#Rite Academy

[riteacademyblog]

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[leelarots]

hi. torvic rock murder. each time the rock comes on his head, regeneration energy sparks out of him like a fire striker against flint, but without it taking. am I making sense here. please

for reference, a fire striker

[shouldwemaybe]

non binary rep on my brother's math

[ectoberweekofficial]

Ectober Week 2024

🪄 ✨ Welcome to the Ectober Academy where you will spend a week casting spells, making potions, and sharing your conjured enchantments for all to see! ✨🪄

Each day you have a choice between a short charm, or a longer incantation from your spellbook (or perhaps, for the most daring witches, you can combine them both).

Note: The one-word prompts are not limited to artists, and the two sentence prompts are not limited to writers. Both prompts are available to anyone who wants to try them.

The result of your spell can be in the form of a piece of art, a written story, a musical jingle, a tenacious craft, a silly meme, or whatever your heart desires. All content directly related to the Danny Phantom cartoon is acceptable for this magical challenge. Ships, non-ships, crossovers, angst, fluff—so long as it relates to the show, how you choose to represent these prompts is entirely up to you.

When you are satisfied with your creation, you may post it on Tumblr under the tag #ectoberweek2024 so that we may find it and reblog it here!

Happy Ectober! 👻🎃

[art credit goes to @faerynova - check out her blog and look through her cool art!]

Prompts:

October 25

👻 Graveyard Shift

👻 They found the corpse on a Sunday. So why was Danny Fenton still alive?

October 26

👻 Cornered

👻 Desiree makes all your dreams come true. And Nocturne handles the nightmares.

October 27

👻 Ghost Peeler

👻 He tried to stay in control of his ghost half. He really tried.

October 28

👻 Skeleton Key

👻 Tick, tick, tick. The sound was coming from his core.

October 29

👻 Last Rites

👻 They knew it would kill him. They did it on purpose.

October 30

👻 Tarot

👻 Danny had wondered when he would see his clone again. He never wanted it to be like this.

October 31

👻 Ectology

👻 He thought he'd been prepared to take off the mask on the hazmat suit and see what he looked like underneath. He couldn't have been more wrong.

Check out our Post Guidelines for posting your work, and if you have any questions, feel free to shoot us a DM!

[2-dsimp]

===+====+======+== Yandere monster gang

Introducing the incubus

===+====+======+==

Yandere incubus who was clumsily failing his seduction classes and as a last resort the Hell academy sent him to the human realm with one special task in mind which is to seduce and feed off your dreams in order to get the rite of passage into becoming a full fledged member of the Succubi community. A task of which you voluntarily agreed to of course since you’re getting paid either way for the inconvenience.

Yandere incubus who gets flustered at the simplest of touches either from you idly brushing past him or if you’re trying to give him a helping hand with moving his things in as he was required to live in the same housing as you to accomplish his mission training.

Yandere Incubus who gets easily attached to his partner that was assign to him from being seduced by your friendly nature and gets comfortable enough to shamelessly cling onto you and whine whenever you have to leave him to go to work.

Yandere Incubus that gets pouty when being told that you have to hang out with other people other than just him and in retaliation he dives into your dreamscape feeding off your desires until it drains you physically and mentally allowing him to coddle you and nurse you back to health in his possessive embrace.

Yandere incubus that calls you dreamie because you always manage to give him an amazing spectacle from your lovely dreams that he withholds on corrupting with degrees of lewdity since that would be the end of his stay with his precious partner.

Yandere incubus who plays coy and is two faced around those who attempt to steal his darling away from him he’ll actively play the victim and turn everyone against his “aggressor” using his harmless cute facade who couldn’t hurt a fly as a cover up from the truth.

Yandere Incubus that’s addicted to the ideal of being with you and refuses to let this heavenly dream escape his grasp.

[thatshowthingstarted]

Corinthian Whipped Bronze Helmet, 560 BC.

It was discovered in 1930 in the Ria de Huelva, (Spain).

According to the analyses carried out by Dr. Gomez Torga, director of the laboratory of the Mines de la Reunion, in Rio Tinto, it is pure copper, without any kind of alloy.

In any case, this unique piece is one of the most important Greek finds of the Iberian Peninsula. By its location, it must be related to the emporion or commercial factory of Huelva, where numerous remains have appeared that evidenced trade between the Greeks and the Tartesians, which boomed in the middle of the sixth century BC. C, coincides with the date of this helmet, to which elites it would be intended as a weapon of prestige acquired to highlight to society the aristocratic status of its owner.

It was acquired by purchase, by the engineer José Albelda, who later donated it in 1932, to the Royal Academy of History.

Height: 26.6 cm, Width: 33.6 cm

Thickness: between 0.1 cm and 0.4 cm, but reaches 1.3 cm in the nasal defense.

Weight: 1370.5 g.

Indeed, the place of the finding is not too far from where it was recovered, also in a dredging of the River, a famous set of weapons of the Final Bronze, which makes it assumed that all these objects were deposited as exvotes or offerings to the divinity of those waters.

Water represented the passage point of Mas Allá in the Indo-European world, so this kind of offerings could be related to rites of arrival or passage, as can be interpreted another Greek helmet, something earlier, found in the waters of the Guadalete river, on its way through Arcos of the Frontier, which is preserved in the Museum of Jerez.

Source: Royal Academy of History. Text from the Catalogue of the exhibition Treasures of the Royal Academy of History. 2001. Sign written by Martín Almagro Gorbea.

[hardly-an-escape]

for @bucktommypositivityweek Saturday 8/17: nicknames and terms of endearment | naming conventions | 1300 words | rated T

Tommy wasn’t much of a nickname guy. He shortened names, of course – he wasn’t the kind of asshole who insisted on calling Hen Henrietta or Eddie Edmundo – but Howie was almost always Howie, not Chimney, even after they reconnected, and the handful of other firefighters they knew with goofy monikers were still almost always referred to by their given names.

Buck had asked him about it, once; he’d assumed that an Army pilot would have been all in on nicknames and callsigns. But Tommy had simply shaken his head and said something about how, in his experience, they always came from negative moments.

Haven’t you ever noticed that? He’d said. They’re almost always based on something bad. A mistake or a close call. I don’t know, I just don’t think people should be known for something they fuck up when they’re a probie, or a raw recruit. When they’re still learning.

And Tommy wasn’t wrong; most nicknames did stem from some kind of fuck up. Usually something funny or ironic, but not always. To Buck it seemed almost like a kind of hazing ritual – maybe rite of passage would be a kinder term – like, can you really join the club if you can’t handle a little joke? But Buck also saw Tommy’s point. Saw how the loss of a name could mean the loss of agency, loss of identity, loss of control over one’s own person in a context when so much control had already been willingly given up. To service, whether that meant the military or the LAFD or just being the guy always willing to step in and do something.

Buck saw that, even if he didn’t feel it himself. For him, getting a nickname had been freeing – had been an opening up, a door to an identity he’d wanted for a long time without being able to name.

Becoming Buck instead of Evan had been – it was hard to describe. He’d always secretly wanted a nickname, wanted something cool and casual and jocular, something to show that he belonged somewhere. But Evan didn’t exactly lend itself to shortening or rhyming, and nothing he’d done in his youth had ever set him apart. Not in a way that mattered; not in a way that stuck.

He’d lived more than twenty five years of his life being Evan and feeling vaguely uncomfortable about it – until the fire academy, when someone had called him Buck and he’d just run with it, made it happen, finally carved out his own little niche in this world that suddenly meant so much to him.

And that’s how it had been – he’d just been Buck – until Tommy came along.

He hadn’t meant to introduce himself as Evan, when they met in the hangar. In fact, he hadn’t introduced himself at all; Chimney had been the one to make introductions. “Tommy, allow me to introduce you to your flight attendants for this evening’s little jaunt: Evan Buckley and Eddie Diaz. Boys, this is Tommy Kinard, formerly of the 118 and currently probably regretting picking up my calls.”

They’d all shaken hands, faces serious. The weight of the moment and what they were about to do was heavy on their shoulders, despite Howie’s wisecracking, and it hadn’t even occurred to Buck to throw out his usual line about his nickname. And later, during his tour of Tommy’s station, it hadn’t really registered for Buck until they were halfway through that the other man had exclusively referred to him as Evan. It felt too late to correct him by the time he’d noticed.

And besides, he’d realized – much later – how much he liked the sound of Evan coming out of Tommy’s mouth.

Neither of them were big on pet names. Tommy would throw out the occasional sweetheart, which always made Buck melt a little inside, but it wasn’t a regular thing. Buck sometimes went for baby in intimate moments – babe, with what Tommy called “a tone,” if he was being a bit of a brat – but it was often as much for comedic effect as anything else.

They mostly just stuck to names. For Evan, the novelty of murmuring Tommy as he kissed his boyfriend’s Adam’s apple or his stubbly cheek or down the line of his happy trail never seemed to wear off. The masculine body under his hands and lips. The masculine name on his tongue.

He asked Tommy, once, after explaining his own weirdly complicated history with his name – and his parents, and his dead brother, and his long unwitting search for an identity – why he went by Tommy, not Tom or Thomas.

“I guess it sounds a little juvenile, doesn’t it?” Tommy said. “For a guy in his forties.”

“I mean, I don’t think so,” Buck said. “I think – I don’t know, I think it fits you. Like, I’ve heard other people call you Tom, but if I called you Tom, I feel like that’s a different person, almost. Someone I don’t even know.”

“I feel the same way about Buck,” Tommy admitted. “Hen says it, I don’t even blink. I know it’s you. But if I say it? It’s like, who is that.”

“Yeah.”

Tommy shifted a little on the couch. Plucked at his jeans, wrapped an arm around Buck’s shoulders and then immediately shifted again so he could run his fingers through Buck’s hair.

“I’ve told you a little about my dad,” he said eventually. “About how we don’t… get along. Never did, really, even when I was just a kid.” He paused, for long enough that Buck looked up enquiringly, only to see Tommy staring off into the middle distance.

“But I don’t think I’ve ever mentioned that I was named after him,” Tommy continued eventually.

“Wait, really?”

“Really. I am technically a junior. Thomas Edward Kinard, Jr. He actually wanted my birth certificate to say “the second,” but my mom put her foot down.”

“Wow. I had… no idea.”

“I stopped using the junior a year or two into my stint in the service. Dropped it completely when I came out to Los Angeles. Changed my driver’s license and just… didn’t put it on the paperwork. I’m sure that won’t come back to bite me in the ass someday.”

Tommy laughed, short and sarcastic, and Buck frowned. He’d only heard that laugh a couple of times, but he didn’t like it. He wormed his way out from beneath Tommy’s arm so he could take one of his broad hands between his own, petting over hairy knuckles and a calloused palm.

“Have you ever thought about changing it? Choosing something new?” he asked hesitantly.

“No. Never. He took enough from me, over the years,” Tommy said harshly. “He doesn’t get to take my name, too, even if it did come from him. Besides, it pisses him off enough that I went by Tommy past the age of sixteen. Changing my name would feel like… would feel like giving in.”

“I get that,” Buck said thoughtfully.

He squeezed Tommy’s hand one more time, then put it aside and climbed carefully into his boyfriend’s lap. Tommy let out a soft grunt of surprise as Buck wound his arms around his neck and tipped his face up for a kiss.

Buck obliged him. “Well, for what it’s worth,” he said softly, lips brushing against Tommy’s, “I love your name. I love how it sounds when I say it. Tommy,” he murmured, and Tommy swallowed hard. “It fits you. I don’t know how else to say it. It’s you. And I – I love you. So I love your name.”

It wasn’t the first time he’d said those words, but it was still new enough that they tasted fresh and exciting.

“I love you, too,” Tommy said quietly. “Evan,” he said, and kissed him again.

this was supposed to be something fun and silly based on this post but then it developed emotions and that's why it's a day late.

[popponn]

dating consultations. [nagi seishiro x f!reader]

notes: it's like 'wow feelings eh' read in elmo voice. then add my nagi phase and my recent obsession with childhood friend!nagi, it turns out like this. warnings: mentions (in a very unserious way) and (manga esque) depiction of break up at the end (not between you and nagi), mentions of bunch of break ups on your part, pinning, childhood friends + gaming buddies (?), obliviousness, post canon au, minor cursing. wo/ta/koi influenced this in some ways.

“Nagi Seishiro, listen to me,” you began.

“Don’t wanna,” Nagi replied, without lifting his head from his phone.

“So, I think my boyfriend broke up with me after finding out I spent money on gacha game,” you continued on, ignoring Nagi’s refusal. “I mean, sure, that's not a good financial decision. But hey, my husband gotta go home somehow and it's like an extra money that I already planned to spend anyway. Don't you get it?”

“No, I don't.”

“Exactly—but you see, I also think that he was honest, and what bothered him the most is because he found out that you and I play better in another game that he also played…” you trailed off at a sudden, more unpleasant that appeared in your mind. “…Seishiro, if I suddenly kick you out of the leaderboard’s number one spot, you will still be my friend right?”

“Nope,” Nagi replied without missing a beat. Like a rite of passage, you knew what came afterward would make you angry. “Your aim at FPS sucks way too much for that to happen.”

Immediately, you heaved out a short huff. You then threw your body over Nagi’s quickly, cuddling the soft blanket draped over him and enjoying the soft detergent scent left on it. Whining and protesting, you “Cheer me up, you brat! I raised you on my back since kindergarten and this is how you repay me?! We grew up in the same litter—spare some sympathy for me!”

(Seishiro found his whole body stiffening when you buried your face on his shoulder and pressed your chest towards his arm. Through the blanket, he could faintly feel your warmth and body. Five years ago, this would have been something he would brush off without batting an eye. Having crushes on oblivious childhood friends who only saw you as childhood buddies is hard—Seishiro noted dully.)

“Eh, why?” Nagi questioned back, blankly, focus still drilled on the PVP shooting game he was on. “This is your…how many breaks up it had been already?”

“…I know your social IQ is low, but can you stop rubbing salt over my wounds?”

“Anyway, don’t you think you break up way too often already to feel hurt?”

“…”

“…”

“…”

“…ah,” Nagi mindlessly cut the silence between the two of you. “That headshot was dirty.”

“…you are really bad at this whole cheering up thing,” you chided, sounding all too fond for it to have any effect at all. “And stop making me sound like some Whatpad bad boy.”

(From the corner of his sight, Seishiro saw a small smile etched itself on your lips. It was still too bittersweet for his liking, but at least after this—like always, as Seishiro had come to remember after all this time, without willing to—you would cheer up and stop talking about your nth ex. You wouldn’t sulk anymore and go on with whatever else except some guy who happened to be your ex.)

“Didn’t you say you want to be one, back in middle school?” Nagi questioned. “Also hurry up and log in, I need to grind for new artifacts.”

“That was middle school!” you screeched, feeling your whole head heating up due to some embarrassing flashbacks. “And you are still playing another game—I will log in later—”

“I’m done,” Nagi said, perfectly timed with the winning screen his phone displayed. “Log in. Hurry. Hurry.”

You glared dirtily at Nagi and his timing—or luck, whichever it was this time. “I hate you. Also, use Al-Haizen and Seno, I want the full ikemen academy team today.”

“Their synergy is shit.”

“And they are handsome. Your point?”

“I don’t wanna.”

“I will curse you with all defense and flat sub stat if you dare.”

“…that’s awful,” Nagi said, finally. His defeat was imminent from the start.

You sent him a wolfish smile, “And I’m still your only gaming buddy. Shush and just log in, big koala.”

“The one who is stuck on my back is you,” Nagi commented, while still following your words and changing his team before requesting to go to your map.

You laughed as you pressed your phone. With a certain brand of closeness laced in your voice, you protested, “Why are you this nosy with me? Last time I checked you are pretty obedient to Mikage, Isagi, and your captain.”

(Seishiro tried to process your words for a moment. To him, the answer has always been obvious in the way that both you and him even bothered to stick close to each other even as the two of you approached the age of twenty together. In how the one you told everything to is still him despite everyone in your life. In how if you ask, he will walk through the city just to pick you up after a terrible date and walk side by side to your home.)

Nagi stayed silent for a moment. From his side profile—adorable, handsome, yet still as baby-faced and familiar as ever—you could see how he was thinking. Then, he offered you an answer in a half-baked, dry tone, “…because it’s you?”

Once again, you laughed. Trying to swallow whatever odd beat his answer managed to draw from your heart deep and away from your face. “Gosh—watch your wording, Sei—oh, you are in already. Let’s go artifact farming! If it’s shitty let it just be Seishiro’s and not mine!”

As you hurriedly pressed your screen, you tried to not realize Nagi’s stare from your side.

You were not ready yet to admit whatever you felt for him was real. This was only a side effect of consecutive terrible break ups.

That was it and nothing else.

(”I don’t think I am the one you are in love with,” your boyfriend—ex-boyfriend—told you gently. This was yet another same reason, just told to you in a gentler, more understanding way.

You could only watch him silently. You were confused, yet a part of you somehow managed to understand what he meant. However, you still couldn’t put what it was into words despite all that.

“..well, I don’t think you do it by purpose,” the man in front of you said with a nervous laugh. “…nonetheless, I’m rooting for the two of you. Don’t make him wait for too long, okay?”

Hearing that, even if you still couldn’t grasp much yet, you forced yourself to respond through your tears. “…I’m sorry...?”

“Don’t be. It should be me, really.” Ever the nice guy, your ex-boyfriend still smiled. “This is more of me saving myself from hurting in the future… just, think of it as me being bitter for being worse than you and that childhood friend of yours in that shooting game, okay?”

You laughed bitterly at that. Your crying hadn’t ceased yet, yet you managed out another reply, “Seriously? You are a shitty nice guy.”

Still smiling, your ex—a good friend, a gentle person, a diligent worker—gave you a chuckle that sounded guilty. “…sorry. I really hope we can still remain friends after this.”

“Of course. No way I’m letting go of a star student as a group project member just because of a breakup,” you joked, even if you were unsure of the future. Then, remembering how he is, you added, “And get your ugly mug off my sight now. We are breaking up—stop smiling, you bastard.”

“…well, then… should I… accompany you home…?”

“You are my ex now—no way, nice guy,” you shut him off quickly. Then, after a pause, it felt like an answer as you continued.

“…I will just call Nagi. Go away.”)

[sepia-stained-sunset]

You know what, we deserve a Brentwood Academy Reunion mini comic where Tim brings Bernard along and all the other guys keep sending him pitying looks because they think the poor guy should be warned that Tim will never catch onto his feelings for him.

And Bernard is like, "um, why is everyone giving me so much sympathy?" And Tim's like, "what are you talking about?" And then people literally pat him on his shoulder and tell him that they "get it" and they've "been through this too"

Bernard: What are you talking about??

Some guy from Brentwood: It's okay, man. It's practically a rite of passage at this point. You're here with Tim Drake as just a friend, right?

Tim, who heard that: Um, no? Bernard's my date

Literally everyone there: What.

Tim: Uh...yeah? He's my boyfriend

Everyone: *squeeze their wine glasses so hard they literally shatter*

[cinnaleaf]

ESSENCE OF US - CH 13: SCOUSER’S RITE*

Please read responsibly. This fic will get hot and heavy as the story progresses, 18+ only MDNI | CH 12 | MASTERLIST | CH 14 [soon]

summary: a fleeting encounter with a mysterious Trent leaves you wondering if fate is playing a bigger match. your paths continue to cross in unexpected places as the fragrances around you mirror the growing tension between you. maybe it's just a coincidence..or maybe its destiny in the making.

warnings: angst, fluff, mild smut, academy life, tough family dynamics, gossip, mentions of past toxic relationship, language wc: ~9k 💌: buckle up, it’s about to get real after this 🐦‍🔥

You barely had a minute to breathe over the past few weeks since coming back from London. Your brother’s Liverpool trial was scheduled for tomorrow and although he was doing his best to seem unbothered about it, you could feel the mixture of nerves, excitement, and how much tomorrow meant to him. While you were preparing dinner, your focus kept drifting to the other room where Trent was in full mentor mode with Ziggy seated across from him.

“Listen,” Trent started, sounding more like a coach than a current footballer. “Tomorrow they’re not just gonna watch you in your usual position. They’ll move you around..left, right, centre to test how quick you adapt. They want to see what you’re like outside of your comfort zone.”

Ziggy nodded, his gaze transfixed like he was storing every piece of advice in his brain. Trent leaned forward, dropping his voice like he was giving away his best kept secrets.

“You know they’re not just looking for skill, right? They want someone who can lead and keep their cool when thrown off. Body language is everything, mate. If something throws you off, you need to get back in the game and show them you’re ready for anything.”

Ziggy looked excited, but also nervous. “So..even if I get tossed all around the pitch..just be calm about it?”

Trent nodded, almost like he was reminiscing on past times. “Yeah..just look confident even if you’re not. Make it look like you were meant to be there no matter where they put you. You’ve got to prove you belong, it’s not just about playing well.”

“Dinner’s ready for my two favorite athletes,” you called out, stepping into the room and drying your hands on a dish towel. You caught the tail end of their conversation and noticed how your brother’s face lit up at every word Trent said, his wide eyes and dimples reminded you of when he was just five and just learning the ropes of football at the park. Meanwhile, Trent was relaxed and confident, very clearly enjoying taking on his mentor role.

They both looked over at you with grins, Trent’s gaze softened into something a little more domestic when he saw you. “What’s on the menu tonight?” he asked playfully but also curious. “You didn’t have to cook baby. I could’ve picked something up.”

“T..it’s fine. Tomorrow’s a big day. I made pasta bolognese and salad.”

The minute you mentioned pasta, both of them bolted to the table like they hadn’t eaten in forever. Trent made a plate for you first, adding everything before setting it down where you usually sat. “Ladies first,” he said thoughtfully, making you roll your eyes but you secretly appreciated the manners he had. 

“Thank you,” you replied with a grin as they wasted no time piling their own plates high.

Ziggy dug in immediately, taking a heaping forkful of pasta in his mouth and gave you an appreciative grin. “This is way better than Mum’s food” he said in a muffled tone, chewing a mouthful of food. He wasn’t lying about that; your mum’s cooking generally lacked the warmth and attention you put into yours, so it made you smile. Trent grabbed his fork and took a bite of pasta, looking over at you as if he knew exactly how good he looked right now. He took his time chewing, maintaining direct eye contact with you. You were absentmindedly twirling your food around on the fork, your eyes fixed on him until he raised his eyebrow and snapped you out of your daze.

“You alright, Y/N?” he asked, knowing exactly what he was doing to you.

You cleared your throat, trying to play it off as you straightened up in your seat to force yourself to stop staring at the gorgeous man in front of you. “Mhm. All good here,” you replied, shaking off the heat of the moment. You turned to your brother, who was still inhaling his food like it was his last meal on earth. “Sooo...why’d you turn down the trials with Man U and City? Not that I’m complaining, but I thought you were really set on going to –”

Ziggy cut you off, not looking up from his plate. “Didn’t feel right anymore.” he mumbled.

You eyed Trent suspiciously, wondering if he had anything to do with your brother’s change of heart. “And T..did you have anything to do with Z’s sudden allegiance to Liverpool?” Your brother was a born and bred scouser, but he wasn’t a hardcore fan of LFC; he just enjoyed a nice footie match, no matter which club was out there on the pitch. Trent paused before responding, casually taking another bite before giving you a nonchalant shrug. “Liverpool’s the best place if he wants to develop. I just gave him tips about academy life.” He avoided your direct gaze, almost like he wasn’t telling the full truth. “He made the right decision baby. It’s in his blood. It’s like a rite of passage.”

Ziggy nodded, agreeing with Trent immediately. “Yeah, Liverpool is home. Easy choice.”

You folded your arm as you eyed both Trent and Ziggy suspiciously. “So you had this epiphany all by yourself?”

“Yup. Been thinking about it for a while now,” Ziggy replied curtly, scraping his plate for the last bits of pasta sauce like a greedy teenager.

Both of their relaxed expressions gave nothing away, but your brother answered your question the same way he answered your dad’s questions the night your dad asked Ziggy about the scouts, which made you feel a pang of frustration. You couldn’t stand the idea of Trent pulling strings for Ziggy. The internet already thought you were only with Trent to establish your brother’s football dreams; you even scrolled through many comments hinting at it. You tried to not let it show, but it bothered you. The last thing you wanted was to find out Trent pushed Ziggy in Liverpool’s direction purposefully, even if it was out of love. You weren’t really down with the nepotism aspect of it, especially since your brother had real talent that he worked hard for over the last couple of years.

Trent caught the look on your face as if he was sensing your thoughts and gave you a smile. “It’s up to him Y/N. He wouldn’t have gotten the invite if they didn’t think he had it in him. They don’t just invite anybody to be a trialist.”

You let out a deep sigh, feeling some worries ease but the thoughts still were in the back of your mind. You weren’t going to let anyone, not even Trent, compromise your brother’s future, whether it was positive or not. Ziggy had to make this decision on his own.

The next morning, you and Trent took a drive with Ziggy over to Liverpool’s facility. The AXA Training Centre unfolded before you; it was a world class facility with modern architecture and immaculate fields that stretched across to the academy side. The centre was divided into sections with each space dedicated to different club needs: recovery zones, indoor pitches, classrooms, and high tech training rooms with brand new equipment. The academy area was a quick walk away from where the first team trained with Trent, and was separated by a well kept pathway lined with trees and banners that proudly displayed the club logo and the words ‘You’ll Never Walk Alone’ in bold lettering.

You and Trent walked hand in hand across the training centre grounds, taking in the scene around you as young kids dashed around the pitches, each of them in a miniaturized blur of red Liverpool kits, bright boots, and wide eyes. Ziggy walked ahead of you both, his eyes fixed on the green training pitches stretched out before him. You were trying to keep a supportive expression, but the scenes unfolding in front of your eyes chipped away at the confidence you had for your brother with every step.

The youngest group caught your eye first, they couldn’t have been any older than 6 or 7. They darted through a series of cones, trying to keep their balance while dribbling. Their coach, who looked like he could’ve played professionally a few years ago, called out to them in a tone that was both supportive and authoritative. “Nice, nice! Keep those feet moving lads! Eyes up!” he rang out. One of the boys stumbled and the ball slipped from his control as he tried to regain his footing. You watched as he paused, biting his lip as his face crumpled, barely managing to keep his tears at bay. The younger kids were meant to be having fun in this group, but it didn't seem like the little boy was having any of that. He was hard on himself, even such a young age. It reminded you of yourself, and how you were always trying to get your parents attention around that age.

As you walked past, an older kid in a different group fell to his knees after a mistimed tackle, clutching his leg and wincing. The coach looked over at him, figuring he was being a bit dramatic. “You’re alright Adam. Let’s try and walk it off.” The boy limped away, visibly struggling but determined to not show weakness in front of his teammates or the coach; a bad injury could mean getting released, no matter how big his dreams were. The raw resilience in such tiny bodies shook you; they couldn't have been older than tween years, yet they were pushing themselves to the core.

The next training pitch held a group of slightly older boys who were no older than 11 or 12, engaged in a passing drill that looked militaristic. The coach was pacing along the line watching with a hawk eye, barking corrections with no gentleness. “This isn’t a Sunday kickabout!” he shouted. “You want to play for Liverpool one day? Show me you deserve to be here!” You saw one boy go pale when he fumbled his pass, sending the ball skidding away. He looked like he wanted to cry but the coach’s gaze kept him moving. The intensity grew even more as you neared the fields where the younger teenagers were playing. Here, the drills looked like something more professional; the coaches didn’t really bother with the usual pickups and encouragement. One boy missed a shot on a goal and his teammate groaned loudly, throwing his arms in frustration as he yelled at him. The coach quickly intervened with a sharp warning. “Enough! You’re a team. Act like it. Let’s try again.”

You glanced at Trent, feeling the pressure put on these kids in ways you could have never imagined. “Trent...is this normal? I don’t like this. They’re literally babies.”

Trent squeezed your hand, his gaze fixed on the fields as he nodded. “Yeah, it is. They want to see how much they can take and still push through. Tough love is a part of it.” He gave you a reassuring smile and kissed your cheek, but you could tell he understood why you were uneasy. “It seems brutal but..that’s how they weed out who will make it and who won’t.”

When you made your way to the next pitch, a group of teenagers were sprinting in formation, their boots pounding against the training pitch as they went through their drills. The coach observed every movement, barking corrections like it was second nature. You noticed one boy fall behind, his breath labored and face drenched in sweat. He stumbled for a moment, looking like he was ready to stop. 

“C’mon, Kaiden! Keep pushing!” his coach rang out sharply, giving him enough reserve to grit his teeth and push forward to close the gap.

Ziggy turned to glance back at you and Trent, his wide eyes and dimpled cheeks looking for Trent’s approval. Trent gave him a nod as his own way of saying “You got this.”

When you finally arrived at the U18 training pitch, you could sense the tension ramping up around you. A handful of people waved at Trent to say hello, others were staring intently at the pitch, while another select few stood nearby chatting in a hushed tone. You heard a woman a few feet away mutter to her friend in a grating, irritated voice. “How is it fair that his girlfriend’s brother was offered a trial? He’s not a real trialist if Trent had anything to do with it. He’s going to take someone’s spot, no doubt. I bet he’s not even a proper footballer like my son.”

Her words hit you hard as you resisted the urge to confront her. You wanted to tell her she had no idea about the kind of pressure your brother was under, or that he’d been waiting for this moment since he started football. You wanted to tell her he was just a kid living out his dreams and that she was being an absolute bitch who needed to worry about her son’s spot on the team. But instead, you took a steady breath, knowing this wasn’t the right time to engage with a crazed football mum who thought her son was the best to ever grace Liverpool’s picturesque fields. You turned to Ziggy and gave him an encouraging smile. “Just do your best, yeah? Go out there and have fun. Don’t worry about the rest.”

Trent stepped forward, pulling Ziggy in for a quick hug. “Remember what we talked about, mate. Head up, play smart, be confident. Be ready for any position even if it’s the first time.” Ziggy nodded and then they launched into their ridiculous handshake, but this time it made you smile instead of rolling your eyes. The bond they had was uniquely theirs, and absolutely adorable. As Ziggy jogged onto the pitch, you took a deep breath, hoping he could rise to the challenge ahead of him. 

The trial began with Ziggy being tossed straight into action after warm ups. He wasn’t playing in his usual spot. One moment he was on the left, then in midfield, and a few rotations later he was positioned somewhere completely different. Your brother was great at being versatile, but you could tell he was somewhat rattled by all the moving around. You saw him hesitate each time they moved him, nervous as he adjusted to the changes. It didn’t take him long to fall into the rhythm eventually; he was a determined boy, much like how your boyfriend was at 15.

You shifted, feeling nerves settle in your stomach. “It feels like they’re doing everything they can to trip him up. Isn’t that a bit harsh for someone his age?”

Trent leaned in close with an observant voice. “Nah, it’s part of the trial. They’ll do whatever it takes to see if he’s got the talent to handle different roles and how he manages when stretched thin.” He gave a nod of approval as Ziggy smoothly transitioned to the next position. You watched intently, noticing small details of every move he made – his first touches, the way he tracked the ball even in uncomfortable positions, and how quickly he tried to recover when something didn’t go as planned. You kind of felt like your parents in that moment, which gave you the ick. Your brother didn’t have to be perfect under any other terms, but right now it felt like he did.

Trent assessed your brother with a gaze you rarely ever saw. “His first touch is class,” he murmured, almost to himself. “But he’s gotta be quicker on that turn.” It was clear Trent knew this drill setup by heart as he watched with the knowledge of someone who did it thousands of times. Each time Ziggy did something right, Trent would give a small nod of approval to reassure you.

“Baby..he’s doing well,” he said quietly to you, sensing your nerves. “They’re looking at the full picture though. His skill, reaction time, body language. They wanna see how he bounces back.” Trent took a pause, and then laughed to himself. “Lad’s doing way better than me when I first started. I’d mess up, get frustrated, and just boot the ball as far as I could out of pure anger. Thought it would teach ‘em a lesson.” 

You looked up at him with your eyebrows raised in surprise. “Nooo. You?? The cool, calm, and collected Trent Alexander-Arnold?”

Trent laughed, nodding his head. “I’d sulk, kick it across the pitch, only to have to fetch the ball every single time. Sometimes I got so mad I’d cry while walking back to get it. Proper humbling experience.” He grinned at the memory, but you could see the vulnerability in his eyes. “After a while..I just learned to get used to it. Took every bit of feedback, even the harshest stuff..and I figured out how to be better. That’s why it doesn’t matter what people say now. I’ve already heard it all.”

As Trent spoke, the weight of his journey started to sink in. You loved him for who he was outside of football, but seeing this world from his eyes made you love him even more. He pushed through the academy with intensity, constant judgement, and the endless push to be better to make it to where he was today. You leaned against his shoulder, taking in every word as he spoke. He didn’t just have talent, he was resilient in the same way that smoke carries the original spark of a fire. He fought for his spot on the pitch..and it was admirable. Trent felt your head against his shoulder and wrapped an arm around you, giving you a light squeeze as you both continued to watch Ziggy push himself across the pitch.

Beside you, a few parents were huddled together with their eyes darting between their kids and the coaches, talking anxiously. One mother with a heavy scouse accent had her arms crossed tightly, leaning in to one parent while glancing skeptically at Ziggy. “I don’t get it. If he’s from grassroots and is that good..why hasn’t he been scouted before now?” She had a tight smile but there was strain behind it, as if something serious was on the line.

The other parent was a father who had worry etched on his face. “He’s fast, that’s for sure. My son’s been struggling a bit since his injury. He hasn’t been up to his usual..but I didn’t know they were bringing in this kid. Feels a bit unfair to be honest. Especially for the ones putting in work week after week.” The mother nodded, casting another wary look toward Ziggy. “It’s hard enough for them as it is. If someone’s losing their spot, I’d rather it not be my son.”

You felt Trent’s grip tighten around you, sensing the tension in the air. He leaned down, murmuring softly to you. “Ignore it, Y/N. Ziggy’s got every right to be here. He’s earning it just like anyone else on the pitch right now.”

Your attention was quickly drawn back to the field as the trial progressed and Trent’s arm slipped down to intertwine his fingers with yours. The coaches split the players into groups and positioned them for a series of drills that mimicked real match scenarios. Ziggy was placed in a defensive position, right up against another player who looked ready to eat anyone alive who stood in his way. Your brother moved with a focus that was rare for someone his age, darting in and out of multiple defensive positions with his eyes locked on the ball and the opposing players. The coaches observed in silence, arms crossed, only breaking their stone cold stances to jot down notes or give quick unreadable glances to each other. 

You found yourself squeezing Trent’s hand a little harder than necessary, each step your brother took out there made your chest tighten. Trent noticed and gave your hand a gentle squeeze in return, his thumb rubbing soothing circles on your skin. “Baby, you’re squeezing the fuck out of my hand right now,” he uttered with a strained smile, his eyes never leaving the pitch. “Relax.”

“Sorry” you mumbled, loosening your grip but still feeling your anxiety build up with every second.

Ziggy’s speed was impressive and you could see the tremendous amount of effort he was putting in. His passes were clean, his footwork on point. But as the coaches began shifting him into more unfamiliar scenarios, you could see him start to falter. At one point they had him shifted to a right back position. He hesitated just a split second during a tackle, misreading his opponent’s body language, which was just enough time for the forward to slip by him, taking full advantage of Ziggy’s pause to drill the ball past him and into the net.

The parents around you murmured under their breaths, voices barely kept to whispers but somehow loud enough to cut through a crowd. “Not much of a defender is he?” one of them muttered, the judgement heavy in his voice. “Quick, for sure.. but he’s got no defensive instincts. He looks lost out there.”

Another parent scoffed. “Can’t just rely on speed, not at this level. That’s not going to fly if he wants to be in the academy.” 

You clenched your jaw trying to shake off their words, but they had a sting that was hard to ignore. Was that what the coaches were thinking too? Were they just mentally crossing Ziggy off the list every time he messed something up? Every time he showed any trace of vulnerability?

Trent seemed unfazed and kept his gaze on the players. He leaned down to murmur softly into your ear, “Y/N, he’s got this. It’s one mistake. They’re not here looking for perfection; they’re looking for potential. They want to see how he handles setbacks.”

“But what if they’re just looking for reasons to say no?” you whispered back, the nerves evident in your tone. It felt like your brother was being measured and weighed with each passing second with no room for error and you hated that. “Ugh. It just feels...rigged.”

Trent shook his head with a soft chuckle, still watching Ziggy. “Nah, it’s not rigged. They do this to everyone.” He nodded toward the field with an expression full of pride. “He’s a top prospect baby. Practically guaranteed a two year deal here for sure.”

You turned to him, pulling away from his grip as you eyed him suspiciously, squinting your eyes. “And… how do you know that exactly?” The edge in your voice caught Trent slightly off guard and you knew he could sense the accusation in your tone, but you couldn’t help it. You heard the earlier whispers about how Ziggy’s trial had come to fruition from the other parents and it was getting to you more than you wanted to admit. The last thing you wanted was for people to think Ziggy’s chance had been handed to him on a silver platter because of you and Trent – moreso the latter. 

Trent raised an eyebrow, bewildered by the full weight of your question. “Are you asking if I pulled any strings?” he replied in a calm voice. “You really think I’d risk that?”

You crossed your arms, narrowing your eyes. “T..people are already talking. I just don’t want him to get caught up in what people are saying.” You glanced back at Ziggy on the pitch, watching as he regained his composure, his body language screaming determination despite his initial setback. “I don’t want people thinking he didn’t earn this. T…if I find out you’re lying to me, I swear I’ll never forgive you.”

Trent’s expression shifted slightly, almost as if he was unsure before he masked it with a casual shrug. “Nah..it’s not like that” he said in a soft voice. “He’s here because he’s had eyes on him already. The academy director has been watching him since last year. This isn’t about me..he’s the kind of player they won’t pass up on.” He paused like he wanted to pull you back into him, but he stopped halfway as his fingers curled back toward his side instead. “They love him on the pitch.”

You weren’t fully convinced, so you pushed more. “So you only gave him advice? You didn’t steer him away from the clubs in Manchester? Or anywhere else?”

Trent glanced away for a split second, thinking about the advice he gave your brother back in St. Moritz. “Uh..I might’ve told him what I thought, but he asked.” he admitted, but he chose his words very carefully. “That’s it though. I didn’t make the decision for him. He made the choice on his own.”

You let out a slow breath, nodding in understanding, but you still felt an uncomfortable twist in your gut. Trent didn’t give you the clear, reassuring answer you were hoping for, but you let it slide for now. “Alright…” you said finally, keeping a steady voice. “But if they bring him on..you can’t make any shortcuts for him.” Your warning was clear, and you knew your boyfriend picked up on it too.

Trent smiled as he took in your no nonsense expression, “I don’t doubt you..you sound scarier than the coaches right now.”

You rolled your eyes, shoving him playfully. “I’m serious, T. I don’t want him to end up on the team just because he’s your little protégé. That’ll follow him around the entire time and he deserves better. No offense..you’re great but that’s my brother. Just let him make his own way okay?” Trent chuckled, finally deciding to pull you into him again. “Noted. Wouldn’t dare mess with your grand plan baby” he teased, pressing a soft kiss on your lips.

A few hours after the trial ended, you were a few paces ahead of Trent and Ziggy as the three of you headed back toward the car. Now that the trial was finally over for the day, you could unclench and relax a little. You weren’t planning on watching any of those trials ever again, it was more stressful than watching Trent at Anfield.

Trent’s voice carried behind you as he draped an arm over your brother’s shoulder, slowing his pace to talk to him. “Mate..you did great! Solid work out there. You kept your head up, stayed calm. That’s half the battle in a trial like that. Just keep at it.” Ziggy smiled, still catching his breath like the adrenaline hadn’t worn off for him just yet. “Thanks man. It’s easier said than done for sure. I nearly lost it when that lad slipped past me.”

Trent’s lips curved into an amused smirk, shaking his head with a low chuckle. “Everyone has a moment like that, trust. It used to eat at me..but it’s all in the recovery. Next time, don’t even blink. Just get back in there like you never missed.”

Ziggy’s grin grew as he nodded with a newfound confidence, taking in Trent’s advice. “Right. Like it’s nothing.” he repeated, absorbing the advice and taking it to heart.

You glanced back, catching the look of admiration in your brother’s eyes. Whatever Trent was telling him was lifting him up, and it was heartwarming to see the natural bond and trust between them..even if Ziggy was infiltrating the time you spent with your man. As you reached the car and entered the passenger’s seat, Trent slowed his pace and lowered his voice as he leaned closer to Ziggy.

“Hey...there’s something I want to show you.” Trent pulled out his phone and swiped to the photo of the ring you sent him from London. “She sent me this in a text a while back. Called the place up and bought it the same day before she was even fully out of the store.”

Ziggy’s eyes widened with his mouth falling open in surprise. “Damn, you’re serious, huh? You’re going to ask her to marry you?”

Trent nodded, glancing over at you casually reapplying your lip gloss, completely unaware of the conversation happening just outside of the car. “Ezzie said Y/N wants to wait at least a year..but yeah. I’ve been thinking about it for a while now. Figured I’d better start planning. What do you think?”

Ziggy hesitated for a minute, his grin fading as he thought about how much he should share. “Uh, I think she’d love the idea eventually. But if you asked right now..she honestly might say no.” he admitted, lowering his voice. “Not that she doesn’t love you or anything..it’s just complicated. Our parents..they..uh.. messed up the idea of marriage for her I think.”

Trent’s brows furrowed. “What do you mean they messed it up? Complicated how?”

Ziggy scratched the back of his neck, struggling to find the words to explain your family dynamic to Trent. “Y/N was born before Mum and Dad were married. They weren’t too thrilled they had her from what I heard. My dad only married my mum to keep things looking proper. They tried for a boy for years but ended up with Ezzie and me.”

Trent’s expression grew more serious as he took in what your brother was sharing. It wasn’t something you mentioned before, but he was starting to understand why.

“Mum always wanted a son and Dad too..I think. I can get away with a lot more than my sisters. They’ve always been harder on Ezzie and Y/N..to make them fit some mold or whatever. That’s why Y/N is so independent I guess..” Ziggy explained, pausing before adding more.

“Mum especially. She’s...I don’t know..she always wanted Y/N to be picture perfect but then criticized her for doing her own thing after finding something she was good at. She opened her perfume store by herself and instead of being proud..Mum kept telling her not to bother with it and to find a guy to take care of her. She kept saying that until money started flowing at Love Notes.”

Trent gritted his teeth, recalling the ex you mentioned before who nearly made you give up on everything. “Her ex...that’s why she got with him?” he muttered, his curious frustration evident.

Ziggy shook his head, his eyes darkening with anger as he remembered your previous relationship. “Nah. She met him at some stupid auction Mum dragged her to.” He paused, kicking a rock on the ground as his anger built. “Aaron – some posh prick with too much time and money on his hands. Thought he could talk down on her cause he had a fat wallet.” Ziggy’s fists clenched as he spoke, the memory being enough to fire him up. “If I wasn’t just 13 at the time I’d have kicked that goofy looking motherfucker’s face in. I’m pissed just thinking about it again.” Ziggy’s voice came out a little rougher this time, edged in protection. “If I ever see him again.. he’ll get what's coming for sure.”

Trent let out a low whistle as Ziggy’s words sunk in. “I’m with you mate” he said quietly, his eyes softening as he looked toward the car where you were waiting – now knowing the strength you were carrying under the calm exterior you tried to keep up daily. “But don’t waste your energy on that asshole. She’s got us now.” Ziggy relaxed, loosening his fists as he nodded in agreement. “Yeah..you’re right. She deserves more than what she’s been dealt. Wouldn’t mind it at all if you married her. Maybe do it at Anfield?”

Trent smiled as the conversation took on a lighter turn. “Bro..she’d throw the ring back at me and tell me to go get my head checked if I tried that with her. She’s not too keen on all the attention.”

Ziggy burst out laughing, nodding in agreement. “Yeah...you’re probably right.”

“It’s gotta be something more special than that.” Trent paused, taking in Ziggy’s final approval. “Glad I got a yes from you. I thought you’d be a little tougher to crack but I appreciate it..I’ll take care of her.” 

When they entered the car, Trent’s hand instinctively met with your thigh and you placed your hand on top of his, lightly rubbing his skin with your thumb. “Everything good? Took both of you forever to get to the car...”

Trent gave your thigh a light squeeze and flashed you an innocent smile. “All good.” he replied, though his answer was shorter than usual and you could tell they were talking about something they didn’t want you to know about.

You squinted your eyes playfully, glancing between your boyfriend and Ziggy – who was in the backseat. “Okay..what were you two yapping about? Having another secret chat?”

Ziggy’s eyes went wide for a split second, nearly blurting out the word ‘marriage’, but he quickly recovered. “Ma – uh..match day rituals! Yeah...we were talking about match day rituals.”

Trent nodded, leaning into the excuse with ease, “Yeah..everyone’s got their own thing they do.”

“Oh really?? Match day rituals?” you asked, skeptical but amused. “Let’s hear it then, yeah? What’s the ritual? I’m curious now..”

Ziggy jumped in first, eager to explain. “Before every match..I gotta drink exactly three long sips of Red Bull. No more, no less. Anything else will throw me off. Don’t ask why..it just works.”

Trent snorted, giving him an amused look. “Three sips of Red Bull? You trying to take my deals mate?”

You side eyed Trent, muttering under your breath. “Maybe if you and your brother took it seriously....” You knew he didn’t catch on to what you said, so you looked at him again, raising your eyebrow. “And what about you, T? What’s your pre-match secret?”

Trent leaned back in the seat, looking dead serious as he launched into the most ridiculous ritual ever. “50 push ups and an odd number of pull ups. Then I down a water and jog up and down the tunnel before I can touch the pitch.”

You burst out laughing at his absurdity, trying to imagine him doing all of this. “You’re so bad at lying Trent. Seriously...what do you do?”

Trent smiled sheepishly, slightly embarrassed of what he was about to admit to in front of Ziggy. “Uh..lately I’ve been checking to see if you’re wearing your necklace before I go. Makes me feel lucky.”

Your laughter faded and you looked at him in surprise. “Wait..really? You think me wearing this actually gives you luck?” You fiddled with the dainty charm resting against your collarbone, still a little in awe. “What did you do before then?”

Trent shrugged, smiling as he avoided Ziggy’s teasing gaze in the back. “If you want to call it luck..then yeah. Maybe it’s superstitious but I just feel better knowing you have it on. Feels like you’re there with me even if you’re not at the match, y’know? I didn’t do much before..just focused with some music.”

Ziggy snickered, muttering something about how you and Trent were very dramatically intense, but there was warmth in his eyes too, as if he was seeing what real love looked like for the first time in his nearly 16 years of life. The way you two acted around each other disgusted your brother at times, but the love radiated off of both of you in ways that couldn’t be ignored. 

Trent took a quick glance at you with warm eyes as he drove. “Thinking about you when I’m out there helps me keep my mind clear.”

“Awww, oh my god. T that’s so sweet! I love y–”

Ziggy groaned, breaking the moment in teenage fashion. “ENOUGH! Take me home..PLEASE!”

You laughed, shaking your head at your brother’s antics. The streets around Les Notes d’Amour came into view and you sat up slightly. “Actually...can we make a quick stop before we take him back home? I just want to drop in for a few minutes.” In reality, you needed to go fetch the watch you were hiding back at the store. You hadn’t given it to Trent yet because you were deciding on whether you wanted to give it to him for one of your anniversaries: the day you met on the train – which was coming up, or the day the two of you became official a few months later. 

A couple of minutes later you, Trent, and Ziggy neared the Les Notes d’Amour storefront as the faint scent of Rêveur enveloped around you. Tara and Ember were near the counter, organizing the last of the Rêveur orders. Their heads were close together with their voices low, but just audible enough for someone nearby to catch snippets of the conversation. “I swear she’s been out the shop more than she’s been in lately” Tara whispered, glancing over her shoulder to make sure no one was within earshot. “Makes you wonder doesn’t it?”

Ember shrugged as she carefully placed a bottle into its packaging. “Could be all the scents making her sick or something. I heard pregnant people have super sensitive noses like bloodhounds…or maybe she’s just really busy?” Tara leaned in, lowering her voice more. “You think they’ll announce it any time soon..or just keep it quiet?” Ember smirked knowingly. “No way they’re announcing it any time soon..she has enough going on as it is. I imagine they won’t announce anything until–”

“Hi ladies!” you called out, stepping forward with a smile and unknowingly cutting off their whispery gossip session. Tara and Ember jumped, caught off guard and quickly fumbled around the counter to make it look like they were busy with work.

“Oh! Hiiiii Y/N!” Tara replied a little too enthusiastically. “Just packing up the last few Rêveur orders!”

You glanced over at the neatly packed boxes, sighing in relief. “Thank god. It’s so nice to be done with it, right?”

Ember hesitated and drummed her fingers against the freshly sealed tape on the box. “Um..actually,” She looked up at you reluctantly but eager to share. “I don’t know if you’ve had a chance to check emails yet..but people are still all for it. They keep asking if you’ll make it a permanent product.”

You groaned inwardly. “Oh great...because nothing is ever simple for me” you muttered, rolling your eyes. “If I don’t make it permanent, I’ll be haunted by requests for the ‘Trent Scent’ forever.” You let out a dramatic sigh, eyeing Trent and Ziggy who were toward the front of the store, playfully jabbing at each other while laughing and dodging like they were in a boxing match. “I thought we were finally free,” you added, shaking your head as Trent threw an exaggerated left hook, making Ziggy duck, nearly knocking a shelf over. 

Tara stifled her laughter, trying to remain professional while you were nearby. “We could always just...embrace the legacy. If you're up for it, that is” She eyed your stomach, which made you look down to check if you had something on your outfit, but you didn’t see anything.

“Maybe I am..” you paused, thinking thoughtfully. “If I teach you how to make some batches.. it might be worth it.”

Ember chimed in, clasping her hands together. “Honestly I think we could handle it! It sounds fun!”

You gave an appreciative nod, but you were cautious with the idea at the same time. “We’ll have to take it really slow” you said, eyeing both of them carefully. “I’ll admit.. it was my mistake for making you two set up the orders for Rêveur on your first day..but we have to be on the same page for something like this.”

Both girls nodded eagerly, too happy with your answer as they returned to finishing up packing the last orders. After breaking Trent away from his fake boxing match with your brother, you headed to the back room with him. Trent’s hands wrapped around your body as the both of you walked to the room. He leaned into your neck, placing a nibbling kiss on the skin just above your collarbone.

“Trent stoppp” you giggled, drawing out the word as you lightly pushed him away. “Patience is a virtue baby.”

He grinned as he closed the door behind you, unbothered. He saw you reach down for a bag on the other side of the room, your ass in his full view. He bit down on his bottom lip as he walked over to you, gripping a handful of your ass which made you jump up, dropping the gift bag that contained the watch as you turned to him. Your hands rested against the table behind you while his lips inched closer to yours, stopping just before reaching your lips. “I didn’t get a good morning kiss when we woke up today…” his lips traced the outline of your jaw against the air, making you feel woozy with want. “Didn’t get a good morning cuddle in either,” he breathed against your skin. “Can’t blame me for being a little impatient.” 

You smirked at him, feeling your pulse quicken as you lightly ran your nails up his bare and muscled arm, reaching the back of his neck to pull him into a kiss so that you could push the gift bag out of view with your foot. “Mmm, I’m sorry..” 

Trent gripped your waist, placing you on top of the table. Your mouth parted slightly. The warmth of his tongue against yours made you arch up against him. Your hands traveled down to his shorts, pulling them down to massage the bulge tenting tightly against his briefs. You pulled away from the kiss, biting your lip as you searched his expression teasingly. “No good morning sex either, huh?” You pulled down his briefs, stroking his hard length slowly and deliberately. “Gonna have to make that up to you..” 

“Y/N…” Trent sucked in his breath, letting out a low groan as you stroked him faster, massaging his balls with your other hand. You could tell it was taking everything in him not to flip you over and fuck you against the table, so you tightened your grip but slowed down a little to tease him. 

“You always fuck me so good baby,” you whispered seductively, grazing your hand over the tip which made him thrust into your hand. 

“Oh shit.. keep talking baby. Keep stroking it like that,” Trent muttered through gritted teeth, sucking in another breath.

You smiled, reaching up to playfully bite his bottom lip, pulling it with your teeth as you increased the pace on his shaft. “I want you to make me cum on your dick when we get home.” Trent tilted his head back, groaning as his cock started to twitch against your hand. “And I wanna ride you while you sit back and watch..”

“I’m about to c–” Trent started, but you immediately stopped stroking him, speaking against his lips in a low, sultry tone. “No, not yet. Save it for me.” 

Trent let out a ragged, frustrated breath as he stared at you with fire in his eyes. You were honestly only trying to distract him from seeing the watch you bought, but the stunt you just pulled was going to have you paying for it later, probably in the form of multiple back to back orgasms in different areas of the house. “You know exactly what you’re doing..” he murmured, biting his lip as he looked you in your eyes, pulling you in for another deep kiss.

Meanwhile back at the front, Ziggy voluntarily started breaking down the boxes scattered across the floor, clearing the area with the box cutter in hand. As he worked, he noticed a phone left unattended on a nearby shelf. The screen lit up with messages from a footie group chat labeled ‘Spill FC’. Being the nosy teenager that your brother was, he glanced over to look at the screen. The phone was still unlocked so he grabbed it, his curiosity getting the better of him as he scrolled through to see the latest messages and chat history.

Ziggy’s muscles tensed and his grip tightened on the phone as he continued to read with a clenched jaw. His blood was boiling and pulsed through him like a drum, each new message cranking up his frustration and spreading it like wildfire through his veins:

-

Nosy Girlie 1: no they’re cute together but getting pregnant in the first year is mad. they’re moving fast as fuck

Nosy Girlie 2: frfr. feels like they’re rushing it. like..good for her but we all know trent isn’t locking it down with anyone yet. you can slow down girl 😭 

Nosy Girlie 3: calling it now he’ll be on to someone new by next season. i bet £10

Tara: umm i don’t think they’ll split that soon. he’ll probably go for the family man PR angle first when they have the baby 

Nosy Girlie 2: ooh yeah you’re right! i bet their baby will be sooo cute though 🥺

Nosy Girlie 3: icl Y/N’s kinda iconic for inventing this new era of him and tying herself to it so she can stay relevant after they break up..smart move tbh

Tara: i’m pretty sure she’s set her fam up too. her sister just signed with miu miu at 15 and her brother had a trial with liverpool today 🙃

Nosy Girlie 2: ohhh wow. perks of dating a footballer i guess 😂

Nosy Girlie 1: he defo set that trial up there’s no way he didn’t. she knows she’s not getting a ring from him so she’s doing a speed run hahaha

Nosy Girlie 2: lmao that’s so fucked up but same girl same

-

Ziggy’s face twisted in anger as he scanned each message. He couldn’t believe the nerve of whoever these people were in the group chat. The gossip was bad enough but seeing his family dragged through the mud for a simple association pissed him off. The assumption about you, Ezzie’s contract, and the implication that he didn’t deserve his own trial irritated him to the max, making him see red. The comment about you doing a ‘speed run’ was his last straw; he couldn’t be bothered to read anymore of it. He marched toward Ember and Tara with his hands gripping the phone like he wanted to crush it. Ziggy stopped right in front of them, holding the phone up high. “Aye! Whose phone is this?” he demanded in a loud voice.

Ember and Tara looked up, shifting their faces from surprised to confused. “Uh..mine” Tara admitted, looking at the phone in his hand. Her eyes widened when she caught sight of the screen opened to some very damning evidence. She tried to reach for it, but Ziggy snatched it back.

“You think this is funny, yeah?” he spat, waving the phone around in front of her. “All this shit you’re saying about my family. You think it’s just a laugh with your friends?” His voice was getting louder but you were too enmeshed in a makeout session with Trent in the backroom to notice the commotion up front. “How bout you keep our names out your fucking mouths? Especially my sisters.”

Ember was standing next to Tara and raised her eyebrows, amused by his outburst but not threatened in the slightest due to his severe case of baby face. “Calm down. It’s just talk..no harm done.”

Ziggy’s eyes narrowed as he turned toward Ember next. “This isn’t just talk. They said I only got a shot at Liverpool because of Trent and I fucking earned that trial. Then they said Y/N’s only with him to ‘tie herself to him’ or whatever rubbish they’re on about.” He jabbed his finger at Tara. “And you’re right there joining in and egging it on. If it’s just talk, why don’t you say it to my sister’s face then? Be bold out loud, yeah?”

Tara’s face flushed with her eyes darting nervously between her phone and Ziggy’s death glare. “I– I didn’t mean anything by it! It’s not what it looks like.” Her voice see-sawed unsteadily and she looked like she was about to cry. “I can’t lose this job, okay? My mum will kill me. Can you just..”

Ziggy scoffed and shook his head. “You’re just saying that because you got caught. Next time don’t leave your phone open for people to see it, dummy.” He threw the phone down on the counter, the chat still in open view. “You’d rather talk and leak stuff behind Y/N’s back thinking it’s funny.”

“Oh for fucks sake.. just calm it.” Ember interjected, rolling her eyes. “You’re making a fuss out of nothing. It’s not that serious. Everybody gossips.”

Ziggy contorted his face in disgust. “They’re betting on them breaking up. That’s my fucking sister they’re chatting that shit about.” He looked directly at Tara, who seemed to shrink more and more. “And you’re the worst one. Maybe if you spent more time working and less time talking shit she’d give you a raise and you wouldn’t have to beg me not to tell.”

Tara sighed, feeling defeated. “It was just...fun I guess. I’m really sorry. I won’t say anything else, I swear. Just..please don’t tell her.” Tara was basically saying anything to save her job at this point. She knew she probably wouldn’t stop gossiping, if anything she’d be more careful about the info she leaked to the chat, but right now she needed to make sure she didn’t lose her source of income. 

“You’re a fucking leech.” Ziggy muttered at Tara as he stormed toward the back room.

Back in the quiet back room, you and Trent were tangled up in each other still. You could taste a hint of mint from the gum he was chewing earlier which was cooly refreshing and slightly sweet. He tilted his head, deepening the kiss as you trailed your hands under his shirt. Trent broke away from the kiss slowly with his lips hovering closely to yours. He trailed his fingers along your waist, thinking thoughtfully. “Season’s wrapping up soon.. think we need to get away for a week or two.”

You hummed in agreement, sneaking in a quick kiss because you already missed the feeling of his lips on yours. In your head you were already imagining the two of you on a beach, far away from the demands of Les Notes d’Amour and the prem – nestled somewhere with turquoise blue water and warm sand beneath your toes. “Mm..yeah. Definitely need that. But where?”

“Uhh.. what about Bali?” Trent suggested, tracing the outline of your lips with his eyes. In his mind he was thinking about how he wanted to get you home..and quickly. This morning was busy with getting Ziggy ready for trial, but all he really wanted to do was spend some quality time with you – alone. 

You wrinkled your nose, trying not to laugh at his Bali suggestion. “Well..Bali is a vibe for sure. But we’d probably spend the entire holiday with a case of Bali Belly..no thanks.” You thought for a second, thinking of various destinations. “What about Miami? I could go for some guinep and sugar cane by the water. Their clubs are nice too! We could go to LIV or E11EVEN..maybe get a yacht and take it to Bimini?”

Trent shook his head, not thrilled by that idea. “Jude goes there all the time. It’s too chaotic. Nothing good ever happens in Florida. Plus the Caribbean has better fruit and less OnlyFans models.”

“And why do you know that Miami has a lot of OnlyFans models?” you pulled back, crossing your arms.

Trent playfully pretended to be annoyed at your indication. “Nah, nah. Don’t even start with that shit. Not my type at all.”

“Mhmm, good answer. So Miami is off the table. Any better ideas?”

Trent laughed and pulled you back into his arms. “Could go a bit closer, y’know? You ever been to SoHo Farmhouse?”

You rolled your eyes, knocking him in the head softly. “Absolutely fucking not. I’m from Liverpool. If I wanted to pretend to be farm chic we could just go pop a tent in Sefton Park near Palm House and call it a day. That’s not even a real holiday! Don’t piss me off Trent.”

Trent tilted his head back, laughing again at your dramatics. “Ah fine..okay. No farms for you. Beach it is then?”

Before you could converse with Trent any further, Ziggy swung the door open, looking at both of you in disgust. You could see by the look on his face that he was irritated by something else other than you and Trent showing off how sickeningly in love you were with each other. “I’m ready to go home,” he muttered with a scowl. “Your assistants are fucking nosy Y/N.”

You and Trent exchanged curious glances, noticing how intense Ziggy was being. “What happened?” you asked in a concerned tone. 

Ziggy shook his head, kissing his teeth. “Nothing. They just keep running their mouths about shit they don’t know about. Can we just go?” He would’ve told you the full truth of what they were really talking about in the group chat, but he was still protecting you in a way.

Trent squeezed your waist and gave you another kiss. “I’ll see what’s going on. Don’t stress about it.”

You nodded, hopping off the table as Trent and Ziggy made their way out of the room and back to the car. You grabbed Trent’s gift from under the table, placing it in your bag as you began to walk toward the front of the store. Ember was helping a customer who had just walked in, while Tara was off to the side, fumbling nervously with a Rêveur order.

Your brother’s words swirled around in your mind as you put two and two together.

“Your assistants are fucking nosy.”

“They just keep running their mouths about shit they don’t know about.”

They couldn’t be the ones running to SpillTheBeans, right? 

But if it wasn’t you, Trent, Camille, or any of your other friends..it had to be them. They were the only other two besides your siblings that would have access to the intimate details of your life.

Oh god.. I should’ve listened to Camille.

She wasn’t wrong. You really should have made them sign an NDA.

It was a little too late for that now, though.

so thankful to each of you stuck with me through this series so far! love you 🫶🏽 thoughts/feedback

[senualothbrok]

Hello! I'm Senua! 🤗

Welcome to my world! 👋

Commission by @demiesop

I am obsessed with Gale Dekarios and Baldur's Gate 3. I also love animals (especially dogs, cats and horses), tattoos / neotrad art, and existentialism. This post pretty much sums up who I am, and this post goes into my writing journey!

I write BG3 fics, mainly about Gale. I write angst, hurt/comfort, and smut (Gale x Tav/OC/reader). Occasionally, I make memes about Gale brainrot. I am also learning how to draw.

Below the cut, you can find a list of my work and an assortment of things I love. You can also find me on AO3. I have a Ko-fi account if you want to buy me a coffee for something you enjoyed reading.

I'd love to get to know you, so please feel free to pop me an ask or message with any comments, questions, or requests! Just don't be a hater. I'm not into those.

--------------------

Fics

Enough (Non-18+. Astarion x female Tav. Angst. Trauma and recovery.)

You agreed to help Astarion with the Rite of Profane Ascension, but you can't watch him go through with it. You interrupt the ritual, and Astarion turns on you. Now, you must deal with the aftermath of your actions.

Love and Beauty (Non-18+. Non-ascended Astarion x female Tav. References to bereavement.)

A few days after Astarion has taken you to his grave, you are lying in bed together. You decide it's time to make a confession.

Rest (Non-18+. Gale x female Tav. Hurt/comfort.)

You have defeated the Netherbrain and survived. But when Gale asks you to marry him, you find that you cannot accept his offer.

Content (Non-18+. Gale x Tav. Mild hurt/comfort. Fluff.)

After the reunion party, Gale wonders whether you regret choosing him over Astarion.

Prayer (Non-18+. God!Gale. Gale x Tav. Heavy angst. Grief/mourning.)

The God of Ambition has returned to Elysium, and you did not follow him. You grieve for Gale, and you struggle to move on with your life.

A Show of Love (18+. NSFW. Gale x female reader/Tav. Smut.)

Sometimes, Gale doesn't seem sure how much you love him. So you decide to show him.

Words (18+. NSFW. Gale x female reader/Tav. Smut.)

At your home in Waterdeep, you and Gale recall the early stages of your relationship.

Progress (Non-18+. Professor Gale x female OC. Angst. Mental illness and recovery.)

When you start your studies at Blackstaff Academy, you expect a battle with your demons. But the last thing you expect is to fall in love.

Promise (Non 18+. Professor Gale x female OC. Angst with a happy ending. Mental illness and recovery.)

Gale learns what it means to love and be loved. Sequel to Progress.

A Brush With Danger (Non 18+. Gale x female Tav.)

Anon prompt: Gale's thoughts and feelings before his infamous declaration in the Shadow-Cursed Lands.

Unexpected (18+. NSFW. Professor Gale x female reader/Tav. Smut.)

You pay Gale an unexpected visit after one of his classes.

Absolution (Non-18+. God!Gale. Gale x Tav. Angst.)

The God of Ambition considers the last of his attachments. Sequel to Prayer.

The Difference (Non-18+. AU (reverse isekai). Gale x female Tav/OC. Angst. Hurt/comfort. Mental health issues.) Multichapter.

When a portal appears in your living room and Gale Dekarios tumbles out of it, you think you are going insane. But truth is stranger than fiction, and things are rarely what they seem.

Mortal pleasures (18+. NSFW. Smut. Gale x female Tav/reader.)

Gale has shown you how gods bond in the astral. Now, you show him how good mortal pleasures can be.

Revelation (18+. NSFW. Smut. Gale x female OC.)

Gale shows Aurora she has nothing to hide. Sequel to Progress and Promise.

Open Hands, Open Hearts (Non-18+. Gale x female Tav. Mild hurt/comfort.)

With the Netherbrain defeated and the companions about to go their separate ways, Gale decides to be honest about his feelings for Tav.

Remembrance (Non-18+. Professor Gale x female Tav. Angst.)

In Waterdeep, Tav journeys through grief and loss, with Gale by her side.

Oath of Devotion (Non-18+. Professor Gale x female Tav. Mild hurt/comfort.)

When you accompany Karlach to Avernus after the defeat of the Netherbrain, you assume it is the end of your romance with Gale. But you have a lot to learn about the meaning of devotion.

Come What May (Non-18+. Gale x female Tav. Angst (with a happy ending). References to trauma, grief, and suicidal ideation.)

On what Gale believes is his last night alive, you cannot give him your body. But there are countless ways to declare love, and infinite ways to express it.

Nocturnal Postulations (Non-18+. Gale x Tav. Fluff.)

Response to prompt: Tav gets grumpy when sleep-deprived. Gale sleep talks a lot and then jokes about it.

Carried Away (18+. NSFW. Smut. Gale x female Tav/reader.)

Response to prompt: good old fashioned 'boring' bed sex with Gale.

Here (Non-18+. Gale x reader/Tav. Hurt/comfort).

After you rescue Gale from Orin's lair, he has some things to work through. You show him he is not alone.

A Tight Fit (18+. Smut. Gale x female Tav/reader)

You and Gale are trapped in a locked room, with no space to move.

Research (18+. NSFW. Smut. Gale x Mia (female OC from The Difference))

Gale and Mia do some very vigorous research.

A Generous Portion (Non-18+. Gale x female Tav/reader)

Gale is a flustered mess after you are locked in a room together. Sequel to A Tight Fit.

Other writing

My Tulpa - a personal reflection on what Gale means to me, and what it means to love him

System Error - a poem on a hard day

Ember - honest feelings about love

Collaborations

Two Monks, Two Gales

The adventures of a pair of polar opposite Monastery-siblings and their same-person-different-version Gales

Celebrating monk Tavs and East Asian culture with @inglorionamy-ammy

* Vegetarianism 茹素 (1)

* Vegetarianism 茹素 (2)

Gale's Compundium

A magical collection of Gale's best puns, with a sprinkling of chibi Gales

Adoring the socks off our dorky wizard with @dekariosclan

Drabble tennis

Gale-based to and from drabbles with the magnificent writer extraordinaire @theletteraesc

* Hands

* Asking for help

* Introverts

* Undiagnosed sorcerer

* Pillow talk

* Challenge accepted

* A lover and a fighter

* Sleepy, dishevelled and hungry

Memes

I occasionally make Gale-related memes because I think I'm funny 💀

* The inside of my brain

* When your soul mate is a pixel man

* Smooching Gale - the struggle

* Gale porn is therapeutic

* Fic vs therapy

* Gale's chest hair

* Trying

* Every day I wake up

* I don't get it

* Fictiophilia

* Horny on main

* Drawing Gale

* Evil endings

* Happiness is

* Can't let go

Doodles

I'm not very good, but I am trying 🤦🏻‍♀️

* Bite that wizard

* Infodump on me, baby

* Smiles and smirks

* Why so serious

* Chibi Gales

My OCs

I like to make things about my OCs, because who doesn't? 🥰

All the picrews

I self indulgently made picrews of most of my Tavs/OCs, and there are a lot

Mia Zhang (from The Difference)

* Playlist

* Picrew of Gale x Mia

* This or That

* Nine things

* Five songs/outfits

Aurora Dekarios nee Wintertal (from Progress, Promise and Revelation)

* Picrew of Gale x Aurora

* This or That

* Dressing up

* Mood board

Tav (from Open Hands, Open Hearts)

* Picrew

* Patron saint

Gifts

* My dear friend @dolceaspidenera made some wonderful gifsets of Gale x Aurora from Progress and Promise. They are so beautiful, I still haven't recovered from them.

* Lovely @mahiiimahiiii made a beautiful piece of art inspired by The Difference, which overwhelms me with so many feels.

* My beloved @practicallydeadinside-blog gifted me a cameo from national treasure Tim Downie explaining why Gale is so shredded and it changed my life.

* I commissioned one of my favourite artists @demiesop to draw Gale and Mia from The Difference, and Gale and Aurora from Promise, and she truly delivered. She has also done an epic chibi masterpiece of the companions which gives me such joy.

* Tim Downie kindly did a beautiful reading of Gale and Mia's wedding vows from The Difference, which I treasure so much.

* Wonderful @alpydk wrote a heartrending poem dedicated to Elspeth from The Difference. I'm beyond amazed.

* For my birthday, amazing @inglorionamy-ammy did a beautiful tribute not only to Gale and Tara but to my best buddy George who passed away. I cherish it.

* @inglorionamy-ammy and I had an unhinged conversation about trading a liver for Gale to become real and she made this hilarious comic on the back of it. I love her.

* The wonderful @thycatsays has written a beautiful sequel to The Difference called Divenire. It is truly excellent, and such an honour to enjoy this.

* @colorisandoo did a beautiful commission of Mia from The Difference which I love a lot.

[riteacademyblog]

[lunastrophe]

BG3 Drow Lore 🕷️ Minthara's Childhood

Some thoughts on Minthy's childhood in Menzoberranzan:

🕷️ Assassination Attempt – being almost killed was likely among Minthara's earliest memories: I survived my first assassination attempt while I still suckled at my mother's breast. I tasted her blood that day. She covered my body with her own, and a blade bit deep into her chest, almost puncturing her heart.

We do not know why somebody wanted to kill her - the assassination might be orchestrated by some relative, for example, or some other person who wanted to weaken her mother's position in the family. Minthara was likely important to her (see this post).

🕷️Lessons of Early Childhood – Minthara was being raised by her mother instead of being fostered to some other relative, like it happens with less important drow children: My mother taught me to talk, to walk, and then to kill. I still hope to thank her by teaching her how to die one day. In another line, Minthara says: I had every advantage, and my mother showed me how to survive.

As a female and Baenre, Minthara was infinitely more privileged than many other drow kids in Menzoberranzan – at the same time, though, she lived under enormous pressure, striving to meet her mother's high expectations. A failure meant a punishment, and little Minthara probably quickly learnt that in her world, failures can be deadly.

🕷️ Lessons In Killing? – Minthara most likely started to learn how to survive the perils of Lolth-sworn drow society when she was still very young.

It is quite possible that she scored her first kill before actually reaching adulthood – in one of her lines, when she is asked at what age it is right to set a child upon mortal combat, she answers: The moment it can hold a blade. It may even test its resilience against some common poisons while it is still in the womb.

We do not know if her own mother was building up her resistance to poisons in such a way, but in another line, Minthara says: my mother would have poisoned her own milk to torment me. So... who knows.

🕷️ Protected And Tormented – Minthara says that there was no love between her and her mother. As an adult, she reflects that her mother protected her with one hand and tormented her with the other, and admits that her relationship with her ...may not be the best model to follow.

🕷️ End of Early Childhood – in noble drow families, sons typically start to serve the household when they are around ten years old and when they are sixteen, they are officially recognized as members of their house. During the family meeting in the chapel, they receive the house piwafwi and then their mother - or matron mother of their house - makes decisions about their education and future.

I doubt that daughters of noble drow families need to serve the household as children - but maybe after reaching a suitable age, they start to visit the family chapel, for example, to observe and learn basic duties of priestesses? In case of Minthara, it would probably mean spending some time in the huge, domed chapel of House Baenre.

🕷️ Young Baenre - noble drow girls probably have their own variant of societal rite of passage around their sixteenth birthday, celebrated more grandly than that of noble drow boys. Maybe it is also a formal ceremony in the family chapel, followed by less formal celebrations - maybe even a party? Some drow version of "sweet sixteen"?

If yes - then most likely during this ceremony it was officially announced that Minthara is to be trained as a soldier in Lolth's service. It was probably one of the most important moments in her life, especially since noble females are typically trained to be priestesses - if they want to pursue a different career, they need their matron mother's permission. House Baenre apparently recognized Minthara's talents early.

Minthara's early training lasted for several decades - until she enrolled into academy.

For more of my drow lore ramblings, feel free to check my pinned post 🕷️

[electronickingdomfox]

The Kobayashi Alternative (or the 1000 deaths of James T. Kirk)

Finished this game (a text adventure) recently, and oh God, what a glorious mess it was!

The frame story (which only appears in the manual, by the way) places you as a Starfleet Academy cadet, playing a simulation of one of Kirk's famous missions, as a sort of alternative to the infamous Kobayashi Maru test (hence the title). But the actual game revolves around Kirk's mission, trying to find Sulu, who has disappeared in the Trianguli sector. And you're given complete freedom to explore the area and planets in whatever order you choose, and to mess the game in whatever way you want.

And that's my main point of interest here. I've witnessed so, SO many deaths for poor Kirk, because of my ill-advised decisions... Falling into craters, being run over by lava from a (not-so-extinct) volcano, sinking in quicksand, being eaten by a dragon, falling into a moat (and then being eaten), beaming down to a planet with a temperature of -250° in just my uniform (because why not?), or the more gruesome version of beaming down to a no-atmosphere planet without a spacesuit. It's also possible to return to Earth without finishing the mission, just like that, which gets you court-martialed. Or beam down some unsuspecting redshirt to a dangerous area, and to his unavoidable death (which here causes a Game-Over, very much unlike the series). Want to swear at someone until the crew arrests you for bad conduct? Check. *For the record, these are the swear words I found to work: bitch, bastard, suck, c*ck, f*ck, ass (use them in any combination you see fit). There's also many crazy things to do, which don't necessarily lead to a game over. Leave poor Scotty stranded on a planet and depart without him (good luck when you need something from Engineering). Or make Spock mindmeld with clay. Or tell McCoy to enter Spock's quarters, and just leave him there for the rest of the game. There's a planet with aliens that are offended by clothes and will put you in jail for wearing them (well, this is inaccurate, because James Tits-Out Kirk would definitely beam down naked, if it would help the mission... and make sure to video-call Spock right before doing so).

Anyway, despite being a primitive game from 1985, I'm impressed by the sheer amount of possibilities and open-ended options in this game. The graphic adventures from the 90's (25th Anniversary, and specially Judgement Rites) are much, much better games overall. But I wanted to talk a bit about these, more obscure text adventures.

If anyone's interested in playing them, I've found the best way is through this custom installer here, which includes all three adventures: https://collectionchamber.blogspot.com/p/star-trek-first-contact.html It automatically runs the games through an emulator for modern systems, and has the last version of Kobayashi Alternative (which is very important, since previous versions were buggy as hell). First Contact uses the same engine of Kobayashi, but since it's a much linear and smaller game, it's obvious a lot of options go un-used. The Promethean Prophecy is a more traditional text adventure. It has some ingenious puzzles, but I found its typical plot of "go there and collect gems" less Trek-like.

[ninapi]

°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。

- ̥۪͙۪˚┊❛ Mine ❜┊˚ ̥۪͙۪◌

Premise: Not everyone can be the strongest sorcerer, Suguru knows this. Not everyone can have it all, no matter how hard they try. But there was one thing he wasn’t wiling to give to his best friend just like that, and that was you the only one who could made his demons go quiet…

Word count: 3691

Warning: spoilers of the original manga timeline~

══✿══╡°˖✧✿✧˖°╞══✿══

Summer months were your least favorite of all.

The air was hot, and breathing was unbearable, there was no trace of a single breeze, the mood around you always the worse. Not just you, but your teammates hated the season and not just due to the weather, but the excessive number of curses parading around, left barely any time left for you to even shower and scrub the stickiness of your skin off.

Being a first year in the Jujutsu academy wasn’t easy. The missions were tough, you were being tested all the time, your wit, your physical strengths, cursed energy levels, individual rites and skills; not just that, but you were constantly in danger specially being their new addition, they would always throw your team around for cleanup missions, messy back-up harsh ones and even sent you out to fight a special grade curse on your own once by mistake when they gave you Gojo-senpai’s mission instead, sending him to fight a lesser curse in the country side in error, one that almost got you and Nanami, who came after you when he realized what had happened, killed, though that’s what you signed up for.

Having to back up the two strongest sorcerers in the campus surely didn’t help.

Your party consisted of the very much constipated, moody Nanami Kento and the very opposite of that Haibara Yu. You got along with both of them just fine, they were both very different though, Nanami would always help you get your head straight, help you train, strive to be better, while Yu was always there to cheer you both up, always bright and smiley, a lovely man. But somehow you always ended up flocking around your seniors instead of your own group, regardless of the rumors of you and Nanami being actually a thing, your interests were some place else.

Shoko was a wonderful model figure, you wished to be like her one day, she’s still so young yet so powerful, being able to cure others was a noble task, much better than having to go around chasing ugly stinky curses. So you were seen around her often wanting to learn as much from her craft as possible. In all truth, she didn’t like having others snooping around, but you were helpful, having you there helped her with her experiments and helped her develop new techniques, having you around was far more useful than having her own teammates invading her personal space.

As for Gojo, he had an open crush on you. There was no soul in the school that didn’t know about the intense flirting and shameless looks he threw at you all the time. But then again, he does the same with almost every girl around, or so you thought, that’s what he leads on anyways.

You on the other hand, had a crush on his partner. The beautiful, kind, loved by many, Geto Suguru. A year your senior, yet the coolest guy you’ve ever seen in your entire life.

Unlike Gojo, he wasn’t as interested in you, as a woman at least. He’d give you the same attention he’d give the rest of your party. He was kind, gentle, always offered his advice, he did a great job taking care of his juniors and his own party, he was what every sorcerer wanted to be, powerful, known for and feared from, yet not cocky in the slightest.

It was impossible not to have a crush on him.

Though, as time went on, you noticed his demeanor change. He had bags under his eyes, his smile seemed shallow, fake even, his body thinning as days went by, his peaceful aura disappearing into oblivion. His attitude was very unlike him.

While everyone fuzzed about Gojo being the strongest sorcerer ever, all your worries were on his counterpart.

He wasn’t as needed anymore and his whole set of values were being challenged at that very moment. His sleep deprived self, had been overly consuming curses and he couldn’t think straight any longer, now unable to distinguish what was bad from what was good, it was a subjective concept after all.

“Geto-senpai! There you are! I’ve been looking for you all over the place.” he was leaning against a tree, seemingly lost in his thoughts when you found him. You could see he was coming back from a mission, his uniform and a good part of his face still covered with someone’s blood and remains of some kind of goo.

“(Y/N)? Sorry did you say something?” his smile didn’t reach his eyes, you could see how he was trying to avoid worrying you, he always dotted on your team and didn’t want his existential crisis to affect sweet little you, who was constantly checking up on him, unlike his friends.

“Just that I was looking for you. Here! I got you a souvenir from my last mission!” placing a small tin on his hand you smiled up at him, waiting for him to discover its content.

“Oh, for me? You didn’t have to bring me anything. Thank you. Let’s see, what could be hidden in this small box~” a little of the old Geto could be seen on his features every time you talked to him, it was nearly impossible for him to keep sulking in his insecurities when you smiled so sweetly up at him like that, your eyes shining with excitement, it was almost contagious. Maybe not everything was lost for him just yet.

“Cinnamon candy? Never tried them before, are they good?” he tilted his head, seemingly analyzing the treats. Normally Satoru was the one that received this sort of gifts, he didn’t know what to think about it. Did you perhaps confuse the two of them? He didn’t want to believe that was the case, you’d always been on his side unlike the rest who clearly preferred the strongest of all in their presence instead.

“I was just thinking about the last mission we had together. About how cool you looked while you were consuming that evil giant curse. But then it occurred to me, it must taste disgusting, poor senpai. Then! I saw these candies in a shop on my way here, cinnamon candies aren’t really what I would call sweet, they’re more like a cleanser, spicy even. It might make your job easier.” he was speechless, in all these years nobody ever thought of the consequences of his technique, nobody worried about him, it stirred something within him that he didn’t know he could feel. You were always this kind and not just towards him, but right there, a few minutes ago, he had been hating on humanity with all his might, hating on all those looser monkeys, good for nothings, hating on his own friends even, how they left him behind, how they didn’t care about him as much anymore. And now there you were, being as selfless as one can be, thinking about him even during one of your missions. Getting distracted like that while fighting curses could get you killed, it was a worrying thought, but one that filled his chest with a warmth he didn’t know it could shine so brightly within him.

“Senpai?” you reached inside your skirt pocket to look for your hand towel, gently dapping the blood away from his handsome face.

“Sorry, I’m spacing out a lot today. Thank you, you’re a sweetheart, nobody really cares about good old Geto and his disgusting technique these days.” his smile was more genuine this time, making your cheeks tinge with different shades of red, you hadn’t seen him smile like this in quite some time, it made you feel proud of still being able to pull smiles out of him unlike the rest.

“It’s not disgusting! I actually think is cooler than Gojo senpai’s.” you whispered the last part making him chuckle. To think he was on the edge of despair a few minutes ago.

Maybe not all was lost just yet.

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His self-doubts kept growing oddly quickly, Satoru’s success rate and popularity fanning the fire of his loneliness even more.

There were few moments now where he got to be with his teammates, most of the missions were now handed to Satoru alone without questioning and that was taking a toll on every sorcerer there was in the school, not just him, the mood around the classrooms was grim, some of the upperclassmen didn’t even attend to classes often anymore. What for? They weren’t necessary any longer, not with the heir of the Gojo clan and his almighty technique at their beck and call.

You wandered around the training grounds looking for the apple to your eye when a wild Gojo jumped at you from some side bushes. “Jeez senpai! You almost gave me a heart attack, what the heck!” you were panting, trying to calm your racing heart from the jump scare.

“Your fault, how do you pretend to be a good sorceress when you can’t even notice ME, the great Gojo Satoru, the best there is out there~” he leaned against you, snaking his arm around your shoulders, a full confidence display that you weren’t comfortable with.

Shrugging him off, you walked over to Shoko, who you spotted not far from the offense zone reading a book on her own while trying her best to ignore her annoying teammate as usual, Gojo trailing behind you like a wounded puppy, “You’re so mean to me (Y/N), you’re always hurting my poor heart. Maybe a little kiss from those pretty lips of yours could help it heal~~” Shoko could physically feel your frustration irradiating from your body from where she was sitting, sighing in shame and about to puke at his antics she got up, facing you. “He’s over there, (Y/N).” she pointed over to a set of stone steps to the side, hidden by some trees. You couldn’t see him, but he could see you and the entire scene unfold, a proud smirk shining at the way you rejected him so easily.

“What? You didn’t come to see me, sunshine? I could swear you came to ask me on a date. But don’t worry, I won’t make you go through it I know it can be embarrassing, let me ask you out instead.” the lust filled eyes he was giving you made Geto get up from his seat, walking over to you faster than he intended to.

“Senpai!” your eyes lit up like a Christmas tree as soon as he was in your line of view, causing Gojo to scuff.

“Hey, were you looking for me?” he addressed you and you only, infuriating Satoru who had tried really hard to get your attention and that had now been lost to his best friend.

“I was! I haven’t seen you around much lately…I was worried…” he reached over for one of your hands, looping it around his right arm. “Shall we go get something to drink then, catch up maybe? I’ve missed you too...” the soft tone he was using with you made an entire swarm of butterflies move permanently to your guts, Satoru’s look of disbelief causing Shoko to snort. This was very unlike Geto, he’s never hitting on girls, that was Gojo’s role in the team.

“What? You seriously didn’t know they were like a thing, sort of? You’re ridiculous Gojo, and you dare to call yourself his best friend? Have you not seen the way they look at each other? Even I get it and I don’t give a damn about anybody’s love life.”

“What do you mean a thing?” his eyes were glued to your bashful smile, the way your eyelashes fluttered oh so beautifully for another man, for his brother in arms, his best friend, he didn’t know how to feel about the entire situation, specially not now that he saw the way Suguru returned your smile, honey dripping from it just as it was from yours.

He did have an honest crush on you, he loved how sweet you were and how cute you looked when you were being all shy. He wished you’d smile for him the way you were smiling right now for his friend. And the truth is he didn’t really know you were interested in Geto, not romantically at least, he thought you were just being nice as usual with your seniors, maybe he was just always too busy and failed to notice both of you slipping through his fingers.

Geto had never been interested in dating anyone, that was a known fact, it was just not in his plans for the near future. But having you around made him feel calm, made him forget how desperate he felt, made him feel understood. Your smile could drown his doubts and sorrows, just like your candy could kill the nasty taste of death from his tongue.

Suguru knew Satoru was serious about you, he knew him well after all, but so was he. Satoru didn’t need you the way he did, he was already the strongest, the most wanted dead and alive, the one every woman drool for. He loved his friend, that was never a lie. But he wasn’t willing to share the only ray of light he had in his life with anyone, not even with him.

A possessive hand landed over the one you were resting on his arm as he walked you to the closest cafe to the school, his guard going up almost creating a bubble around you, separating you two from the rest of the world.

To you it felt endearing, to others, Shoko and Satoru included, felt dangerous.

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The night Yu died in your mission, you lost a part of yourself.

Nanami was just as broken, blaming himself for what happened while you just couldn’t stop crying. You knew this could happen at any time, your job was dangerous, and you were still new to the arts of sorcery. But you didn’t expect to lose the center of your team, everyone loved him, even Nanami was nice to him. It was a hard blow for the two of you and the school in general.

What was even more unexpected was the fact that the events had triggered Suguru to commit an atrocious act.

You were all broken, confused, hurt.

Nothing made sense to you anymore.

Not only had you lost your friend and teammate, but the man you loved committed treason and killed a bunch of harmless humans without a documented valid reason to do so.

The news hit you like a train, it had to be a misunderstanding, he’s the kindest man you’ve ever met, you decided not to believe in anyone but Suguru himself, you wouldn’t form an opinion on the matter until you had formally talked to him, he did have a different view on the world, not everyone understands him the way you do.

That night, the window to your room opened from the outside, waking you up from your restless sleep. “S-suguru…?” it was pitch black outside and all you could see was the outline of his hairstyle illuminated by the moon shining on your wall, but you could recognize him with your eyes closed, his scent, his presence, you knew it was him.

“Yeah…can I…?” he walked over to your bed, clearly distraught. Understanding what he wanted you moved to the side, making space for him to join you under your blanket, waiting for him with your arms opened and a warm welcoming smile on your lovely face.

“Is it true…?” he buried his face on your chest at your question, letting you untie his bun and run your fingers through his long hair. You’ve gotten closer over the past few months, yet you weren’t officially a couple, not to others at least. You kept things private, late night secret meetings, stolen kisses behind trees, an unnumbered amount of quiet cuddling sessions in your bedroom when his thoughts claimed the best of him, but this was all just for the two of you, the world didn’t need to witness your relationship to give it any sort of worth or weight, you two were the only ones that mattered in the situation.

“Yeah…I killed them all. They…were torturing these little girls just because they are like us, even had them locked up in a cage like if they were some type of wild animal in a circus…they all deserved death… Didn’t they, baby?” he looked up at you searching your eyes for your approval, he knew in his heart he did the right thing, but a side of him was uncertain if you would cast him aside for his actions and go to Satoru instead.

“Hmm…I trust your judgement. If there was no other choice, I would have saved the girls too. You did great, love.” your soft smile filled his chest with that familiar warmth he grew addicted to, he knew you’d be on his side, there’s just no one like you.

He wanted you, needed you.

Right now.

Always.

“Come with us, babe. The girls don’t have anywhere to go, they’re my family now. I was thinking maybe you could come too? Go away, never look back…Make this world a better place…together….” his head was back on your chest, satisfied with the way his day was going. He didn’t even need to see your face, he knew he would win you over even without trying hard to convince you.

He wasn’t manipulating you, he truly wanted you by his side, wanted you as his queen, as queen of the new world, a world where everyone would be part of his family, where nobody would ever feel lonely again, where he didn’t have to eat more curses, where sorcerers wouldn’t be treated like pests, or worse, like government toys.

“Are you asking me to be the mother of your new daughters, Suguru~?” you giggled, joking around to lighten the mood a bit.

“That’s exactly what I am asking you, yes.” he placed a loving kiss on the middle of your chest bone, his hand rubbing circles onto your hips.

You knew he wasn’t joking; this was serious, but he was now a criminal sentenced to death, Gojo would be sent out for his head. Was that the life you wanted? The life of a criminal on the run?

It wasn’t ideal, but a life without Suguru in it was even worse, he was all you wanted, regardless of the implications of that decision.

“Then what are we waiting for? Let’s go before Gojo-senpai senses you in my room.” the smirk he gave you made heat pool in your stomach; you weren’t really trying to give him any crazy idea…

“Oh, but why? That would be so much fun…shall we make it known to him before we leave, how much you enjoy having me in your room…?” his mind had twisted even more as of recent, his possessiveness growing constantly with every little look Satoru gave your way. The thought of him knowing how much you desire and love each other instigating fire within him.

The night was long.

Satoru did feel his presence, but Suguru wasn’t stupid, he didn’t allow that to happen until you two were about to leave. He wanted him to know about your passionate encounter, he wanted him to realize you had gone with him, that you had chosen him, even if he was now a wanted criminal, a murderer, you still preferred him over Mr.Perfection.

When Satoru arrived at your room it was too late. All your stuff nowhere to be seen, your bed in disarray, the smell of mixed arousals and sweat hitting him right up his nose the moment he got in. He did it on purpose, and he knew it, made it clear for him he had claim you in every possible way, that you were his and his only.

Satoru was the one broken now, he lost his best friend, his teammate, his brother. And he also lost the only girl he’d been genuinely in love with. All in one night, without the chance to fight for any of you.

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Satoru went after Suguru many times, never being enough of a man to actually kill him, but he hadn’t had the chance to see you after you left.

Suguru kept you and your adoptive daughters safe in his newly acquired secret mansion, gave his queen everything and then some more. His family was a top priority for him, even if it wasn’t the only one.

Though, Satoru knew you’d come out of your hiding place if he dared to touch your man, and so you did.

He had attracted Geto releasing high quality curses within a secure invisible barrier, not even other special grade sorcerers would realize there was one to begin with, knowing he wouldn’t be able to pass on the feast. He knows how you always worried when he overconsumed them, and you would insist to tag along to keep your man in check.

What he didn’t expect to see though was how he consumed curse after curse, after curse, all high grades, with you in his arms. You kissed him deeply while the curses were still mingling inside his mouth, both laughing hysterically as you both indulged the curses as if they were carnal pleasures. A very different picture from the one he had in his head for his sweet innocent love and his best friend.

A grotesque scene, to him that is. To you and Suguru it was nothing but exhilarating and arousing. The taste of death mixed in with your deliciousness, it was addictive, to the both of you. Satoru was about to leave, disappointment sipping within his broken heart, his best friend turned wicked, his cute love lost her mind. That’s when he saw a little girl running towards you, panic almost dragging him to the scene.

“Mama! Are you done now? Mimiko is falling asleep!” Suguru kissed one last bit of curse out of your plush lips before indulging his daughter, quickly getting to them and lifting them both in his arms.

So this is how it was now, there was nothing left to save.

Nothing made Suguru happier than having his very dysfunctional and broken family gathered in his arms. You were all happy, satisfied with your current life.

Yeah, he definitely made the right choice…

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Masterlist

[nemuro-incinerator]

I had a longer analysis post idea but I desperately need to sleep and I may not remember my ideas correctly when I wake up, so I’m posting a kind of TLDR of what I mulled over while my phone was dead and I was getting ready for bed. TW: Utena-typical trigger warnings, discussion of suicide/suicidal tendencies

The finale of Shoujo Kakumei Utena as compared to the finale of Adolescence of Utena, as well as their general portrayal of Akio Ohtori and Dios Himemiya, is a showcase of the difference in how Utena and Anthy perceive him and the obstacles that they have to overcome to break free from Ohtori Academy.

In episodes 38 and 39 of SKU, Akio shows no real threat. Sure, he duels Utena and can at least handle a sword, but Utena would’ve won the duel by technique had it not been for Anthy’s interference. After that, Utena manages to shove him off of her while having a literal (or metaphorical) stab wound. Dios is even less of an issue, taunting Utena and riding around his carousel but ultimately being entirely powerless to stop her. The only one with the power to even hurt Utena in the finale is Anthy. Because that’s what it’s always been about for Utena. Dios was never supposed to be the important one - only her memory being locked away and warped as a method of dealing with her trauma kept him as relevant as he was - and Akio, though he wormed his way into a place of importance, could never hold a candle to Anthy. Anthy is the reason why Utena decided to keep living, Anthy is the reason why Utena is at Ohtori, and Anthy is why Utena marches on and shoves Akio away to offer her hand to the girl who, in a way, saved her life.

In Adolescence of Utena, on the other hand, Akio is a pathetic dandy who does his car trick on a taxi and commits suicide by falling over a railing. He’s a husk of what he used to be, someone who needs to be held up by Anthy to stand a chance in hell. But Anthy holds him up the same way she holds the entire academy up, and the reason makes itself clear during the finale. The massive figure of Dios, the dead prince in Anthy’s mind, stands at the exit and begins to crush Utena and Anthy with the intent of making them living dead just like him. Utena knew Dios for all of a few minutes, but Anthy knew him from the beginning of her life to his “death” and “transformation” into Akio. He is the fear of moving forward, the past manifest in one final attempt to crush Anthy into stasis like a pressed flower on paper. It fails, of course, but not before it is “killed” - though I believe the more accurate term would be laid to rest. He is dead. He was dead long ago. He never really existed. But now the version of Anthy’s brother with short hair and bright green eyes and boyish youthfulness is given his last rites as Anthy leaves the dead where they lie.