply your boyfriend who was not holding you hostage and did not kidnap you, he would leave the room if an argument started between you, isolating himself so he wouldn’t do anything irrational. Now he was forcing you to do the same.

The resolve you had gathered from your arrival here to now was long since shattered, you slumped down to your knees and rested your forehead against the door, its cool metal chilling out the warmth that was once there from Phinks’ lips. Now you could do nothing but wait. He did say he would be back soon! Maybe you could use this time to think about what you had done, to revise your reaction and fix it to prevent anything like this from happening ever again. 

A tear slipped from your eye. You were more fun when you listened, after all. If you wanted to stay away from this essential cage, you could never slip up again, you were meant to be complicit. You were captured by your predator, and a captured prey has no right to challenge its predator’s authority. 

© meyousing 2023. do not share/export my work on to any other platforms. do not translate my work. 

[ungodly-amounts-of-godly-trauma]

wotw round 1

propaganda under the cut!

anders:

So for context as to Why This Has Happened, he does happen to be an incredibly controversial character because of bad writing and that time he blew up a catholic church (complicated), so a lot of fans, even fans who otherwise wouldnt do so, of him swung HARD in the other direction of "he has basically no flaws at all" which is. Not True. Even if you agree with the blowing up a church thing. He is RUDE and MEAN and HAS BOUNDARY ISSUES. also he js very much the epitome of Extremely White activist and doesnt know how to communicate unless he is arguing (he is not good at arguing and he does not like doing it. these conflicting traits cause exactly the amount of problems you think it would).

Now are these various issues he has generally due to "forcibly imprisoned in a cult", "a year of solitary confinement", and "hes mentally ill and his writer is incredibly ableist"? Yeah for sure. But that doesnt mean the solution is to scrub every flaw he has away or pretend like they dont matter or blame it on the (very cool and sweet) guy possessing him (willingly) its SO uninteresting. And then if you try to talk about these flaws you get people excitedly talking about how they always without fail kill the passively suicidal man and how his romance is inherently abusive to the pc or some shit. Im DYING out here

link:

I know this is like really minor but it bugs me SO much. Ok so. At the beginning of the game, Link gets woken up by Zelda. She calls him a sleepyhead. Later in the game, she references that he would oversleep sometimes. Some of the other npcs do this also. Fandom decided that this was one of his only personality traits, being a sleepy little soft guy who loves his girlfriend soooo much (ok, he does love her a lot, but that's not the point).

This just makes me so upset because he. is. not. sleepy.

Oversleeping doesn't make you sleepy! Many fics portray him as someone that's very soft and gentle and kind and can fall asleep anymore!

At the very most, he's tired. He pushed himself hard during his quest, losing sleep. Afterwards, he would probably go back to a regular sleep schedule and sleep fine (barring nightmares). This is a very different thing than sleepy!

Anyway. Next point. Soft and gentle. He is a kind person, he's on a time sensitive quest and he'll stop to help a mother find her lost child, help a demon become human, find a LOT of lost things, all sorts of stuff like that, but he is not soft and gentle. At the very beginning of the game, he tells the bully "nice hair" (it's kinda ridiculous). Many of his answers are short and blunt. He says "not that guy" when he has to enlist the help of someone he doesn't like. He broke a chandelier for the equivalent of five dollars. He eavesdropped on a private argument-- like literally if you walk by the house at the right time control is taken from the player and he'll walk towards and listen to it. He tells a guy that his elder is dead just for shits and giggles (he's not).

Anyway. Fandom, of course, remembers none of this. He's the peacemaker, he's the soft and gentle one, he falls asleep whenever possible-- he is none of these things! The only thing they get right is that he loves Zelda!

I just want the fics where he's properly snarky and rude and tired (of this bullshit), is that too much to ask?

[pantoneyoongi]

the sun & the stars | epilogue | kth

title ; the sun & the stars pairing ; taehyung x you

word count ; 3.3k

masterlist | part one | part two | part three | part four | part five | epilogue 

description ; 

taehyung’s known you almost his whole life - his sister’s best friend, the girl who invades his home and his life on the daily. you’re the one who gave his sister the nickname ‘sky’ to begin with - and also the one who relented when he whined about it at age five and said okay, you can be the stars, then.  it’s funny, because to him, you’re just the petty, mischievous neighbor from across the street with a penchant for stealing his snacks. but over the years, you’ve somehow landed yourself a reputation that stretches beyond the 1.5 year age gap he has with you - for someone who generally likes to keep things low key, you sure have a way of drawing attention.  sky’s friendly, teasing best friend is known for being cold, impassive, and immovable. which is weird, because when he’s around you, all he sees are unabashed grins and terrible jokes. until he realizes maybe he doesn’t know you like he thought he did. maybe they’re right - it just so happens that the walls you throw up around him look a little different from the walls you throw up around everyone else. 

tracklist ; willow - taylor swift, give me your forever - zack tabudlo ft. billkin, limbo - keshi

notes ; 

it’s all fun and games until taehyung starts flirting anyway we are at the end for this one !! thank u for reading, i hope u enjoyed 😊 i think i’ll be trying to do the prequel next - pls look forward to that one too !! ❤️

tags ; college!au, best friend’s little brother!au, childhood friends to lovers, fluff (finally!!), just taehyung being a sweetheart the literal entire time 

spring semester starts cold, mid-january, which is your excuse for still holding onto taehyung’s scarf. he doesn’t seem to mind - exact words, “it’s yours now,” - but for the sake of your sanity, you continue to make up reasons for why it’s still in your possession. 

for now, it’s tucked around your neck, bundled up against your chin and keeping you warm. taehyung walks beside you, like he does every day lately, having gotten ahold of your work schedule after some degree of coercing (read: taehyung asked nicely for it and when you hesitated, he - whether consciously or not, you’re not sure - gave you a look equivalent to that of a kicked puppy, and you caved within the next half-second). 

you feel hyper-aware of his presence. it’s not entirely out of the ordinary for taehyung to walk you home - he showed up randomly plenty of times before just to do so - but now that he has your schedule, he waits outside whatever workplace you’re at for the day, every chance he gets. 

you should be used to taehyung being beside you all the time. from begging to hang out with you when he was little, to simply materializing next to you now that you’re older, taehyung is always near you. but this feels far more intentional, and now you can’t not think about how close he is, the back of his hand brushing against yours as you walk back to your apartment. 

it’s just not good for your heart. it’s racing much too fast considering the steady, slow pace you’re walking. you chance a glance at taehyung, but a seconds-long glance turns into minutes turns into you staring at him, studying all the features he’s grown into over the years. 

taehyung really has gotten handsome, lately. 

you know. objectively speaking. 

strong eyebrows, kind eyes, a pretty curve to his lips. between the broad shoulders and the dark hair that falls over his forehead, taehyung looks straight out of a manga. it doesn’t help that he has a teasing smile on his - wait. 

shit. he caught you. 

you jerk your head away, but it’s too late. he smirks, leaning down slightly. “heard pictures last longer.” 

you deadpan. “shut up.” he knows he’s pretty. 

he invades your personal space, gets closer. you’d think someone who knows you and your cranky personality would know better than this, but that’s what happens when he also just knows you. you’ll never harm a hair on his head. 

“why are you staring, sun?” you can hear the amusement in his voice. this is the taehyung that you know you’re entirely out of your depth with. you might’ve grown up with him, but even with all the time spent together, you know there’s parts of taehyung you don’t have an influence on. the parts that make your heart pound, the taehyung that you’re secretly thrilled by. he’s confident, maybe even a little cocky, and you’re certain this version of taehyung knows. he knows that if he pushes past the sarcasm and the facades and everything else you’ve layered on just to hide, that he has every bit as much an effect on you as you do on him. 

he just lets you get away with it, most of the time. 

“who’s staring?” you mutter defensively. “nobody’s staring. there’s nothing to stare at.” 

he sidles in closer, but he never touches you. just gets close enough for you to feel all of his warmth. he’s teasing you, reminding you that he’s the only one who’s allowed to get this close - closer than people who are ‘just friends’ would normally be allowed. 

in a poorly calculated decision, you make the mistake of whipping your head to face him, only to feel your breath cut short when you find his face barely a centimeter away from yours.

even taehyung seems to realize he maybe misjudged how much he can handle, too. ‘cause you’re definitely close enough to feel his breath, but he doesn’t seem to be breathing, either. 

his eyes dip down. you press your lips together, inwards, shy at the way he looks at you. but the movement only draws his attention more, eyes focused on your lips. 

“come over tomorrow,” you blurt, stumbling back a half-step. taehyung snaps out of it, straightening back to full height immediately. 

“t-tomorrow?” 

“tomorrow,” you say, resolutely, glad that you’re the one with the steady voice. “we can… eat together.” 

taehyung’s eyes fall to your lips again, but quickly snap back up to your eyes. he smiles, and you feel yourself relax at the boyish look. “sure,” he agrees. “i’ll come over.”

.

.

.

what you forget to consider every single time you invite taehyung over is that you generally invite only him. 

as in, you and him are generally always alone, because your roommates, unlike you, are much more fond of their social lives and are usually out and about. 

this doesn’t normally pose a problem, except taehyung has been more daring recently, eyes sparking with mischief and affection, a lethal combination for you. it makes you nervous - excited - but now you’re left fidgeting as you wait for him to arrive, wondering which version of taehyung you’ll get today, while you’re alone in your apartment, with no other plans for the evening, and your roommates more likely than not to stay out for the night. 

to your surprise, taehyung shows up with bags of groceries, beaming at you. confused, you let him in, and he drops them all over your counter. “i’ll cook today,” he announces, and you let out a short, hesitant laugh. 

you do adore taehyung. in many ways. maybe the most well-known affiliation you have is with his sister, but the people closest to you know that your fondness for taehyung is unmatched, with or without your budding feelings for him that you’ve been trying (and failing) to keep in tight control of. 

but regardless of how you feel, you know taehyung. and he is undoubtedly the definition of a younger sibling. you’re not even sure taehyung knows how to turn the stove on. 

“do you even know how to cook?” 

he looks mildly offended. you raise an eyebrow. 

the shy, sheepish smile that forms slowly on his face gives you all the answers you need. “no,” he scratches the back of his neck. “but i’ll figure it out.” 

“my god, taehyung,” you mutter, rubbing your forehead. still, you make zero effort to stop him as he shuffles about your kitchen, organizing groceries and locating pots and pans. “please don’t burn down a university-owned apartment building.” 

he points a spatula at you. “no one else has burned it down yet. i probably won’t be the first.” 

you should probably tell him that ‘probably’ is not a very convincing argument. 

but he looks so earnest, and you don’t have the strength to keep him from at least trying. he’s at least researched a recipe beforehand, and taehyung is admittedly pretty adept at following instructions. 

he scutters about the kitchen, recipe pulled up on his phone screen. when you peer at it he locks the screen, turning his nose up at you. you narrow your eyes at him. he tilts his chin in the direction of the seating at your kitchen counter. you study him for a minute longer, trying to gauge the probability of taehyung committing accidental arson. but he doesn’t relent, and you cave, settling into the chair to watch him closely. 

satisfied that you’re seated, taehyung carefully sets about chopping scallions and whisking eggs. there’s rice cooking in a pot, and he looks deeply concentrated, eyebrows knit together. you smile fondly, watching him. “you sure you don’t want me to help?” 

he responds only with an insistent shake of his head, so you settle for the time he’s granted you to just look at him. taehyung in the kitchen doesn’t exactly entirely put your heart at ease, but taehyung’s presence in your apartment does relax your shoulders, slows your breaths. you don’t have to think about anything else - your future, your finances, your grades - nothing else matters when taehyung is here. he grounds you, washes away worries that have felt so constant that you didn’t even realize how heavy they weighed on you until taehyung nudges them all away with a sweet smile. 

every so often, taehyung breaks his concentration to look at you. he doesn’t ask, but the excuse you have for getting caught staring every time is that you’re just making sure he doesn’t cause injury, either to himself or to the apartment. you both know you just like looking at him, judging by the spark in his eyes, but he says nothing regardless. 

there’s a memory yet to be made unfolding in your mind. it has taehyung wrapped around you in your kitchen, head tucked over your shoulder, a meal halfway done. it has content written all over you, a version of you that’s happier, without any of your demons still lurking in the corners. 

you want to make it a reality. you want to feel his chest pressed against your back, want to lean into his touch and know that as long as taehyung’s around, you’ll be okay. he’ll take care of you. you’ll let him take care of you. 

but you don’t have the confidence to find your way into his arms, not yet. you keep your distance, settling for memorizing the shape of taehyung bustling about, quietly humming as he plates things up, presenting you with a dish that looks altogether too familiar. 

a simple dish. eggs, spam, corn. a sprinkle of scallions on top for color. absolutely not the recipe he looked up, and he looks pretty proud of himself, biting his lip and waiting for your approval. 

“that’s not a recipe off google,” you accuse, though you’re sure there are versions of it online somewhere. but sky and taehyung’s parents make it on lazy days, and in many ways it’s become comfort food for the three of you. 

“it could be,” he shrugs, then grins. “i asked my mom for the recipe last night.” 

he piles rice into a bowl for you, then sits across from you, bright eyes watching as you take a bite. you sigh into it, satisfied. “kim taehyung, you didn’t burn the building down,” you tease, instead of giving him the praise he’s looking for. 

his face does a thing it rarely does since he was eleven, eyebrows pinching in and lower lip jutting out, and you giggle, the sound immediately wiping away the look. you lean towards him. “thanks for cooking,” you say, sincerely. “tastes just like your mom’s.” 

he mumbles something incoherent and ducks his head, but you catch the pleased look on his face, the pink on his cheeks. you make conversation about anything and everything, just to get those eyes back on you. it doesn’t take much effort, honestly. 

the night ends with the two of you on your living room couch, you asleep on his shoulder, your roommate’s tv playing in the background. 

taehyung doesn’t put his arm around you, doesn’t tug you in close, but the feeling still lingers. 

that as long as taehyung’s around, you’ll be okay. 

.

.

.

you stretch your arms over your head, cracking possibly every joint in your back and shoulders in the process. being hunched over a computer for four hours starting 8am to noon is not ideal for your posture. 

“you should sit up straight when you work,” you hear, and you look around to find taehyung pushing himself off the building’s wall, a paper bag in hand. 

“i should do a lot of things,” you counter, and he gives you a disapproving look but doesn’t press you. he shakes the bag instead. 

“lunch?” 

you bite your lip, eyeing the bag hopefully. you flick your eyes back up to his and nod rapidly. he grins. 

he walks with you to the student center, unpacking the bag while you slide into your seat. he takes off the lids for you, hands you wrapped plastic utensils, doesn’t sit down until everything’s ready for you. 

“where did you learn to do this kinda stuff, huh?” you tease, but he looks genuinely confused, blinking back at you. 

“from you,” he states plainly, like it’s obvious, and you’re taken slightly aback. now you’re the one that’s confused, and he tilts his head. “you always do this for us,” he explains. “well, sky, mostly, but for the rest of us, too.” 

“oh,” you mutter. flustered by his simple explanation, you jerk your gaze away from him and start digging through the food. his lips tug upwards into a smile, watching you pretend to be preoccupied. 

all the years you spent taking care of your friends, you’ve never let anyone reciprocate. but taehyung wants to give it all back tenfold, wants you to feel every ounce of his affections, wants you to feel the same love you give out in boundless amounts to the people around you. he wants to give all of it, just to you. 

he reaches over, brushes your hair over your shoulder. you look up at him, eyes round and large, and it feels like all the love you’ve ever poured into him is overflowing in his chest in this exact moment, decades worth of all the ways you cared for him without uttering a single word. you did it all without hesitation. like second nature. 

taehyung is still learning, still figuring out how to do the same, but there is something he knows. 

he loves you. without hesitation. like second nature. 

.

.

.

maybe it’s just your soft spot for taehyung, but he has a way of convincing you to come home with him. sometimes, he uses sky as an excuse - come hang out, sun - sometimes he bribes you with food - i have dinner for you at home. come over, sun - and sometimes, he just looks at you hopefully, and you find yourself in the apartment he shares with his sister. 

the first time you fell asleep over at their place was an accident. by the fifth time, you’re not sure it exactly qualifies as an accident anymore. 

most nights you fall asleep on the couch together. it started with just your head on his shoulder, but somehow, you found yourself more and more often waking up with the two of you laying down, taehyung’s arm thrown over your waist and his face buried in your hair. on the days you have early shifts or classes, you wake alone, in time to catch taehyung emerging from the kitchen with a packed breakfast and a gaze so intensely affectionate, you have to look away from him. 

he’s no longer hiding the way he feels about you, and it has your heart running double time in your chest. 

when you wake up this time, you realize you’re not on the couch. sleepily, you peer around and realize you’re in taehyung’s room, in taehyung’s bed, with taehyung still pressed close, one arm slung over your waist, as usual. 

it’s quiet, still early, judging from the dim light filtering through taehyung’s curtains. the last memory you can recall is being on the couch again, so you’re not sure how you wound up here. 

you have absolutely no idea what to do. 

taehyung is still fast asleep, so you try to subtly shift out of his arms. maybe you can go back to the couch and pretend you were never in his bed and then you don’t have to ask nor answer any of the questions that come with it. but taehyung’s arm around you tightens, and he makes a small, discontent noise. you freeze. 

slowly, you turn your head towards his. mussed hair, closed eyes, and pretty, pretty lips. taehyung looks impossibly younger when he’s sleeping, and he’s so warm, the gentle pressure of his arm across your body so comforting. it wouldn’t be so bad, falling back asleep like this. with taehyung next to you. 

that’s the excuse you make. you’d make any number of them, really, just to stay here. but they all drift out of your mind as your eyes flutter back shut, taehyung’s steady breaths lulling you back to sleep. 

.

.

.

the second time you wake up, it’s to the sound of taehyung cursing under his breath. 

“shit,” he mutters, sounding mildly panicked. “shit, fuck, shit.” 

you stir. taehyung isn’t the type to curse often, so you blink your eyes open, one hand blindly reaching out for him as you try to wake up enough to focus. “tae?” 

he stares back at you in alarm. he’s halfway up by the time your eyes finally land on him, but when he sees how your hand searches for his, he catches your wrist in a gentle hold. “right here,” he murmurs. 

you smile, still half-asleep. “what’s wrong?” 

he stills. “i-” he flounders a bit. “i didn’t - um. i swear i meant to go sleep on the couch last night, i just - i wanted you to take the bed for once, ‘cause the couch isn’t really comfortable, but i guess i fell asleep too - i’m sorry, i shouldn’t have even - i was just really tired-” 

you let him babble for a couple more minutes, amused. admittedly, not all your brain cells are firing right now, still drowsy, but flustered, rambly taehyung is a rare, endearing sight you’d like to indulge in for just a bit. 

when you start to see the pink dust his cheeks, you decide to take pity on him, pressing a hand to his cheek. he quiets immediately, leaning into your touch. “sorry,” he mumbles one last time. 

you breathe out a laugh. “don’t tell anyone,” you try to tease, but you mean it a little too much. “but you’re my favorite, my star.” 

he looks at you. you don’t know what changes in this moment. maybe it’s because it’s so quiet, with the world still waking up; or maybe because you both know sky isn’t home, having gone over to namjoon’s the night before, so the apartment is empty, just the two of you; or maybe because you’re both still sleepy and warm and so, so close, but taehyung shifts, the hand holding your wrist pressing it gently to the spot beside your head, so taehyung can hover just above you. you stare up at him, everything moving in slow motion. his nose brushes against yours, and you tilt your head up, searching for him. waiting for him to meet you in the middle. 

there’s sparks, all over. tingles down your spine, the way taehyung kisses you slowly. the hesitance in the beginning, then the soft press of his lips against yours, like he can’t resist you. drawn to you, the hand holding your wrist moving to tangle with your fingers. the hand you had cupping his cheek slides into his hair at the nape of his neck, tugging him closer. 

it might be cliché, but you don’t care: kissing taehyung feels like coming home. 

when he pulls away for air, he lets out a sort of disbelieving huff of laughter, like he can’t believe you let him kiss you. there’s a happy light in your eyes, your grin spreading from cheek to cheek, and his heart stutters in his chest like he hasn’t seen that smile almost every day of his life. 

he ducks his head next to yours, hair tickling your skin. ever so close, you can hear the smile in his voice when he whispers, “you’re my favorite, too, sun.” 

.

.

.

you’ve never told anyone before, but there’s a reason taehyung is your star. his sister remains the sky, your whole world, but taehyung is your star because you learned long ago that the sun, too, is a star. and if you’re so lucky to be considered the light amidst the sky, then you’ll be shameless enough to wish to always linger amongst the stars, too. because you want to always be next to him. 

beside him. your star. 

masterlist | part one | part two | part three | part four | part five | epilogue 

[gear-project]

I saw the A.B.A. gameplay video. I never played the old games since I started GG with SIGN, but that Jealous Rage, you have an idea on what is wrong with Flament? He looks sickly and disorientated and I am not sure if A.B.A. has done this before. Also, it looks like A.B.A. is more 'confident' and 'nonchalant' in her fighting stance compared to the older games, although she seems more aggressive and vicious in her attacks.

It's a tad early to speculate what is going on, but I suspect that Flament was exposed to the INSIDE OF THE GATE.

The story goes that the Inside of the Gate is embodied by "everything" that Homunculi do not possess that Humans "have".

"Jealousy" is one simple way to put it, but it is basically every aspect of what exists in terms of absolute opposition.

Greed, Pride, Gluttony, Lust, Wrath, Sloth, Vanity, and also Despondency.

It's a little complicated to explain what I mean but...

With every "talent" that Humans have, there exists something that "lacks" that talent. Every skill, every blessing, every idea, every presence. Becomes a Burden, a Curse, a Vexation, an Obsession, and so on...

Getting caught up in the "darkness" (the thing that changed the Original Sage in to Happy Chaos), basically.

What makes us unique and special... the things we value... are all taken inside this gate in "equivalent exchange" (if we hope to gain something more than what we already have in our greed and hubris).

The Gate itself is similar to the Idea of "that which seeks to surpass humanity".

In simple terms it's similar to desire, once again using the word "jealousy" here in a vague way.

But just like how I-No was born from the world's desire for a better future... it was that "desire" that also broke the world (namely the Backyard).

Homunculi are, give or take, something of a "connection" between this world and the world beyond the Gate... similar to Boundary Contact Mediums like BlazBlue had.

As for Flament Nagel himself... he was originally a battle axe in the shape of a Key... after countless battles and engorging himself on bloodshed and conflict, he transformed in to the "goat face" with horns we saw in Accent Core.

However, this shape is formless... almost liquid-like. Similar in fact to Eddie and his formless body as a Shadow Organism.

Likely getting swept up in the Currents of the World beyond the gate has dismembered parts of Flament Nagel beyond recognition... though he still somehow "remembers" what he looked like (only just barely).

Probably A.B.A. is part of the reason he can still "revert" back in to his Key Form (an attachment to this world perhaps).

(Side note: Hoenheim is the Label on the tassel, which is a reference to the Alchemist whom created A.B.A.)

[captainjacklyn]

Another DOL post..I'm never stopping with these, it's just fun for me to share my characters which I am disappointed to not be able to draw. My art skills can be easily bested by that of a six year old's hand paint.

He indeed identifies as a male though if you saw the previous post about him (the first post about him really) Elias can change his genitals, due to his human DNA being mixed with several different animals.

Degrees of Lewdity :

ReLaTiOnShIpS :

ROBIN

"Robin? You better be careful with him, if I find out that you're planning something- Uh? Oh, you just want to get to know him? Very well, I guess that's alright, I'm not even sure why I got worked up. It's his fault if he gets into trouble...doesn't mean I wouldn't go out of my way to protect him."

Looks after Robin.

Acts like a mother for him, highly strict and demanding when interacting face to face but behind the scenes, he does everything he can to look after him and make sure he's safe.

The only one Elias genuinely cares for.

*pat pat* you stay there and play games while I sell my body to take your debt okay?

Good.

Manipulates this one like crazy, "I'M DOING ALL OF THIS FOR YOU HOW DARE YOU TALK BACK TO ME-"

His words not mine.

SYDNEY

"He's my partner if that's what you were wondering, I've spent quite a good amount of time with him. Don't fill his mind with too many lewd thoughts if you plan on seducing him, his purity is rather useful. He even gifted me a dress last week..Mhm? Yes..I am fond of Sydney."

Elias doesn't particularly understand his own emotions.

He just likes having Sydney since his privileged life/status makes it easier for him as well.

Did go out of his way to spend time with him at the beach, proceeded to question every single idea which led him to do so.

WHITNEY

"Whitney tried to use me for quick money making on multiple occasions, you ram your knee in the balls and run, he doesn't take hits there very nicely."

Yeah no.

They don't get along.

Elias just ignores him whenever he tries to interact, will dismiss him when the time comes.

I've tried to allow it, but from the shaming to the constant abusive scenarios, there isn't much to allow.

KYLAR

"He got his ass thrown into prison, and for all I know, he just belongs to the asylum. I assure you that I attempted to aid him, he wasn't treated very kindly so I assumed to have found someone I can understand and relate to. Turns out he was a perverted psycho...Oh really ? I'll give you this one fact, Kylar never loved me, he just wanted to keep me as a possession."

Dismissed Kylar.

You think this guy wants to make out with the equivalent of a pathetic wet rat ? He doesn't even know if he likes the librarian who treats him with kindness.

Nuh-uh.

Nah.

Stans are coming after me, but my boy openly defended a dude who decided to stalk him in response.

BAILEY

"...What about Bailey? He has done many things for me as a child, I know that our hearts have never been one, I see that now. But if it means seeing her again..I'll pay him off, I'll pay Robin's debt along with my own and we'll run from this god forsaken swill of a town."

The first reason as to why Elias is so hardworking is because he believes that once his debt is fully repaid, he'll be able to see Monika.

Otto Hightower and Alicent toxic dad and daughter~

Woohoo and the line of trauma doesn't stop there cause Elias also treats Robin like SHIT-

The pressure of needing to save those he cares for is so great that it causes him to install his own suffering on them as well.

You're stronger than you think Elias, you're strong enough to stand as a wall between Robin and Bailey, between Sydney and Himself, between the Orphans and this Fucked up Place.

Burn your feelings to the ground and carry on.

Woah too emotional on the last one chill-

[fictionfixations]

doing yunli's story quest

i think it has a different name but tbh genshin was like my first actual gacha game i was really committed to so expect me to refer to things in genshin terms unless i can remember the equivalent in the game im playing.

lmao

OHHH cause we never got to know what the sword looked like

..huh.

argenti i love you but why are you literally everywhere

actually this is probably why he appears in the wardance event

??? when she said hanguang (earlier, screenshot underneath this screenshot) i had a hunch that it mightve been her father with the way she reacted.

it probably is a cursed sword though. i know shes making a scene but who cares if its a threat to someone's safety? theres this like side quest that happens after wardance where we say goodbye to everyone returning to their own xianzhou ships (fu xuan also returns) and yunli and yanqing talked about the sword a bit and she didnt seem to have anything against it so i guess it gets solved in this

holy fucking shit you can hear swords slashing and screaming in the background

whats the blade of forged remnants? OH ITS HER SWORD old mettle

why am i struggling so hard im

NOOOOOOO. you do not understand my absolute HATRED for fights against argenti or yanqing. (well i hate sunday's too but hes just a weekly boss. argenti and yanqing can be pulled out whenever) its the having multiple smaller enemies... aAaaaaaa

my team is getting their ass beat i cant

tingyun is so fucking squishy she and robin keep dying after each other😭

i dont have a team that can win this om. the ONLY character i have built that he has weakness against is ROBIN. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

i dont have herta built. i despise his shields with a passion. i cant do enough damage 😭

i cant continue the story D:

in all fairness i was also stuck on sundays boss battle for a lONG time (only managed because every single turn i had lynx heal to build up her ult as fast as possible. but im doing that method right now and its still not working 😭. i also had to switch in dr ratio for more imaginary weakness but i cant do that here cause they arent buILT.)

it also wouldnt matter if the character was built or not with aventurine cause they wouldnt immediately die at least but i dont have him hHHHH

...wwwhy did you target my only damage dealers wtf man. itd be a different story if he was really close to dying but hes NOT imfioahdwsauiodj

OH MY GOD I FORGOT THIS WAS A THING. i kept quitting before i could hit the defeat screen

i forgot to mention it but argenti is like being possessed by the heliobus in the cursed sword

his voice sounds oddly familiar. i wanna say it sounds like ben (moze's and kaveh's va) but it also feels like its not his voice theres just a quality of it that reminds me of ben's? i might be completely wrong

ohh

oh thats fair

i see

this felt. really short tbh. its been like what? an hour at least?

oh...

thats sweet

[autumnaaltonen]

How do you think alucard would react to a gen z humor? For example: would he enjoy tiktok and vine? Would he be confused by our memes? How would he react to our self-deprecating humor?

This will be a running theme in my fanficiton, so I'm all for this. Also, I am barely Gen Z, and continuously learn new slang from my students, so excuse the cringe 😅

In my personal opinion, Alucard very much gives supportive grandpa vibes.

He's happy to view whatever "KidToks", "YouViews", or "Bumblr" memes you shove in his face. He's not going to understand it, but he's happy to watch if it makes you smile.

He really loves BookTok for reading material when he's chillin in the dungeon, especially murder mysteries and modern fantasy.

When he first got a taste of your Vine-Vocab, he legit just thought that was the way you spoke.

Seras delivering you a birthday gift: "so you just gonna bring me a birthday gift on my birthday to my birthday party on my birthday with a birthday gift?"

Giving the Hellsing taskforce driving directions for their next mission: "Road work ahead? Uh, yeah, I sure hope it does."

Joining him in the shooting range for target practice: "Don't fuck with me! I have the power of God and anime on my side!"

When you eventually informed him it was from a dead meme-site that defined your generation, he was very impressed that you young-folk have such an extensive reference log to communicate with each other.

Like I said, grandpa vibes.

His favorite moments are when your Gen Z slang is directed at him. He has no idea what you're talking about, but he loves it cus it's you. You love it too, because you can use it to your advantage and flirt with him incognito.

"Alucard, I admire the 40s coat and sunhat drip, but it's a little camp these days. We really need to give you a glow up."

"I saw the footage from your last mission, and I have to say, you were an absolute snack. Totally bussin'."

"You high-key live in my head, rent-free, Alucard."

He enjoys your silly words. Such admirable youth.

But when it came to your self-deprecating humour, it was kind of 50/50 for him. He understands it with no issues, and as long as it wasn't too hurtful towards yourself, he thought it was hilarious.

"Sorry, demons! There’s no room inside me because I’m self-possessed." Hella relatable for him.

"I question my sanity a lot of times. Every now and then, it replies." He's like, "same."

You'd think he would enjoy it all, given his dark-humour streak. However, when you talk too poorly about yourself, it really puts a damper on his mood.

Even though he's a grandpa, we have to remember that Alucard is incredibly intelligent. So whenever you're shitting on yourself, he plays your game to his advantage.

You: "I'm the human equivalent of a typo."

Alucard: "But you'll always be my type."

Wait. What?

You: "If I remember correctly, the last time that I was someone’s type was when I was donating blood in the blood drive."

Alucard: "I had it for my dinner last week, it was one of the best bags I've ever drank."

Motherfucker. There more you try to put yourself down, the more creative he gets. It's like a ping-pong game of put-downs and affectionate counter-attacks.

You: "My life’s purpose is to be a cautionary tale for others."

Alucard: "I'll just have to be your happily-ever-after."

You: "I wouldn’t even settle for me, so why would you?"

Alucard: "Because we could be settling together in my coffin when we sleep."

You: "When I’m ready to sleep, I don’t bother checking if my foot is hanging off the end of my bed anymore. Come get me, demons."

Alucard: "Is that a proposition?"

You finally admit defeat, as your red cheeks and blood pressure could only handle so much.

Damn that sexy old man.

[free-chozo-hrt]

The Chozo: Matter and Energy

In science fiction, it's pretty common to portray advanced technology where matter can be turned into energy, and vice versa. This is based on the real life physical principle that matter and energy are equivalent, and it makes for a very convenient plot device in stories. Just look at Star Trek's transporters, replicators, and holodecks. Anything is possible in a world where you can create objects out of thin air, or send people across space in the blink of an eye.

Based on what we're shown in the Metroid canon, I believe the Chozo have mastered the ability to exchange matter with energy and back again, and this is what sets them apart from every other civilization in the games. This secret knowledge is what makes them seem impossibly advanced.

Consider the classic question of how Samus's morph ball works. What exactly is going on in there? How does she roll around without getting dizzy? Why weren't the space pirates able to replicate what should be a pretty simple technology?

In the Prime games, if you take a peek through the crack of the morph ball, you don't see a curled up person inside, just a glowing ball of energy you can see right through. I think it makes the most sense if we interpret this visual effect literally: Samus can pinball around in her ball form with no ill effects because her body is simply... not there. It has been temporarily transformed into pure energy, which doesn't mind being spun and jostled around. The Chozo's mastery over energy is such that a living body can be instantly converted to energy, and reliably turned back again, just for the sake of turning into a ball.

Where do you think Samus stores all of those 200+ missiles she carries around with her in every game? The missiles are stored in her suit as energy, and then "created" in her arm cannon every time she wants to fire one off. The missile count is really just a measure of how much energy she can use to create missiles. Same goes for every other consumable weapon ammo.

Look at Chozo technology throughout the games and you'll see this principle in use all over the place. And importantly, notice that other civilizations don't have access to this technology. The Chozo have intraplanetary teleporters, for example, but I can't recall teleportation being used by anyone else (possible exceptions: the Luminoth, who were friends of the Chozo, using light-based travel. Also certain instances of space pirates "beaming in" to battle).

The Chozo's mastery of energy extends beyond simple transmutation, and also includes the mysterious life energy that all living things possess, but that's a whole other can of worms. A post for another day.

[karatekels]

Okay so this one's inspired by your latest work🤭.

What do you think about an enemies to lovers kinda gig with kk3 Terry 👀

The reader is an employee at Dynatox, she's the best they have, other than Margaret of course. But she doesn't like him😏

He obviously finds it rather interesting that someone isn't quite charmed by him for once. A good game of cat and mouse and eventually she'd fall for him,but not after pushing his buttons at some event he's hosting. Maybe entertaining some guy for the time being to see the jealousy pour out of Terry...

I love love love your writing so this one was hard to resist 🤍

Ooooh, this one is fun! Thanks for the request, and I hope you enjoy! It's a long one, friends, so BUCKLE UP.

TW: Very inappropriate workplace relationships, rough sex, spanking, dirty talk, Terry being a possessive, controlling asshole (we love him for it)

Also, I will only half-apologize for using the “gay friend pretends to be boyfriend” trope, because *I know* that it’s a horrible cliché but I couldn’t resist.

---

Cat & Mouse

---

“Y/N, Mr. Silver wants to see the Cambodia report,” your assistant tells you, sticking her head into your office.

“It’s in the filing cabinet, second drawer,” you respond, not looking up from your desk. You had enough on your plate, and this was what assistants were for, after all. You still feel her eyes on you from the doorway after a moment, and look up at her expectantly. She hesitates.

“He asked for you specifically, Y/N,” she adds, and you suppress the urge to roll your eyes.

“Of course he did,” you mutter, taking a calming breath. “Thank you, Jess,” you add, dismissing her with a smile, which you drop the instant she closes the door.

Your boss, Terry Silver, did this every so often, asking you to do things outside of your job description so he would have an excuse to pester you. It wasn’t overt enough to be flirting, but it was insistent to the point of getting annoying. You were here to work, and you were damn good at your job; you hadn’t come to a company like Dynatox to be eye candy for the boss.

Dynatox was always ranked among the top of Fortune 500 companies, and you knew that continuing to work your way up the ranks here would open all kinds of doors for you. It wasn’t as if you didn’t like your job – you loved it, and you were good at it, and if your boss would just let you be it would be an ideal position. If he could just stop with the teasing…

He likely wasn’t even actually interested in you; people like him – rich, attractive, successful – were just used to everyone fawning all over them, throwing themselves at them, and he was likely just put out that you didn’t have time for that bullshit. It was all probably just a cat and mouse game to him, and so he had decided to do what all children do when they don’t get what they want: pester, and prod, and tease, the equivalent of pulling on your pigtails in the schoolyard.

Fortunately, you were a professional, and had thus far been able to maintain a no-nonsense approach when it came to responding to his flirting, all while remaining respectful. He couldn’t be annoyed at your refusal to play along with his dumb little games.

Sighing, you retrieve the needed file from the cabinet and make for Mr. Silver’s office, just wanting to get this over with. Approaching the door, you knock twice, stepping inside after his “Come in!” and pointedly leaving the door open. This would be a quick delivery; no funny business.

He’s lounging in his office chair, feet on his desk, crossed at the ankles, casually looking over a file in his lap as though he hadn’t expected you to walk into his office. He looks up at you after a moment, smiling brightly at you, tossing the file onto his desk carelessly.

“If it isn’t Miss L/N! How’s my favourite employee?” he asks cheekily. You bite the inside of your cheek.

What a fucking schmuck.

“I have the Cambodia report for you, Mr. Silver,” you reply, ignoring his greeting. Approaching the desk, you slap the file down next to his polished shoes. He picks up the file, unperturbed by your clear annoyance, and lazily peruses it while you stand there, silently seething.

“Will that be all, Mr. Silver?” you ask, trying not to grind your teeth. He holds up a finger, not taking his eyes off of the document. You think you can see a hint of a smile at the corner of his lips and immediately start calculating your anticipated bonus check for the end of the year in your head, needing a distraction to prevent yourself from leaning over the desk and slapping his stupid, perfectly sculpted face. Why did the worst people seem to have all the luck?

Nodding once, he snaps the file shut, extending it towards you with a smirk. You move to take it from him, but he doesn’t let it go.

“Are you doing anything tonight?” he asks, blue eyes twinkling at you. His flirting had become outright brazen lately, and you briefly wonder if HR would even bother with a sexual misconduct case against the Big Man himself. You doubted it.

“Yes, Mr. Silver,” you lie, tugging the file out of his hands. “I need to finish on time today,” you add pointedly, and he smiles placatingly at you.

“Very well then. Thank you Y/N, that will be all,” he dismisses you. You turn on your heel and leave his office without another word, grumpy that he had wasted your time in order to ogle you yet again.

--- Terry’s POV ---

Terry takes the time to check you out as you all but storm out of his office, his eyes running from your high heels up your toned calves to where your legs disappeared into your pencil skirt, grinning wolfishly at your back.

God, he loved riling you up.

You had been with the company for two years now, working your way up the corporate ladder, but he had only been introduced to you a few months ago, when you’d been promoted to the point that you would be working on the same floor as him. He had heard your name before, of course, as everyone praised your work ethic and talent, but he hadn’t been told that you were fine as hell, especially in your tight skirts.

He had wanted you immediately, going out of his way to call you into his office at the earliest opportunity for a casual “introduction to the boss.”

He had been incredibly charming, planning on reeling you in by that single meeting alone, and he knew that you were aware of his intentions, but you brushed him off, seemingly unaffected by his flirting.

Initially, he had been baffled.

He was Terry Silver, international playboy extraordinaire. He was rich, handsome, successful, charming… he was the whole package, and you had dismissed him without a second thought, your face impassive except for the raising of one elegant eyebrow, asking him if that would be all.

Fuck no, that wouldn’t be all. He had far more in store for you, and he intended to get to work at the earliest opportunity.

The more he pursued, the more determined you were to refuse him, and it was starting to drive him batty. There had been a few nights at home, high out of his mind on cocaine, where he debated just taking you, wanting you out of his system by any means necessary. But no, you also had to be an exemplary employee, and he knew from experience just how hard those were to find.

Was it so much to ask for you to pull double-duty, working hard for the company and letting him work you hard on your time off? Terry didn’t think so.

So, he had been biding his time somewhat, settling for increasingly salacious flirting at the office, making excuses to be in your presence as often as possible. And damn but if he didn’t start to actually like you; your sarcasm and quick wit making him actually look forward to seeing the fire in your eyes as he came onto you yet again.

Yes, the chase had become quite fun… but the time had come for the predator to snatch up his prey.

He needed a way to get you to loosen up around him, somewhere where you couldn’t use work as an excuse to escape him.

Terry presses the intercom on his desk, summoning Margaret into his office.

They had some planning to do.

--- Reader’s POV ---

The office is abuzz the next day as you arrive to work, and it has you on edge immediately. People excitable at a company like Dynatox was never a good sign. Was it another lawsuit? Some scandal at one of their competitors? Deciding not to try to guess the source of the gossip, you walk to your office to get to work; it would find its way to you eventually.

Sure enough, your assistant sticks her head in your office within the first hour of the day.

“Y/N! Did you hear?” Jess exclaims excitedly, looking mildly annoyed by the blank stare you give her in response. “Ahh, check your mail and read the memo from Mr. Silver! It’s going to be great!”

Sighing, you pull the stack of papers out of the “incoming” basket for mail on your desk, flipping through until you come to the memo, printed in glossy colour. Skimming it quickly, you see that Mr. Silver has announced a mandatory gala for all employees the weekend after next, to celebrate the success of the company.

So now you were going to have to come in on the weekend and deal with his crap? Lovely.

There was a post-it note stuck to the bottom of the memo.

See you there. – T.S.

Seething, you crumple the note in your palm, tossing it into the bin. You half-believed this party was just some scheme to further annoy you. It was ridiculous to think so, but the man was ridiculously persistent, and you wouldn’t put it past him. What was it going to take for him to finally drop it and leave you alone?

You move to toss the flyer away, but text at the bottom – previously covered by the Post-It – catches your eye.

Those who wish to bring a guest should RSVP to Margaret as soon as possible.

You bite your tongue to fight back what would have been a particularly wicked grin. Bingo.

Sticking your head out of your office door, you tell Jess that you were taking an important call and were not to be disturbed, closing the door firmly behind you.

You had some planning to do.

---

Your scheming had gone on for longer than you had anticipated, so you had had to stay late at the office to finish your work, but you were now finally ready to go home. You were exhausted, but it had been worth it; you were almost looking forward to the party now.

You head into the elevator, enjoying that you were the only one that stuck around this late and could breathe comfortably for once in the normally cramped space. That is, until a large, bejeweled hand appears between the nearly-closed doors, causing them to open again.

You’ve got to be kidding me.

Mr. Silver looms in the doorway, smiling down at you before striding into the elevator, standing far closer to you than necessary in the otherwise empty space. You tense up, but don’t take the bait, standing your ground.

“Hey, Y/N! Wow, you’re here late – burning the midnight oil?” He quips, irritatingly chipper for this time of night.

“Yes, Mr. Silver, I had a few loose ends to tie up,” you respond, trying to keep the smirk out of your voice.

“It’s dedication like that that makes this company so successful,” he replies cheerily. You nod tightly in response, wishing for the first time you hadn’t worked your way up to such a high-up office. The elevator was taking forever.

“That’s why I couldn't help but put on the gala next weekend,” he continues, clearly goading you. You feel his gaze at the back of your head, but stubbornly refuse to turn around. “I hope you’re excited!”

With only a couple floors to go, you can’t resist the opportunity to wipe what is most assuredly a shit-eating grin off the man’s face. You turn to face him, giving him a beaming smile that definitely takes him by surprise.

“Absolutely, Mr. Silver,” you say, forcing every shred of enthusiasm you can muster into your tone. “Me and my date will see you there, boss!”

The elevator doors open at the perfect time, and you turn to exit, walking away without another word to the man, fighting the urge to turn around and see his reaction. You’d have the chance to appreciate it at the gala.

--- Terry’s POV ---

Terry broods in the back of the limo on the way home, trying not to bite the end off his cigar in his anger. A date? There was no way. He regularly paid employees to feed him gossip, asking several in particular to get information about you from your assistant; the girl was an open book. She had never mentioned you being in a relationship; you had told her you were focused on your career. Had you lied to her? You didn’t seem the type, but then, you were a private person.

He had a couple of weeks to get to the bottom of this – and he would get to the bottom of this – and was more than willing to spend the necessary resources finding out who this other man was, if he even existed. Terry Silver was not threatened by competition, but he didn’t enjoy being out of the loop.

“Margaret, take a note,” he requests, exhaling smoke from his cigar. The woman, poised to help as ever, clicks her pen.

“Get a group of PIs together. I want them watching Y/N L/N from tomorrow until the gala. Look for any men she speaks to for more than a cup of coffee and get me background checks on them.”

“Yes, Mr. Silver,” she replies, keeping judgement out of her tone as always. That was the main difference between Margaret and you, he realized; well, apart from Margaret practically being a surrogate aunt to him. You were both excellent employees, but while she easily removed her own opinions and feelings on his business dealings from her work, you were a firecracker, barely able to keep yourself from blowing up at him at every opportunity. He did so want to push you over the edge, in every way he could…

Terry takes another drag of his cigar, satisfied. A lover didn’t present a threat to him; he’d just find out what it would take to get rid of him – money, blackmail, a good, old-fashioned beatdown. You’d be his by the end of the gala.

He’d make sure of it.

---

A week has passed since he put the order out, and so far nothing had come of it. You had barely left your house other than to work, and he’d had people stationed outside your home 24/7. No one had come or gone beyond the odd deliveryman. You hadn’t been seen out in public with any men beyond the odd family member, either. He was now convinced that the man in question didn’t exist, and finds himself surprised at your tactics. He figured that if you had thought making up a boyfriend would be enough to deter him – it wouldn’t – that you would have done so by now, and you hadn’t.

Surely you knew him better than that by now, didn’t you? He’d be disappointed otherwise.

There are a few days left before the gala, and he uses them to poke the bear further, seeing if he can get you to admit that there is no mystery man in your life.

On Wednesday afternoon, he shows up himself at your office door, not even trying to be subtle about pursuing you anymore. Everyone else knew to get out of his way and leave him to his antics. Boss’s orders.

“Y/N, sorry to drop this on you last minute, but I need this taken care of by the end of the day, alright?” he says in his best innocent voice, dropping a stack of file folders on your desk. You don’t look up at him or respond right away, but he sees your grip on your pen tighten, and smirks.

You look up at him after a long moment, your face a neutral mask. “Yes, Mr. Silver,” you reply, not giving him anything. Breaking you was going to be so much fun…

“I hope that staying late doesn’t interfere with a hot date with your man or anything,” he adds, unable to resist pushing you on the subject.

“No, not tonight,” you reply absently, looking through the stack of papers he’d tossed your way. He decides to drop the matter there, and turns to leave.

“We’re looking forward to blowing off some steam the night of the gala,” you call out when his back is turned, your voice deliberately husky, and his back stiffens. You were such a fucking tease…

He leaves your office without another word, immediately making plans to go to the dojo and blow off some steam of his own.

--- Reader’s POV ---

You finally get your hair just perfect, managing to look both elegant and sexy as it cascades down your shoulders. You’d been at it for what felt like forever, but you were finally ready: hair half up and curled, smoky makeup, a pair of pumps, and a deep red dress that made you feel like sin personified.

You had had a great time messing with Terry over the past couple of weeks, really laying it on thick the closer to the event you got. His visible frustration at your insistence that you had a boyfriend had been amusing, and there had been a couple of times where you were briefly worried you had pushed him a bit too far with your teasing. Hopefully after tonight, he would get the message and leave you be. You were almost regretting it; giving the man a taste of his own medicine had made work downright enjoyable.

There’s a knock at the door, and you head over to greet your “date” for the evening. You open the door, revealing your friend Mark, looking dashing as always as he leans against the doorframe, a small bouquet of roses in hand. You take him in with your eyes: tanned skin, short curly hair, deep brown eyes, in a perfectly fitted black suit with a shirt that matched your dress, the first few buttons undone.

“Well hellooo, gorgeous,” he purrs, and you roll your eyes at him, tugging him into a hug and laying a kiss on his cheek.

“We’re not there yet, Mark, you don’t need to start with that yet,” you laugh, pulling him inside.

“I figured I’d practice now, make it more convincing,” he jokes, grinning at you like a loon. You and Mark had met in college, in an elective theatre class, and had bonded right away over your love of wine and beautiful men, and had been friends ever since. He had spent many nights passed out on your couch, and you were happy to finally call in one of the (many) favours he owed you by having him play your boyfriend for the evening.

“Thank you again for doing this,” you tell him earnestly. You knew he would play the part perfectly, and he had been on board from your first phone call to him when the gala had first been announced.

“Are you kidding? Acting out gay cliches is what I live for!” he quips. “But really, run me through this again; I don’t want to fuck up.”

You rattle off the plan again: he would wait at a distance for Terry to approach you when you were alone – you had no doubt that he would – and then swoop in, all good looks and dazzling charm, acting like you were the perfect couple for the evening, doing your best to assure your boss that pursuing you was a pointless endeavour.

“Just keep your wits about you, alright? This guy is a sneaky bastard, and ridiculously persistent.”

“Oh, to be pursued endlessly by a wealthy man,” Mark laments, and you snort at him. “What’s this guy look like? How will I know who I'm looking for?”

“Tall, ponytail, annoying; you won’t be able to miss him,” you rattle off. “Oh, I know!”

Walking over to the coffee table, you pick up the most recent copy of Time magazine, flipping through it to the article on Dynatox. “Here, this is him,” you offer the magazine to Mark, pointing to the glossy photographs of the man in question. He whistles lowly.

“Damn, he’s fit. Why are you rejecting him again?” he asks, and you roll your eyes.

“I don’t care if he’s Eros in the flesh,” you snap. “He’s pretentious, he’s annoying, and he thinks he’s entitled to anyone he bats an eye at.” Mark puts his hands up in surrender.

“Alright, alright! Sorry I asked. You ready to go?” You nod at him, making for the door, but he doesn’t follow. You look over your shoulder to see him staring at the magazine on the table, his lips quirked.

“What?” you demand, narrowing your eyes at him.

“You sure found that page fast,” he comments, tapping the magazine with a finger. “Flip to it a lot?” he asks innocently.

“Shut up, Mark.”

“Uh-huh. So, do you think your boss may be hitting on you because he’s compensating for something? Closeted homosexuality, perhaps?” he asks in a hopeful tone. You can’t help but laugh at this, pushing him out the door towards the cab.

---

The massive main lobby of Dynatox’s building had been done up to the nines for the event, looking even more opulent than usual, and you find yourself taking in the view as you enter on Mark’s arm, despite walking through this very room nearly every day for years now.

Mark helps you out of your coat, ever the gentleman, folding it over his arm to go to the coat check. He leans in to whisper in your ear, making sure to look particularly intimate as he does so. Mark did nothing halfway – much like another handsome man in your life…

“I’ll go check this and then find somewhere to wait in the wings. Go look gorgeous and knock him dead, love!” He kisses your cheek with a smile, disappearing into the growing crowd, and you can’t help but blush, feeling butterflies in your stomach.

You find a large, marble pillar to lean up against with a glass of wine, surveying the crowd and trying to appear natural. Sure enough, it doesn’t take long before you are approached by the man himself.

“Good evening, Y/N. So wonderful to see you,” croons a voice from behind you, and you suppress a shiver, turning to look up at Terry, dressed in a stunning tuxedo. You pointedly keep your eyes on his face.

“Hello, Mr. Silver. Happy to be here,” you reply sweetly, peering up at him over the rim of your wine glass.

“And where is this man I’ve heard so much about?” he asks with obvious fake interest. You resist the urge to smirk. This was going perfectly.

“Oh, just checking my coat,” you say dismissively, waving your hand in the vague direction Mark had left in. “And what about you? Do you have a date for this evening?”

“Oh yes, my woman is here,” he doesn’t miss a beat, his eyes locked with yours. You feel your face heat at his implication.

“Oh, wonderful! Make sure that you introduce me at so–”

Your remark is cut off as an arm wraps around you, a body pressing up against you from behind.

“Boo,” Mark says lowly in your ear, and you giggle, letting him pull you to his side with an arm firmly around your waist. You press your body into his, kissing his cheek, pleased to see Terry looking appropriately flabbergasted at the appearance of your, ahem, lover.

“I’ve been looking all over for you, darling,” Mark purrs, loudly enough to make sure that Terry hears.

“Sorry, honey! I got caught up talking to my boss,” you reply, making sure to emphasize his role. “Mark, this is Terry Silver. Mr. Silver, this is my boyfriend Mark,” you introduce the two, watching them exchange what looks to be a needlessly firm handshake. Fortunately, Mark holds his own. You could kiss him for how well he was playing this, giving Terry a look as though he was sizing him up as competition.

“Lovely to meet you, Mr. Silver,” he grins at the man, making it clear he doesn’t perceive him as a threat. “I hope you don’t mind, but I need to steal my woman away for a dance!”

He takes your empty wine glass and reaches past Terry to place it on a table, pulling you away from him and over to the dance floor without another word to the man. You wrap your arms around his neck, and he rests his forehead on yours as you sway to the music.

“You are a wonderful, devious man,” you praise him quietly, smiling brilliantly and he beams at you, twirling you around before pulling you back into his arms.

“If only my “tall, dark, and handsomeness” could help me win over my own “taller, darker, and handsomer” man,” he replies wistfully, and you see him glancing over your shoulder, presumably at Terry. You grin up at him.

“We’ll make that our next project, darling,” you promise, laughing at your use of the pet name. “Seriously though, thank you. I could kiss you for how well you played that back there.”

Mark sighs dramatically. “For the cause,” he murmurs in a self-sacrificing tone, leaning down to kiss you gently, holding you closer.

Neither of you feel the wave of absolute rage that radiates out of Terry Silver’s rigid form.

--- Terry’s POV ---

The elevator doors open to the deserted top floor of Dynatox Industries, Terry stepping out and stalking to his office at the far end of the room, slamming the door shut behind him.

How the fuck had this happened?

He’d had you tailed for days, and not once had that prick shown his fucking face anywhere near you. None of his sources inside the building had ever heard you mention a Mark. Where the fuck had he come from?

The fax machine in the corner starts making noise, and he moves over to it, seeing that the PIs had sent over photographs of this guy picking you up for tonight. Oh, now they find him. Terry flips through the black and white shots of you embracing the man, laughing with him, kissing his cheek.

He’s torn the pictures to shreds before he even thinks about doing it, seeing red.

How long had you been together? Had he fucked you yet? You were meant to be his.

He walks over to the globe in the corner, spinning it to open the bar hidden inside, and quickly pours himself a shot of whiskey, then another. He had to calm down.

He had planned for this, for the event that your lover ended up being real, after all. Get the man alone, find out what made him tick, and send him on his way, leaving you in his far more capable hands. He would have you tonight, of that he was certain.

The alcohol settling his nerves, and restoring his confidence, Terry returns to the party, determined to put his plan in action.

Sticking to the sidelines or pretending to listen to the inane chatter other employees came to bother him with, his eyes are always on the two of you. Every touch between you, every laugh Mark draws out of you, he tallies them all up in his head, determined to make you pay for them at some point. Finally, you part ways from your little paramour, heading for the Ladies’ Room, while your partner makes his way to the bar.

Terry closes in on the man, waiting for him to retrieve his drink before all but backing him into a corner, using every bit of his size to appear effortlessly intimidating. Mark gives him a look up and down, and his lips quirk, but he appears unfazed.

“So where did you and Y/N meet?” Terry asks, as though they’d been in the middle of a conversation this whole time.

“College.”

“Which college was that again?”

“UC Berkeley.” Damn, he was telling the truth about that; he’d looked over your CV again recently, nearly having it memorized at this point. He’d find something, some slip up he can use against the man to get him out of here…

“And how long have you been together?”

“Almost a year now; we got together on Valentine’s Day; horribly sappy, I know,” the man jokes, and a flash of you, naked on a bed covered in rose petals flashes in Terry’s mind. He gnashes his teeth.

“She’s really something,” he continues, having clearly had quite a bit to drink. “Completely insatiable – I’ve been over at her place every night this week!”

Terry is about to reach over and break the man’s neck with his bare hands, when something suddenly clicks in his head.

No man had visited you any night this week; he’d made sure of it.

This man was lying, and he had no reason to lie to Terry unless you had put him up to it. You weren’t dating this man at all, he realizes. You crafty little minx…

Terry steps closer to the other man, suddenly all smiles.

“What will it take for you to admit that this is all a ruse, huh?”

The man valiantly tries to keep up the act for a moment, but eventually breaks eye contact with Terry, laughing quietly.

“What gave us away?”

“Don’t worry about that, just know that I know.”

The man snorts, polishing off his drink. “God, you’re as cocky and proud as Y/N. Don’t know why you both don’t just cut the bullshit already, since you’re apparently soooo smart.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Terry asks the man, impatient. Now that the charade was up, he seemed to have loose lips, the alcohol going right to his head. You would be furious if you found out he had betrayed you… Terry smirks at the thought.

“You both clearly want to fuck each other; I don’t know why you don’t just get to it.” Really now…

“What makes you say that?” Terry asks, crossing his arms and staring the man down.

“Don’t worry about that, just know that I know,” Mark repeats mockingly, parroting Terry’s words back at him.

“Fine,” Terry snaps, sensing he won’t get much more of substance out of the man. “What will it take for you to drop the act and leave her to me?” He’s all business once more, already reaching into his pocket to retrieve his wallet. Mark waves a hand at him dismissively.

“Don’t worry about that; I’ve got my eye on something over at the bar,” he purrs, looking over to the bartender with lust in his eyes. Well, that settled that then.

Now to find a way to get you alone…

Terry approaches one of his favourite gossip-mongers, reaching for his wallet once more.

--- Reader’s POV ---

“Y/N, there you are!” A voice cuts through the crowd as you re-enter the lobby, scanning the room for Mark. You’d caught Terry staring at the pair of you several times throughout the night, but he had finally seemed to leave off. Probably off tending to his bruised ego, you think to yourself, brushing away the slight pang of guilt. You wanted to find Mark and get out of here, having fulfilled your mission for the night.

The woman who had called your name approaches you – Alice, you think her name was. She was a newer employee, and apparently a notorious gossip, so you had avoided her the best you could.

“Yes?” you ask, still craning your neck to look for your date.

“Could you do me the hugest favour? I accidentally put a file on your desk that was meant for Marissa, and she’ll kill me if it isn’t on her desk first thing Monday morning. Would you mind moving it for me?” she begs. You groan internally, but know that not doing this for her could have you branded as the “Office Bitch,” and you really didn’t need any more drama at work. Giving her a fake smile, you reassure her you’ll get right to it, and make for the elevator. The sooner you did this, the sooner you could go home.

The elevator doors open on your floor and you make for your office, noting with brief annoyance that the cleaning staff have closed the blinds despite your repeated requests to leave them open. Finding your keys, you unlock your door, flicking the light on and making your way to your desk with a sigh. You look over everything, but nothing is on it that you hadn’t put there yourself.

Where the hell was this file?

The door to your office closes loudly behind you, and you turn to see Terry Silver leaning against it casually, but his eyes are blazing. Your heart rate takes off immediately, and you gasp, your hand going to your throat.

“Looking for something?” he asks, and you start to feel very claustrophobic, very quickly.

“Yes, Alice came and asked me to look for something in here,” you explain slightly breathlessly, cursing the woman in your head with everything you had. “But I can’t find it, so I think Mark and I will just head home.”

“Is that so?” he questions, an amused tone to his voice that you don’t like.

“Yes, so if you’ll excuse me…” you trail off pointedly.

He doesn’t move away from the door.

“Mark was trying to convince the bartender to go home with him when I left him,” Terry informs you, and your blood feels like it freezes in your veins. He knew you had played him.

You open your mouth to make an excuse, a snarky comment, to say anything, but nothing comes out. Terry is staring at you with a smirk, the air around the two of you thick with tension.

“I think you’ve done enough toying with me, don’t you?” he asks innocently, slowly stepping towards you. “It’s my turn.”

You manage to convince your feet to back away from him, moving to keep your desk between you.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you lie, trying to keep your voice and your body from shaking.

“You don’t know what I’m talking about?” Terry mocks, coming up to the desk and laying his palms on it, leaning across it towards you. Your eyes follow his hands, and looking just past them, you see he’s rock hard. You bite back a whimper of desire.

“Don’t even think about it, Terry Silver.” You’re relatively pleased with the way you growl out the threat, but he doesn’t seem fazed. He straightens up slowly, giving you a wide smile, and without moving his eyes from yours sweeps everything off your desk to the ground with one fluid motion of his arm.

“Get on the desk,” he requests in a calm, quiet voice, as though he was asking you to hand him a piece of mail. A jolt of pleasure moves from the butterflies in your stomach down to your clit. You scowl at him, refusing to give in.

“Bite me, you arrogant, entitled asshole,” you snarl at him, and he smiles at you patronizingly, but his eyes harden.

“Get on the desk or I will throw you on the desk,” he warns, and your knees nearly buckle at the dominant tone in his voice. You force yourself to walk a wide berth around him and your desk, suddenly hating your favourite pair of pumps as you make your way for the door.

“Even if I did want you,” you hiss back at him, though you both know that you do, “I’m not just going to let you treat me like some obedient little puppet that you can just –”

He reaches out and snatches your arm in his large hand, yanking you between him and the desk. Bending you back against it, he tangles a hand in your hair, keeping you at an awkward angle you couldn’t squirm out of and attacking your lips in a punishing kiss.

You let out a growl of indignation against his lips, reaching up to roughly grab his ponytail, trying to pull him off you, kissing him back fiercely all the while. When that fails to get a reaction out of him you try to shove him off you, your hands pushing on his broad shoulders with all your might until he seems to get annoyed, moving his hands out of your hair and away from your waist to snatch up your wrists, bending you fully to lay back against the desk and pinning your hands above your head with ease.

You snarl, and he nips your lower lip, running his tongue along yours in a way that has you moaning, your toes curling. He doesn’t let up until you’re both dizzy from lack of oxygen, pulling you upright into his arms before breaking the kiss. You both pant heavily, tasting each other in the air as you catch your breath.

“Get on the desk, little hellcat,” he murmurs, his eyes dark with lust.

“Go fuck yourself,” you snap back at him, and he gives you a wicked smile.

“Fine, we’ll do this the fun way,” he replies, seemingly unperturbed by the insult. He flips you over and bends you over the desk before you can say or do anything else, grinding against you through your clothes with a hand in your hair, pinning you down again. You fight back a moan as you buck your hips back against him, your eyes rolling back into your head at the feel of him. The way this man set your whole body on fire…

You feel his hand leave your hair and stay put, focusing on using your grip on the edge of the desk to give you leverage to grind against him at a better angle. He lets out a growl of approval, his hands moving down to your thighs, lifting your tight skirt over your hips, kneading your ass in a way that has you crying out for him. You can feel him smirking at your response, the arrogant bastard…

He slides his hands from your ass up the sides of your body, pulling you up against him, kneading your breasts roughly over your dress.

“What was that, hmm?” he asks patronizingly, nibbling your ear. “What was that noise I just heard from you?”

“I hate you,” you growl out, pressing your ass against his hard cock through his pants, desperate for friction, for him… and you’d bite your tongue clean off before you asked for it.

“I can’t believe you ever managed to pull a fast one on me; you’re a terrible liar,” he purrs against your skin, running his lips along your shoulder, his hands tugging your dress down and baring your breasts. You squirm in his clutches as his fingers move to your nipples, switching between feather-light teasing and pinching in a way that has you clutching the edge of your desk, your nails digging into the wood. You would not make another sound.

“Last chance. All you have to do is hop up on your desk like a good girl and I’ll give you exactly what you want, Y/N,” he tells you teasingly. Your hands go to your chest, trying to slap his hands away from you, and he’s got you bent back over your desk in an instant, your now-tender nipples pressed against the wood hard enough to sting.

“Alright, you’ll beg for it, then,” he says, completely unbothered by your resistance, nudging your legs apart with his knee. Your thighs tremble in anticipation.

“Never,” you growl, one cheek pressed against the wood. Your panties are tugged down your legs, and then his fingers are at your entrance, teasing you, coating two of his fingers in your juices before reaching just above and stroking your clit masterfully.

“You’re so fucking wet for me,” Terry groans in your ear, and you debate banging your head into the desk to distract yourself from the overwhelming lust that’s clouding your every thought. It would probably just make matters worse at this point.

“Were you this wet when you were thinking up your little plans for tonight, you fucking cocktease?” he continues, pumping two fingers into your pussy as he moves his thumb to your clit, unrelenting. You’re close already, and you’re furious about it, biting your lip until it bleeds in your desperation to keep quiet.

“Didn’t work out the way you thought it would, did it Y/N?” he taunts, curling his fingers inside you. You slam your hand over your mouth to muffle your screams as you come around his fingers. He snatches your wrist, pulling your hand away and catching the tail end of your moans. He observes the drops of crimson on your fingers with a calculated expression, pulling you upright and turning you to face him.

“Stubborn hellcat,” he murmurs fondly, holding your chin in his iron grip so that he can survey the damage you’ve done to your lip. Leaning forward, he sucks your lower lip into your mouth, lapping the blood with his tongue, and a violent shudder goes through you as you see him lick your blood off of his lips.

“Still not going to give in, huh?” he asks, cocking his head to the side as he takes in your murderous expression. “You’re going to at some point tonight, doll. I’m going to have you begging for my cock, and then I’m going to fuck that tight little hole until you can’t walk straight.”

“Terry!” you cry out, half in need and half in shock at his filthy language. He actually shudders, his eyes rolling back in his head briefly.

“Fuck, you sound so good when you’re screaming my name,” he growls, reaching for his belt. “I’m going to hear it a lot tonight.”

“Like hell you… will…” You start out angrily, but as he pulls his cock out, you find your mouth going dry, your train of thought completely evaporating from your mind. The smug grin he levels you with has you feeling both defeated and desperate to have him. You lick your lips, and a noise of approval emanates from somewhere deep in his chest, catching the depraved motion as you stare lustfully at his cock, your dress bunched up around your waist.

“Ask me to fuck you, Y/N,” he commands, and you cling to your last shred of resolve, stubbornly not replying.

“I suppose I could just come all over this pretty dress,” he says as if truly contemplating the idea, pumping his hand up and down his shaft. Why did he have to rile you up all the time?

“It just seems like such a waste when I should be coming inside your tight little cunt, pumping you full of m–”

“FINE!” you shriek, glaring daggers at him, hopping up on your desk. “I want you, Terry Silver! I want you to fuck me hard with that hard cock on my desk like I’m the office slut! Just shut the fuck up and do it already!”

He flashes a wicked grin at you, and between one blink and the next is perfectly positioned between your thighs, his cock lined up at your entrance.

“Was that so hard?” he asks innocently, and you let out a cry of frustration, trying to pull his hips closer to yours.

“Oh, now you’re stalling? Do you even know what you’re doing, you stupi–”

He thrusts into you in one motion, your insult dying in your throat and being replaced by a wanton moan as he sets a brutal pace.

“Damn defiant little tease,” he growls, his hips pumping hard and deep as he stares down at your body, tits bouncing for him from the force of his thrusts. “You thought you could get away from me, huh? After mouthing off at me in your tight little skirts for months, acting like you didn’t want me to take you like you deserve?”

“YEEESSS!” you wail, clinging to the desk for dear life as he pounds into you, giving you the hardest, roughest fucking of your life.

“You’re not gonna make that mistake again, are you, my little hellcat?” he demands, his fingernails digging into your hips as he pins you down against the desk. You would feel this tomorrow – probably for the next week – and you know that that’s his intention.

“No, Terry! Fuck!” you whine out desperately, creaming around his cock as you climax a second time. He shows no signs of slowing down, let alone stopping, merely lifting your legs up, throwing them over his shoulder and taking you even deeper.

“That’s right,” he growls, spanking you hard. “What are you going to do the next time I call you into my office, huh?” He spanks you again after you’re too incoherent to respond. “Tell me!” he commands you, reaching a hand down your body to wrap around your throat. You arch up against him desperately, clawing into his forearm, feeling like you were going to pass out from the overstimulation.

“Fuck, Terry, I don’t know! Bend over your desk, get on my knees, whatever you want, just please don’t stop!” you whine, digging your heels into his back.

“Good girl,” he purrs, leaning down to kiss you fiercely, adjusting his hips to take you at an angle that has his cock hitting your G-spot with every thrust. You come for him again with a cry of his name, your voice hoarse, and this time he comes with you, moaning your name in your ear as he fills you up, his upper body coming down on top of you. You both take a moment to catch your breath before he sits up, pulling you into a sitting position beside him. The contrast between how rough he had just been with the gentleness of the gesture has your body tingling.

Neither of you say anything for a long moment, looking at the ground. You spot streaks of red on one of his forearms.

“I clawed your arm up,” you comment, not able to keep the note of vindictive pleasure from your voice. He lifts his arm, examining the damage.

“So you did,” he replies absently.

“Maybe it’ll teach you not to fuck around with your employees,” you suggest cheekily, unable to resist. He gives you a look that has your knees going weak again, and you briefly worry he’s going to bend you over the desk again for another round.

“Oh I wouldn’t say that,” he replies brightly, slowly coming to stand in front of you. He grabs your chin in one hand. “You look good after I’ve ravaged you.”

“Bite me, Terry.”

“Let me get you home, first.”

---

You use the car-phone in Terry’s limo on the way to his place to leave a voicemail for your assistant, telling her you wouldn’t be in that coming week.

“See? Isn’t cooperating so much better?” he asks condescendingly once you’ve hung up the receiver, patting your hair affectionately. You glower at him, slapping his hand away.

“Do you think you could go even ten minutes without being a pretentious asshole?” you ask, crossing your arms in a huff. “I don’t need to spend any of my time off with you.”

“Oh Y/N,” he croons, tugging you into his lap despite your mild protestations. “I have no intention of letting you be anywhere else.”

---

…I got carried away.

[dominusrerehepf]

Traveler Rework

Despite their honorable status of a 5* character, the Traveler is currently at the level of rather unpopular 4* characters in terms of relevance, not counting the Dendro-element. It’s easy to understand why: if the standard character is already good, why do you need to get others? But even taking this into account, they must be worthy of being called a 5* Legendary. Let's look at the specific problems of each element, what are they and what should be improved so that the character become comfortable enough to play with.

Let's start with general things and then move on to each element specifically.

The very first thing that should be changed in Travelers' skills is to stop resetting the level of normal attacks with every new element. The name may change, but the level itself remains the same as when you leveled up the skill for the first time. Even from a logical point of view, this reset is meaningless. It would be justified, If with every new element came a new fighting style, but with the same one it simply looks absurd. (If this ever happens, return the spent materials, please, or just the same amount in mora equivalent)

Secondly, it’s burst costs. Make them all 60pt, like Anemo and Geo ones.

Now let's move on to skills. The order will be as follows: starting with the elements in which minimal changes are needed, and progressively to those most in need of change.

Dendro and Electro are quite good; if bult correctly, Traveler can act as a worthy support for different teamcomps. Electro is largely unpopular only because there are too many good alternatives. The only things that could be improved are the values of the restored energy using the “Amulets of Abundance” of the Electro-traveler - From 3-4 to 6-8 energy/amulet at maximum skill levels (9-10).

Anemo

The very first element that helped many beginners at the very start of the game.

In general, all skills and passives are good, except for the elemental burst.

The "Gust Surge" has one unpleasant feature - it flies in a straight line, often carrying enemies far away, and deals minimal damage to resistant enemies, as it most often flies past them.

How I suggest to fix this:

Let tornado move for a while and then stop in place, continuing the action. Thus, when burst is launched into a cluster of enemies, it will suck in all the light ones, but at the same time cause sufficient damage to more resistant targets.

Geo

The second element in Traveler's possession and one of the most ignored.

One of the biggest problems is the "barrels" created by Starfell Sword. They block not only damage, but also the movement of characters, especially when they are placed too close in the heat of battle.

I have a suggestion on what to do with this: let the passive skill “Frenzied Rockslide” deal damage not only to enemies, but also be capable of destroying “barrels” when it hits them. Together with the second constellation, this will create a fairly effective combination with good amount of geo-damage.

The second problem is elemental burst. The wall pushes enemies away, which is not always good. What you can do here: push enemies inside of the area instead. There is nothing better for a close-combatant than enemies within hand's reach, that can't escape, or for ranger to have enemies contained in one place.

Hydro

The newest and, alas, the most disappointing element. This happened for two reasons: first, there were already enough good, and even great, hydro-characters in the game and at the time of Fontaine’s release, and second, because the skills were very poorly developed and provide few advantages to the player. After dendro, hydro feels really lazy and inspired. So, let's begin: Firstly, Elemental burst. It's even more useless than Anemo one, because its entire essence comes down to dealing hydro damage. No buffs, no debuffs, no control. Just a bubble that deals damage, and also requires C2 to float a little slower.

There is a solution, but it is so labor-intensive that, most likely, no one will do it (although all solutions, except those related to numbers, are exactly like this): Let the bubble spin around the active character, dealing hydro damage. (Preferably in such an orbit that doesn't block the view).

In this case, the 2nd constellation can be changed: “Increases the duration of the skill by 3 seconds and when hitting enemies, reduces the hydro-resistance of enemies by 30%.” Hydro damage + hydro status on enemies + debuff = big win.

Secondly - Elemental skill cooldown. This problem affects not only Traveler, but also Lynette - due to arkhe, their tap and hold skill variants have the same cooldown - 10 and 13 seconds respectively. As the arkhe-aligned attacks of other characters show, such dependence is quite useless. There is Charlotte, who has a Pneuma on charged attack, that has a certain cooldown, while not blocking the cast of further charged attacks. Therefore, why not decouple one cooldown from the other and make separate cooldowns for tap and hold: 5 and 10, 7 and 13 seconds respectively, for example, but keep the arkhe cooldown at 10 and 13 seconds.

That's all I have to say. If you have anything to add or argue about, feel free to comment. Thanks for reading!

P.S. What other platform can I post this material?

[avani008]

Hi! I have a question regarding the usage of astras in Hindu mythology. How did a sage choose who to pass down a particular Astra to? Did it depend on caste, with only Kshatriyas and Brahmins allowed to use astras, which is why there was such a great uproar when Karna, believed to be of low caste, was able to summon a variety of astras? But that still doesn't explain the discrepancy between the number of astras a particular Kshatriya or a Brahmin could summon. Like in the Mahabharata, Arjuna, Karna, Bheeshma, Drona, etc lead the pole with respect to number of astras known, and other warriors don't know as many astras as these people do. Which is confusing, because if only Kshatriyas and Brahmins could use astras, then ideally shouldn't all members of both these castes know the same amount of astras? I've seen some sources suggest that astras were handed down only following the establishment of a pupil's character, irrespective of the pupil's caste, because these weapons were so destructive and couldn't just be entrusted to anyone. This explanation does work, except we've already seen this condition violated in the Mahabharata, and without repurcussions to the offender! Drona refuses to teach the Brahmastra to Karna, but caves in to one single pair of puppy-eyes from Ashwatthama, despite knowing he didn't really deserve this knowledge and couldn't be trusted to use it responsibly. And Ashwatthama does go on to use the Brahmastra for less than noble purposes! So how exactly did any sage choose who to pass down an Astra to?

This is an excellent question, and this is my best understanding:

So, for all intents and purposes, astras are more equivalent to cheat-codes for a video game rather than physical weapons (which...you probably already knew lol). And just so, you could end up with an astra from a variety of sources:

direct from the source (ie, from the god who possessed it. Arjuna is the best example when he picks up special weapons from Shiva and Indra after meditating long enough to earn it)

from your teacher, buuut only if he liked you enough (and it was within his rights to pass it on or deny it for any random reason! Like you said, Drona gives it to Ashwattama and but refuses to teach Karna not because of caste, but because he wants Arjuna to be the best. And as annoyed as Karna is, his only options within that society is to go elsewhere)

from a random rishi you pleased/impressed/helped (Rama gets pretty much every divine weapon there is from Vishwamitra after helping to protect his sacrifice

So there doesn't seem to have been any quality control on who actually got the astras, just who you ran into; which is also how villains as well as heroes all seem to possess them. Until the Mahabharata war, it seems to have been chaos--until then the majority of the people who posessed the weapons either died before htey could pass it on any further, or (horrified by the damage) presumably decided to never to do so anymore. Which arguably might have been a secondary goal on Krishna's part.