#Like I know that this is a take that will swing wildly differently depending on how much you enjoy champs as a whole and your general skill

[shiroselia]

I think my take as a person who is generally pretty consistently good at champs is that while I like that SSE are actively updating them because god knows some of us (me) have been doing these same laps for literally like 7 years, I do hope that they keep the technical skill of atleast Some of the champs intact, because I do think that all the new updated versions so far have been a Little bit more streamlined and made easier (Moorland and the Pony are basically the same and I think Fort Pinta Needed the changes it had cause that wasn’t hard because it was challenging it was hard because the mechanics were poorly implemented), which for the current trio is fine, but if they make like, your Golden Hills of the world (probably the most challenging start out of the bunch imo) or your New Hillcrests of the world (which has a section where your timing will literally make you top 5 or bottom 5) super streamlined and really easy I think I’ll be a little sad not because I don’t think champs should be accessible and playable but because quite frankly after over a decade they’re undoubtedly the most fun

A genuine critique of the new champs though, holy Shit they need to be framerate checked better some of the new mechanics will drop My overqualified computer into literally 7 second freeze frames and I can’t even imagine what some of y’all on worse computers are dealing with (especially when, atleast in Moorlands case where it’s also the most offensive because it’s supposed to be the easiest and most accessible probably, said lag doesn’t come from the active features in the champ but from wholly useless and purely cosmetic things that don’t matter at all and are only there for SSE to poorly flex how much better they’ve gotten at making graphics, which rings very poor when said flexing makes the champ unplayable)

[rad-batson]

Damian Wayne Headcanons :) in which I give him actual character growth, suck it dc writers

this is extremely long, I am not sorry

He has literally no footsteps, you cannot hear him walk, even when he stomps around in one of those moods, it’s just barely a little *pat pat pat*

He doodles on everything. With everything. Some Gothamites have found intricate floral designs etched into the roof or random brick walls (most likely with a knife) after seeing Robin patrol.

He has like 20 weighted blankets, all different weights and sizes depending on his mood.

His favorite item in his room is a silver Nintendo DS. (He likes to use the little chat rooms, even if no one else is on the other end. He doodles and writes little messages. It’s like his diary.)

He loves all animals, and that includes the creepy ones. Especially the creepy ones.

Once, Tim started screaming bloody murder over a massive bug with a bajillion legs in his room. Damian now houses it in an enclosure in his bedroom. Her name is Mildred, Millie for short.

When he was in the LoA, he was forbidden from stimming in front of others. It took two years for anyone in the batfamily to ever witness him stimming.

His most common stimming behaviors are shaking out his hands, scratching his palms, and rubbing his hands across different surfaces. When he’s really stressed, he’ll snap his fingers.

He absolutely hates cameras. They’re loud and make him uncomfortable. One reporter almost got scratched when they got too close to him with the flash on. He only barely tolerates the security cameras in the manor. Barely.

He can and will be roped into any dare imaginable. Bruce repeatedly forbids him from taking dares from his siblings for months at a time.

He has a compartment in his utility belt dedicated to treats for any animal he sees on patrol.

When he’s tired, he’ll speak a mixture of Arabic, Mandarin, and English. Only Bruce can make sense of it, and occasionally Jason.

Bruce absolutely refuses to yell at Damian. Even if some of his other kids argue that he’s being too nice, he’ll only use his Batman voice and his Soft But Disappointed Dad Voice, but he will Never yell.

(He doesn’t tell them it’s because of what happened the first and only time he yelled at Damian. Bruce moved his hand a bit, and Damian flinched wildly. Bruce cried for hours over the implications of that.)

Damian only feels comfortable sitting if he can clearly see the main entrance. If not, he’ll sit with his back against a wall or he’ll stand.

He dutifully takes the responsibility of feeding and grooming every Wayne animal. They receive the most nutritious and filling meals on the market (all while receiving lots of head pats.)

He has very strong eyebrows just like his father. They tend to pull the same exasperated expressions too, highlighting their resemblance.

Talia taught Damian at a very young age how to write perfectly with both hands. He no longer remembers if he is naturally left or right-handed.

The one insult he cannot handle is “spoiled brat.” A few months after he arrived, someone in the family called him that as a joke, and he completely shut down emotionally. No anger, no sadness, no resentment. Literally just nothing. For days. No one knows why, but they will never let it happen again.

You know he’s Up to Something TM if he swings his legs back and forth while he sits.

He is obsessed with those cheap TV documentaries about famous plane crashes and shipwrecks. After finishing one, he’ll find the nearest family member and tell them all about it: how it happened, what human error caused it, and his fool-proof plan for if it ever happens again and he is nearby. Usually, it’s Alfred.

For the first few years at the manor, Damian’s favorite spot is the family graveyard. Everyone calls him dramatic. He just likes how it’s so quiet. (And he’s dramatic.)

When Jason waxes poetics about dying over dinner, Damian just groans and says, “So have I. You’re not special.” That’s how the family learns he was repeatedly revived in the Lazarus Pit due to the fatal nature of his training and abuse.

His first ever crush was on the cute male tech at Alfred the Cat’s vet. Damian was 12. Jason, who accompanied him, proceeded to give him both The Talk (“It’s okay to like boys”) and The Talk (“Your body is ✨changing✨”) on the drive home.

He will not text back unless it is absolutely necessary. He will leave people on read. He does not hate you. (…Probably.)

Titus is a registered therapy dog, trained in helping Damian through panic attacks and sensory overload. If you ever see Damian asleep on the floor, eyes cried out with Titus resting on top of him, you know why.

When he was 13, he tried to fake his own death after he failed a test at school and “dishonored the family name.” Bruce and Dick had to sit him down and explain that grades aren’t everything, and they still love him unconditionally.

He talks to animals like they’re human. He has a habit of venting his frustrations to Batcow in particular. And his fish while he feeds them.

His love language to others is a mixture of gifts and quality time, usually without words.

One day, Damian was snooping around the house and found that one of the electrical closets leads to a tiny space—barely two feet wide—in between the sheetrock and the foundation wall with nothing but a single hanging lightbulb. It took years before anyone else found it, but by then, Damian had painted an 8x10 ft mural on the wall and created a small bed of blankets and pillows for when he needs a quiet place to escape unwanted stimuli.

When he sleeps, his cheeks puff out like a little chipmunk. It’s adorable.

During the Winter Olympics one year, Damian falls in love with figure skating and decides he wants to try it out, but he never asks to take up lessons in fear that he will be horrible at it.

Duke figures this out and now takes him ice skating just enough to avoid suspicion. It’s become their bonding activity.

Once, Jason and Tim made him try a Sour Patch Kids-flavored energy drink. He immediately spit it out and said, “What the fuck?! That’s even worse than drinking from the Lazarus Pit.” And that’s how the family learns that Ra’s made Damian drink from the Lazarus Pit a few times.

One day, Steph told Damian about the wonders of concealed self defense products. Now, about 80% of the mundane items Damian owns is secretly a knife. He will purchase any item that is secretly a knife. Including several fake lipstick tubes.

He has rigorous self-control when it comes to sleep. Sure, his schedule is a bit fucked up for someone his age, but he is in bed and asleep exactly when he tells himself. (His siblings could never.)

His entire wardrobe is soft items he “found” stole from the laundry room. If it’s comfortable, it’s his now. (No one complains. In fact, having Damian steal your clothes is considered a privilege.)

He hates whenever Alfred tries to recreate dishes from his childhood. It’s just not the same. Alfred understands.

When he’s really stressed—like the “I am one stubbed toe away from a complete meltdown” stressed—he will finger paint. He likes the feeling of it on his skin.

Due to his time in the LoA, Damian has a habit of never telling anyone if he’s injured. Instead, he’ll pretend nothing’s wrong until he passes out or literally can’t move right and someone calls him out. He’s working on it, though.

There’s a massive system of fish tanks in his room complete with handmade decor and multiple venomous species. No one even realizes until Alfred mentions it during dinner.

He has hyper fixated at least once on every single artistic medium you can imagine. His top three are oil paintings, mosaics, and pottery, but he mostly sticks to drawing in his free time.

He has taste tested all of his pets’ treats at one point for “research purposes.”

Giving friends their own nickname is one of the most intimate things Damian does to express his relationship with someone.

Once, he was having an argument with a sibling, and they said, “Oh yeah? Well at least Bruce wanted me!” Damian didn’t leave his room for exactly six days. He even stapled blackout curtains to his windows and the vents. Bruce chewed the shit out of whoever said it and spent hours every day talking to Damian through the door to convince him that, yes, Bruce wants him and couldn’t ever think of a family without him. Damian didn’t come out, however, until he heard Bruce crying while begging him to eat. Damian slept in Bruce’s bed that night and the following week.

When he turns 15, he gets really obsessed with Måneskin.

He’s exactly the kind of Art Hoe that is completely loyal to his favorite brand of art supplies and wouldn’t touch other brands with a 10ft pole.

He has weirdly thin fingers. Like creepily thin, especially as he grows older. Someone commented on them once, and Damian proceeded to wear gloves nonstop for a week.

There are exactly four (4) people who are allowed to touch him without permission first. Dick, Jon, Bruce, and Talia in that order.

His eyes are actually naturally blue. The reason they are green is because of the Lazarus Pit. It’s always the Lazarus Pit. (They barely glow in the dark too, but you need to really pay attention to notice.)

He can wiggle his ears. The only people to ever witness it are Cass and Duke. They’ve been sworn to secrecy.

Whenever one of his many pets sleeps in his bed, he tries to stay as still as possible without touching them so they don’t get annoyed and leave, but they always worm their way into his arms.

As he grows, his family is surprised to learn that he isn’t building the same muscle as his dad. Instead, he’s lean like his mother due to an extremely fast metabolism. He eats a lot to maintain proper health. (His cheeks are still puffy when he sleeps, though. And when he smiles.)

Dick is his emergency contact for school, partially because Dick isn’t as busy, partially due to that time Bruce “died,” but mostly because Damian is terrified of disappointing Bruce if he ever gets in trouble. Thankfully, Dick is convincing Damian otherwise.

His favorite ever birthday gift comes from Tim. It’s a pottery studio he spent months building on their property in secret with several pottery wheels and a kiln.

His hands have always had a sort of surgical accuracy to them due to his stealth training, but it never came to the forefront of everyone’s mind until one particular mission when Tim got shot, and they needed to get the bullet out as quickly as possible. Despite being bigger than most of his family members by now, and Tim refusing to stay still the whole time, Damian was the only one capable of taking the bullet out. While riding in the Batmobile. Going 80 mph. Completely painlessly. Damian is immediately given the de facto role of Combat Medic.

Jon likes to send Good morning texts to Damian. At first, he didn’t know about the “only responds if it’s an emergency” thing, though, so he decided to stop after a few weeks of Damian never replying. Within an hour of not getting the usual text, Damian was at Jon’s house in full Robin gear to make sure he was okay.

He and Steph like to paint each other’s nails when one of them is stressed. After Damian comes out as pansexual, Steph paints little pride flags on his fingers.

He only plays Minecraft on creative mode. He likes building farms and wildlife preserves.

At 16, he gets asked out by a pretty girl in school that Damian had a crush on last year, but he thinks it’s a joke because he can’t fathom anyone liking him so he turns her down.

As he grows, his looks become more androgynous, again eerily resembling his mother, but his voice drops low enough that it doesn’t cause much misgendering.

Then he starts thinking of his gender a bit more and wonders if he’s also a They.

He likes to paint all over the soles of his shoes whenever he gets a new pair. No one will ever really see it, of course, and it eventually wears off the more he walks, but he knows it’s there.

It’s a nice day in the park. He’s doing homework on a picnic table while Titus and Ace run around, and he can’t stop thinking about his future.

Yesterday, there was a school assembly about choosing a career path. Alfred slid him an SAT prep book during breakfast. And his class was assigned one of those “Which career path is best for you?” quizzes.

He gets Veterinarian.

It takes a full five minutes as Damian stares at the results, thinking about the crazy, out-of-this-world idea of not being a vigilante or assassin his entire life, what it would be like if he just turned his back on the future which was so carefully laid out in front of him since birth, before it clicks into place.

Damian doesn’t want to be Batman.

He doesn’t want to lead the LoA either.

Two years later, Damian enrolls in Gotham University and majors in Wildlife Biology on the Pre-Vet track with a minor in Studio Arts. He gets a dorm room, works in the pottery studio, and volunteers at the local animal shelter.

He is content.

Does some of this stray from canon? Yes. However, I do not give a rat’s ass. Thank you, and goodnight.

[torusmistress]

I'm Taken.

context | warnings: smut, cheating, infidelity, creampie, drugs, drinking, dub-con, non binary!!

you clutch onto your pink cup tightly, chest tightening up as your boyfriend walks away during yet another argument. you rub your forehead, roll your eyes and deeply sigh as he goes to join the rest of the party, disregarding your feelings.

you make your way through the crowded space, watching how everyone else's evening seemed to be going their way. you go to sit on an empty sofa and drown in your thoughts before being abruptly interrupted, "where's your little boyfriend?"

you look up and see a tall pale man, he has a kind sympathetic expression his face as he speaks, shooting a brief glancing down to your cup. "why the fuck would i know, go find him." you snap at him. your eyes momentarily glance at his cup and you can't for the life of you remember what the purple cup meant.

"well yer the one gripping onto that cup like your life depended on it," he says while a teasing smile grows on his face, finding humor in his own words. you look down at your cup and for the first time you're overly aware of how tightly you’re gripping onto it.

you relax your muscles and put the cup down, “yea ‘m sorry, just been a shitty night.” he nods and sits down next to you. “oh no i totally understand, relationship issues?” he asks intuitively; turning his body to face you completely. “yeah, something like that,” you dryly laugh.

he rests a comforting hand on your thigh, and for the first time tonight you get a good look at him. his snowy white hair rests wildly on his head - falling just below his eyes, framing his beautiful porcelain skin. his piercing eyes are just barely concealed behind a pair of shades as his gaze bore into you like a lion eying his prey. which in a way was an exact metaphor for your current position.

“well otherwise, are you enjoying yourself?” he asks and you nod, “besides being dragged here and having a banging headache, yea.” he stands up and takes your hand in his, “follow me.”

he leads you upstairs through different crowds of people, and you stop at a door. he pulls a key out of the back pocket of his pants and unlocks it. he swings the door open and ushers you in with hand to your back. “go sit on the bed,” he says while walking off to the connected bathroom.

you hear him shuffling in the cabinets and get nervous, “what are you doing in there?” you ask; silence. you call out for him and yet again you’re met with silence. you get up from the bed and walk towards the bathroom, hop-scotching over random articles of clothing on the floor. “hell-

you’re cut off by him shoving a hand in your face carrying a small pill, “here, take this for the headache.” he grabs a lone glass from the bathroom sink then fills it with water, handing you the glass.

you go against all of the common sense you had and take the pill from the random man. he watches you intently as you swallow the pill while taking the empty glass from you.

“that should make you feel allll better,” he says, emphasizing the ‘all’. you thank him and go sit on his bed. he joins you with his purple cup now cradled in his hand.

you lay back on the bed and let the medication take its effect. satoru gets up from the bed and locks his door, which youre too zoned out to notice. “how long have you and you little boyfriend been together?” he inquires, laying his body next to yours. “9 months today, but instead of going on a date he drags us here, and insists on us getting green cups. like are you fucking serious? 9 months together and it’s ‘complicated’ it’s a bunch of bullshit.” you spill out in one breath, putting finger quotes on “complicated.”

“by the way, i don’t think i ever caught your name,” you question, turning your attention from his ceiling to his face; he's already looking at you though. "its satoru." he says, "sa..to..ru," you repeat back.

"yea, just like that." he says amusedly, his hand comes to your cheek and you can't help but smile at him. your brain is telling blaring with red flags. you shouldn't be doing this; what about your boyfriend? this guy is a total stranger.

but by now all those loud thoughts are nothing more than a lingering afterthought now that his soft lips are pressed onto yours. the kiss deepens and now you're straddling his lap, the kiss not breaking once. your shared arousal is nearly physically palpable, and his hands are groping you in the most erotic way, eliciting the lewdest plaint moans out of you. moans that could selfishly only be heard by him due to the loud overbearing music coming from downstairs.

"you want this? tell me you want it or i'll stop." he says. his fingers dig into your sides, aiding his maneuver to getting you on your back. you moan into his neck while his knee rides up the sheets into your crotch, you grind into it. "can't hear you baby," he whispers in your ear. "i want it satoru," you say quietly. its quiet for a second before hes back at it again, "cant hear you." he taunts.

you roll your eyes, yes you're horny but he's pushing it. "just fuck me already," you order at him. he smiles, "that's what i wanted to hear." he says while pulling your top over your head. he admires your body and removes his shirt as well.

the blasting music is now tuned out and its now just a quiet ambience. his hands fervently grope at your chest, and you can see his lust clouded eyes as his glasses slip further down his nose. he rests an arm under your back and pull you into him for easier access to your hardened nipples. he sucks at your chest and just about everywhere else, purposefully marking you up just for your boyfriend to see. you look so fucking hot like this he thinks.

he pushes you back on the mattress and takes off your bottoms, throwing them to join the other clothes on the floor. he admires your thighs and lowers himself to level with them. "let's get these out the way, hmm?" he asks teasingly.

you look down at him and nod. his shoulder muscles are now prominent as he's propped up on his elbows. he pulls your underwear to the side and starts prepping you for his length.

"itll be fine if we just get to it right?" he says as he works two of his digits into you. you're also now propped up on your arms now, getting a better view. he works his fingering at a satisfying euphoric pace, earning passionate moans from you.

"fuck- i can feel you clenching around me," he says while still prepping you for him. he pulls out and start unbuttoning his pants.

"i don't have any protection, that's okay right?" he inquires as he's now removing his drawers. "yea, as long as you pull out." you reply.

he agrees to the terms and starts palming his length, already hard. "i wanna take you on your stomach, so turn over for me will ya," he says while scootching up on the bed.

his hips line up with yours and he starts to insert himself. you both groan as he pushes in deeper until you reach the base. once he feels you wrapped all the way around him, he pauses and let you adjust.

"start fucking yourself on my dick when you're ready," he says while his hands rest loosely on your waist. once you feel fully comfortable you start to thrust back into him. once you get to a good pace he takes over and starts fucking into you at an accelerated pace.

his thrusts are now merciless, exposing him as a selfish lover. he fucks you like he's been yearning for it his whole life and you just moan and take it. a tight grip is now on your throat, and he pulls your back to his chest, continuing his vehement pace. "tell me he can't fuck you like this," he commands into your ear. one of his hands holding you up by the jaw and the other supporting your waist.

"c'mon, say it baby, say his dick doesn't feel this good." he commands once again. "woah, you like it when i talk to you like the dirty little slut you are, just fuck- just fuckin' clenched around me harder." he grunts into your ear and fucks you at a slowed pace, yet not any less insatiable and eager. you try to speak but it's hard while being fucked so avidly.

you're now babbling out incoherent words, a mix of 'please' and 'thank you' yet you're not clear minded enough to understand exactly what you're saying please for. whether it's for him to please fuck you harder or if it's for him to please slow down. you're not sure what you want right now, but it's certainly not for him to stop.

a ring of milky white liquid starts to form around his cock, and he's getting turned on at the sight. his thrusts speed up into something more desperate, and it's your breaking point.

"such a fucking slut cummin' around my cock like that, does your boyfriend not fuck you good enough?" he taunts at you while youre convulsing in his hands.

he lets you finish climaxing in his arms then drops you back to the mattress. your now squealing away from his constant thrusts, close to overstimulation but he doesnt slow. hes desperate to reach his own high now, and if your lewd moans and body wasnt enough to send him over the edge; nothing would.

his thrust are now slowed and sloppy, the telltale sign of orgasm. his hands are now roughly digging into your sides, desperate to not let you out of his grasp. he thrusts a few more times before he fills you up with his fresh warm load. he moans sensually as your suck him dry of all he's got, and leans into you while quickly pulling out.

his body drops besides yours and you cuddle into his side, "you pulled out right?" he nods then places a dry kiss on your forehead, "of course i did baby."

you're way too busy basking in the afterglow to notice otherwise, except now you're remembering what the purple cup meant.

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[duckieberry]

General base for my Classification Au’s

—- DISCLAIMER: Please note two things before I get into this. One- a lot of the things I have here are direct copy and pastes from my Genshin Classification AU (with some tweaks, adjustments and new additions) as what I’m putting here is the much more refined version of the basis I used to make that AU. Others can use this as a reference to make their own but I mainly posted this so I don’t have to reiterate all this when I inevitably make another classification AU. Two- while I worked on this AU with the intention of higher levels of realism it still isn’t 100% accurate as I am not a professional in anything biology related nor do I claim to be.

—-

Classification AUs you’ve either read them, know of them or have no idea what I’m on about. I personally really enjoy this type of AU but I found that it lacks many things, mainly coherent world building. So I’ve taken it upon myself to try and make a decent generalized base to make the AU a bit more immersive and give it a believable feel (in my opinion). I will not go into my personal gripes with how these AUs are typically handled as I know some people who enjoy them the way they are and don’t mind the things I find immersion breaking.

So here is a quick rundown on what this is for those who are unfamiliar with what this kind of Au is. A’ littles are known’ classification AU, is a type of alternate universe in which individuals take a test or examination of some sort which figures out the type of headspace/behaviours the person being tested will develop and display throughout their life, in other words their classification. 

There are many different versions of classification AU’s that focus on different dynamics. This version is specifically based around and is for age regressors so this ISN’T a k*nk based AU and is ENTIRELY sfw.

—-

How does it work:

A person's classification is based on their hormones. The hormones that dictate a person's classification start to be produced when that individual is in the latter stages of puberty. Upon reaching the age when their classification starts to take effect they will experience small bouts of headspace/instincts. A caregiver might find themself starting to fawn over animals or a friend that’s gotten hurt, littles might find themself sucking their thumb or being drawn to toys.

Headspace isn’t on a set timer. It happens for various reasons, for example: when a little enters headspace it could be because of their biological clock (they regress at similar times every week), random hormone influx (like a mood swing), negative or positive external stimulus, etc. A caregiver might enter their headspace because they heard someone crying, someone needed help with a task, in close proximity to a regressed little, etc.

On extremely rare occasions a person's classification can change. A neutral can gain a classification, a little might turn into a caregiver and a caregiver into a flip; there's no limit to which classification can shift into another. Reason for these classification shifts is unknown as the causes vary wildly from trauma, stress, to pure chance.

-

Testing:

Depending on the setting the tests go a little differently and their accuracy may fluctuate. Best way for these tests to work is through blood samples as a classification is based on hormones.

When it comes to littles the concentration of hormones helps dictate the age range. Higher concentration means younger age range while lower concentration means older age range.

Most people from the settings country/city/nation etc, get tested at 15-16 years old, the actual behaviours/habits won’t start to show up until at least 18 which is when it starts to manifest. It takes about a year for the behaviours/habits of a classification to form completely.

-

Classifications explained:

Littles/Regressors - those who regress into a childlike mindset with mental ages ranging from a few months old to 14 depending on the individual.

A healthy Regressor will typically regress 1-3 times per week. They can be in headspace for as little as a few hours to as long as a few days depending on their age range. The younger a Regressor is the longer they tend to stay regressed for at a given time. 

Caregivers - those who care for Littles and help keep them safe like a parent or guardian. They exhibit above average strength which allows them to carry Regressors with ease.

Flips - those who don’t fall perfectly into Little or Caregiver but instead swap between the two. People with these split classifications are rather uncommon. Flips need to work to find a balance between regressing and caretaking to stay healthy. Most Flips lean more towards one side of their dual class than the other which can make balancing their classification more difficult. Everything that can happen to littles and caregivers also applies to flips. They are more prone to the behaviours/afflictions of the class they lean more towards.

Neutral - those who are neutral don’t fall into any of the above classifications and experience no changes in behaviour.

-

Risks:

Like all things related to our bodies and minds, there are health risks. If someone does not maintain their classification properly then there are significant drawbacks

Littles/Regressors who refrain from regressing for too long begin to develop a condition known as regression sickness. It starts out like the common cold but progressively gets more severe the longer the Regressor refuses their headspace. Symptoms like dizziness, nausea, mood swings, intensified emotions, lethargy and weakness may occur as the sickness progresses.

The only way to recover from regression sickness is to regress. Littles/Regressors who are affected by the condition will inevitably drop into their headspace. Upon doing so they will be unable to surface from their headspace until they have fully recovered which can take upwards of a week depending on the extent of the headspace repression.

Caregivers who do not have a Little are far more likely to develop mental health issues like depression and anxiety. Most Caregivers are recommended to buy a plant or a pet to look after to help mitigate the chances of such a thing happening.

Flips have the task of learning to balance their dual classification. Failure to find a semblance of balance can result in more minor forms of the above conditions 

-

Headspace management:

It’s not uncommon for Regressors to regress spontaneously. These sudden regressions can be at very inconvenient times or put the Little in danger. Depending on the setting the country/city/nation etc, either make their own or import medications to sell to the citizens to help them manage their headspace and allow them to be functioning members of society without putting themselves in danger.

The medication is a mild hormone blocker that wears off within 8-10 hours. It is incapable of fully holding back headspace unless multiple pills are taken (which isn’t recommended nor is it healthy). It’s purely for management not for full suppression despite what the name ‘headspace suppressant’ might imply.

Headspace suppressant medication can also reduce the symptoms of regression sickness but it won’t cure the condition and in fact makes it worse. Doctors will tell Littles to stop taking headspace management medication if they’re showing symptoms of regression sickness.

-

Autonomy:

Littles have their own autonomy like any other person and are completely independent. Through a mixture of headspace management and local daycare businesses, littles are fully capable of getting a job, owning a house, and overall being independent without neglecting their headspace or having a caregiver. 

Some settings may be more overbearing and discriminatory to their littles but despite what the settings views may be, littles are still capable individuals despite their classification and aren’t helpless.

-

Extra notes:

When regressed, littles may have issues with certain kinds of foods. Depending on their age range they might struggle to eat more solid foods or just generally gain a dislike for certain textures even though they can manage them just fine while big.

Caregivers may enter a protective rage if they feel a little in their care is under major threat either emotionally or physically. Caregivers in this state often become very defensive until the perceived threat is dealt with.

—-

I wish to share this basis with others in the hopes that they use it as inspiration for their own fics. This Au was created mainly for fluff but with potential for angst in mind (hurt/comfort) so some things are open for change and interpretation, mainly: how testing is done for that specific world/fandom, treatment of littles (I do not condone them being treated like helpless pets or dolls), what exactly the headspace management medication is (pills, potion, herbs, etc), additional causes for why a classification might change (the change should never leave the person affected helpless or unable to decide for themself).

[autumnslance]

Here’s the thing, folks: You Can.

I don’t use mods on my own rooms, apartments, or Dark Autumn’s house. I maybe use the storage room trick once in awhile to get things closer to the walls than they otherwise would get. I layer some things on top of each other, maybe hide a table or bed on things. I once—once—glitched a picture in C’oretta’s room to make a mirror and I won’t do it again. It was a pain and I haven’t the patience.

The rest is just. Practice, really. Some time. Like anything else. Honestly, I’m not very good at color, design, lighting, and so on in traditional art, so decorating’s taken some time for me to improve at, too.

I check helpful FFXIV housing websites that show items and list where to get and/or make them. Also, the basic housing menu has previews for all housing items (except holiday/store stuff) available built in already.

I watch the market boards across my DC for deals on stuff I want. I know where to find vendored items—gil, GC, Scrips, Tribal—so I can get those, too. I collect things over time, saving them on a retainer. Is it cheaper to make some or all of it on my own?

And then I sit on it awhile. I had a similar room in Iyna’s FC space for maybe a year, but wasn’t satisfied with it. I fiddled with it, poked it. When I swapped the photo studio to Iyna’s room, I transferred the items to Dark (using the FC public house storage, and/or swapping items between Dark and Aeryn via a house they’re both tenants in), and spent a few hours mucking with it.

I have 25 slots left I can use to add to it, change some things. It’s a wide open floorplan, so space to move and swing a camera around. It’s useable, which I care about.

It simply depends on what one wants.

I know it seems discouraging, when it seems every housing image on every site one sees is using placement mods and glitching to make wildly detailed rooms that use every slot to fill a quarter of the space to make a showcase of the designer’s impressive skills and imaginations.

People tell me I’m good at writing; I didn’t get good at that in a day, I’ve been working on it most of my life. Any visual artist will tell you about the years of work they put in. Dark’s house and apartment look very different than when I first started playing with housing when we got our first FC house in 2017, and it’s not just due to new in game items (though they help). And those impressive housing designers will likely also tell you, it’s just taken them time and practice (and yeah, quite a bit of gil and/or farming) and they often still spend hours cursing their tools as they try to make those tricky builds work.

So look around at pictures of rooms and apartments, real and imagined. Consider what’s available in game. Consider your characters, your intentions for the space. And just iterate on it. Think about it. Change some things around. Add to it. Learn a new trick, come up with new ideas, and build it up over time. Allow your mind to change, too. There’s a lotta options these days. Many of them easier to obtain than you might realize.

Be kind to yourself, and if you want to take the time, you can totally make your own OCs the kind of pretty spaces they deserve to tell the stories you want with your spaces.

[pararennial-archived]

COMMON MISCONCEPTIONS

Hm... I mean... there are so many misconceptions that border on the intersectionality of Roxy being a woman of colour, asexual, and other aspects of her personality and character. To start, women often get typecasted as the caretaker, the love interest, the sexual conquest, or get assigned gross and shitty complexes because people don't like to think that there are more dimensions to women other than being good/bad, pure/corrupted, messy/pristine, etc.

Again, these complexes are what makes me resent writing a female character, not gonna lie! People see that Roxy, fundamentally, is a good person. She has upstanding morals, integrity, and she fights the good fight. And people have it in their heads that she is an "uwu sunshine pure vanilla bean baby" ( and I will say her being ace doesn't help because people tend to assign that pure, virginal presumption to asexuality, which is incredibly ignorant! ) but really, she is kind and sweet but it doesn't mean she doesn't have a spine. The girl can have a bit of a mean streak at times!

On the other hand, when Roxy exhibits her more competent and ruthless side, people are all like "OH YES STEP ON ME KILLER QUEEN, YES YOU COLD AND BLOODBATHED GODDESS." That also bothers me because it also doesn't capture the full dimension of Roxy being a fully realized character who is multifaceted and cannot be pigeonholed. She won't always be strong, decisive, or cold, and she won't always be soft, warm, or affable. To presume how she would act or behave is simply... a grave mistake.

AN IMPORTANT HEADCANON

In terms of the meta, Roxy is not your typical hero. Yes she fights the good fight but does so in very complicated ways that allow her to surf within that grey area. Nothing is ever black and white in her world. And thus, she is more of a culture hero ⏤ somebody who can change / recreate the world. As a categorized Good character, she often wildly swings between Lawful, Neutral, and Chaotic depending on whatever methods or approaches suit the situation. She abides by and breaks rules, she creates and destroys, she cleans and makes messes, etc. All in all, it's to ensure that balance is maintained and restored, and she doesn't even know how vital her role is.

A USELESS HEADCANON

One of the things that will bear no meaning or significance in plots, threads, etc. is that she likes putting gummy bears with her ice cream. I dunno why, it just makes him harder to chew but Roxy likes that??? Weirdo...

POTENTIAL TRIGGERS

I mean in terms of triggers, there might be written literal or metaphorical gore as I am noticing that viscera tends to make its way into my writing. Struggles with mental health is also present in a way in which trauma is dealt personally and how intergenerational trauma is a huge proponent in Roxy's story. Of course in spite of all the supernatural BS she has to deal with, she is still very much a person dealing with things the best she can. Some of these fantastical aspects sometimes could bleed very well into relatability in which some take comfort in or it can be too much. I don't go too heavy with triggers in my writing, but that being said, I could still very well write some trigger-heavy things without knowing because everybody has their own lived experiences and everybody's traumas manifest in different ways.

SOMETHING YOU ENJOY ABOUT (WRITING) THEM

I think it's the growth of Roxy's character, I've rped her since 2013 seeing her actually grow from a teenager to an adult. It's a journey along with that, so was writing and finding my own voice and style as an author.

Furthermore, I actually like writing a character who has multifaceted and very flexible because it keeps her dynamic. At this rate, she's become more than what I had her set out to be and it's a blast to see where she goes!

SOMETHING YOU WANT OTHERS TO KNOW BEFORE WRITING WITH THEM

fuck around and find out

tagged: @velvetineblue tagging: whoever wants to go off on what they love about writing their muse

[ru5t]

repost and rate your muse's traits out of 10 in each category !

COMPASSION: 5/10. She does have sympathy -and even a lot of empathy- for others, and will help when she has enough resources of her own. She also, however, isn't always looking to see others, because it's difficult to manage all of that flooding her all the time, and will typically prioritize herself unless it is a very close, established dynamic.

BITTERNESS: 7/10. Sharply bitter little thing. Prone to sarcasm and biting remarks — and not even always because she's unhappy. She just communicates this way. (Sorry s;dfkjg;dlkfj)

HAPPINESS: 5/10. You know she really manages a shockingly upbeat outlook, a solid amount of the time? Her 'up' days are sooo up, and even her middle days tend to lean for... at least hopeful, if not so directly "happy". If things stopped happening to her to prompt negative spirals and responses, she'd be a lot steadier at it, I think. It's a little verse dependent (her canon might be more like a 4, while modern's more of a 6?) but she's found a lot worth having and is working very hard to build this up even stronger.

POLITENESS: ...0/10? I think this is just zero. Or like, 1. She does not care in the slightest for manners or the silent rules of a conversation (assuming she even remembers they're supposed to be there) and her base level isn't exactly prim and proper. She will Not pretend to like you, if she doesn't. And she is frequently intentionally disrespectful and disobedient to authority figures. Fuck you and fuck your order.

MORALITY: ?/10. Swings wildly between staunchly moral (all life has value, all people can learn, we should be working together) and shockingly ammoral (those who would hurt me are expendable, some people never learn and must be forced, I will look after only myself by any means) at uneven intervals. She is, at her core, someone who wants to be good and brave and upstanding, but she's been pushed and twisted and beaten to the brink of breaking entirely, and the lines in the sand are blurry to her. She'll compromise if she can find a convincing enough reason (e.g. something that will keep herself or a person she's prioritizing 'safer') one day, and stand firm and take the hit on another. Case by case by case: round and round and round she goes, who she'll bite, no one knows. [Chaotic Neutral. she wavers.]

PRIDE: 2/10. Does not consider herself of any particular station of importance, and has no specific image to defend. Bites, spits, cries, screams, fights dirty, sand in the eyes and all. She's got one (1) name she won't stand to be called, no matter how everyone else in the desert –even the infamous Party Poison himself– regards it, but even that is more of a trigger thing than a pride thing. She can get a little boastful about her hacking skills sometimes but almost every time she brags about something like that it immediately bites her in the ass, so. That keeps her humble.

HONESTY: 6/10. Broadly honest (...after a fashion) and typically trustworthy. She doesn't break her word lightly, or for frivolous reasons. She will absolutely start slinging around things she doesn't necessarily believe to front with someone if she gets scared, though, and her disorganized attachment will lead her to sabotage relationships with false accusations and such when she panics. She also will usually own up to having panicked if approached/confronted about it later, though, and is likely to (eventually) make amends for it in established relationships.

BRAVERY: 10/10. She's built different I would have given up a long time ago.

RECKLESSNESS: ...maybe 5/10? She's pretty impulsive, in a lot of regards, but at the same time is very aware of her surroundings and other people's capability of harm and various dangers etc. a lot of the time so it's like. There's a lot (a lot) of caution for a great many things, and at the same time she'll do these things where it's like. So so reckless and stupid. A risk taker. A flight risk.

AMBITION: ?/10. No idea what she's doing or where she's going. Generally follows her brother, or another cause/purpose that seems right to her.

LOYALTY: 8/10. She can, in really really extreme circumstance, under intense duress, be broken down into "turning" on someone (e.g. revealing information, pretending to change sides), or turning away from them because they've gone too far. But for the most part, once you're in her close circle you've got her for life. She will follow you down. She can and will commit crimes for you. (Sometimes even if you don't ask, and even if you don't want her to...)

LOVE: 9/10. What a big big terrifying thing. So full of it, somehow. So so so scared of it, deny deny deny. And then get scared of doing/having it wrong, when she finally admits its there.

SENSE OF FAMILY: 4/10. Many conflicted feelings about the concept of family. Her mother manipulated her and she didn't even realize it. Her father proved people can be dear and still hurt you. And yet her brother is the only completely reliable thing in her life. She would not describe the few people she's grown really close to as family, they are just hers. Something, which the word 'family' doesn't seem to fit or do justice.

ATTRACTIVENESS: 5/10. Smacks her in the middle of this category. It was never my intention to make an "attractive" character with her but it wasn't my intention to make her unattractive, either. She was actually really young when I initially made her up so it was really like. just not even a factor I was thinking about at all. She tends to illicit more "cute" and/or sisterly responses than anything I think, both ic and ooc.

AGILITY: 10/10. Zippiest girl alive, she's stupid fast both reaction time wise and like, sprinting, climbing, etc. It catches a lot of people off guard, even with her being built as slight as she is. Like we're talking startlingly fast. She's only ever met one (1) person who can outrun her in a direct comparison situation (where everything's fairly balanced). Much much faster than she is strong, she's really kind of lacking in in the strength department. She's also a quick problem solver, unless she's too overwhelmed to think.

SEX DRIVE: 2/10? 1 even? She's ace-spectrum, she doesn't experience sexual attraction, and her history makes her skittish. It's definitely not driving any life decisions, but she's not completely sex-repulsed and it's not entirely off the table, either. It always takes some amount of figuring out, which can be really complicated, especially if she and the other person are coming from different perspectives. Sometimes it all falls together and is almost easy. Most of the time it's very difficult and takes time and effort on both peoples' side.

[aquilesbarto]

genuine answer for the tf2 thing: these days you have a 50/50 chance of whether it's even playable. most people have abandoned it and it's overrun with sniper bots that just headshot you instantly.

however if you do find a server with actual real people on it it's VERY fun. each class has a fully unique feel to their playstyle and fits a different niche. things to note are that "attack" and "defense" don't mean dps vs tank, but are more about mobility. attackers can get to the objective most easily, and defenders mostly plant themselves in one spot to defend it. of course the specific items you equip can change this, like how demoman can use a shield instead of the area-control sticky launcher and start charging into enemies instead.

for the most part, any other items you equip are either side-grades (rather than upgrades) or are reskins that don't change functionality. so like some melee weapons will do more damage but swing slower. or the demo example, you gain the charging-forward attack but lose the sticky bombs. this is all to say, don't be discouraged if you see all your opponents have wildly different weapons than you have available at the start! they're not some crazy high-level upgrade, they're just different options with roughly equal viability. some are even WORSE than the starting equipment (like pyro's Gas Passer... that thing is almost unusable).

the more difficult hurdle is just that most other players have had over a decade to hone their skills and perfectly understand all the ins and outs of the game. the problem with playing with seasoned opponents is generally practice and knowledge rather than having better items.

the general goal of the game is different depending on what mode you play. there's a version where players try to push a cart to the end of a track while the opponent tries to stop them, a version where one team has to stand in a certain area while the other kicks them out, and a version where you infiltrate the enemy base and try to take an important item back to your own base. there are some other side-modes too but those are the core modes.

Thank you very much for your answer. It does seem like it will be fun once i know what im doing, and i'll make sure not to use the Gas Passer if i play Pyro xd

[magicalgirlmascot]

Mahiki, Sanok, Ignika

Mahiki: Do you change your demeanour/personality for others, or stay much the same no matter who you are with? Why? I don't know that I change my whole entire personality but I definitely tone down certain aspects at, like, work, for example. The concept that there are people who don't have a work-sona baffles me. Mine is named [irl name redacted], she's friendly and outgoing and definitely never cries over shipments and loves talking to people!! Outside of that I like to think I'm fairly consistent, but it was something I remember really struggling with in high school, feeling like I was always trying to be a different person depending on who I was with at the time. Now I'm 30 and I don't give a shit lol

Sanok: What goal are you aiming towards? I want to sell merch at a convention this year!! I've already picked out the con(s) I want to do and I'm working on getting everything ready for it now. I also want to finish KNPS this year but that's one with a bit of a looser timeframe lol. Oh and it would be nice to move at some point.

Ignika: What makes life meaningful for you? OUGH um art mostly. Tea and trinkets and funny little guys. Walks with my brother. TTRPGs. Wearing cute stuff because I think it's cute even if it makes people think I'm childish, dying my hair because I like the colour even if it means people take me less seriously professionally, swinging my gender presentation wildly between "world's most feminine little princess" and "literally just some guy" with little to no grey area. Texts from my mom asking if I want to go for tea with her and a friend because she hasn't seen me in a few days. Watching shows and movies that my friends like because they like them and are excited to show them to me. My dad always has something recorded on TV and/or saved on YouTube to show me every time I go home to visit. Something like that I think.

[tumblingxelian]

So, figured I might weigh in on this for funsies and thought experiments, @mindriz tagging you in case interested and @princess-of-the-corner I hope this is OK :3

So, broadly I agree with what princess says, but to expand on it, Chloe is an interesting case study on whether people would notice she's struggling for several reasons.

Off the cuff is the fact Chloe doesn't like being genuinely vulnerable, fake vulnerable and dramatic is fine, but the moment she's sincerely vulnerable she hates it and hates being seen like that. This means she'll always try to put up a front, the front failing would be a sign there's a problem.

Then there is as princess said Chloe's general aggressive nature which is a mixture f a 24/7 Audrey impression and her survival response to abuse being to fight. She will almost certainly be more aggressive and defensive, up to a point.

I say that because skimming through episodes where I know Chloe expressed a lot of stress her Audrey impression VS real anger, and faux stress VS real stress, along with exhaustion look quite different and can all give way to despair when the fire goes out.

One other aspect to consider is that constantly fighting and being changed, means she will likely be more tired and getting less sleep, or less deep sleep than usual, which may be another signal there's a genuine problem.

Some images of different Chloe vulnerability expressions:

Too tired to stay fierce, but she tries to keep up a presentable façade, liable to just fall asleep at a table, then wake up short of breath.

Genuine stress and frustration, seems to get headaches or otherwise feel pressure when stressed & overwhelmed & wants relief.

Genuine despair, head down, eyes closed, hands usually clasped & shoulders curled, seems to want to curl up, but surprisingly calm.

Her real anger builds up and explodes, rather than being expressed through sharp tones; the class is more used to the latter, than former.

Nearly Akumatized, physical symptoms akin to a panic or heart attack, & also Chloe trending to close off when saddened.

With this in mind I imagine Chloe would, not knowing there's something wrong beyond a vague feeling. Would try to carry on as normal, if not more than normal, mask up as extremely as possible to hide the unsettling 'something' inside her.

I imagine beyond that, it would manifest in either her efforts to maintain the mask, maybe pills or lots of caffeine, or a failure to do so, collapsing from exhaustion, lack of awareness of surrounding, ETC.

The next layer would likely be wildly oscillating mood swings, which again the class is probably somewhat used to from their perspective but these would be real, not theatrical performances of anger or sadness.

This might actually turn some heads as Chloe's explosive anger or very physical despair would be more out of the ordinary and tend to lay bare a degree of her actual sincere emotions beyond the haughty front. However as she tends to respond poorly to feeling weak she'd also try to self isolate and avoid these displays or have them written off.

A lot would depend I think on when it starts, how long it takes and what her Akuma self would end up being.

See, Lila spent something like 6 months with only an incompetent mother to observe any changes. What's more, all her Akuma relate to deception in some way, which means even if that side of starts to take over it will be harder to notice a difference. The fact Lila's will isn't super strong also means it was more like a creeping shift, so again subtle.

Chloe's Akuma tend to be more just exaggerated versions of herself & whatever she's grappling with in a given moment.

This is kind of a problem because it means from an outside perspective they are just getting more Chloe who is maybe slightly unhinged compared to just not showing much self control. Plus it could be more subtle as they happen over time. People could get used to it faster than they might realize how much she's changing with maybe the exception of Jean or Sabrina.

(I left out Adrien because he never picked up on Chloe's rougher aspects until too late so he could likely just view this as "Another side of her I didn't know" as opposed to "Wow she is way too extreme.")

If it starts late enough in the show & takes long enough no one would notice given Chloe's own head space would be declining without.

Midway, up in the air and depends a lot on luck and timing and how Hawk Moth proceeds with things.

If it started early on then it it would likely be much more obvious, especially as it would combine with some major emotional peaks and valleys.

I think the biggest factors would be how someone wants to write:

The process, IE is the Akuma a part of a person, just them exaggerated or is it more like a new being born from them?

The level of awareness Chloe has as to something being wrong. IE is she just in a bad mood & not sleeping well, or is she like "I can feel something wrong."

The time in the story when it starts, as it will effect greatly how she's perceived and who is willing to put effort in to see passed the fire.

As to the class, I think they'd struggle to see an issue at first. By the end of season 1 they were largely not fond of Chloe at best and found what was going on with Vanisher funny to odd at worst.

Chloe isn't helped by both not wanting to seem weak but also struggling to articulate her problems in a way that conveys she is vulnerable or needs help. She can insult someone easily, showing vulnerability, or explaining why or how she feels a certain way, much harder.

I think the bouts of sadness & headache stress would be the most obvious tells, sleepy or a more explosive temper can be written off. But if she's paranoid then the stress will be more evidence and the despair will be unusual for someone who usually shrugs off murder attempts like they are nuisances.

What would likely be the biggest tell is if she starts trying to figure something out, as we know Chloe can show very intense focus when she feels there's a need and that would be odd. But as said, she doesn't like showing weakness & wouldn't want word to get back to Ladybug if its pre S4.

Hope this was interesting!

Re: ProperlyParanoid!Chloe (as discussed here)

How do you think the Miraclass would react to Chloe’s increasing paranoia?

Depends on a lot of how exactly we're characterizing everyone and what all she does and how much the others know.

Because some stuff may initially get written off as just Chloé being bitchier than usual.

But at the same time, if the others really start noticing, they're going to like. Connect with how much she's been targeted and think that maybe this is some ptsd manifesting.

In which case the solution is to try and get her to seek help

[n0bamak1s]

lazy days - maki zenin x reader

request: “Could you maybe do a maki x reader fluff? Like maybe just a lazy day playing video games or something like that.” - @mvddison99

summary: after you shut off her alarm clock so she can get some rest, maki reluctantly agrees to a lazy day with you, and ends up enjoying it much more than expected. (genre: domestic-ish fluff, slice of life)

warnings: some swearing but it’s mostly just pure fluff!

word count: 2.7k

a/n: i did NOT plan to make it this long lol i’m just a sucker for writing maki! i didn’t really explicitly state what the reader and maki’s relationship is so it can be read as an established relationship or not depending on what you like! i had a ton of fun writing this so hopefully y’all like it! :)

maki zenin doesn’t do ‘lazy days’. not willingly, at least.

when you’d told inumaki of your plan to shut off her alarm clock to get her to sleep in and take a day off, he couldn’t help thinking you must have some kind of death wish to do that. you’d argue that you were staging an intervention in the name of self care. he knew the reason you’d gone to him with your idea was because he couldn’t talk any sense into you.

he also knew that you actually just wanted maki to take a day off so you’d have an excuse to hang out with her in your pajamas all day.

despite the countless times gojo would use a day off as an incentive during your missions, when you finished you’d always be greeted by the same sheepish smile and excuse as to why your day off would be pushed back. for a grown man, he sure was childish when it came to planning stuff. in contrast to the groans of disappointment that came in response from you, inumaki and panda, maki never seemed phased by the extra days you’d spend sparring in the blistering sun. while gojo moved his hands wildly as he apologized, she’d simply shrug and swing her weapon of choice over her shoulder with a bored expression on her face. gojo always seemed relieved when she’d interrupt his plea for forgiveness to a group of teenagers to ask him when the next mission was.

over the past two weeks or so, you’d begun to notice the semblance of exhaustion around maki, one you weren’t even sure she was aware of. her glasses emphasized the purple tinted bags lining her eyes, and her nose was dusted with a sunburn that was oddly reminiscent of that momo girl from kyoto. they were subtle changes in the way she carried herself as well, in the way her shoulders slumped ever so slightly when she rested the wooden ends of her weapons on them. it was such a slight difference that it seemed only you could know so quickly.

so it’s not hard to imagine the joy that flashed across your face when you realized your plan in unplugging her school issued alarm clock had been successful. before then, you’d only woken up before maki once, due to an early morning mission with inumaki. that day, when surprise flashed across your face at the sight of maki awake at just 6 a.m on a saturday, now seemed a contrast to your current state. the clock read 10 a.m as you were interrupted from mulling over your breakfast with inumaki and paves with the sound of steps shuffling against the floor, followed not soon after by maki, clad in baggy plaid pants and a loose fitting tee shirt. you watched as she stretched her arms above her head, making her shirt ride up slightly from the waistband of her pants. a part of you felt as if you’d gotten lucky to see her in that moment, with her green hair cascading past her shoulders, and her yet to be brushed bangs messy as they slightly masqueraded her eyes like a sheepdog overdue for a trim. as she rubbed her eyes into focus, her gaze landed on you, clearly trying to stifle a smile for whatever reason.

“what’re you so happy about?” her voice was raspy as she straightened her posture.

oh, you were definitely lucky to see her like this.

“sleep well?” you raised an eyebrow with a teasing tone. she could practically hear the smug grin threatening to stretch across your face. had it not already been obvious who the culprit was, that would’ve been a dead giveaway of the way her stolen batteries from her alarm clock were collecting dust on your bedside table. she sent a lazy glare your way, but there was clearly no malice behind it.

“if i say i did, will you leave me alone?” her tone was almost playful as she stepped towards you, bending her knees to be at eye level with you while you sat. she probably didn’t notice that she wasn’t nearly as intimidating with her old pajamas and messy hair.

“no can do.” you no longer held shame in the catlike grin on your face. “gojo is finally letting us have that day off he always promises, and i’m not letting you use some excuse about being ‘too busy with training.’” those last few words were spoken with a monotone infliction in a weak attempt to poke fun at her almost robotic training schedule.

a roll of her eyes, but she made no point to move from her position. when she crouched down to your sitting form, her eyes remained focused on you despite the sleepiness still swimming in them. your noses were mere inches apart.

“and if i do?”

“i already told gojo to lock up the weapons, plus everyone else is occupied with relaxation.” you feigned sheepishness.

“oh noooo, i’m sure it’d be impossible to make it past his advanced security system.” her voice oozed of sarcasm and her head tilted slightly, a smirk daring to sneak past her lips.

the staring match you were unaware you’d been putting so much effort into was interrupted by a groan from inumaki. he made a face of disgust in your direction as you both turned to face him. if he could, you were sure he’d mutter something annoyedly about you two needing to get a room. your face contorted to send some sort of distorted glare his way as he got up to leave the room.

maki cleared her throat awkwardly, now acutely aware of the distance (or lack thereof) between your faces, courtesy of inumaki.

“by the way, if you don’t take a break, gojo says he’ll just make you take one during our next mission!” the grin on your face stretched almost cartoonishly at the dejected look in response to your declaration.

she was standing now. “i’ll do it, but only because you’ve already set my day back by a few hours, and so i don’t miss anything important later.” though you didn’t miss the corners of her mouth turning up as she averted her gaze.

to her surprise, you let out a soft sigh of relief in response. “thank god, my last resort would have been to make you go to training with the kyoto students instead.” she cringed wordlessly in response as she pulled a cup of yogurt from the fridge.

“what do you want to do so bad that’s got you so pushy anyways?” she sat with her legs spread apart as she ate her breakfast.

a mischievous gleam danced across your face. “well i was cleaning out my dorm the other day, and i may or may not have found my copy of mario kart.” your voice was triumphant, as if you’d just found the cure to a disease.

she looked thoroughly unimpressed in contrast to you holding down heaps of excitement. “never played it.”

your gasp of shock felt as if it could have woken up the whole school.

“maki…” your voice sounded accusatory, like a parent saying that they’re not mad, ‘just disappointed.’

“well it’s not like the zenin clan is exactly known for their expertise on video games, are they now?” she spoke matter-of-factly.

“and they’re clearly not known for having fun either, now you’d better eat up so i can beat your ass.” your competitive tone seemed to awaken a rivalry within maki, whose eyes suddenly became sharper with determination. you stifled a chuckle at the drive that came from your simple teasing.

“i wouldn’t get so confident just yet, no offense but i don’t think you’d be that hard to beat.” she teased, matching the mischievousness in your eyes, as she finished her cup of yogurt.

“oh it’s on maki!”

as you bounced down the hall to your dorm with maki in tow following breakfast, you took note of panda walking by, who seemed to do a double take of maki. she met his gaze, once again trying to look threatening despite her cozy attire. panda seemed unaffected by her glare, simply sending you a sneaky thumbs up, not going unnoticed by her.

“did everyone know about your little plan?”

“not everyone, per say. if i told megumi he’d have been a total buzzkill and told you.”

“oh how tragic that would have been.” without looking over your shoulder, you could tell she was rolling her eyes, but she did a bad job at concealing the smile that was evident in her voice.

“i know, where would you be without me?” you wiped fake tears from your eyes dramatically as you swung open the door to your dorm.

“not playing mario kart, that’s for sure.” she shrugged, feigning exasperation as she slumped on your bed. it was oddly domestic, this side of maki. it was the side of her with her hair undone, with her usual stiff uniform swapped for baggy pajamas, with her back flat against your rock solid dorm bed as she stared at the ceiling, eyes glazed over. it crossed your mind that you’d like to see her like this more.

but in case you didn’t get that chance, you were determined to make this moment last.

after a few moments of annoyance at how slow your wii loaded, and annoyance from maki at your complaining about it, considering that thing was clearly on its last legs, you were met with the flashing of the mario kart title screen. maki sat up to be met with your face brightening into a smile, making it hard for her to stop the matching one on her face. she found it hard not to get excited from the enthusiasm you had about this game, it gave her a sense of comfort that made her feel like she’d never have to worry about battling a curse again.

you handed her a controller, your fingertips brushing against her hand as you did so. her eyes flickered to yours with an impish delight to them.

“you’re going down.”

“oh?” you raised an eyebrow as you turned to click through character selections, shamelessly feeding into her competitive streak. after scrolling through the characters just long enough to annoy maki, you decided you’d play yoshi. she let out an over exaggerated sigh of relief when you’d finally decided, before turning her attention to do the exact same thing.

“rosalina, huh?”

maki glanced at you, before averting her eyes back to the screen. “what can i say? she’s hot.”

you put a hand to your heart dramatically. “oh maki, how you wound me. sorry i can't be her.” your little act was eerily similar to how the first years would act whenever there was even the possibility of megumi interacting with a girl.

“you’ve been spending too much time around gojo.” she scoffed at your antics while you waited for the crappy old wii to load the selection screen for tracks.

should i choose rainbow road just to fuck with her?

spoiler alert: you absolutely did choose rainbow road just to fuck with her.

you knew she’d never played before, so even if you did win, it’s mostly because you chose the most difficult track. but the competitive side of you didn’t seem to care. before starting the game, you moved so you sat next to maki on the bed, parallel to the tv screen. you guys sat shoulder to shoulder, yet maki still seemed totally relaxed.

“you’re going down.” she smirked, turning to face you, the second time that day her face was just inches from yours.

“i’d like to see you try and beat me, newbie.” you tilted your head towards her, a smug look painting your face as you leaned over to place your hands over hers, instructing her of the basics as you guided them over the buttons and joysticks of the controller. after all, it would be just cruel to make her go in completely clueless.

“thanks.” her eyes remained focused on her hands a few seconds after you’d removed yours from atop them, before her gaze travelled to meet yours. there was an uncharacteristically soft look on her face for just a moment, before she looked back to the screen. “but you’re gonna regret this when you eat my dust.”

“whatever you say, maki.” you muttered as the screen began to flash a countdown.

3…

2…

1…

START!!!

forget all that soft shit, you were gonna beat her ass.

your dorm room was filled with the sounds of the wii controller buttons being mashed, along with the background music of the game.

“SHIT!” you didn’t have to glance at her screen to know she’d swerved off the road and fallen, so you just smiled triumphantly in response.

when she was on the road again, you could feel her lean against your shoulder slightly as she turned. in your peripheral, you noticed how a few strands of green hair brushed against your shoulder as if it were yours. maki, on the other hand, seemed completely focused on winning the game, making her ignorant to how she practically leaned into you.

you were confident enough to know that you pretty much had this game in the bag as you kept your lead peacefully for quite a bit, that was until a certain smug looking girl next to you managed to score a blue shell.

“DAMN IT.” you watched as yoshi spun helplessly after being hit. “look at how sad he looks, you monster.” you glared ludicrously at her, to which she just snickered, but your feigned anger was quickly interrupted by the sound of the music speeding up.

FINAL LAP.

“already?” you were exasperated to see how close maki had gotten to you. looking to her, she remained with a determined look on her face, funnily enough, it was similar to the one she’d have while sparring.

you didn’t want to have to play dirty but…

ah, who were you kidding, you totally wanted to play dirty!

“hey, maki.” your voice was husky from strain of your cries of distress when you fell behind. you leaned into maki the same way she had earlier, with your leg practically on top of hers, and your head leaning oh so casually on her shoulder. she seemed to stiffen for a moment.

“what the hell do you think you’re doing?”

jackpot.

swerving with your controller, you’d managed to knock her rosalina straight off the track, giving you a clear path to the finish line. you knew that making her all flustered just to get ahead had to be some kind of cheating, but you couldn’t deny it was so worth it to see the way her face flushed from a mix of embarrassment and anger at losing.

when you reached the finish line, it was hard to contain the laughter that came bubbling up out of you. before you could help it, the repressed giggles turned into a full on belly laugh as you leaned onto her shoulder for support.

“you should’ve seen your face maki!” you managed to get out between laughs. she simply pushed you off of her, though it was clearly as soft as possible. she held onto your shoulder so you were forced to be at eye level with her.

she opened her mouth to say something, but before she could, you lifted your head to make eye contact, your mouth in a tight line as you tried to hold back more laughs.

“you’re pretty good for a newbie though, you know.” you leaned into her touch, too focused on her to tease her over the animation of yoshi with his gold trophy playing on the screen.

“yeah and you’re pretty good for a cheater.” she scoffed, but it only elicited more laughter from you, gripping on the hands she had on your shoulder for support.

she wanted to keep up her front of mock seriousness, but the way you melted into her in this moment left her no room for her mock anger.

it was rare that you saw maki zenin laugh, but in this moment, it just felt so natural to you. it seemed to rise up out of her, like a soda can being shaken up before opening, it came out unrestrained as her shoulders shook ever so slightly.

you’d have to make a note to get maki to laugh more often.

“so…” you finally composed yourself, leaning your head on her shoulder, she looked at you without an ounce of the surprise she held earlier, as if you guys did this all the time. “do you wanna play again?”

she grinned wolfishly. “hell yeah.”

[aries-writingblog]

Child’s Play

Summary: Steve is falling fast for a girl that he’s only been on a few dates with (I suck at descriptions🤦🏻‍♀️)

Word Count: 1968

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader

Warnings: none

AN: GIF is not my own, credit to original creator

“All I’m saying is that you should really consider bringing that uniform back.” She nodded, wiping her fingers delicately on her napkin. Steve cocked an eyebrow, trying not to smile too broadly. “It did wonders for you.”

Steve lowered his eyes, heat creeping onto his face. It was a good embarrassment, though. He couldn’t remember when he last laughed so hard. Even if it was at himself. He had to agree the things he did once were a little cheesy.

“You we’re supposed to pay attention to the message. The videos had a message.” He scolded lightly, dipping a fry in his ketchup. YN scoffed, stealing two fries from the plate and dunking them in her milkshake. Steve scrunched his nose in distaste.

“I was in high school, dude. And you were hot, what was I supposed to do?” She grinned as his cheeks shifted from a shade of pink to a deeper shade of maroon. “It was detention and I was bored. I had to think of something or I’d lose my mind.”

Steve tried not too think too hard about the age difference. It jarred him to take into consideration she watched the stupid patriotic videos he had to film in her high school days. He focused mainly on the present age gap of only a few years. Not the seventy year gap.

“Okay, if I see one more fry go into that milkshake, I’ll flip this table.” Steve threatened, eyeing the drink suspiciously. YN laughed, a bright giggly sound Steve had come to enjoy.

This would be their fourth date. He had the idea to take her to an old diner he’d stumbled upon. Mainly because it had been around in his day- the coffee was still outrageously disgusting. He wasn’t sure how they’d managed to keep the same flavor the whole time but the moment it touched his tongue, Steve was thrown back into his youth.

“Just try it.” She demanded, shoving her glass across the table. He lifted his eyebrows, glancing between her and the chocolate milkshake.

“Absolutely not. The fries get soggy in there- I know they do.” He explained, observing as she rolled her eyes. Slumping back into the booth in playful defeat. “You enjoy that?”

“Uh, yeah. Get with it, gramps.” She dusted her hands off, placing her phone and wallet on the table. “I’m gonna run to the bathroom really quick- watch my stuff?”

“Yeah- of course.” Steve watched her as she stood, pulling at her shirt before starting towards the bathroom. He then turned his attention to their mostly finished plates, stacking them neatly to one side of the table.

Just as he went to catch a waitresses attention, he looked around. They were the only two customers remaining. Steve felt the guilt immediately, seeing the women cleaning around their table. They had been so distracted he had forgotten time could pass. He flicked his wrist, checking his watch. They had been at the restaurant for way too long.

YN emerged from the restroom just at the same moment he stood to approach the register. She noticed he had taken her things, tucked in his jeans pocket. So she found her way to his side, curling her arm around his and hugging it to her chest.

He finished paying, apologized several times to the wait staff for taking the booth for so long. She had brushed it off, telling him it had been a pleasure to serve Captain America himself. Steve still felt guilty, leaving a very large tip for her.

“Ready?” He asked, turning to face YN. She gave an enthusiastic nod, clinging to him as they walked to the door. He pushed it open, holding it for her.

“It’s so late- I don’t think we’ll ever catch a cab.” YN checked her phone, the time shining up at her.

“I’ll walk you home. It’s not that far, if you’re up for it?” He offered. Steve watched as she frowned at the device in her palm, the streetlight gleaming down onto her hair. Giving her face an ethereal glow, eyes sparkling. Her lipgloss was incredibly distracting- shimmering and glittering under the lights.

“Steve?” She asked. He jolted, breaking his stare as he realized he had been zoned out while she was speaking. The heat crept back into his cheeks; He never seemed to get rid of it around her. It was always lurking under his skin, readily revealing itself at any moment.

“What?” She laughed.

“I said that I’d take that escort home, if it doesn’t put you out of your way.” She repeated. Steve shook his head immediately.

“You’re never out of my way, sweetheart.” In truth, her apartment was seventeen blocks to the east of the diner. The Tower was nineteen from the diner, to the north. Steve would’ve done pretty much anything to keep her with him longer, even walk the entire length. Carry her if she wanted.

“I just don’t want to keep you.” Her hand found his forearm again, slithering down to his hand. Her fingers twined with his and he squeezed her hand gently. “You had mentioned that you had to get up early tomorrow. I don’t want to make you late.”

“It’s just some work. Nothing drastic. Can’t leave until I get there anyways.” He assured her, their sides bumping together as their strides evened out. It was practically true- it was work and it wasn’t drastic. He had to leave early for a stake out mission with Natasha. She would eventually forgive him, if not immediately. “I might be gone for a couple weeks… I’m not sure how long it will take.”

“That’s okay.” She shrugged, swinging their arms between their bodies. “Just means our next date can be even better, cause we’ll be really excited to see each other.” Steve smiled, his free hand finding his front pocket. He was always excited to see her.

They fell silent for a moment- something that didn’t happen often. YN was a regular chatterbox when she was excited. And as far as Steve could tell, she was always excited to be around him. He didn’t mind, he loved hearing her voice. Liked listening to her. Telling him fun facts, stories, asking questions, going off on tangents. It was always amusing, watching her face go through several ranges of emotions during her stories. Hands gesturing vibrantly.

“So you’re gonna let me hang around for another date?” Steve asked, risking a glance to her. A light smile on shining lips.

“I may.” She nodded. “Depends.”

“On?” Steve pressed, nudging her with his elbow. YN pursed her lips, feigning concentration with her eyes rolling to the side.

“Well, if I finally get a good night kiss I might let you stick around.” She teased. Steve chuckled, shaking his head. He’d wanted to kiss her the first night, but didn’t want to scare her away. He was still unsure on twenty first century mannerisms, caught in between the centuries. Wanting to move into the current for her, but clinging onto the values instilled in him growing up. Remembering the awkward dates he had with girls. How he never really knew what to do.

But now that she had mentioned it, Steve figured it would be safe to push his luck.

Suddenly, YN gasped and yanked his hand- jeering off course. His feet hit grass as she released his hand. Steve looked up, seeing a playground laid out before them.

“What are you doing?” He followed her at a slower pace, watching as she leapt up. Hands catching on a set of horizontal bars. She twisted upward, hanging down by her knees.

“What- you’ve never played on a playground at midnight before?” She demanded, pushing her shirt back down. Steve laughed, standing in front of her, hands on his hips.

“Not that I can remember.” She released her hold on her shirt, hands reaching out to him. The fabric fell back down, bunching around her chest. A snippet of her dark red bra peeking over the edge. Steve snatched the end and shoved it back upward, covering her torso. “You’re gonna get hurt, YN.”

“Not if I have a superhero boyfriend here to save me.” She argued, leaning back up to take the bars. “Come on, Stevie- let loose for a while.”

He sighed, meeting her eyes as she turned herself right side up. Dangling by her hands. She gave him a pout, eyes twinkling in the park lights.

Steve stepped to her left, tucking his loose t shirt into his belt. Ensuring his hands were clasped tightly around the metal bars before pulling himself up and hanging beside her.

“There you go, now- pull your feet up and hook your knees around a bar and you can hang.” She instructed, then quickly giving him a visual reenactment. He picked it up easily, releasing his grip and turning his body upside down to hang beside hers. “You’re doing it!”

YN wiggled her body happily, figure swinging wildly. Steve reached out, hands on her waist to steady her, worried she would tilt or lose her grip.

“Take it easy, YN.” He squeezed her hips as she laughed. “I don’t think a date should end with an emergency room visit.”

“Then you definitely haven’t been on a really good date.”

“Should I be worried about that statement?”

“I wouldn’t think about it too hard.”

“Oh, for sure.” He smiled, feeling the blood begin to rush to his head. His face felt tingly as he hung beside her, pins and needles pricking at his skin. “We should probably start back, it’s getting late-“

Steve felt her hands grasp his shirt, pulling him closer. YN’s lips brushed against his before planting firmly. He grunted in surprise, hands clasped to his chest, between hers. She moved her lips slowly, gently. He could taste her lip gloss- mix of cherry and vanilla flooding his system with error messages. Brain flashing a ‘vacant’ sign before his consciousness.

“I don’t know if you’re a really good kisser or if all my blood rushed to my head but I’m really lightheaded.” She murmured, not even allowing him to go far as she spoke, lips still touching.

His wide blue eyes stared gleefully into hers, swinging himself down to his feet. Reaching to help her back to the ground next. YN huffed, readjusting her shirt before leaning to pick up her phone that had slid from her pocket whilst upside down.

“Y’know, I think my research isn’t complete yet- still not sure which caused the lightheadedness.” She pressed a finger to her lips, the gloss smudged down her chin. Steve narrowed his eyes at her grin.

“Now you’re just trying to get me to kiss you.” He clarified, able to see through her actions easily. She shrugged, as if to say ‘you caught me!’

“Only if it’s working.”

Steve chuckled, one hand grasping the back of her neck while the other found a place on her waist. Pulling her body to his. She stumbled forward, colliding with his chest as he angled her mouth up to his. Leaning down to meet her height. He pressed them together, cradling her body. His fingers tangled in her hair. YN’s fingers curled into his shirt, finding purchase in the fabric. He felt her lips curl upward in a smile, still pressed to his.

He pulled back, keeping his eyes on her face as he did. A happy, dazed smile on her features- eyes crinkled in the corners. Her fingers drummed against his chest in time with his heartbeat as she ripped herself away. Breaking into a full sprint across the grassy playground.

“Race you to the swings!” She shouted over her shoulder, feet pounding the ground.

Steve chuckled. For once, he didn’t feel the need to be an adult, to be the mature, responsible one. He could turn everything off- even if only for a few minutes. Even if it was something as simple as sprinting across a playground with a girl that was slowly changing his life and perspective. He decided he liked that feeling.

“You asked for it, sweetheart!”

[dwaynepride]

just like we were kids

pairing: young!gibbs x reader, young!ducky + reader

summary: 5 times gibbs kisses you and 1 time ducky kisses you.

warnings: reader is kidnapped, mentions of rope burns

words: 4,196

a/n: very loosely based off the 400th episode but not strictly

It’s been a very long day.

Gibbs sat next to a crying baby on the bus riding into DC, the hotel receptionist gave him a hard time when he tried to check in, and he was forced into the trunk of a car with a gun pointed to his head.

“He forced you, Marine?”

Gibbs withheld an annoyed sigh; only because this agent was pretty alright. “There were civilians around. Didn’t want to risk it.”

“Noble,” the agent responds. “But a gamble.”

Yeah. A gamble that only sorta paid off because Gibbs knows you’ll give him an earful just as soon as you get here.

“If it wasn’t for that idiot driving on the wrong side of the road, you might be the one in our morgue.”

God, Gibbs hopes he doesn’t say that when you’re around.

In the distance, he hears the elevator ding. And the agent motions toward it. “Now, you got a chance to say thank you. Looks like he’s back from the hospital to give his statement.”

Gibbs turns, spotting the man in a bowtie with his arm in a sling and talking the ear off of the women who brought him up here. The Scotsman was ranting off about American driving habits, no doubt blaming it all on why he crashed. Hearing it makes Gibbs smirk.

“Mr. Mallard,” the agent greets.

“Actually, Dr. Mallard. Well, former doctor,” he corrects.

Without any hesitation. Jethro likes him already. “Sergeant Gibbs. Former trunk.”

That’s when Dr. Mallard finally looks to him, paying little attention to the scrapes on his face. “Ah,” he replies. Gibbs can’t help to notice he looks just a little amused.

“I owe you a drink,” Jethro says.

“Well, that depends,” Mallard intercedes immediately. “How do you feel about scotch?”

“I’d feel better about bourbon.”

“Sold.”

Smiling, Gibbs reaches forward to shake the other man’s hand. They reflect each other’s expression - Dr. Mallard pleased for a free drink, and Gibbs just happy to be out of that trunk. “It’s the least I could do, considering your car was probably totaled-”

“Jethro!”

Oh no. Gibbs and his rotten luck was about to rub off on you.

He hadn’t even prepared anything to say. Hadn’t thought of a special way to ease your worries because Gibbs has been too caught up with the NIS agent and giving his statement. So when he looks over Mallard’s shoulder, watching as you march up to him with wide eyes, Gibbs visibly winces. “Hey. First of all, I’m okay. Second-”

“How could you possibly be okay?” Your eyes were immediately focused on the red scrape on his forehead - right now, he figures you’re expecting the worst. “This is serious, Jethro. How do you think I would’ve felt if I got a call saying you were dead? I know you like to think you’re big and bad, but-”

“Have you met Dr. Mallard?” Gibbs immediately turns your attention to the Scotsman in the bowtie, who immediately greets you with a tight smile once you face him. “He’s the one who saved me. Kind of.”

“Only by sheer stupidity, believe me.” Mallard reaches out a hand, and after a moment, you take his. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

You let out a tiny sigh, seeming to Gibbs like you were winding down, now that you’re sure he was okay. “Thank you, Doctor. As you can tell,” you snap your eyes to Jethro, “he gets himself into trouble, a lot.”

Gibbs says nothing, now that the eyes of four different people are on him. He shifts his weight awkwardly, reaching out to grip your arm and pull you closer. And to really suck up to you, he leans over to press a kiss against your temple - he hopes that’ll be enough of an ‘I’m sorry’ for now. “Well, the Doctor’s gotta give his statement so I think we outta let him,” Gibbs says, hoping to turn the attention off of himself.

“Yes, of course,” Dr. Mallard agrees. Gibbs is grateful - up until Mallard faces you again with a smile. “Though, you should most definitely join us for a drink. It’ll be on his tab, and you’ll be there to keep him out of trouble.”

For a moment, Gibbs feels almost defensive. He’s about to speak up, but before he can say anything, he sees you nod your head. Even worse, you’re smiling. As if agreeing with Mallard that Jethro needs watching over.

Though, you’re smiling now. Maybe it’s not so bad.

-

It’s late. And the coffee doesn’t seem to be working anymore.

Gibbs had training for staying up all night. There’s been times when he’d gone three days with only a couple hours of sleep. But even that would’ve been preferable to sitting at a table, staring at files and papers, and listening to Dr. Mallard’s mumbling.

“It doesn’t make any sense...we’ve got to be missing something...”

Yeah. No kidding.

Gibbs rubs his eyes with a long sigh. He’s tempted to just call it a night and try again in the morning when he and Mallard are rested up. But Jethro stays - much too stubborn to walk away, even if it’s past midnight.

He has his chin propped up on his hand, fighting the alluring close of his eyes, by the time Jethro hears the front door close and your footsteps against the wood floor. “You guys are still awake?”

“Yeah,” Gibbs mumbles.

“We’re nearly finished,” Dr. Mallard says - he’s slightly more awake, but not by much.

“Right,” you reply. Jethro recognizes the disbelief in your voice. It’s the same tone you use with him a lot. “Well, are you two hungry?”

Coffee is the only sustenance he’s had all night. At the mention of food, Jethro looks over. And a grease-stained paper bag has never looked so amazing. “Is that…”

“Just some burgers from a diner. Not many places are open this late, so it was a bit of a drive.” You approach with the food, and Jethro stands to take the bag from your hands. And you’re smiling at him - looking tired, but still so sweet and soft and it immediately relieves the ache of exhaustion from Gibbs.

You drove all around town to bring him and Mallard some food. He didn’t deserve you.

“You didn’t have to,” Jethro says. Though, he handles the burgers like an injured puppy. “We got stuff here…”

“Don’t be ridiculous, man.” Dr. Mallard stands as well, taking the bag from Jethro and opening it up to retrieve his burger. “It’s not right to downplay the generosity of your partner. Try thanking her.”

Gibbs narrows his eyes at the other man, but his hunger wears down his stubbornness. The burgers smell fucking amazing, and Dr. Mallard is right.

He looks back to you, steps in closer, and leans down to press a kiss to your cheek. Your skin is cold from the night air - Gibbs feels bad that you went through the trouble. “Thanks. We appreciate it,” he says lowly. If Mallard weren’t here, Gibbs might’ve dragged you to bed. Warmed you up and thanked you in his own favorite way.

He notices your flush. Maybe you picked up on his own personal thoughts, somehow.

So Gibbs looks away, reaching out to retrieve his own burger before the doctor notices anything. And you clear your throat, smiling at the both of them while backing up. “Well, enjoy the food. I think I’m gonna go get some sleep. Try not to stay up all night, you two!”

A smirk comes over Jethro’s lips as he falls back down into his chair, and he doesn’t notice Mallard watching him until Gibbs is just about to take a big bite out of his burger. His teeth are on the bun when his eyes flicker up. “Wha’?” He asks hotly.

Dr. Mallard simply shakes his head, taking his seat and moving his files aside to make room for the burger you brought him. “Nothing. It’s just that...she’s a keeper.”

Jethro didn’t need some Scot to tell him that.

-

“Keep looking out here! I’ll check inside!”

Jethro didn’t bother yelling out an acknowledgement. He took off in the other direction, letting Dr. Mallard make his way into the dark, silent building by himself. Maybe if his heart weren’t pounding so fast or if he weren’t so fucking angry and scared and worried, Gibbs would be smart and think about Mallard’s safety.

After all, if these scumbags had the balls to take you, what’s to stop them from killing him?

Jethro doesn’t think about that, right now. His shoes pound against the pavement, swinging his flashlight around wildly. The parking lot is empty and pitch black - the shine of the flashlight barely does anything to cut through the darkness. He tries to stem his breathing and silence his heartbeat; just in case you’re crying out for him.

He hears nothing. The taunting hoot of an owl, but that’s it.

This is his fault, of course. Everything is his fault. Maybe if he just left the case alone and let those agents deal with it, you wouldn’t be missing and he wouldn’t be running around trying to find you. Dr. Mallard tried calming him down and reminding him that they’re trying to get these bastards off the streets for this very reason.

Doesn’t seem worth it, though. Not when it comes to you.

Jethro takes a few more steps, panting hard, still straining his eyes against the blackness. His grip on the flashlight is so tight, his fingers start to hurt. Maybe you’re not even here. Maybe they got it wrong. Maybe they missed something-

There. On the far end of the parking lot. Something reflects the light of his flashlight, and it’s too big to be anything but a vehicle.

Immediately, Gibbs takes off again. His shoes barely hit the concrete with how fast he’s running, and when he finally reaches the car, he shines the light inside. Finding empty seats, Jethro’s stomach drops.

That is, until his eyes find the trunk.

Jethro calls your name as he comes around to the hitch. His breath is stuck in his lungs, and he barely even registers the light tapping from inside the trunk before he yanks it up.

You flinch at the sudden bright light. Hands coming up to shield your face, balling yourself up tighter. Gibbs immediately notices little red lines around your wrists. Notices the little tears and scuffs on your clothes. He shakes with something mixed with rage and relief.

“Hey, hey, you’re okay,” Jethro breathes out. He tucks the flashlight under his arm to reach out for you. His hand on your arm seems to calm you - it lets you know that you’re safe and he’s got you and everything is okay now. You peek out from behind your eyes, cheeks wet from tears but they’re not wet enough to loosen the tape strapped to your mouth.

Jethro reaches out instantly to pull it off. He’s slow, gentle, and as soon as your lips are visible, you suck in a deep breath. “Jethro…”

“I’m here. You’re okay now.”

He tries his best to hide the tremor of his hands as Gibbs takes his knife out and cuts the rope off your wrists and ankles. These bastards really went all the way - taking you and terrorizing you just to get to him and Mallard. He’d make sure they paid.

As soon as you’re freed, your arms are wrapped tight around his shoulders, face pushed against his chest and sniffling. The flashlight is obscured, but Jethro doesn’t need to see the harsh tears staining your cheeks. It’s bad enough to hear your little whimpers of his name, and the most he can do is hug you back and murmur out comforting words.

Eventually, you pull away. Still leaning on him, not even pulling yourself out of the trunk yet, but wanting to see his face. “It happened so fast,” you tell him, voice small. Jethro frowns as he fits his hand against your cheek - there’s a bruise there that concerns him. “And they were saying how you and Dr. Mallard were getting so close, and I was insurance, and I didn’t know if you’d find me, and-”

“Hey, I’ll always find you, okay?” His thumb caresses over your cheek, mindful of the purple bump there. “I’m sorry. This is my fault. You shouldn’t have gotten caught up in this. I should’ve protected you better.”

Your eyes are wide and frightened, but the way your eyebrows quirk together slightly tells him that you probably had something to say. Probably to negate what he’s said because he knows you don’t like when he says things like that. Blaming himself for things he can’t control.

Instead, Jethro leans in to desperately press his lips against yours. The kiss tastes like salty tears and a hint of blood but you hold onto his jacket so tight that he doesn’t even think about if the kiss might hurt.

He was worried. You were scared. He just wants to kiss you.

And even the sound of Dr. Mallard calling his name from across the parking lot isn’t enough to break it.

-

“She’s fine, right? That’s what the doctors said?”

“That’s what I said,” Mallard tells him, voice tight. But there’s an empathetic look that helps calm Gibbs down a bit. “I assure you, I wouldn’t lie about her condition. I checked her over myself - the worst of it is only the rope burns on her wrists.”

Gibbs breathes a little easier. It’s been a wild couple days and it feels like the first deep breath he’s taken since.

“I assume you’d want to see her.”

Jethro nods his head once, brow furrowing together. He’d done enough waiting.

Dr. Mallard smirks before he turns and walks with Gibbs down to your room. He knows it’ll be hard, seeing you laid up in the white hospital sheets. It was hard enough pulling you from the trunk of the car and sitting with you until the ambulance came. Hard enough having to put you on the back burner to finish what he and Mallard started. The guilt was still there, of course. He knows you don’t blame him, but it’s not enough.

Gibbs feels a nudge against his arm, and he looks over to find Dr. Mallard watching him. “You should be happy,” he points out.

“I am.”

“I hope you’ll be a better liar once we get in there.” Gibbs scoffs and looks away, but the doctor isn’t done. “You’re fortunate it wasn’t any worse. With the men we were dealing with-”

“Yeah, I know, doc. They coulda killed her, or worse. And it would’ve been my fault because I wasn’t smart enough to think ahead and protect her.” Jethro turns back to Mallard, and he doesn’t bother to hide his scowl. “Is that what you want to hear?”

“Yes. It is,” he replies boldly. Fucking of course. Gibbs is tempted to walk off before Mallard's gaze turns more sympathetic. “But that’s not what she wants to hear. So better to get it all out right now so you can’t dump all those guilty feelings on someone who’s already been through enough.”

He hadn’t thought of it that way.

Jethro’s eyes drop. Mallard was right, of course. It pissed him off to admit it, but Gibbs probably would’ve gone in there and apologized for something you didn’t really want to relive. Another case of him not thinking.

Dr. Mallard pats him on the shoulder. When Gibbs looks up, he motions to your room with his head. “Well, let’s get a move on. I’m sure she’ll be happy to see you.”

And Jethro will be glad to see you, too.

He wastes no time reaching your door, and he carefully opens it but can’t help poking his head in just as soon as he can. Gibbs doesn’t quite know what to expect, and even with Mallard peeking in from over his shoulder, he feels like he should be walking on his toes.

But the image of you sitting up in bed with a smile proves him wrong.

“Hey! You’re here!”

Jethro doesn’t reply. He just smirks and revels in his relief that you’re actually okay.

“Of course, we are!” Mallard replies, moving past Gibbs to approach your bedside. “We wanted to tell our partner about the outcome of our little investigation, didn’t we, Gibbs?”

Jethro’s eyes move away from your bruised face, glancing to the doctor before nodding once. “Yeah. Bastards got caught trying to leave the state. They got ‘em at the border,” he tells you. Though, he can’t keep his eyes from wandering. Your arms, once so soft, are marred with bandages and bruises. Jethro reminds himself to breathe.

“But obviously, we were also worried about you,” Dr. Mallard adds on. His tone is softer, this time. And as Gibbs moves past him to take the seat by your bed, he continues. “You’ve got nothing to fear. They can’t ever hurt you again.”

Jethro reaches out to take your hand, and you squeeze his right back. Dammit, Mallard was so good with that heart-to-heart stuff. It never really occurred to Gibbs to put your mind at ease, like he had. He’d just been so angry and guilty and worried - well, it goes to show how much more you deserve than him.

“Yeah, I know.” Your voice is light. A little hoarse. The sound of it makes Jethro tighten his grip.

“He’s right,” Gibbs speaks up. And when you turn to look at him, he makes sure his face is hard and determined. Not as shaky as he feels. “I’m never gonna let something like that happen again. I promise.”

“Yeah,” you respond. “I know.”

Your smile grows. Just a little, because of the bruises. But it prompts one on Jethro’s face, and as his chest gets a bit tight, he softly lifts your hand up. The bandages cover up the ugly rope burns around both your wrists - they’ll go away in a few weeks. Still, he places a soft kiss on top the bandage. Just to help you heal a little faster.

-

If it were up to Gibbs, he would’ve taken you right home and let you rest. And personally, after all the bullshit, he really just wanted a quiet night with you and a couple glasses of bourbon. And no Dr. Mallard.

Things never usually go as planned for him. A night at the bar is in order to celebrate.

Though, Jethro can’t complain much. You’re seated on his lap, and he’s free to wrap his arms around your waist and tug you close and glare at anyone giving you a second look. Call him protective, but he’s just being safe.

And he let you and Mallard chat away about the case. Mostly about how the NIS agents took all the credit for bringing them in.

“It’s unfair,” you say crossly, glancing back at Jethro before looking to the doctor again. “Do they know how much danger you guys put yourselves in? Or what I went through? And they get the credit?”

Jethro’s grip on your waist tightens. He smirks when he feels your hand settle on his arm.

“It’s not really about the credit,” Mallard replies, leaning back in his chair with a shrug. “For me, I’m just happy those bastards won’t be out terrorizing any more innocent people. I looked into some of their victims - poor unfortunate souls who wouldn’t have been missed by anybody. No friends. No family. It’s a real shame.”

The table grows quiet, even as the bar ambience around them is still as loud as ever. You end up leaning back against Jethro; likely needing his comfort.

And he readily gives it. Because you so easily could’ve been one of those victims. Not unknown without friends or family, like the others. But still gone. Still ripped from Jethro’s arms.

“Would’ve missed you,” he finds himself mumbling.

Gibbs didn’t intend for you to hear. He was counting on Dr. Mallard keeping your attention. But it seems like the music and the chatter wasn’t enough to keep his mindless words from your ears. Because as soon as he presses a light kiss against the ball of your shoulder, you’re twisting your head around to smile at him.

His eyes immediately dart away, because he knows the kind of smile you’re wearing.

“Have a little too much to drink, Jethro? You’re getting all affectionate.”

“Yes,” Mallard speaks up, happy to change the subject. “I think he’s gone on to his third glass of scotch!”

-

It’s one o’clock in the morning. Gibbs kept checking the time.

He wouldn’t say anything about it, though. Not when you were having fun and relaxing after that whole ordeal.

Still, Jethro couldn’t help a little sigh when he finally stepped out of the bar. He holds the door open for you and Ducky - a nickname you’ve given the Scot that took the hold of liquor to stick.

“Well, that was a jolly time. Been a while since I’ve had a sip with companions I could tolerate a conversation with. I’ve found there’s very few people in America who want to sit down for a drink in a pub…”

“Bar,” Jethro says. He hears your soft snort of laughter from behind.

“Bar,” Ducky repeats with a smile only a drunk man would wear. It brings to mind when the doctor had been teasing Gibbs about drinking too much. And just as he goes to sit down on the curb of the street, you’re right there to help him down. Preventing the intoxicated doctor from falling straight on his ass and patting his shoulder once he’s leaning against a stop sign.

Jethro smirks at the sight, shaking his head lightly as he approaches the street to flag down a taxi. Yeah, it was late. It’s been a trying couple of days. But he can’t admit that he didn’t have a little fun. Ducky attempting to teach you some Scottish drinking songs was surely a highlight.

His hand waves up at an oncoming taxi, and thankfully, it notices him and veers over. “Alright, doc. Time to get you home. You know the address of your hotel?”

Gibbs comes over to help you pull Ducky back up, but the other man just regards him with a huff and a frown. “Of course I do, Marine. I’ve got a very good memory, you know. Like a Bottlenose Dolphin. Do you know it’s theorized that dolphins have an even longer memory than elephants?” Ducky stumbles a little over his own feet, almost falling into the street in front of the taxi. But Jethro catches him before he can fall. “Imagine that: a whole metaphor undone because of a single study…”

“That’s very interesting, Ducky,” you tell him lightly, a giggle edging your voice.

Jethro pulls the door open, intent on helping Mallard in so you don’t strain yourself doing it. But the doctor puts a hand on the roof of the cab, balancing himself so he can turn to face you. He’s reflecting your easy smile, and Jethro can’t help but narrow his eyes as he watches the doctor lean over to take hold of your hand.

Is Mallard some kind of drunken flirt? Gibbs fixes his jaw.

“You’re a very charming person, and I do look forward to working with you again. I pray it’s sooner rather than later,” Ducky says. And with no hesitation, he presses a chaste kiss against your knuckles - still a bit tender, but you don’t look as if it bothers you.

Which is why Jethro is tempted to just shove Mallard into the taxi and send him on his way.

Granted, the kiss was brief. He releases your hand and turns to Gibbs, whom he gives a brief nod to. “Same to you, Marine.” And with that, Dr. Mallard ungraciously climbs into the backseat of the taxi, and Gibbs can tell he’ll be chatting the driver’s ear off the whole way. His voice fades as the car drives off.

“That was fun.”

Immediately, Jethro’s eyes leave the cab to look at you. “The drinking, or that kiss?” He asks maybe a bit too sternly.

Your eyes go wide in surprise, lips slowly quirking upward as you gaze up at him without a word. And Jethro winces inwardly at the can of worms he likely opened without even meaning to. He turns away, intent to find another cab for the two of them. But you’re not ready to drop it. “Well, I don’t know. Which did you enjoy the most?”

“Geez,” he mumbles. “Ya know, we should’ve just stayed home. You’re really in no condition to be out and about.”

You don’t reply. Instead, your arms appear right around his waist, closing tight and leaning up against his back. He’s thankful for the position, at least, so you couldn’t see the smirk on his lips. And when Jethro places his hand on your arm, he’s careful to avoid the bandages. He wants to touch your skin, anyway.

“Y’know, Jethro, if you wanna kiss me, you don’t have to wait until after Ducky does it.”

[haverdoodles]

A Fork In The Road - Hawke & Inquisitor

This is an unedited drabble featuring my Inquisitor Ellana Lavellan and my Marian Hawke. It takes place around the time of the quest 'Here Lies The Abyss'.

.

“Varric has told me much about you,” Ellana said, joining Hawke by the stone guard of the battlements. The Champion was gazing up at Skyhold with a faint smile, though Ellana could not glean why from her expression alone. For someone so expressive, she was remarkably difficult to read.

“He’s been singing my praises, no doubt,” Hawke said. “Either that or he’s been spinning wildly raunchy tales about me and various other colourful characters. It tends to swing one way or another depending on the day.”

“There have been a few… questionable stories,” Ellana admitted, which made Hawke laugh. “Mostly, though, he spoke of you and your friends. Of how much you cared for each other, despite your differences.”

“Ah,” Hawke said with a soft smile. “Those were the days. Did you know that at one point, it had become customary for any of us to waltz into each other’s homes at any given time? That’s a big deal in Kirkwall, you know - everyone is so paranoid and secretive all the time. You don’t just allow people to walk in your home whenever they please.” Hawke shook her head, grinning behind her coppery fringe. “Sometimes I’d wake up to Varric asleep beside me, or Fenris sitting just outside in the hall. I’d visit Aveline’s place with Merrill every once and awhile to see how her wifely duties were coming along, and there would be nights where Anders and I attempted to outdrink Isabella at The Hanged Man. That never went very well however, Anders was such a lightweight…”

Ellana watched Hawke with a faint smile as she spoke. ‘She loves her friends,’ she thought to herself as Hawke began animatedly telling an anecdote involving Varric and her dog. Varric hadn’t been exaggerating about how much Hawke treasured her friendships, it seemed. She reminded Ellana a bit of Te’lise, in that sense - the two of them wore their hearts so openly on their sleeves, and loved everyone around them with a warmth that rivalled the sun.

“Listen to me, rambling on,” Hawke broke off from her stories to laugh. “And I didn’t even need a drink to get going! Sorry about that, Inquisitor, you must be bored to tears.”

“Quite the contrary,” Ellana told her sincerely. “I like hearing of your life in Kirkwall.”

Hawke’s smile dimmed a bit. “Yes, well. That was a long time ago. Many things have changed since then.” She looked over at Ellana when she spoke, the sunlight catching her eyes and setting them alight to a burning sapphire. “I’m thankful I still have Varric. I would be… quite lost without him, I think.”

“He is thankful for you too,” Ellana replied in a gentle tone. “Though I am sure you do not need me to tell you so.”

Hawke turned her gaze back up to Skyhold’s tower with a pensive expression. The wind ruffled her hair, setting the wayward strands ablaze in the fading sunlight, and Ellana once again admired just how vibrant the Champion was, inside and out. She had never met a person quite as bright before.

“Say,” Hawke said softly, “Do you ever wish for things to return as they once were? Before life for us got complicated, I mean.”

The red sails of aravels and the sound of sweet Natan’s laughter came to the forefront of Ellana’s mind, making her heart ache. “I used to,” she said slowly, “When I first came to Ferelden. But over time, I have learned that life becomes unbearable if we cling too tightly to the past. Sometimes it is best to let go and move on.”

“I wonder what he would think of that,” Hawke murmured. Catching Ellana’s confusion, she smiled sheepishly. “Sorry, I was thinking aloud. I meant Fenris.”

“He is your… lover?” Ellana asked hesitantly. “That is what Varric told me.”

Hawke’s smile changed into something quieter. She seemed… sad. “We are - or we were, once.” Hawke half leaned on the stone wall of the battlements, crossing her arms over her armour’s chestplate. “It’s been a little over a year since I last saw him.”

Creators. “I am sorry,” Ellana breathed. “I should not have brought it up.”

“Don’t be, it’s not your fault. Gives me an opportunity to talk about it, at any rate.” Hawke grimaced. “Er, that is to say, I don’t want to impose.”

“You aren’t, I can assure you,” Ellana leaned against the wall beside her, turning her head to meet Hawke’s gaze. “I can lend an ear, if you need someone to listen.”

Hawke’s blue eyes softened, and she bumped their shoulders lightly in thanks. “Maker, where would I even begin?” She smiled ruefully. “Things were going well for us, I think. I loved him fiercely, and he loved me. We worked as one unit, taking on jobs and defending the weak. It was good, and I was so happy to see him thrive as his own person. Varric most likely told you this, but are you aware Fenris was once a slave?” Ellana nodded. “When you are a slave, you own nothing at all - not even your own name. It is the worst state of being, and I wanted to give Fenris something better than that. I wanted him to experience all the love and the light that the world has to offer, in order to drown out the darkness he had been accustomed to. I wanted to give him freedom.” The last word was said with a tinge of desperate hunger.

“That,” Ellana told her quietly, “Is a very noble goal to have.”

“Hah. You’d think so.” Hawke smiled humorlessly. “I got ahead of myself, however. Once I began showing him all the sights and wonders and treasures, I began to forget that Fenris did not have my upbringing, nor that I had his. I forgot that he too craved freedom, but to an insatiable degree that I would be unable to provide.

“I was happy and in love,” she continued on, nudging at a piece of rubble with the tip of her boot. “And like a silly, whimsical little girl, I wanted something more out of our relationship. I never paused to consider if Fenris would even want that too.”

“Oh, Hawke,” Ellana said sadly.

Hawke tipped her chin up to stare at the sky, blue eyes far away. “I never thought I’d want to get married,” she confessed. “I used to think of it as a load of sappy nonsense. But once I met Fenris, and had fallen in love with him over time, I knew in my heart that I could want for nothing more than to be bonded to him.” Hawke laughed, but it was a joyless sound. “I asked him to marry me, and he told me ‘no’. He did not even hesitate. To him, marriage is just another set of chains, even if it’s marriage with me. We argued, said some hurtful things, and the next day he was gone. Not even a note left behind. He just…”

Hawke suddenly pushed herself off the wall, scrubbing a hand furiously through her short copper curls. “Sorry,” she blurted awkwardly. “I went too far. I know that must have been difficult to hear.”

Ellana would have none of it. She reached out and clasped Hawke’s hands gently. They were clammy from nerves, and her rough callouses brushed over Ellana’s own, hinting upon years and years of swordsmanship. She swept her thumbs over freckled knuckles and met Hawke’s wide-eyed stare.

“I know how it feels to lose someone precious,” she told the woman softly. “I know how cruel and unfair it feels for them to disappear in an instant, as if they were never there in the first place - as if their entire time with you had been as insignificant as anything else. Hawke…” she squeezed her hands gently. “Do you love him?”

“I have always loved him,” Hawke said hoarsely. “I love him so much it hurts to breathe.”

“Fenris is alive, Hawke.” Ellana whispered. “He is somewhere out there right now, alive and breathing. Things are not as finite as they may seem. You may still have a chance to make it right.”

Hawke looked vulnerable and lost, scared, even, as she took in Ellana’s words. “He left,” she quavered. “He did not even say goodbye.”

“Hawke, Varric has told me so much about you. But more than anything, he spoke of how much you and your Fenris cared for one another. The Fenris he told me about does not sound like the sort of man to leave so suddenly because he no longer loves you,” Ellana insisted. “He was afraid, and he did the only thing a former slave would know how to - he ran. But that does not mean he has lost his affection for you. It does not mean that he does not want to marry you.”

“I don’t think I could handle losing him again,” Hawke confessed brokenly. “If Varric is my Sun, then Fenris is my Moon. He means - he means everything to me, Inquisitor.”

“I think,” Ellana smiled, “That you are telling this to the wrong person.”

Hawke looked at her amazedly, as if she were really seeing Ellana for the first time. Without hesitation, she used their joined hands to pull Ellana in for a rough, squeezing hug.

“Oof!” Ellana wheezed.

“You,” Hawke whispered fiercely into Ellana’s shoulder, “Are a gift from the Maker. I have never been more thankful that Thedas has an Inquisitor like you. Thank you, Ellana. Thank you.”

The Inquisitor blushed despite herself, and slowly brought up her arms to hug Hawke back. “When all this is over, I hope that you and Fenris find happiness at last.”

Hawke pulled back, and Ellana was met with a blinding grin. “When all this is over, I will find him. I am going to pummel him into the ground for leaving, then kiss him, then maybe pummel him some more. I am going to tell him how much I love him and always will love him, wedding ring or no.”

“Well. That certainly sounds like a tale Varric will send spiralling,” Ellana said, and the resulting roar of laughter that erupted from the Champion was music to her ears.

It's unrefined and a little all over the place, I know! I just wanted to play around with how Ellana and Marian would interact with one another, since canonically they spend very little time just chatting. Thank you for reading, it is much appreciated <3

[theres-an-impulstor-among-us]

I know you wrote a drabble where Scott is almost sacrificed at Dogwarts and wanted to ask if you could write a version of that where he actually is sacrificed.

okay so this one is an alternate ending to this one, so it’ll start off the same and branch out into a different ending. read it first/save it for after if you want a happier version lol

author’s note: due to my severe discomfort surrounding decapitation, i’ve altered the method of killing slightly

lives at the start of this fic: Jimmy - red, Scott - green, Ren - red, Etho - yellow, Martyn - green

cw: blood, strangulation

just a reminder: please do not tag as shipping :)

…

Scott is starting to regret letting the Dogwarts trio take him and Jimmy back to their base, but he can’t exactly back out now. It’s his own fault, really, for asking if there’s anything else he can do to support Dogwarts from a distance, rather than putting up their banner.

He shoots a sideways glance at Jimmy, who seems even more nervous than him. Scott resists the urge to reach out and take his hand.

Finally, they arrive at Dogwarts. Scott is more than worried to see that a new platform with torches surrounding it on all four corners has sprung up in the middle of the carrot field. It looks innocent enough but something about it gives it an ominous vibe.

Unfortunately, this is exactly where Ren leads Scott.

“What is this?” Scott asks warily, putting one foot on the step up.

“This is the Altar of the Black Heart,” responds Ren ominously. “For Dogwarts to truly achieve full power, it requires a sacrifice. The blood of an outsider.”

Scott’s eyes widen as he realises what this means. “Whoa, whoa, hold on a second!”

He backs away a few steps but bumps into Etho, who takes hold of him in a surprisingly strong grip.

Jimmy starts forward with a gasp but Martyn grabs him and pushes him down, holding him in place. “Scott!” Jimmy cries uselessly.

Ren stands on the hill just above the altar as Etho drags Scott into place and tries to hold him down. Scott struggles against Etho’s grip, causing Etho to backhand him across the face.

“LEAVE HIM ALONE!” Jimmy screams. “SCOOOOOOTT!”

Blood trickling out the corner of his mouth, Scott coughs and tries to fend Etho off again.

“I’d stop resisting if I were you, Scott,” comes Martyn’s cold voice.

Scott glances over at him. His heart freezes as he finds Martyn holding a sword to Jimmy’s neck. “No!” he gasps. “Don’t!”

“Then hold still.”

After a moment, Scott squeezes his eyes shut and falls still, letting Etho push him to his hands and knees in the centre of the altar.

“Scott…!” croaks Jimmy. “No…!”

Scott forces himself to meet Jimmy’s terrified gaze. “It’ll be okay, Jimmy,” he whispers, just loud enough for Jimmy to hear. “Just stay strong for me, okay? Stay strong.”

“A sacrifice must be made!” announces Ren, spreading his arms to the skies. “Do the honours, Etho.”

Etho nods and raises his axe.

Jimmy looks away, starting to hyperventilate. He can’t watch this.

Scott closes his eyes.

The axe comes down hard and buries itself in the small of Scott’s back, the tip piercing his heart and killing him instantly.

Smajor1995 was slain by Etho

Jimmy starts to scream and doesn’t stop. His eyes are fixed on the spot his husband just was seconds before, tears streaming down his face. Tears of terror, of grief, of anger.

Something snaps inside him.

“Take Solidarity to the dungeon,” Ren orders. “We’ll deal with him later.”

But as Martyn starts to move, Jimmy reacts lightning fast and kicks him in the stomach with unbelievable strength. Martyn staggers back in shock and pain, allowing Jimmy to snatch his sword and slice cut after cut in his former friend’s body, not stopping despite the screams. His lust for blood has finally been awakened and he WILL avenge his husband.

InTheLittleWood was slain by SolidarityGaming

He spins round to find Etho charging at him with the axe that had killed Scott. Seeing his husband’s blood still dripping down the blade sends Jimmy completely over the edge.

His swing has so much force behind it that it knocks the axe cleanly out of Etho’s hand. Before Etho can recover, Jimmy shoves him to the ground and kneels on his chest, his hands wrapped around Etho’s throat. His eyes are so flaming red that they’re practically glowing, teeth bared in an animal-like snarl.

THIS is the person who killed his husband. Jimmy will make him pay.

Someone is trying to pull him off Etho but the bloodlust increases a red lifer’s strength and stamina, and they can’t budge him. The smell of blood is making Jimmy dizzy and disoriented, but all he knows is that he wants to kill. No, he NEEDS to kill. His desire to maim and murder is so strong that it’s all-consuming, growing inside him like lava escaping a volcano, rising up until it’s about to explode outwards and destroy everything in its path.

“STOP!” Ren’s voice yells desperately.

Jimmy doesn’t. He can sense that Etho is almost dead, and every instinct in his body is driving him forward to finish the job.

“Jimmy!”

This voice causes Jimmy to freeze and slowly release Etho, blinking against his red vision as he looks around wildly for its owner.

A hand touches his shoulder, then hugs him from behind. The cool, smooth arms… the scent of strawberries… the gentle heartbeat…

“S-Scott?” Jimmy croaks.

“It’s me, Jimmy,” whispers Scott. “I’m here.”

Jimmy slowly turns around and finds Scott’s face looking back at him. It… It really is him.

He pulls Scott into a tight hug, clutching him like his life depends on it. All the pain and anger and terror melts away, leaving only love.

Still holding Jimmy tightly, Scott carefully moves him away from Ren and a freshly-yellow Martyn as they dash to the semi-conscious Etho’s side.

“We’re even,” he says firmly. “A life for a life. There’s no need for further bloodshed.”

Ren glares back at him, but his expression softens slightly as he registers what Scott’s saying. “Really? You’d be satisfied leaving it like this?”

“Well, of course we’d still be enemies,” responds Scott. “But I want to call a temporary truce. I don’t want anyone else to die, not even any of you.”

After a moment, Ren glances over at his right hand man. “It’s your call, Martyn. You’re the one who died.”

Martyn considers Scott’s words on his own for a moment, before glancing up and happening to make eye contact with Jimmy. All traces of the bloodlust in Jimmy’s gaze are gone, replaced only with the eyes of the person Martyn used to be close friends with all those years ago.

“I accept your olive branch,” he says.

Ren nods and addresses Scott and Jimmy: “Then you two may leave this place in peace.”

“Come, Jimmy,” Scott murmurs. “Let’s go, quickly. Before they change their mind.”

Jimmy dithers as Scott takes hold of his hand and starts pulling him towards the exit. “S-Sorry, Etho,” he says awkwardly. “Sorry, Martyn.”

“Come on.”

Scott practically drags Jimmy to the gate and out of Dogwarts, only slowing down once their walls start to appear in front of them. Jimmy stays silent, letting his husband lead him.

Finally, they get into their base, which is where Jimmy takes the lead and pulls Scott into the former’s house, shutting the door for privacy.

“Jimmy, what-,” Scott starts.

“Let me see the scar,” says Jimmy seriously. “Please.”

After a moment, Scott turns around and lifts up the back of his shirt. A clean, straight mark running down his back shows Jimmy exactly where the axe entered his body. He gently traces the line with the tips of his fingers.

“I told you this would happen,” he says hoarsely. “I said they’d do this to you but you didn’t listen!”

Scott huffily pulls down his shirt and takes a few steps away. “I know, Jimmy. TRUST ME, I know! You’re just lucky they decided to go for the green lifer, not the red.”

“LUCKY?!” cries Jimmy. “Did you SEE me back there?! I murdered Martyn and nearly choked the life out of Etho!”

“Yeah, I did! I set my spawn right outside the walls before we went in and it’s lucky I did or you might’ve kept going and gotten yourself killed in the process! I can’t believe fear for your own life is what finally triggered your bloodlust.”

“What?!” Jimmy stares at him with wide eyes. “You think THAT’s what happened?”

Scott frowns at Jimmy’s reaction. “Well… I DID, but…”

“There’s a reason I’ve stayed back and tried not to get involved in any of your stupid conflicts, you know! I NEVER wanted to kill. EVER. But when they sacrificed you right in front of me, I felt the desire to rip Martyn and Etho apart like a predator with its prey. THAT’s what triggered my bloodlust, Scott! They killed you and I wanted them to suffer like they made you suffer!” Jimmy’s voice breaks and he dissolves into tears. “My bloodlust was triggered by the need to avenge you. And to make sure they never hurt you again.”

His heart breaking, Scott pulls Jimmy into another hug, letting him cry into his shoulder. “I’m so sorry,” he murmurs. “I never considered how traumatic that whole thing must’ve been for you. How are you holding up?”

Jimmy coughs, trying to clear his throat. “B-Better now. Please promise me we won’t ever go there again, though.”

Scott rubs Jimmy’s back soothingly, feeling Jimmy’s heart still pounding in his chest.

“I promise.”

[strqyr]

Hey, it's the anon that you answered. And yeah, this was a situation where I realized I probably should have added more context immediately after hitting send. I watched the commentary myself, and I knew all the stuff you said going in more or less. I knew they weren't just gonna be laying spoilers doen. But I dunno, something about the way they said it just didn't fill me with hope. Whenever they (mostly Miles, who I'd like to think I have an okay reading of at this point) were talking about it, they weren't really in full introspective mode but they weren't just joking either. The tone just kept reading to me as "It's ridiculous to read non-child Cinder as anything but pure evil. Look at all this heinous, evil shit we're having her do in this back half to really hammer that in." I really hope I'm just reading it wrong/they're putting on anti-spoiler airs but the vibe every time they spoke about her just doesn't fill me with hope.

i'm not going to say you're wrong in your interpretation, and i hope this doesn't come out in a wrong way, but i don't know you personally, same as i don't know the person who summarized the commentary in full. and if there's one thing i've learned while i've been in this fandom, is that people can have wildly different interpretations compared to my own, to the point that sometimes i'm genuinely wondering if there are two different versions of rwby out there.

the problem here is, i don't have an access to the commentary. i don't even know what exactly was said, let alone the tone and etc. it's impossible for me to give my own opinion and interpretation because of this. so i'm kind of just ¯\_( ﾟ– ﾟ)_/¯ ya know? i can't really give my thoughts on it, and i can't trust a person who i don't know personally to have a same interpretation as i do.

and like... i'm very used to getting these types of "doom-and-gloom" messages after cinder does something that doesn't point towards immediate redemption. it's not a bad thing to keep your expectations in check just in case, but because of this i've also learned it doesn't take much for people to go swinging from one end to another.

and i mean. apparently, they're talking about current cinder who's being a villain and being incredibly good at it too. i'm not exactly expecting them to be talking about how they want the audience to sympathize with her when she's being a menace to everyone lol

since you mentioned miles specifically, i think his two ironwood cameos are a good example how he can give two very different answers depending on a tone he's going for. it's also important to remember that there are four writers currently, and i'd bet if you asked each one of them about a character and what they think of them separately, you'd get four very different answers.

in the end, it's a collaborative project, and one writer's thoughts don't override the others'. i might be remembering wrong, but wasn't this also part of a reason why it took them so long to give anything definitive on neo and roman's relationship, because they couldn't agree amongst themselves what it was exactly like?

so yeah. in the end, it's just word of god. we can do our own critical thinking based on what's on screen and go from there.