#also I get the distinct impression that this ask will prompt others to ask what my thoughts on the rest of the cast are

[c0nn0rsseur]

Can we take a moment to appreciate Bryan Dechart’s performance as Cyberlife Tower Connor aka Sixty and Sixty as a character? 🤌

Though Sixty and deviant Connor are physically identical (minus their demeanors, e.g. the way they stand and walk, like wow, Bryan, wow) and their voices technically aren’t different from each other, the distinction is still clearly there, at the same time it’s so nuanced too. Sixty sounds condescending, imperious and callous compared to deviant Connor whose voice is empathetic, curious and sincere. I’m not even talking about their lexicon, their choice of words here (there’s of course a difference too). Even when Sixty tries to convince Hank he’s the real Connor, you can hear how he’s failing to sound exactly like his counterpart because he can’t replicate deviant Connor’s voice and speech pattern just so. Sixty’s also being very commanding when trying to fool Hank into shooting the real Connor (Hank even gets irritated because of it). Damn that’s brilliant acting, all hats off to Bryan. His performance in this game never fails to impress me. (I wish there were dialogue for RK900 too, I would’ve loved to see Bryan’s take on his voice and presence.)

Also also I have to mention I love the take that Sixty really was a deviant all along too, an ”evil” version of Connor if you will; cold, calculating and even enjoying the situation he had Connor (and Hank) in. You know, doing all of it because he wanted to, because he liked it. Why else would he deliver a whole ass villain monologue before executing deviant Connor, gloating about how he knows what he is and that he is the obedient, favorite child, plus calling Connor a disappointment (and a disappointment to him especially, like how Connor should care in his final moments that Sixty despises him for not being a good little robot)? AND shooting him several times non-lethally before landing that final shot (if the story goes there), like savoring the situation. Of course he also has to ask if Connor has any last words too. That’s definitely not what an efficient machine would have done to make sure it accomplished its mission. In some outcomes his stalling costs him the victory.

Top that off with the ending where deviant Connor dies but the androids still wake up, Sixty is scared and emotional because he failed, scared to be deactivated because of his failure. Then there’s this scene where he shoots deviant Connor eleven times in front of his friend. After that Sixty takes in Hank’s reaction and even torments him by saying Connor’s death was his fault. Still doesn’t sound like a machine much, huh? More like a sadistic psychopath.

Man, I wish we could’ve seen more Sixty, it would’ve been chilling to see if he went full-on rogue, maybe being Markus’ right hand/attack dog on a leash in the violent revolution arc, maybe with his own agenda of taking Markus’ place and wanting to subjugate humanity. Or maybe deviant Connor could’ve persuaded him to their side by making Sixty to see he was nothing but a tool, unintentionally prompting him to seek revenge and to reduce Amanda and Cyberlife to atoms (not what Connor intended haha). There could’ve even been a redemption arc for him, like in a ”what’ve I done?” type way. You know, a bit of an internal moral struggle. And of course, our fave ”sack of shit” (as Hank so eloquently put it) demanding answers from his maker, Kamski, in a not-so, uh, conventional manner. Let them measure their respective arrogance and wit and see who comes out on top. Or would they team up?

Such a delicious character, so many delicious what-ifs.

[flamingpudding]

I just got done reading the prompt that I asked you about and it's wonderful thank you so much and if you're okay with it I'm here to help you make a part two but if you don't want to do that that's okay I'm just adding some bonus to it.

I'm just imagining Danny full Ghost King attire showing up with two things to cookies one with kryptonite in them cuz I love the head can of ghosts eating good tonight like candy and the other set a normal batch of chocolate chip cookies. Looking down Young Justice being like in the most Patrick electric entity sounding voice with a country accent "I'm so just the cutest oddiest little berries on the bush" (sorry just speaking in my little country Danny headcannon)

But I can also see Danny being embarrassing for Klarion. Danny sit down the two trains of cookies Evan just start hugging and kissing his son on his head like the embarrassing mom he is talking about how he's so skinny and he should eat more. Also really nice to Young Justice it's like them realizing they just might by the end of the day be adopted by enemies mom.

Justice League is getting to the location ready to fight and do what they can just for a Young Justice member with a cookie in hand to walk up and explain and tell them to play along for free cookies.

RedRobin badly wants to try one of the kryptonite cookies to see what it would do if he ate it. Klarion keeps stopping him because as much as he doesn't like them he doesn't want RedRobin to die.

Who I'm just adding on a couple of things really love your writing though oh yeah what are your pronouns so I can know to refer to you as just asking.

So glad you liked it and no problem i don't mind at all. I was thinking about adding a part two honestly. Well then lets continue the shenanigans. I hope this part two won't disappoint either. And out of courtesy for once added people who asked for tags in the comments. Don't get used to it. I usually don't to tags. This is an exception for this awesome prompt idea.

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

The moment a Lazarus green portal started to open in the Living Room, Red Robin suffered a small, probably slightly traumatic, flashbacks to all the times he had seen the Lazarus Pits, but before he could even react Klarion tackled him to the ground with a distinctive hiss of "Play alone." His friends, the traitors, had managed to doge Klarion. Impulse had simple used his speed to step aside and Superboy apparently had headed a warning. Wonder Girl hadn't even been in the path of Klarions tackle. So this was why Red Robin was currently the only one getting sort of wrestled and put into a headlock on the ground in a hold he knew he could easily get out of but was to distracted by the ceiling high, eldritch as well as royal looking being stepped out of it.

The portal closed behind that being and Red Robin swallowed seeing six eyes in inky black that mirrored the night sky blink down at them.

"Klarion?" The static voice ringed in their ears and from the corner of his eyes Red Robin saw Superboy flinch visibly.

"Mom! Your early!" Red Robins head hit the floor as Klarion suddenly let him go to greet the being that's apparently his mother. He glared at the witch boy for that as he sat up and rubbed his had.

"Oh my, sorry my dear." Superboy flinched again, and Red robin could hear Impulse whispering to Wonder Girl if he was the only one seeing four mouths talk at the same time. Klarion appeared to have it heard to as he send them a quick glare over his shoulder before turning back to his mother.

"Mom, could you tune down on the eldritch?" Red Robin blinked stunned before seeing the bing apparently blush green in embarrassment and its form changing until there stood a man, about Red Hoods height still with a floating crown and a royal cape, but at least more human like and resembling Klarion but with more blueish skin before them.

"Sorry baby, I thought my royal appearance would make a better first impression." The man pinched the witch boys cheek lovingly, to witch Klarion whined out a drawn out "Mom."

The four young heroes couldn't help but stare, was that seriously their villain Klarion? The one that tried to cause chaos and make their lives difficult on regular basis?

"Klarion. Why is there a magic barrier around your apartment." The man in royal clothing suddenly asked and they blinked seeing Klarion flinch and laugh nervously. "Oh you know mom, keeping the bonding in one place so other mortals won't be bothered." To which the man cooed. He cooed!

"Bonding? What bonding?" The four heroes echoed blinked and exchanged stunned and confused looks. Bonding? What Bonding? What were they talking about? Sure they hadn't gotten a lot of explanations out of Klarion before that portal opened and apparently his entire act about his mother visiting was the true. It was clear that the witch boy's mother was some kind of other worldly being but it looked like there was more to it. Also considering the royal like outfit and the grown.... did that mean that they had been dealing with a prince of some kind as villain the entire time.

Suddenly the man bristled turning to glare at them back in his eldritch form towering over them. "Are you telling me you mortals have been ignoring my sons bonding?! And that is why my son's bonds don't appear to be properly formed?!"

They flinched back staring at that being that was now back to locking eldritch horror like with a crown and royal cape. Their eyes were locked onto the being, only distantly they realised that Klarion was pulling on his mother hissing something that sounded very much just like static to their ears. It to a while longer but finally the being drew back staring what sounded like a static filled discussion with Klarion and Impulse was pretty sure he had been ready to sully himself if it had taken any longer,

Apparently Klarion and his mother finished their exchanged as they both turned to them, his mom now again more human like looking. "Mom these are my friends. The punk looking guy is Superboy the half alien, Red Robin the one in red and black, you know Dinner boy. Impulse from the Flash-Clan and Wonder Girl one of the Amazonian. Guys this is my mom, Ghost King of the Infinite Realms."

Red Robin couldn't help the eye twitch at his introduction, he also noticed that Impulse flinched back as the mans eyes locked onto him and he didn't need Superboy's confirmation of having heard a grumble about 'why did it have to be a speedster'. Great so this eldritch being, apparently King and most likely a danger and possible hostile did not like one of them already. Why did Klarion ask them to play pretend friends again?

"Well I will be, you have quiet the colourful and oddest batch of fleshy mortals here." The man grinned at them, that were sharp teeth the four heroes observed. "Titles are a bit stuffy, feel free to call me Danny kids. Now come here. I brought some cookies with me."

Before they knew it the four of them were seated on the couch with a huge plate of cookies on the coffee table before them. The four of them blinked at the two kinds of cookies. Impulse was already reaching out to them fearlessly but Wonder Girl had the foresight to stop their friend for the moment. Superboy on the other hand appeared to look quiet queasy and was slowly turning green to the worry of Red robin. They noticed Klarion turning towards his Mom when he took note of this. "Mom! I have a Kryptonian friend! Why did you bring cookies with kryptonite chunks! Look! Superboy is turning green just looking at them."

The Ghost King, now known by the name Danny to them, appeared to be waving his son. "Oh he will be fine in a moment its not enough to completely bother his species, he will just be more human like till you ate all of them. These ones are more for you anyway, you are way to thin lately." Danny then turned to them with a smile. "Please feel free to eat the chuckles chip once. I can guarantee they are human friendly. My sister helped me make them. She is a liminal human."

That was all Impulse needed to rip his wrist free and stuff the first of the chocolate chips cookies into his mouth. "They are good!"

Danny smiled at them satisfied, and with that out of the way started to make small talk with them while also embarrassing his son with occasional comments like. "Oh you should have seen when Klarion first got Teekl." Or "He nearly burned down our entire castle when he started actually learning magic." Or "He used to be such a grumpy adult until he deaged and became such a cute grumpy little baby boy. Want to see photos?"

They never got to see photos to Wonder Girls disappointment. Klarion managed to cut in between suffering embarrassment and glaring at them for encouraging his mother to tell more embarrasing stories and forced the portal, his mother was going to reach into for the photos, to close.

By now the teens have become more relaxed around Danny. The man had a friendly charm to him and genuinely showed an interest in them as well as in the well bing of his son. They could understand why Klarion didn't want to disappoint a parent like that. They snacked on the cookies and Red Robin watched with interest whenever Klarion and Danny reached for one of the cookies with green Kryptonite chunks. Danny had mentioned off handedly in one of his stories of Klarion that they both used to be normal humans. Red Robin was very interested in this right now.

Suddenly Superboy elbowed Impulse and Red Robin, having caught the movement turned to them with an arched eyebrow. "Mentors." The other mouthed to them and they sighed, of course their mentors would show up sooner or later. They shared a glance and Red Robin took on the task to subtitle inform Klarion since they were sitting next to each other when Impulse excused himself to a toilet break shortly.

Red Robin used that quick distraction to reach towards the cookie plate.

Meanwhile Impulse came to a stop in front of the front door stopped by his foot from slamming shut behind him again, thankfully Klarion had removed his magic barrier that could have made this difficult. He had one cookie in hand and grinned up at their mentors and the Justice League Dark members.

"Hi everyone!" He greeted them cheerfully, taking a bite of his cookie.

"Impulse? Are you okay? What happened?!" Flash was instantly on the teen checking him over for any sort of injury. They were prepared to fight since Deadman had reported the location where the Ghost King had appeared. They had chosen to halt their search for the missing teens for the moment but had paled when Superman had mentioned he was hearing their voices from the same location.

"Oh i am fine! Great even. Did you know that there are other dimensions that have melon flavoured chips?" Impulse easily answered grinning. "Also you might wanna dile back on the battle ready aura you guys radiate. Klarions mom is visiting, pretty awesome guy."

"Klarion? The witch boy?" Wonder Woman asked stunned to which Impulse nodded. "Yea, pretty nice guy. Ghost King of a dimension that holds everything together like glue. Kinda badass."

"Bloody fucking..." Batman glared at Constantine who swallowed the rest of his curse. "The hell you mean the Ghost King is badass? That a fucking tyrannical blood hungry war maniac!"

Impulse blinked at them. "Really? I mean he does have scary form that made me nearly piss myself but he is pretty chill. Awesome parent, we get why Klarion loves his mom so much now."

The blond Brite pinched the bridge of his nose letting out a suffering sigh. "Just let us in mate, we will deal with this before our dimension can kiss its arse goodbye."

Impulse appeared to be thinking for a moment before shaking his head. "Uh nope. We are having a good time actually. A nice break. Sooooo no!" Before Flash or anyone else could react impulse stepped back closing the door into their faces. They blinked stunned, Batman was the first to recover stepped towards the door to attempt to open it only for his lockpick to be deflected by a red barrier suddenly appearing. The man growled turning to glare at the Justice League Dark members with a silent comment.

Inside the apartment a little bit earlier....

Klarion snatched another green glowing cookie from Red Robins hands with a glare at the other teen, who only glared back. Danny was watching them amused feeling reminded of himself and Tucker by their interaction. But then his attention turned to Wonder Girl as she asked for another story about Klarions childhood.

A moment later Klarion felt a nudge and looked at Superboy who nudged him across a pouting Red Robin who got another green glowing cookie snatched from him. The witch boy arched an eyebrow when Superboy asked to recreated the barrier to keep their mentors out but did so the moment Impulse was back with them with already three new chocolate cookies in hand as he joined Wonder Girl in fishing for more stories.

[stllmnstr]

signed, sealed, delivered

Another drabble from an anon prompt! Started with this:

And turned into poor commoner Jaeyun x rich princess oc in a historical kingdom (so different setting but I hope you still enjoyyyyy 🫡) ps I usually write his name as jake but kept it jaeyun here to match the ask!

pps again I wrote this on my phone and it somehow ended up at 3k AND it's 4 in the morning. that's what you call a triple whammy, folks. enjoy and please excuse any mistakes 😭

⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖

Sim Jaeyun is turning twenty-two years old today. It’s an impressive feat, in a kingdom where making it to eighteen without succumbing to disease or illness or something more directly borne of war is becoming more and more rare.

But Jaeyun made it to eighteen. Four long years ago. And the years have only been adding up, surely, if not also incredibly slowly, since then.

The only reason he’s made it this far is because he’s smart. Not in the textbook kind of way. Jaeyun wasn’t born into a family important enough to be literate, so it’s nothing but a blessing that he’s as good with words as he is, considering that he can't read them.

It's mostly because he uses them so sparingly. After all, Jaeyun hasn’t made it twenty-two years by talking. He’s done it by keeping his head down and his mouth shut. Just like any good commoner.

He pays his taxes on time and only participates in illicit activities - namely, harvesting crops from one of the sixteen royal gardens - after the sun goes down. He wears average clothes and eats average meals and spends his days with other average people.

From a lot of angles, it’s uninspired. It’s hardly a life at all. But it’s his reality, and for the vast majority of the kingdom’s population, it’s their reality, too.

So Jaeyun, even on his twenty-second birthday, doesn’t have any grand plans. The only thing he wants to do is barter for enough flour and sugar in the marketplace, and maybe even some butter if the dairy farmer takes pity on him, to make himself something sweet over the fire tonight.

As he walks towards the town square, there’s a lightness in his step. Even with midday sun beating on his back and perspiration beginning to gather on his nape, he’s sure that today will be a perfectly ordinary day. In his mind, that alone is something to be immensely grateful for.

By the time he’s secured minuscule amounts of flour and sugar, his mood is still in high spirits. Even though the dairy farmer does not seem to be in an agreeable mood.

“I’ll bring you an extra bag of corn,” Jaeyun whispers conspiratorially over a stack of delectable looking cheeses. He doesn’t even spare them a glance. There’s no point, really. The grumpy old farmer still seems reluctant to give up a fraction of a stick of butter.

“What am I going to do with corn?” The man waves a dismissive hand at him. Jaeyun suppresses the urge to roll his eyes. At least the woman selling sugar had been susceptible to a little old-fashioned flirting. He has the distinct feeling the same tricks won’t work here.

“Potatoes, then.” Jaeyun has no idea where he’ll get potatoes. The royal groundskeepers have a tight leash on that particular crop, but he’s getting desperate.

That, at least, seems to catch the dairy farmer’s attention. Jaeyun’s gut is starting to twist a bit in dread at the prospect of making good on his promise, but the thought of having butter is already enough to make his mouth water.

Before he has the chance to find out if his offer was accepted, the sound of trumpets cuts through the clamor of the market like a knife.

Immediately, conversations cease. Identical flashes of panic flicker through a hundred sets of eyes.

Three sharp, short notes. A beat of silence, and then they’re repeated. It’s a pattern that every citizen knows well.

The announcement of a royal.

Which also means it’s Jaeyun’s cue to craft a stealthy exit. It’s not that he’s a wanted man, per se, but he’d rather not be on the list of people the royal guard are familiar with.

Turning quietly on his heel, he silently mourns the loss of his precious butter with a small pout. And then he bumps straight into Park Sunghoon.

He’s an acquaintance, more than a friend. But he’s also one of the people Jaeyun is closest to in this world.

“Woah,” Sunghoon raises an eyebrow when he notes the swiftness of Jaeyun’s escape attempt. “Didn’t you hear the trumpets?”

“I think everyone on this side of the border heard them,” Jake grumbles, not pleased to be stalled. “That’s why I’m leaving.”

Sunghoon just shrugs, stepping to the side to let him pass. But Jaeyun barely makes it three steps before he’s asking, “You’re not curious?”

Jaeyun pauses, eyes going towards the sky above him in exasperation. He’s not sure why Sunghoon always insists on speaking in riddles, and especially when he’s trying to be discreet.

Turning back to face him, he bites, “Curious about what?”

Sunghoon smirks. He has a piece of information that Jaeyun doesn’t. It’s a rare situation, and he’s planning to milk the hell out of it. “The princess,” he finally says. “Princess ___” He adds in a sing-song voice.

The space between Jaeyun’s eyebrows begins to crease. “What are you talking about?”

“Rumor has it that’s who’s coming right now. Our lovely, fearless, princess is about to be paraded through the marketplace.”

“You’re lying.” Jaeyun shakes his head. He’s sure of it. He doesn’t know much about the king that he supposedly serves, other than his penchant for stationing rather incompetent guards by the crop fields that grow corn, but he does know how he treats his children. Namely, his daughter.

His oldest son is actively being groomed to become the next king, of course. The second born has a nasty chip on his shoulder about it and tries to make up for it by training until he can defeat every last member of the military in hand-to-hand combat and outsmart them in strategy meetings.

And you. The youngest. The only girl.

Much like your mother, you’ve been relegated to little more than a prop. Rumors of your beauty have spread far and wide, but that’s the only thing you’re allowed to be known for. Your days are spent learning how to sit correctly, how to curtsy nicely, how to embroider with alarming precision. How to please others.

Jaeyun’s never lost too much sleep about it. After all, a life in the palace, even a suffocating one, is still a luxury. He doubts you’ve ever had to wonder where your next meal would come from. You probably have actual cake on your birthdays, not makeshift concoctions that would taste significantly better if only you had a bit of butter.

But Sunghoon is insistent. “It’s true. I heard it from Sunoo. You know, he’s friends with that boy that works at the palace.”

“Well then Sunoo’s lying too.” Jaeyun’s words are clipped. He doesn’t have long to slip away if he wants to be gone by the time the procession arrives. “She’s never been in public before.”

Locked up in a palace for your whole life. For a moment, Jaeyun almost feels sorry for you. There’s nothing he loves more than an open field, wide and endless, under a starlit sky.

Taking a step forward, Sunghoon shakes his head. His voice is low when he adds, “Apparently it’s her birthday today. That’s why she’s here. They want to show her off a bit.”

The shock fades quickly. It’s not that strange of a coincidence, Jaeyun supposes, that the two of you share a birthday.

Jaeyun shakes his head firmly. He hopes it conveys a sense of finality. “I’m not staying.”

Sunghoon shrugs. “Suit yourself. But I know a spot with a great view.” He jerks his chin to the left. “Just over the butcher’s shop. An old abandoned attic that no one uses anymore.”

Jaeyun hates himself for hesitating. Mostly because that small window of uncertainty is all Sunghoon needs.

“Come on,” he urges. “No one will see you. I promise.”

And it’s not like Jaeyun has that much stake in all of this, but Sunghoon was right. He is curious.

What is it like, he wonders, as Sunghoon leads him up a hidden set of stairs to the attic he pointed to earlier, to live your life at the epicenter of a well-oiled machine?

Do you know? That people like him have to fight to survive? That making it to twenty-two is something remarkable? Do you care?

Jaeyun can’t imagine why you would.

Still, as the procession draws near, Jaeyun feels his heartbeat quicken with it. Until it matches the cadence of the horse hooves coming closer and closer.

Until finally, finally, he gets his first glimpse of the first real royal procession he’s stuck around for in years.

Until he gets his first glimpse of you.

You’re pretty, he’ll give you that, but the more he studies you, the stronger the strange flicker of… disappointment begins to swirl in his gut.

From your seat in the pristine carriage you ride in, your posture is impeccable and your wave towards the crowd is fit for royalty.

You look exactly like a princess. He’s not sure why he expected anything different.

Sunghoon, on the other hand, doesn’t seem so satisfied with the glimpses of you he gets from the attic window. Eyes still locked on your carriage, he says, “I’m going to get closer.”

“What?” Jaeyun hisses. It’s a bad idea. A terrible one, actually. And no matter how much Sunghoon annoys him, he doesn’t want to see the boy thrown in prison. Or worse, dead. “What do you mean, closer?”

But Sunghoon is already gone. Disappeared down the stairs that the two boys entered from only a handful of minutes ago. And now Jaeyun is alone.

Sliding an open palm down his face, he watches as your carriage fades from his limited view. Flour and sugar still in his pocket, he’ll have to wait now. At least an hour, probably, before the coast is clear enough to return home. He just prays Sunghoon manages not to do something too stupid before then.

Maybe he does have a bit of birthday luck, after all. A few moments later, he hears footsteps on the stairs again.

“You finally saw sense,” he calls out over his shoulder. “I tried to tell you that a closer look at some girl isn’t worth risking your life for.”

But Sunghoon doesn’t respond. Eyes rolling, Jaeyun assumes that he must not have found a better view and is deciding to sulk about it now. Fully prepared to rub salt in the wound. Jaeyun turns around fully.

But he was wrong. It’s not Sunghoon that he’s looking at. Or at least, he doesn’t think it is.

The figure who stands motionless at the top of the stairs is covered in a dark, shapeless cloak that extends all the way to the floor and has a hood that fully conceals its wearer’s face.

It’s also at least a head shorter than his friend.

Still, Jaeyun can’t help but hope. “Sunghoon?”

As if suddenly remembering themselves, the figure spins on their heel, turning back the way they came.

A thick sense of unease is building in Jaeyun’s gut. He has no idea who this stranger is, but it’s not Sunghoon. Quickly, awful scenarios begin to plague his mind.

What if it’s a spy? He wonders. A member of the royal guard. Someone here to report him for trespassing, if not one of his worse crimes.

Jaeyun can’t let that happen. Not when he’s made it this far. With all of his reflexes locking into gear, he lunges forward. His long fingers encircle the stranger’s wrist in a vice-like grip.

Still, they try to shake him. And for a moment, they’re successful. The wrist in his hand slips from his grip. But Jaeyun doubles down.

This time, he’s less hesitant. When he reaches for the figure, he grabs them by the waist instead. The struggle is noble, but brief.

In the span of a single heartbeat, Jaeyun has the cloaked stranger pinned beneath him on the attic floor, his knees encircling their rib cage as his hands pin both arms above their head.

Chest heaving, Jaeyun assesses the sight beneath him. In the struggle, the stranger’s hood has fallen loose, revealing a striking set of features.

And hair. Lots of it.

“You’re a girl,” Jaeyun’s breathes, just at the same time a devastatingly feminine voice accuses,

“You.”

“Me?” Jaeyun frowns. He’s never seen you before. Of that, at least, he’s positive. He would have remembered a face like yours.

Delicate and feminine and pretty in all the ways that make his mind spin, you’re a vision beneath him. One that almost has him forgetting the severity of the situation.

That is, until you lay another scathing accusation at his feet. “The corn thief.”

“Corn thief?” Warning bells are starting to sound in Jaeyun’s mind again. He’s been seen. He’s been caught. “You do work for the palace.”

Still on your back between his knees, your hands pinned above your head, your gaze is discerning. With rather flat intonation, you state, “We’re all citizens of the crown, are we not? We all serve the king.”

“Sure,” Jaeyun concedes, “but you actually work for them.” The reality of the situation, the severity of jt, is not lost on him. “You’ll report me to your superior and have me thrown in jail.” Or worse.

The only acknowledgement you give is a slightly raised eyebrow. Jaeyun hates himself a little for thinking that it makes you even prettier. “You make a lot of assumptions don’t you?”

“Are you new here?” He retorts. Sarcasm embeds itself into every word. “That’s kind of how things work.”

For a moment, you just look at him. Even though he’s above you, even though your arms are still firmly within his grip, Jaeyun has to fight the urge to squirm under your gaze. And then you sigh. “I’m not going to report you.” Sending a meaningful look towards his hands above your head, you ask, “Could you get off of me now?”

It’s probably stupid, the way he obeys your command so quickly. But there’s something in your voice, something that rings with authority. He’s scrambling off of you with a speed that’s almost comical.

You are slower to rise, rubbing at your freed wrists while you draw yourself to full height. Looking at you like this, Jaeyun almost thinks that he must have hit his head in the scuffle.

You’re not just pretty. You’re gorgeous. Disarmingly so. Jaeyun would be the first to admit that he hasn’t spent much time around girls, that he doesn’t have much to compare you to, but he’s still certain you’re in possession of a rare kind of beauty. Or, at least, one tailored specifically for him.

Despite his sudden fixation, your last words still ring in his mind. I’m not going to report you.

“You’re not?” He’s hesitant to believe it.

“No, I…” you trail off for a moment, unsure how to phrase your desire. “I want to help you, actually.”

He really must be concussed. “You want to help me?”

“I mean, not you specifically.” Looking around the attic, you seem to be talking to yourself more than him when you mutter, “Ugh. Jungwon swore this room would be empty.”

Still, Jake hears you. And he’s stuck on one word. Jungwon. It sounds so familiar. But why? Why does he know that name?

It takes him another minute of wracking his brain, but he does eventually locate the source of the familiarity. Sunoo. Jungwon is the name of Sunoo’s friend who works at the…

At the palace.

It’s not like he’s surprised that you’re closely associated with the royals, but based on what Sunoo gossips about with Sunghoon, Jungwon works rather closely with the royal family themselves. With the princess.

For a moment, all Jaeyun can do is stare at you. And then he asks, “Who are you?”

Your smile is wry, and it doesn’t reach your eyes. But your curtsy is perfect, even if you’re mocking him. “Princess ___. It’s a pleasure.”

Jaeyun rolls his eyes. How stupid do you think he is? He may just be a commoner, but he’s not an idiot. “Does that actually work on people? You know, the whole town just saw her ride by in a carriage. Literally less than ten minutes ago. And you,” Jaeyun makes quick work of scanning you head to toe, “are not her.”

“The whole town just saw Karina ride by in a carriage,” you correct.

Jaeyun frowns. “Who’s Karina?”

“My favorite handmaiden.”

Again, all Jaeyun can do is look at you. His jaw opens. Closes again. He has the distinct feeling he looks rather similar to the fish laid out on ice in the market beneath you. “You… you’re actually the princess.”

“Like I said,” you don’t bother to curtsy fully this time, just nod in a small bow, “it’s a pleasure. It’s actually kind of lucky that I ran into you here.” Jaeyun watches as your demeanor shifts, sarcasm turning to something far more serious. “So, corn thief, what can you tell me about the patrols they run near the corn crop fields?”

“Why?” Jaeyun doesn’t bother to mask his suspicion. “So you can reinforce them? Or apprehend me next time?”

“No,” you counter, “so I can pass the information along.”

It’s far too vague for his liking. “To…”

You look at him for a moment, as if deciding how much or your trust you’re willing to place in him, too. Finally, you say, “To people who might need it.”

Before he can press you further or ask what that means, Jaeyun hears the sound of trumpets again. A slightly different three note pattern than before.

“Shit…” You curse under your breath, Jaeyun hates the way it makes him feel hot beneath his clothes. “I have to go,” you tell him. “You know the old oak tree? The one near the mouth of the river?”

Jaeyun nods, suddenly distrustful of his voice.

“I’ll leave you a note there.” You’re already pulling your hood up over your head again, wrapping the cloak back around your body. “Check it tomorrow after midnight. It will tell you when and where to meet me.”

Jaeyun frowns. “But I—”

“What’s your name?” you interrupt. “I can’t call you corn thief forever.”

“Jaeyun,” he tells you after a beat. “Sim Jaeyun. But wait, I—”

“Tomorrow,” you reiterate, looking at him one last time. “After midnight.”

“But—” Jaeyun tries to protest one final time. It’s no use. You're already gone.

Out loud to an empty attic, Sim Jaeyun finally admits, “But I can’t read.”

⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖

STOPPP I'm kind of obsessed with them......

send me an idea for a drabble!

[chatterbox-73]

Kinktober 2024.

Day 3 - Silk Paradise.

Gojo Satoru x GN!Reader

This story is a smut story for Kinktober, I’ll be writing more characters x reader one shots for Kinktober and if you want to see a character please let me know...

You must be 18 years or older to read this...

🔞⚠️NO MINORS ALLOWED⚠️🔞

Summary/inspiration/prompt: you asked your boyfriend’s roommate to do some laundry for you while your out, however Gojo finds himself getting distracted after finding a couple of cute little pairs of panties, little does he know you find him acting very inappropriately with them but you don’t mind and even decide to help him.

Word count: 1.5k

CW: NSFW and adult content, unprotected sex, slight cheating (open relationship), Masturbation, panty sniffing, gagging, oral (GN!receiving), panty-fucking, eating cum, Gojo being a pervert.

Gojo’s hips snapped forward and he groaned loudly, the man was under the impression he was home alone his roommate and his partner being out for some basketball game or whatever he said, Gojo couldn’t have cared less, even if he tried, however what he did remember was you, his roommate’s partner, you stood so awkwardly next to the man and asked if Gojo could put the baskets of clothes in the washing machine while you were gone and like a fool he agreed immediately.

You could’ve asked him to jump off the roof of a building and he’d dive off for you, you had been a constant in his life, as long as he’d been friends with his roommate, you’d been there, every birthday, holiday and everything else in between, and for as long as he’s known you he’s been madly obsessed with the idea of having you.

Gojo had heard the sinful acts shared between you and his roommate, and to say he was unimpressed was the understatement of the century, though he had also heard you when you were by yourself and gods be good, he’d never heard such heavenly moans in his life.

Gojo grunted as he gave a particularly hard thrust into hand that held the soft silk that was wrapped around his thickness, “so soft, so sweet” he hummed thinking of the way you’d breathlessly gasped with every thrust he made, he thought about how he’d take you, from the back watching your ass jiggle or perhaps he’ll rest his face on your chest as he took you from the front, your delicate fingers playing with his hair, “god damnit… I need to be in you” he groaned throwing his head back and picking up his pace now cause the draws he was leaning over to begin banging into the wall with each of his thrusts.

You walked through the front door and sighed, you had took your boyfriend you weren’t in the mood to be out, to which he responded you’d only be out for an hour, the hour had passed and he had not intention of leaving, so you informed him you were leaving without him. You walked past the kitchen and looked into the laundry room, you found the basket of your boyfriend’s clothes were already in the dryer and the small basket of your clothes had been empty into the washing machine but hadn’t been started, you looked into the washing machine and noticed two very distinct pairs of your underwear were missing, you looked around the room and under the machines, to no avail. You then realised you must have left them in your bedroom, you began to walk down to your bedroom but stop once reaching Gojo’s door, you pressed your ear against the door and listened carefully.

“Yes baby… take it… ahh” you heard Gojo groaned along with the rhythmic thumping of something against the wall, you thought perhaps he had a lover over visiting but he hadn’t mentioned getting a new lover, and his moans seemed very one-sided to you.

You leant in further and the door cracked open ever so slightly, however this was all you needed, you looked through the crack in the door and your eyes went wide at the image before you, there Gojo was leaning over a set of draws his hand fisted over his cock that had been wrapped in a sort of silk material, his hips moving forcefully, while he’s other hand press another piece of silk material to his face, he’s nose pressed into the material and huffed deeply while his tongue licked and lapped at in, “you’re so pretty in your little panties” he groaned into the material and suddenly you realise it was you panties he was using, Gojo was rubbing one out with your panties, his nose was desperately pressed into your use panties, he had to know they were yours no one in the house other then you wore things like that.

“Satoru?” You called softly and Gojo groaned his hips pressing further into his hand, his other hand moving down to wrap the other set of panties around his girthy length and hold him snugly, “fuck I’m going crazy, I can even hear your sweet voice know” he moaned, you smiled at the thought of him being so lost in his own paradise he’d be unable to tell reality from fantasy, “I’d do you so much better then him, I’d have your little body cumming before I even finished sliding you fully onto my cock” he hummed and the thought sounded good.

You’d been finding it hard to get off with your boyfriend, you loved him but he just wasn’t doing it for you, and you knew he had felt the same, he’d even brought up the idea of opening the relationship purely for sex, no love or caring for others, you fuck and that’s it, he’d already found a woman he’d spent a few nights with. When your boyfriend came home and told you all about it, it honestly got you all worked up and you’re found yourself having a very satisfying time with him, however would he have the same reaction if you told him you fucked his roommate and friend, there was really only one way to find out.

You stepped into the room with shaky legs and walked up behind Gojo, your hands moving around him and you placed your hands over his, while pressing your chest to his back and your hips into his ass, “satoru why are you ignoring me, I’m right here and you’d rather fuck a scrap of fabric” you moaned and pressed your legs together, Gojo looked down at your smaller hands holding his large ones his hips still thrusting, however he holt his movements before quickly turning to look down at you, “I’m… I’m very sorry, I don’t-“ Gojo began however before he could spiralling you cut him off, you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him into kiss you, your lips danced across his and your tongues tangled together.

“Promised to be gentle when you’re in me” you moaned as you wrapped a hand around Gojo’s length and began pumping it slowly, the man swore he was dreaming because how could you, actually even be rubbing his cock, how could you, ever be asking him to have sex with you, groaning he grabbed your shoulders and pushed to around and pressed you into the draws, before sliding his cock between your plush thighs, his shaft and tip pressed snuggly against you.

“Your panties are so soft, let’s dirty them together” Gojo hummed as he slowly thrust his hip, his shaft rubbing delicious against your very hot and sensitive clothed privates, you moaned and whined as you pushed your hips back to meet his, “your soaking through these pretty panties” he hummed and reached down, he pulled the fabric to the side before sliding his cock before your skin and the fabric, you both moaned as you felt your hot skin touch.

Gojo loved the way your panties hugged the underside of his heavy cock, and he could even find the words to describe the feeling of your gorgeous parts pressed so close to his, “is so wet, I’ll let you come against my cock” he laughed and began thrusting quickly, his hands holding the draws, caging you in. Gojo rubbed his nose against your neck as he huffed in your scent, while he forced your hips into the draws repeatedly, causing the wood of the draws to scrape the paint off the wall.

You reached a hand down and began rubbing yourself, moaning you throw your head back on Gojo’s shoulder, “I’m c… god I’m-“ you cried and your body shook, Gojo’s cock twitch and suddenly you felt some hot and wet drip down your thighs, “you came so much…” Gojo whispered in your ear before pressing your chest down against the draws, before he pulled your pants off and stuffed them into your mouth, “tell me… do we taste good together?” He hummed and you nodded, “I don’t know if I should believe you… I’ll have to check for myself” he groaned spreading your thighs and licking all the cum dripping down them, before trailing up, his tongue and lips felt so good against you, he licked and sucked all over your privates, he worked his tongue into your hole, loosening up for him to take fully.

“You’re so sweet, I bet you make even the most sour cum taste sweet” Gojo moaning against your hole, the vibration making you drip and squirm, you moaned through the fabric in your mouth, “you all loosened and ready, you sure you wanna fuck me?” He hummed and you nodded before reaching a hand back to spread your hole open wider, inviting Gojo to take you.

Gojo stood and pressed his tip against you “you really wanna cheat on your boyfriend with his best friend, you’re so damn lewd” he laughed and completely sheathed himself.

Kinktober Masterlist

Day 2 - Dabi/Toya Todoroki: Wax Play.

Day 4 - Levi Ackerman: In plain sight

[pinksilvace]

If cats the musical ever have an animated tv show and or movie what do u think it will be like ? specially on how they write the characters, setting etc.

YAY HOORAY YIPPEE I LOVE THIS QUESTION

In an animated context, I'm very much a fan of aristocats-esque anthro designs; @/etchif and @/oggysonart have both made really fantastic ones in the past. I highly recommend checking their stuff out if you haven't already.

Anyway, this ask strikes me as two separate questions, so I'll answer it in two parts.

Movie

I'd picture this being more or less what Disney wanted to do with the original poems: it would be more or less a 1:1 run-through of the show and serve as an introduction to the music, story, etc. for a younger generation.

The stage format inherently presents a challenge when it comes to a central focus, especially in a production with so many characters, while films tend to highlight character moments very effectively; because of this, I think an animated adaptation of Cats could be quite a bit plottier than the stage show, even without changing any details. (This would also address the common concern that an adaptation would cut down on the appeal of live dance.) I imagine it primarily following Munkustrap, Demeter, and Victoria, as they each more or less represent different plot threads: the Ball/Choice, Grizabella/Macavity, and Community, respectively.

At the same time, there are small moments with other throughout the show that could benefit from the range of sceneries available.

I'll say this for Cats 2019: seeing Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer in their element is a must. I've actually thought about this specific scene a lot with regard to this prompt. When the junkyard scatters before this number, the camera follows Quaxo/Misto down a few alleys and to M&R's nice house, where he watches them through the windows and narrates their actions a la original production. Maybe he messes with them; either way, it'd give viewers a reason to keep his character in mind for later. Maybe the song ends when they show up tardy to the Ball.

Another scene that would benefit greatly from an adaptation is Gus', obviously. I'd love to see flashes of his life or, optimistically, a dreamlike sequence of GLS, which I have too many Thoughts about to include on this post.

The big one, though - the killer - is how Macavity could be adapted. If Demeter's segment of the song had some abstract recollections as visuals... Good Lord

It'd be nice to see the characters be visually distinct (at least, more so than that are onstage). I love the idea of the camera cutting over to Pounce and Tumble (who'd Very Obviously be kittens) fooling around and getting into trouble every now and again. All of the character dynamics would be more obvious, for that matter, because in film, every shot and camera angle is a choice. When Alonzo sticks around at the Macavity scare, the audience would get it. When Plato changes his attitude from how he is around the kittens to how he is with Victoria, the audience would notice. When Munkustrap waves his arms and tries desperately to get everyone into place for PP, the audience wouldn't have to work to spot him doing so amidst all of the everything else happening at the same time. Like, I adore Cats as a stage production, but an animated adaptation would 100% be able to add visual clarity.

TV Show

Stylistically, I imagine this the same as everything described above, but I wouldn't want it to cover the course of the show. Instead, I think this universe would be really charming as a series of animated shorts that focus on just a handful of characters apiece, slife-of-life style. Episode ideas include:

Gus attempts to teach the kittens a performance so they can impress Munkustrap later; they don't do well, but it still makes Munkustrap happy

Plato tries really really hard to be romantic and impress Victoria for Some Special Event coming up, ft. Pounce and Tumble as wingmen

Munkustrap is busy/sick and Alonzo has to take over for a day; he learns about the power of asking for help

Origin story of how Tugger and Misto met

Electra, Etcetera, and Rumpleteaser do their darndest to figure out how the Jellicle Choice is actually chosen

This would give some leeway in regard to the musical aspects of the IP, which I imagine are difficult to replicate. These shorts would also be enjoyable for a very broad audience in a way that the stage production and its usual adaptations are not.

[redheadspark]

Can I request soulmate promt no. 8 Sharing injuries /w Jack Russell like reader is an avengers and got injure in mission or proteact Jack during danger. so, Jack knows that her is his soulmate.

P.S. I love your writing so much.

A/N - I LOVE this for Jack! Thank you for requesting this, anon!

Also, I had another request for Jack and 8! As I said in my Prompt rules, if I get a EXACT duplicate request, I'll only answer it once!

Matching

Summary - It was already a risk partnering with the infamous Jack Russell during a monster raid, it was another to find out you two were soulmates

Warnings - Mostly fluff and a hint of angst

"What's your twenty on the soldiers?"

"I have my eyes on two of them in the south side of the building," I shot off the two soldiers before they could find you, walking past them and making a quick turn around the corner before you would have to duck out of the way before being pelted with bullets coming your direction. You ducked your head to avoid the dust hitting your eyes and going into your nose.

Already, this mission was not like the others.

Being an Avenger you were used to going against the normal and abnormal when it came to enemies. You seen all and more of your fair share of monsters and space beings, and most of the time you and the other Avengers were able to handle them on your own. But of course, this was something a little more...violent that you had to deal with.

Monsters from the ancient unknown, or the kind you would read about in fairytales.

In a word: Werewolves

Of course you never believed in the notion of werewolves, those were the bedtime stories that would haunt children at night or at summer camp around the fire. But they were, in fact, real. All around the world there were pockets of them living out in the outskirts of civilization, or the daring ones who be on society and be disguised as humans.

Up until recently, there was a code amongst the Lycanthropy population to never interfere with humans to the point of being noticed. However, that was breached over in the high Canadian Rockies with human bodies were being found in the snow with distinct and obvious claw marks to the skin and face.

Yelena Romanoff knew of a monster hunter, she heard from an ex-widow that he would hunt monsters for a living and he was rather good. Rather than relying on F.R.I.D.A.Y and AI that could only go so far with bringing down a beast, She brought in Jack Russell to the Avengers Compound. He was timid thing, looking rather complexed to being amongst the Avengers and being asked to help them bring down the rogue Werewolves.

You were a bit apprehensive yourself, given his appearance in how he too looked rather weathered and tired. It wasn't until he was talking with Sam Wilson that your realized he was a werewolf himself. Much to the shock of the others, his demeanor was nothing like a werewolf. Kind, well manners an a bit shy, highly intelligent with monsters he as reprimanded in the past. He even had a portfolio to show your leader, Sam skimming through page after page to seeing all the beasts he as taken down.

Even Bucky was impressed, only needing to talk to Sam for a minute to hire on Jack in helping with this issue. You were watching from the back with Shang Chi, you two were impressed in how Sam was shaking hands with the monster hunter and then gesturing to you from your spot in the back of the office.

"Y/n will show you around the compound and to the spare office you can use to get your research done, right Y/n?" Sam asked you, Jack looking over at you with his shy smile. You nodded, Shang nudging your shoulder with his and chuckling.

"Have fun with Wolf Boy," He said under your rebate before he slipped out of the room. You just smiled and walked over, shaking hands with Jack and feeling how arm his palm was against yours.

Jack was nothing but nice and kind to you as you two were working together in the preparations and the locations of the werewolves. He had vast intelligence and he knew where to find them in the deep forest and where they would be hiding. You had to hand it to him in how he was precise in his predictions and where they would be hiding out, and sometimes you forgot he too was a werewolf.

He didn't mind sharing his history with him as you two would work deep in the night, hearing the horror stories that he told and all he had to live through just to get where he was. He seemed far too good and gentle to be living in such a state, but he never showed it to you or to the others. The shield he had around himself, he was always strong and at the ready, as if he was afraid that something would crack it and bring it down.

And it did happen finally, that very day.

There was a secret facility out in the Canadian Rockies, filled with scientist and politicians that were trying to maintain and overgrow the werewolf population with bad duplicates of a Lycan venom of sorts. Jack was concerned that werewolves were being taken on site, experimented on and killed in the building since they were still still technically humans.

The mission changed from hunting down the rogue werewolves to stopping the experiments.

Now you were knee deep in the facility, being able to breach the labs that were underground and free out the human captives that were in changes. They were all so frightened, backed and hunched the corner of their cages with wounds all over their body. Making sure that Yelena was nearby with Kate in one of the jets, you and Jack ushered the captives out before the soldiers could try and retrieve them. If left you and Jack split up, needed to hold up against the soldiers that were piling in.

"Anyone have a visual on Jack?" Sam asked in your ear piece, you looking around the corner to take a few spots from your own gun, hitting two more of the soldiers before ducking back again.

"I lost him back in the lab, we're swamped down here," You replied, feeling a bullet almost hit your shoulder and you yelped a bit.

"I'm coming down to help, hang in there," Shang explained to you on his end the line. You were about to tell him not to, since you could handle the last of the soldiers that were there when you saw a body fly past you in such a blur that you made you freeze. A soldier was launched past you, hitting the concrete wall in front of you so violently and deeply that cracks were all around the now dead soldiers' body as he was hunched over on the floor.

You were shocked, never seeing that before.

A low growl was heard behind you in the hallway, way too animalistic to be something normal. You shot up and turned on your heel, facing the hallway with a gun out and aimed at whatever it was. But there was no monster, nor was there a soldier there.

It was Jack, out of breath with splatters of blood on his face and on his gear.

He had fists at his sides, his hair disheveled and the look of a fight in his eyes as you two were locking eyes with one another. It didn't click in you head for a solid second, but then it was sinking in that he was the one who launched that soldier as if he was a ball of paper. With the pair of your watch each other, a soldi moment of quiet and pause in a chaotic mission, if felt like you two were no longer there. But in your own world together, something simple and almost....almost warmth.

But that was shattered when you heard movement behind you and you whirled around. Another soldier grabbed you before you could shoot, wrapping his fingers around your neck to shove you against the wall. You were about to throw out a punch to get him off of you when he struck your palm, cutting it deeply.

You yelled out in pain, but you heard another equally loud scream from Jack.

Jack ran forward, almost like a football player and launching himself on the soldier and tackling him to the ground with such strengthened force that it seemed abnormal. It was his wolf strength, and with your throbbing hand that was pouring out blood, you watched Jack take the soldier to the ground with ease. He wrapped his hands around the soldier's neck and snapped it with a second, the body gig limp and once again there was silence.

You were shocked at it all, Jack slowly getting up from being hunched over the now dead soldier and grunting a bit in pain. As he turned, you saw something there, on the left palm that was crimson red. Your heart stopped.

The same slabs on your palm, was on his. That meant....

Soulmate.

Soulmates were rare, something that was heard of but also taboo in your universe. Only a small population on the planet had soulmates, you learned about it in school as a little girl. When two people, or three in very rear cases, feel each other's pain and injuries and even mirrors the injuries, then they were considered mates. It could happen early in life or late, and it could happen at any time in a person's life.

Their souls were considered as one, sharing everything from thoughts and feelings to injuries and pain. Of course, you were a realist and never considered yourself to have a soulmate, since soulmates were merely a luck of the draw. Nothing to do with biology or genetics, it was all about luck and who was lucky enough to be tethered to another person.

So now, you were looking at your soulmate in the middle of a mission.

"Jack, Y/n, I have your locations and I'm bringing the jet over, give me one minute! Get yourselves out int he open where I can find you," Yelena said in your earpiece,but you were locking eyes with Jack, your soulmate. He looked just as shocked as you, his eyes were a bit wider and his stance was rigid. It was almost like you two were shifting inwardly, your heart expanding and almost shrinking at the same time merely because you knew that another soul was going to make room in there.

All you could do was walk over to Jack, seeing him so still and stiff that he was afraid to move. You reached out with your wounded hands, taking his won wounded hands to have your mirrored cuts on your palms connect. Jack shuddered, nearly ready to cry as you could only smile. As crazy as it was that it happened like that, you couldn't help but smile since joy was seeping through out.

"Let's get out go here, and we'll talk about when we're safe," Your explained, Jack nodding his head as he then moved to tug you along. You two never releasing your joined hands as you were tagging along behind him to find the jet.

Months later, with a sliver of a scar on each of your palms, you both were living your lives together on the Avengers Compound and blissfully happy.

Very much in love, with matching scars to show off.

The End.

Soulmates Prompt Session

[your-talos-is-problematic]

Writing prompt! Afonya and Serana's first meeting? I feel like it has to have been interesting.

It’s finished! Turned out a bit long but it’s a really good practice for Afonya’s narration and dialogue style and also I have had ideas about Afonya and Serana’s dynamic for a long time hehe. Spoilers: she triggers Afonya’s maternal/sisterly instincts.

———————————————————————— Damn my Malacath-cursed restlessness. Dimhollow Crypt was my third vampire den in the past month, and I was more than over it. This one was also much larger than the others. Brey and I had been deep in the crypt for at least an hour, and so far we were not at all close to finding anything that the vampires would be searching for here. Unless they were searching for draugr hordes, which were both the least desirable thing I could think of and painfully common in Skyrim. All of this was combining to make me regret my insistence on helping out the Dawnguard.

“What are we looking for, Afonya?” Brelyna asked. “Like, specifically?”

I gave a dramatic sigh. “Only Apocrypha knows. And we’re only here because a Vigilant said so, and to them, everything is strange or dangerous.” Brelyna broke out into her giggly laughter, probably at my horrible vocal impression of the Daedra-hating crusaders. I finished removing the leg of a frostbite spider’s corpse and stood to scan the room, noticing a lever a few feet ahead of me. I strode to pull it, and in response, the gate next to it swung open. My wife looked up in surprise from the book she was holding.

“Did you start reading that to fill the thirty seconds I was figuring this out?” I asked.

Brelyna smiled. “My parents taught me not to waste time.”

I peered at the book’s spine. “Not to waste it on good books, either.”

She shrugged. “I like a romance.”

“I know.” I pulled down my mask- an extra line of defense against the vampires’ infections, just in case- to give her a kiss. “Now let’s go prove some Vigilants wrong.”

I stepped through the gate and crossed the empty room behind it, muttering a few draconic words (lass-yah-nir) to gauge if anyone was behind the wooden door on the opposite wall. The dragonfire highlighted four figures in some sort of cavern beyond, below where we were. I crouched and put a finger to my lips, trying to signal to the red mist surrounding Brelyna that she should be quiet.

Creeping forward, I slowly pushed open the door. Behind it was another empty room, with an open gate and another lever, which were a strange staple of Nord crypts. I quietly walked forward to get a better view of the figures below, eyeing but not touching a scroll that was set on a pedestal in the middle of the room. Brelyna made a wildly unsuccessful attempt at quietly summoning a frost atronach, making me cringe.

There was a conversation going on below between the distinctive measured tone of a vampire and the distinctive trying-to-sound-brave voice of a Vigilant. A look confirmed this- a man with the characteristic theatricality and orange eyes of a vampire stood, knife held to the throat of a bound man in blue robes. A nervous-looking vampire and an expressionless skeleton stood a few steps away.

The Vigilant’s voice was hoarse. “-anything, vampire. My oath to Stendarr is stronger than any suffering you can inflict on me.” Of course he’s bringing up Stendarr. Typical.

A mean-spirited laugh escaped the dark-haired vampire’s lips. “I believe you, Vigilant. And I don’t think you even know what you’ve found here.” Ooh. At least that suggested some degree of interest to whatever was in this cavern. Darkly, he delivered, “So go and meet your beloved Stendarr,” before the squishy sound of a slitted throat and a sigh from the woman behind him cut through the air. This prompted an argument between the two vampires, which I mostly ignored.

I pooled my magical energy into a Magelight spell in my left hand and briefly considered feeling bad for mocking the now-dead Vigilant. Before firing, however, I overheard something that sounded important: the name “Harkon”, uttered ominously. After that, Brelyna’s frost atronach appeared to get bored and rushed past me, down the slope.

“Sorry!” she called out.

I winced and sent my spell flying, letting it land near the vampires and hopefully blind them. I attempted to follow up with a bolt of fire, but my aim was off and it slammed into Brelyna’s chest. “My time to apologize now?” I asked.

“Yes!”

The vampires, though aggravated, were quick work when attacked from above, and a little bit of draconic magic sent the skeleton flying into the cavern’s murky water. After we dealt with them, one cast of a restoration spell healed any possible damage to my wife’s skin, and one promise to cook dinner relieved her annoyance.

Together, we moved across a strangely elegant bridge to a massive circular stone structure that took up the majority of the room. Something about its dark stone and the thin, pointy arches that rose out of the base gave the entire thing an ominous appearance.

Brelyna clung to my arm, feeling the rock with her foot. “There’s channels in the ground. In a pattern, and not one you’d usually build a floor in.” I watched her red eyes lift up to scan the rest of the room.

“Like a symbol?” I asked.

She shook her head, still looking at the stone. “Like a puzzle. Keeping something hidden, probably.”

I sunk my face into my hands. “I am done with this cave. We’re getting whatever scroll or book or weapon they’re after, dropping it off at the Dawnguard, and going home to the Pale to sleep for two days straight.” I left Brelyna to her examination and approached the structure’s center, where a stone pedestal sat with a button on it. “Brelyna, should I press this?”

She looked up. “There’s braziers around the edge of the room. They move.”

“Great. But the pedestal, Brey.”

She shrugged. “Sure. Don’t cry if it cuts your hand off.”

I rolled my eyes. “Fine, I’ll be smart about it.” I stepped back and focused on a telekinesis spell, using it to push the button down. Nothing happened.

“It wants your hand,” Brelyna giggled.

“Romantic.” Wincing and looking away, pressed my left hand into the stone button. Right on cue, I felt something pierce the middle of my hand. Don’t scream. Don’t scream. Mephala’s quietude. Don’t let yourself scream. I eventually managed “Nchow.” Not elegant, but at least a word, not a scream.

“What can I say. I have Azura’s sight,” Brelyna said from behind me. Her smirk faded to a grimace as her eyes moved to my hand. “Oh. Three.”

“It’s bad?”

“It’s all the way through,” she said apologetically. I felt the need to throw up. “Sorry, Afonya.” She grabbed my fingers. “Okay. Hold eye contact.”

I stared at her. “Aren’t you not going to know if I’m actually looking in your eyes because-“

“Ssh. On three.” Despite my pride, I clung tightly to her shoulder with my right hand. “One. Two.” She ripped my hand out of the spike, causing a burning pain to rip through it. “Sorry.” A gold glow emanated from her hand; I felt the usual tingle of my bones mending themselves.

I investigated my left hand for any lasting damage. Everything seemed fine except the blood coating it. “You thought going on two would work on me?”

“It’s just what my parents always did.”

“Doesn’t that ruin the surprise?”

She frowned. “Oh. Yeah. Look.”

I turned behind me to see ghostly purple fire  in a circle around us, coming from the stone indent Brelyna had pointed out. A line of it extended out to one of the braziers. “Do you think we need to-“

“Move the braziers so they all light up?” she offered.

I laughed. “We’ve done this too many times.” We split up to put together the puzzle. Note to the ancient Nords, there are too many puzzles in these tombs. It’s aggravating.

The light eventually formed a pattern that was irregular and didn’t seem to communicate anything, but I got out my notebook and walked to the center of the structure to draw it out anyways. I only got through a few lines before the ground started shaking. Grabbing an arch to steady myself, I watched as the floor descended. It fell to form steps down to the pedestal in the middle, which was resting on top of a newly-revealed pentagonal structure.

My heart jumped into my throat, and I gasped as one of the structure’s walls slid open. A form with its hands crossed over its chest slid forward to land on the ground. I ran forward to help it- her up, but she recoiled from my hands and stood up on her own.

“Sorry.” My voice came out squeakier than  usual. Brelyna strode across the stone to have a view of the conversation, but stayed noticeably far enough away to not be part of it.

She brushed her hands on her sides, strangely calm. “Who sent you?”

Before answering, I mentally listed the important things about this woman. Number one: orange eyes. Vampire. And if they weren’t orange, they’d probably be blue- she was a Nord. Number two: she looked young, around the age Elia was when I left for Skyrim. A year older, at most. Which led me to number three, the reason I had been staring at her for so long. Skin tone, hair length, and rounded ears aside, she looked uncannily like my sister.

Brelyna walked over to whisper in my ear. “You were right about there being a scroll.”

Oh. Right. Number four: strapped to her back was an Elder Scroll. Just like the one that had been locked away in the College’s library since I’d defeated Alduin. She cleared her throat, probably in reference to me not answering her question.

“Sorry. Uh- why do you ask?”

“You’re a surprise. I was expecting someone- like me.”

“Oh. Makes sense.” I nodded, then realized my guard was down way more than it should be. “Why were you… entombed?”

“Complicated reasons.” Her eyes scanned me and Brelyna, lingering on the sword at my waist and the mask over my mouth. “And I don’t know if I trust you yet. Get me home, and we’ll talk.” Her tone was practiced, but strangely warm for a sealed-away undead. Not a high bar to cross, but still.

I let out a sniff. “Sure.”

“Is that a yes?”

“Depends.” I tried to reassume my usual persona. “Where did- do you live?”

“There’s an island, west of Solitude. That’s our best bet.”

I could feel Brelyna’s nails digging into my wrist, and glanced in her direction to see her masking a laugh. I turned back to the girl. “Give me five minutes to talk to my wife and figure out a route.”

Brelyna basically dragged me away by the arm. “Don’t you think we’re being a little bit rash about this, Af?” She sounded somewhere between anxious and entertained, so the usual. “Oh no. You look protective.”

I sighed and moved closer to her ear. “She reminds me of my sister.” 

“Ohhhh.” She very obviously turned to look at the girl again. “Oh. Yeah.”

“And she’s what- eighteen? We’re going to abandon a teenager in a ruin?”

She paused to consider, then concluded,“Probably a bad idea.”

I turned back to the girl. “We’re ready, Elia.”

“Sure.” She looked skeptical. “I’m not named Elia, though.”

“Oh. Sorry.” Three, Afonya. “We’ll go westward. We’ll try to get to Morthal tonight- I can pay for an inn.”

“Understood.” She glanced back at the stone tomb, as if she might have been buried with any possessions. “Not going to ask my name?”

Right. Gods, get yourself together. “Right. I do not know your name.” After a second, I realized something else. “And I’m Afonya.”

“There you go. I’m Serana.” The laughter in her voice was a good sign, though it was surprising that she wasn’t more panicked about all of this. It was also strange to me that she hadn’t made a single comment about her rescuers being elves. That put vampires above werewolves in terms of merish acceptance.

As we moved toward the other side of the stone structure and hopefully the exit of this Molag-damned ruin, I noticed Brelyna slide up to Serana’s side.

“That’s an Elder Scroll,” she attempted to whisper.

“Yeah. I know. Hands off.” I could hear her readjust the scroll.

“Sorry.” Brelyna sounded disappointed. “When we get you home, can I-“

“No.” Serana and I answered at the same time.

[cin-cant-donate-blood]

I was just gonna mumble something in the tags but I actually have Thoughts on this so here goes.

I don't care for LLM chatbots. No matter how impressive people keep insisting they are, I have always found them to be disappointing (perhaps because I am asking the wrong questions, but I don't think asking it to write a Shakespearian sonnet or remind me of a word I've forgotten based on a definition are very weird prompts, and it fucking sucks at both of those).

I do use them to gauge them, though. I am curious about what kinds of responses other people who are actively using them are getting.

One time I asked it what autistic people are like, just to see what it might be telling neurotypicals that people like me are like. It rattled off a number of broadly accurate things, but in the middle of everything it slipped in something to the effect that autistic people are not very good with art.

When I asked it about this, it immediately backed down and said I had misunderstood it, but it does bother me that it may well say something like that to someone else who knows less about autism.

These bots are known to be good at replicating human biases, so there is no doubt in my kind that it was, at the end of the day, replicating an already existing stereotype.

I think the stereotype that autistic people are on some level not well suited to make art (or even uninterested in it) is in turn by a mythical quality that I think of as "anti-intelligence", which is something distinct from stupidity.

The theory of anti-intelligence goes like this: there exists a human trait called intelligence or logicalness, which makes you Good With Math. If you do not have this trait, however, then fret not! The more Logical (capitalisation is tongue-in-cheek) you are, the less of something else you have, because Logic is the Yang to Intuition's Yin.

Intuition, or Anti-Intelligence, is a purported trait that makes you Good With People and also Artsy. Intuitive People might never be able to grasp math (and honestly, they should as well just give up on it, if you're too artsy you're never gonna be good at that stuff anyway), but they understand things Logical people in turn could never understand, like Love and Drinking Coffee With Your Friends (so illogical!)

The most snide interpretation of this that I as a stereotypically Logical person could make (my love of art and rhetoric are just aberrations, by the way: I shouldn't be wasting my time on them) is that this is all just people who are Bad With Math coping.

The stereotype also plays into pseudoscience about the hemispheres of the brain, and I think a lot of people who identify as Intuitive or Logical may do so with terminology like "left-brained" and "right-brained".

I think the trope of a Logical character not understanding social interaction is in part simply derived from the observation that Autistic people are often Logical and also struggle to understand and be understood by neurotypicals, but at this point it's become a self-sustaining cultural image that informs how a lot of Not Very Logical people think Logical people are.

I find all of this very frustrating because I don't think art or social rituals are illogical at all: they just appear to be if you are personally navigating them with gut feeling without analysing them further. A bit of gut feeling might well be necessary to do things quickly and smoothly enough (that is my main personal struggle with autism: not that I do not understand social situations but that I understand them too slowly, and my gut instinct often makes oversights that I notice a minute after I make them), but that conversation is completelt lost in a culture where Hanging Out With Friends is treated as Magic Beyond the Understanding of Those Dorky Scientists.

fish-out-of-water character in science fiction to whom humanity is deeply alien, but who does not continually get themselves into awkward social situations because they looked up Human Ettiquette For Dummies, they learned about basic human social dynamics including how humans bond socially, and it is immediately obvious to them after five second of introspection how a highly social tool-using species like humans would benefit from spending a lot of time building social ties

[thebandcampdiaries]

Fear Of Falling introducing a brand new release: "Hands On Me"

Fear Of Falling is a band with a focus on creating music that seamlessly explores a huge range of styles, including indie rock, dream-pop, and more. They recorded 3 albums and toured internationally in the 1990s. Today, they’re back after 20 years on a hiatus, as ready as ever with exciting new music.

The group’s most recent song, “Hands On Me,” stands out as a perfect example of the varied and one-of-a-kind formula that animates the composition. The rhythm section, with Bruce DiBisceglie on bass and Rob Savoy on drums, is extremely effective. The track begins with a soothing drone and some jangly electric guitars, setting the mood as the drums slowly creep in. The soft swing of the hi-hat pedal leads us into the groove, with a sparse yet driven beat that adds some backbone to the track without disrupting its atmosphere. Guitarist/Producer Kimon Katafigiotis was also instrumental in bringing this song to fruition, helping it reach its full potential.

After a quick instrumental break, the vocals by the gifted singer Steve Lanni are left to face the crowd alone. This is a bold choice, and a particularly powerful one: the vocals alone almost feel solemn, reminiscent of the iconic take on indie popularized by artists such as Arcade Fire or The Killers, among others. In addition, “Hands On Me” also features subtle hints of shoegaze and new-wave, with beautiful female-male vocal layers (with guest vocalist Holdn) in the vein of artists like Slowdive, Tears For Fears or Dead Rituals, only to mention a few.

Each member of the band has its own sonic space in the mix, and "Hands On Me" feels like a perfect opportunity to push the boundaries of the band’s vision and sound.

Clocking in at 3 minutes and 51 seconds, the track progressively reaches an even more grandiose and ambitious scope, with stunning orchestral elements and expressive vocals that prompt comparisons with legends such as David Bowie or David Byrne. What makes "Hands On Me" special is definitely the fact that it showcases the band’s diverse stylistic references and signals their ability to blur the lines between various influences.

Find out more and stream:

We also had the opportunity to ask the band a few questions: keep reading to learn more!

I love how you manage to render your tracks so personal and organic. Does the melody come first, or do you focus on the beat the most?

Answer: Typically, the band will work a rhythm on the fly, or someone will bring in an idea as a starting point. Everyone adds their own flavors while the melody emerges. Sometimes, we'll have lyrical ideas, but even if we do have pre-conceived lyrics, they grow as the rhythm and melody take shape. When there is a thematic element, we'll try to align everything without forcing the issue.

Do you perform live? If so, do you feel more comfortable on a stage or within the walls of the recording studio?

Answer: That's a great question. Yes, Fear Of Falling has performed at nearly 400 concerts, so live shows come naturally to the band. Audience reaction is a huge part of the show, and our audiences make it very easy for us to be as comfortable as possible. In the studio, that live reaction isn't there, and everything gets microscoped during playbacks.

If you could only pick one song to make a "first impression" on a new listener, which song would you pick and why?

Answer: That's always been difficult to figure out. It's like asking a family who their favorite child is. The truth is that each of us has a short list of songs that best represent us, and depending on who you ask, you'll get a different reply. While we do have a distinct sound, the songs range from rock to stripped-down, from full-blown wall-of-sound to even industrial. We polled our fans, and "King Of America" was the favorite, but a good first impression would be the most recent singles, "Looking Out For Number One," "Keanu Reeves," and the new one, "Hands On Me."

What does it take to be "innovative" in music? 

Answer: Now, that's easy. While it is cliché to say, simply stay true to the music. Songs have a mind of their own and know where they want to go. If we allow that to happen, then anything is fair game. It doesn't matter if you're 16 or 60; keeping an open mind to new ideas will guarantee innovation.

Any upcoming release or tour your way?

Answer: We do have the third single, "Hands On Me," being released next week on Quark's record label, and then there will be live shows to go along with that. We've done that for years: release and support. That's what's gotten us to tour North America and Europe. We do have an EP in the works for spring, and a full-blown album should show itself by the end of the year, if not earlier.

Anywhere online where curious fans can listen to your music and find out more about you?

Answer: If people are looking to try out new music, see new videos, and deep dive into Fear Of Falling, they can find it all here: https://linktr.ee/fof.usa

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

i cant remember if someone asked you your opinions on the pomefiore members but uh- thoughts pls? ^^;

Before we start, a note: when I share my opinions on characters, I like to think of them from two different perspectives: that of a content creator and that of a casual fan. As such, I’ll be speaking on both what I think of writing each boy, as well as what I think of each boy on a personal level outside of writing.

Let’s begin!

👑 Vil 👑

This may come as a shock, but I would actually say I like writing Vil more than writing Rook 😂 Vil has a certain maturity about him that helps him command whatever scene he’s in. It makes it easier for me to write dialogue if someone like Vil is the focal point, the one guiding discussion. He comes off as regal and stern—a powerful person you don’t want to cross. It’s a delight when a character’s bite matches their bark.

The way Vil speaks and composes himself fits very well with my writing style. I also happen to have an interest in beauty, so I have the vocabulary to make Vil ramble about fashion, skincare, etc. His dialogue comes so naturally to me that sometimes I space out, and by the time I’ve drifted back, I’ve typed up a whole speech for Vil. Channeling that “tough love” energy of his is strangely cathartic—and the drive and self-assuredness that Vil exudes makes me feel more confident in myself when I write him.

All that being said, I don’t really care for Vil as a character. I admire his willingness to work hard to achieve his goals and that he challenges traditional gender roles. I definitely find his inner turmoil fascinating, and it’s interesting that he’s one of the... nicer dorm leaders, but my love for him stops there. I don’t mind that he’s strict (because in a cast as big as TWST’s, we’re bound to have some sticklers), but nothing about what Vil is appeals to me.

He’s... conventionally attractive, I guess????? But I’ve never liked his looks (especially not his purple Kool-aid dyed hair) nor have I considered him to be “fairest of them all”. I think most of his looks are just too severe for me, too bold of an eye look or too much with the hair 😔 and his vanity (because he does have it) isn’t an appealing trait either. His career is a big deterrent as well; I nope away from celebrities of all kinds because being one inherently puts the spotlight on him (and I have a strong preference for characters that work “in the shadows”, so to speak, over ones that have eyes on them at all times).

I also just disagree with some of his teaching; I get that Vil has good intentions, but I feel that, at times, he goes too far with his methods and imposes unrealistic expectations onto others. This is excused by TWST as “Vil is a celebrity, so he holds others to high standards as well”, but I feel that Vil needs to step back, take his own advice to take “context” into consideration, and think about others’ limitations and how to adapt to them instead of continuously pushing his own views with little regard for those limitations. In chapter 5, I totally get that he was blinded by envy and personal ambitions, but Vil overall is less like a character I’d enjoy and more like a tiger parent I’d want to keep away from.

🏹 Rook 🏹

Rook’s a joy for me to write (I love his positive attitude!), but I’ll be the first to admit that he isn’t easy. He often speaks in long, (unnecessarily) flowery sentences, which makes it a nightmare to arrange in a manner that makes sense but also reads well. You don’t want to throw in too many words or else it seems redundant or confuses the reader, but you don’t want to throw in too few because it wouldn’t be close enough to Rook’s poetic prose.

The occasional French phrases that he sprinkles in also trip me up 💦 I don’t know how to add those funky accent marks on letters, so I need to open a new tab and go out of my way to search for them... Sometimes I can’t quite remember certain nicknames or exclamations that Rook says, so I need to have 1-2 separate tabs open to cross reference the appropriate resources. When I’ve actually written all his dialogue out, then I go back and double check to make sure everything flows well and that the French is correct.

A unique challenge that comes with writing Rook is describing things from his perspective. Every scene is a work of art, and every possible negative thing is somehow spun to be positive. I have to sit there in my chair and have a good, long think sometimes before I can properly pour all my energy into a pure sensory overload of a description, or to find something good to say about something bad 😂 I feel like I’m never fully doing Rook justice, but I try my best with what I’ve got....!

Anyway~ It should be pretty clear from the multitude of thirst posts that Rook is my favorite from Pomefiore! I just like reading his superfluous way of speaking and how it weirds out everyone around him, but that he’s also very sharp-witted and observant if you look past that silly exterior. You don’t think he would backstab you until it’s way too late, so you definitely don’t want him as an enemy (like damn, this man can determine a LOT of your personal details just from looking at you; he’s TWST’s Sherlock Holmes) 😳 But when he’s on your side, he can be your greatest cheerleader. Rook’s just the kind of friend supporting me!

It’s also very admirable that Rook can stay so positive and see the beauty in even the worse of things and situations; that kind of optimism is such a rarity that it’s refreshing to me. No one could write a whole ass poem dedicated to how wonderful Crowley is BUT Rook. No one would long for the taste of poison and coo about how beautifully deadly an OB is BUT Rook. Admittedly, I sometimes experience intense second hand embarrassment at the cornier things Rook says 😂 He is cringe, but at least he is free............................

🍎 Epel 🍎

Epel is, hands down, my least favorite of the Pomefiore trio (this goes for both writing and for personal appeal). Compared to the other characters, Epel has a pretty passive and indistinctive way of talking in most of his dialogue. This frustrates me because when I read back what I’ve written for him, I constantly worry that he sounds too generic or that it’s difficult to distinguish his voice from the other characters’ voices. I have to contain my efforts to make it “be more Epel-y”, because otherwise every other sentence would be about apples, and “apples” is most certainly not his entire personality.

When his accent comes out, the situation somehow gets worse 😔 It’s very difficult to “translate” Epel’s dialect into English, but I usually default to the what can be considered a “southern drawl” in the United States (which I can’t write very well). This leads me to smashing together letters to make close approximations of other words or straight up using country-isms to replace more commonly spoken phrases. It tends to result in a big, confusing mess that reads very clunkily and hurts my eyes to look at 😷

The timing of when his accent comes out also confuses me. During chapter 5, it seems that the accent makes itself known only when Epel is angry or loses composure, but we’ve seen in a lot of recent vignettes that he can also casually switch between the two as long as Vil’s not around. I had to switch my writing up to adapt to the new lore. Writing Epel’s “accent” dialogue offends me—

I’ve often seen people describe Pomefiore as a “found family” dynamic, in which Vil and Rook are the parents and Epel is their rebellious child. Honestly, I’ve found that that’s my preferred way to digest Epel content (or really, any Epel interaction with other characters works) because I find him way too boring on his own. Sure, he’s cute with his looks and his shyness (when he’s putting on an act), but cuteness alone doesn’t endear me to a character and his politeness feels generic. Meanwhile, Epel’s wild child side comes off as very... one-note to me? It’s usually played for laughs (like “no one can understand him”) and he quickly goes back to his “polite” way of speaking right after, so it feels like a gimmick despite being told it’s an integral part of his identity. I only really felt that was true when we finally got to visit Harveston and learn more about its culture, but I feel that we shouldn’t need a whole event to significantly expand a character; Epel should be able to stand on his own as someone interesting, and he just... doesn’t to me.

It definitely doesn’t help that his character arc in chapter 5 seemed kind of rushed. I get that they were trying to show us Epel’s views on gender roles were regressive and how he changed for the better, but I really don’t think he should have made a 180 as quickly as he did; it paints an unrealistic view of how fast we should expect people to change their toxic opinions in the real world. Chapter 5 could have had Epel beginning to open his heart to change, not completely changing in the span of like a month.

[eruden-writes]

Room & Board - Part 10 (Vampire x Reader)

Anon submitted this prompt: For the prompt submissions a vampire that feels guilty after feeding/attacking someone so they leave obscenely valuable ancient artifacts as payment/an apology?

Part 1 | Previous | Masterlist | Next

x x x x x

Comments, tags, and reblogs are real motivators for me, too! (●ˇ∀ˇ●)

Also, my inbox is always open for asks, so don’t be shy!

x x x x x

A sudden surge pulses through the air between the two as their eyes meet. It's like unseen forces, snapping jaws at each other. In that moment, you are painfully aware of how they dwarf you in height, though Tabaeus is certainly taller than Ewan.

Ewan's nostrils flares, his eyes narrowing as his head cocks to the side at Tabaeus. The smile on his lips loses its friendliness and you can't help but think of it like a snarl. "Yeah. We used to work together at the mall."

"How intriguing," Tabaeus purrs as they raise their eyebrows. Their hands twitch on yours. Something is not being said between the two and you're not entirely sure it has anything to do with you. A masked sort of haughtiness mingles with jest as Tabaeus nods to Ewan's work shirt. "From the mall to the streets? Some would consider that a step down."

"I work in a lot of places," Ewan retorts, his eyebrows lowering as the slightest bite of embarrassment flushes their cheeks. Your former colleague angles their attention back to you, though they seem to have a hard time not glaring at Tabaeus's arms locking you in place. "Who's this guy?"

With a sigh, you nod to the vampire, "This is Tabaeus, my roommate. They/them."

"And he/him," they added, with a pointed tone to Ewan. You think they give your hands another squeeze, but you're not entirely certain it was a conscious movement.

"And he/him," you correct yourself. Craning your neck to look up at Tabaeus, you try to catch their eyes with your own meaningful look. However, the vampire's attention is squarely on your former colleague. "This is Ewan, he/him."

"Pleasure." The word comes out more like a hiss as Tabaeus flashes a smile at Ewan. You want to groan, seeing that the vampire's fangs are on full display.

Thankfully, Ewan doesn't seem put off as he mimics Tabaeus's polite toothy grimace with one of his own. Part of you wonders if his canines have always been so angular and sharp. "Likewise."

The pressure in the air weighs heavier than it did before. A need to do something to alleviate the tension shoots through you, instinct telling you something bad will happen if you don't.

"I won't keep you, Ewan." Behind you, Tabaeus relaxes, until you add with a softer tone, "We can text or chat online later, okay?"

Tabaeus completely forgotten, Ewan's attention turns fully to you. The friendliness returns to his smile, his posture easing. "Sure. Your number on your receipt?"

You mirror his smile and give a nod, even as you feel a strange coldness wrap around Tabaeus. Their stillness has a strange air to it, but you try to ignore it. "Yeah, feel free to snag it there and shoot me a text."

"Cool, cool." Ewan glances at the copy of the receipt he has in hand, as if already dedicating your number to memory in his head. Your stomach swirls as he looks back up at you, offering you that warm smile - not even glancing at Tabaeus - before he turns to go. "Well, have a good night."

Awkwardly, you and Tabaeus watch Ewan trod down the walk to his car, though you get the distinct impressions you watch the delivery man for different reasons. Once Ewan turns his car on, Tabaeus yoinks the food from your grasp and heads inside.

You spin around, glaring at the vampire's back after you shut and lock the door. They don't seem to notice. "What was that about?"

"Hm? What do you mean?" Tabaeus doesn't even turn to face you as they head into the kitchen.

"That tension!" Undeterred, you follow the vampire, your feet moving fast as if Tabaeus would run away. Something inside you cringes, hearing your heavy footfalls as angry stomps. "It was like being between two large animals that were ready to tear each other apart."

"Ah," is all they say as they line the boxes on the counter. One-by-one, Tabaeus opens the boxes to examine the pizzas and breadsticks and brownie lava cake, before poking into a plastic bag that holds your sodas. They're refusing to meet your eye.

"Ah? Ah?" You mimic their answer, crossing your arms over your chest. Still, Tabaeus refuses to look at you. "That's all you have to say?"

"Well, your assessment is not wrong."

That answer momentarily knocks the air from your lungs. Your determination of the situation - being stuck between Tabaeus and Ewan - being akin to being surrounded by two large beasts is not wrong? What the hell did that mean?

Your brain sputters answers, but you don't want to look too long at them. Part of you is afraid what might be correct.

"Why is my assessment not wrong?" The question comes off more like a demand as you watch Tabaeus glide around the kitchen, accumulating plates and utensils. With a steadfast air, they ignore your question.

As you continue to watch them, a dread swells in your stomach. They only smile as they hand you a plate, heaped with pizza and breadsticks. With wide angry eyes, you stare up at them and your voice quivers at the edges, "Tabaeus, why is my assessment not wrong?"

They do not answer. Instead, they turn to put a slice of pizza and a breadstick on their own plate.

You do not like how they're ignoring you. Without thinking, you noisily drop your plate to the counter, where it clatters and threatens to spill. The noise startles the vampire, who turns to you with wide eyes.

"Tabaeus, you tell me what is going on right now!" At your sides, your hands fist into tight balls. You try to ignore the waver to your voice, overcome with the sudden thought that something is going on that you're ignorant of.

Was Tabaeus keeping a secret, knowing it would give away potential lies they'd told? Did they know Ewan, personally? Was this some worldwide conspiracy to keep creatures of the night a secret from humanity?

The growing itch in your thoughts that had begun in the sewer morphed into a clawing sensation, razing in your synapses. What was Tabaeus hiding?

Your mind spun with questions and theories and worries. The revolving thoughts churned harder, making your stomach hurt, the longer it took Tabaeus to answer.

"I do not know," Tabaeus started, quietly and carefully. Their eyes turned toward your plate, their brows knitted with frustration. Carefully, they lower their own plate to the counter, perhaps to keep from throwing it down themselves. "All I know is that thing is... is..."

No more words come, even after you give them a few breaths to sort through whatever thoughts mill about their head. With a frown, you bite out, "Ewan is what?"

"Dangerous and vile, but simultaneously arrogant and harmless. Capable of rending humans in twain, but weak compared to a vampire." The words rush out of Tabaeus's mouth, rage and anger mangling their tone into something ragged. All the while, they shake their head, as if not entirely certain of their own words, a hint of confusion hiding under the venom. "A mangy creature that believes it owns the night when it emphatically does not."

Savagely, Tabaeus spits out as their snarl deepens, "It does not own anything but fleas."

Quiet falls in the empty space between you both as Tabaeus still refuses to meet your gaze. Their shoulders hunch with tension and a frown carves deep across their lips. A glow pulses in their red eyes, their fangs noticeably growing and overlapping their lower lip.

"That doesn't sound like you don't know what Ewan is," you say carefully, your own brows furrowed. You can't put your finger on it, but something seems off with Tabaeus. At once, worry and uncertainty tumble through your thoughts.

Tabaeus shifts on their feet, casting their eyes to the other side of the kitchen but not toward you. "I do not. I just know how he makes me feel."

You narrow your eyes, a suspicion hedging into your forethoughts. "Are werewolves a thing?"

The word makes Tabaeus stiffen, their eyes widening. A considering look crosses their features, their fingers going to their chin in thought. "That feels correct."

"Are you saying Ewan is a werewolf?"

"Yes," Tabaeus announces after another moment of silent thought. They finally turn their eyes to you, a renewed sense of affirmation in their tone as their hands clench. "Ewan is a smelly, stinking, mangy lycanthrope. And you offered him a place in our home!"

It takes a lot of self-discipline to keep from snapping back at Tabaeus. The house was not an 'ours' situation. It was yours. This was their payment for you agreeing to be a feeding bag. The bite of your nails in your palms distracts from the instant irritation.

You take a deep breath, trying to think through the issue at hand.

If lore or media was to be believed, there was active hostility between vampires and werewolves. It also sounded as if Tabaeus was being territorial. Either about the house or about the night, as a whole. Their actions didn't make sense to you. Not after the time you had spent with the vampire.

They were sweet and kind, perhaps a little naive. Definitely prone to temptation, when it came to blood. This bristling, hate-filled rage felt anomalous to what you were used to.

From an animalistic point of view, however, it did make sense. Holding possession over certain territories and resources was an instinct. Of course, it was perhaps harder for vampires to retain control of such things rather than werewolves. The latter didn't have to drink blood or only travel at night.

If what Tabaeus said about Ewan was true, you had been none-the-wiser to the canid monster as well!

"I didn't know he was a werewolf," you say once you feel the words will come out levelly. There's still a heat to your reply and you return Tabaeus's glare with one of your own. Your lips screw up into a frown, trying to equate what you know of Ewan to a werewolf. In a way, you suppose he could be.

The man was loyal and playful, like a dog, but he could get fierce when needed. There had been plenty of times he'd stepped in when a customer flirted in unwanted ways or when a seriously aggro customer was throwing a fit. Hell, you had seen him literally vault over the Lemon Jollies's counter once and run down a mall patron that was attempting to take off with someone else's toddler!

And it was hard to hang out with him, after hours. He always claimed he had another job to scurry off to, but what if he was hiding his own nature?

Shaking the memories from your head, you heave a sigh. "Even if I did know that, he's a decent person! He has, like, zero red flags, which is pretty rare."

Those words caused Tabaeus to still. In a dangerous way. You eye them, cocking an eyebrow, just before he quietly asks, "And how many red flags do I have?"

At that, you press your lips tightly together.

"How many red flags do I have?" Tabaeus repeats, their fists clenching tightly at their sides.

"It's hard for me to say, for sure." Which is true. It's hard to gauge Tabaeus, especially when his personality has changed and shifted so many times. Before tonight, you chalked it up to them healing from whatever happened to them. With this new snag, you're not sure. They talked about werewolves in a fashion that feels too un-Tabaeus to you. But, you barely knew them, didn't you?

As you internally fret over that, you try to answer the vampire's question. You can't help gesturing with your hands as you speak, the stress of everything making it hard to contain yourself. "You don't have solid memories, but you say things that worry me. Sometimes, I wonder if this is all just a big trick. That you do know who you are and you still have memories."

Instead of instant anger and rage, as you brace yourself for, a stricken look crosses Tabaeus's features. They take a step toward you and, to your credit, you stand your ground. "I swear to you, amata, my memories are not whole. I am not tricking you."

There was an urgent desperation in Tabaeus's words as they touched their own chest, their palm splayed wide. The look in their eyes is so full of emotions - so earnest and pained and hopeful - you can't hold their gaze. You recall the scars on their torso and chest, your stomach lurching as you remember the ones that bore a resemblance to autopsy cuts.

"All I know for certain is you drink blood and are capable of hypnotizing people if you wanted to." The words slip past softly your lips, your eyes shifting to a dark corner of the kitchen. There is so much you don't know about Tabaeus, so much they don't know about themselves. Their request to have you lay out their red flags feels so unfair.

"That is all you are certain of when it comes to me?" Tabaeus is looking for a certain answer. Hoping for a certain answer. A quick flash of memory, of the tangled mess on the floor the two of you were before the pizza arrived, sends a painful heat across your cheeks. Embarrassed, excited, mortified.

"Yes, mostly." Pain throbs through your temple and you feel the need to retreat and gather up your wits. Grabbing your plate, you turn on your heel and head toward your office. "Look, I'm hungry and you just unloaded some things I need to think about, okay?"

Leaving Tabaeus in the kitchen, not even waiting for their response, you retreat to your office.

There, you put your headphones on and put on a mindless show as you eat, hoping for a few moments of reprieve from a sudden whirlwind of emotion and information. You barely taste the pizza as your mind gnaws on other things.

What would have happened if the kiss had continued? If there had been no food delivery to interrupt it? Your thoughts spill over with imagined scenarios, making your anger-flushed cheeks burn with other emotions.

Of course, it had been interrupted. By Ewan.

Who was possibly a werewolf...

The animosity between werewolves and vampires ran deep. To the point Tabaeus seethed and said things that seemed fairly out-of-character for them. Their words were so atypical, you find your brain reminding you of the anti-vampire box. And of the journal you have yet to thumb through, which may give you insight into Tabaeus.

Tomorrow, you decide, as you chew at a pizza crust. You'll look at it tomorrow, mid-day, when Tabaeus rests.

As you eat, you catch the sound of Tabaeus's footfalls as they head downstairs, to their own barely furnished room with its large refrigerator box acting as a coffin. The two of you were planning to go to a thrift store soon, in hopes of making the area feel more lived in. You're not sure when that will happen now.

You ignore the urge to follow after them, to apologize, to reassure them, to continue the conversation. How can you reassure them when you have, once again, had your own reality turned upside down?

You are going to finish your food, you decide, then head upstairs to bed. Perhaps a solid floor between you and your vampire friend will do the both of you some good.

It will give you the space you need, as you navigate new revelations.

[littlespoonevan]

Buddie with k?

Anonymous asked: If you're still taking prompts, how about Catastrophize by Noah Kahan or Welly Boots by The Amazing Devil?

I decided to combine the two of these because K. On the edge of consciousness + the lyrics "While we sit and wait for time // To change our luck // And open up those blinds // Oh, don't you know // Don't you know that you're the last thing on my mind" and the 5x16 spoilers had me thinking Thoughts 👀

spoilers/speculation for the Event in s5 but also my ability to predict things began and ended with the blackout lmao

-

When the fire starts in the dispatch centre Eddie gets the distinct impression that the universe is mocking him.

Or at the very least, laughing at him.

Even so, after the first five seconds of panic he can feel himself slipping back into the old version of himself – calm, controlled, competent. Even his uniform suddenly feels like it fits him better.

Old habits and years of training have him out of his seat, directing everyone on his floor towards the back exit away from the smoke – they’re all first responders, they all know the protocol, but it’s different reciting it over the phone versus being the one in the situation yourself.

One of the women on his floor – the retired captain of the 132 – is on her radio, no doubt contacting the nearest station and she gives Eddie a nod as he jogs past her.

There are a few of them in this particular dispatch centre that used to be firefighters – some who retired early, others who had to tap out because of an injury – but he’s the one with the most up to date training.

So he does what he’d do if he was wearing turnouts right now instead of his uniform shirt – he pulls the fire extinguisher off the wall and searches the floor to get people out before moving onto the next floor to do the same.

It only takes a few minutes before he’s bumping into the 118 and there’s an oddly sour feeling in his gut when Hen grips his arm and tells him to head outside. “We’ve got it from here,” she assures him and he gets it. He’s been in here inhaling smoke for however long with nothing more than the dampened collar of his shirt to cover his mouth and nose, he’s not in turnouts, and he’s pretty sure the place has been more or less evacuated now anyway.

He doesn’t like it though. And he gets the vague feeling that this is how Buck must’ve felt back before he’d filed the lawsuit. But Eddie was the one who chose to quit; he doesn’t have the right to complain now.

The minute he steps out through the exit one of the 133’s paramedics is bustling him towards the back of an ambulance to get checked out. He sits through the examination, takes a few puffs of an oxygen mask, and is thankfully dismissed before he has to start getting pissy. He finds Bobby out in front of the 118’s ladder truck, surveying the building and periodically checking in on the teams through his radio.

“Hey Cap,” he greets hoarsely.

Bobby tears his eyes away from the building, startling before he grabs hold of Eddie’s shoulder. “Hey. Are you okay? Have you been checked out-?”

“I’m all good,” he assures him. “Know what the cause is yet?”

Bobby shakes his head, concern etched into the line of his mouth. It’s never good when they don’t know what kind of fire they’re up against.

“Second floor’s all clear, Cap,” Chimney’s voice comes through the radio.

Bobby clicks on his radio, “Okay just-“

His words are cut off by an explosion that rocks the western side of the building, black plumes of smoke billowing into the sky. Eddie flinches back, shielding his eyes, and Bobby has barely regained his footing when he’s dragging his radio up to his mouth again. “Captain Nash to 118, calling for immediate evacuation. Building is compromised – get out now.”

Eddie stands beside him, paralysed, hands balled into fists as he keeps his eyes trained on the doorway that’s somehow still intact.

He listens to the chorus of ‘Copy’s and tries not to panic when he doesn’t hear Buck’s voice among them.

Slowly but surely, firefighters begin pouring out of the building and Eddie studies them all but none of them are his- none of them are Buck.

It’s when Hen and Chimney reach them that he loses the last shred of his patience. “Where’s Buck?” he demands and he doesn’t know if the tremor in his voice is frustration or terror or both.

Hen looks confused, wiping at her brow with the sleeve of her turnout and craning her neck to look behind them. “I don’t know; I think he was on the third floor.”

My floor, Eddie thinks, dread settling in his stomach. “He was looking for me,” he says, mostly to himself until he notices the grim look shared between Hen and Chimney. “He was- I have to go in there.”

He’s hardly taken a step when Bobby’s strong grip is pushing him back. “Eddie, you can’t. You’re not wearing proper gear and the building isn’t secure.”

“I don’t care, he was- Bobby, it’s Buck.”

Bobby’s expression tightens. “I know.” He sighs, looking from Hen to Chimney then back to Eddie. “Just- wait a second.” Then, releasing Eddie’s shoulder he reaches for his radio. “Firefighter Buckley, do you copy?”

Silence.

“Firefighter Buckley, this is your captain speaking. Do you copy?”

Eddie shakes his head. He doesn’t have time for this. Without giving Bobby a chance to grab hold of him again, he makes for the truck, grabbing the first turnout coat and helmet he can find.

He’ll get Buck back himself.

-

It’s almost impossible to see through the smoke once Eddie’s back inside. Only his knowledge of working at dispatch these past couple of months has him moving as quickly as he is.

When he reaches the third floor he calls out for Buck, pushing his way through falling debris.

The heat of the fire, the weight of the oxygen tank Hen had wordlessly offered him – it’s almost too familiar. It still feels wrong though without Buck by his side.

Finally, after what feels like far too long, he catches sight of something near what he’s pretty sure are the remains of his desk.

“Buck!” he shouts, weaving his way through the room and avoiding the flames as best he can. “Buck!”

Buck is on the floor, mask cracked and helmet askew but undoubtedly alive.

“Buck!” he calls again, dropping to his knees and jostling Buck’s shoulders in an attempt to rouse him. “Hey, can you hear me?”

There’s nothing for a beat and then Buck lets out a low groan, brow furrowing as he slowly squints his eyes open. “Eddie?” he slurs.

“Yeah,” Eddie replies, letting out a harsh breath. “What the hell were you doing up here on your own?”

Buck coughs, offering him a barely visible smile through the mask. “Was lookin’ f’r my partner,” he mumbles and Eddie’s heart squeezes painfully in his chest.

“So was I,” he says, letting out a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob. “Come on. Let’s get you out of here. Can you move?”

Buck frowns as he does a quick self-assessment, nodding uncertainly after a moment. And Eddie wants to be careful but he’s not sure how much time they have left so he puts his hands under Buck’s arms and attempts to haul him upright. Buck helps as best he can, gripping Eddie’s hands tightly and using them to push himself into a standing position.

Eddie allows himself half a heartbeat to stare at him, to confirm to himself Buck really is okay, and then he’s slinging Buck’s arm over his shoulder and wrapping his own securely around Buck’s waist.

It’s time to go.

-

Chimney and Hen are waiting at the door when they make it out, a stretcher already lined up to ease Buck onto. Eddie rushes along behind them, shucking off his mask and oxygen tank. He almost doesn’t stop to thank the firefighter who takes it from him until he realises it’s Bobby.

“Look, you can yell at me later-“

“I’m not going to yell,” Bobby interrupts and he looks tired – the lines around his eyes are more pronounced like they tend to get when he’s worried. But he’s almost smiling beneath it all. “So long as there’s a message on my answering machine when I get back to the station telling me you want to be reinstated.”

Eddie huffs out a laugh, surprised that the words don’t elicit the kind of panic in him they would’ve a few weeks ago. “I’ve gotta get to the hospital first,” he says, nodding to where Hen and Chimney are loading Buck into the back of their ambulance. “But after that- maybe we could talk?”

Bobby gives him a knowing smile, clapping him on the shoulder. “Take care of him for me.”

Eddie nods, only lingering long enough to say, “Thanks, Cap,” before he’s hurrying after Hen and Chim.

“He was asking for you,” Chim says as soon as he climbs into the back of the ambulance.

Eddie reaches for Buck, taking his hand between both of his own and squeezing gently. “Hey, hotshot. You still with me?”

“Eddie?” Buck breathes, tugging at his oxygen mask with his free hand. “Thought I hallucinated you.”

Eddie grins, even as tears prick at the corner of his eyes. “As if I’d let anyone else save you but me.”

Buck’s smile is wide and blinding, and only wobbles when it’s cut off with a cough. “Thanks,” he hums, eyes heavy-lidded. “Missed you, y’know?”

“Missed you too,” he replies, the words half-muffled where he presses his mouth against their joined hands.

“As sweet as this is, you need to keep this on,” Chimney cuts in, firmly placing the oxygen mask back down over Buck’s nose and mouth.

Buck rolls his eyes but when he looks back to Eddie there’s nothing but affection. “Stay?” he requests. It’s garbled through the mask but Eddie understands it anyway.

“Yeah,” he says. “I’m staying.”

~

[owo-shenanigans]

Can I request a genshin yandere scenario with Jean, Amber, and Eula with a reader who escaped and doesn't find them until a while later (5-6 months maybe) and how would they react to finding them again? and with a neutral reader to

Babes all my readers are gender ambiguous, dw. Anyway LOVE this prompt ty. I stayed up so late trying to finish this oh my god

Yandere Jean, Amber and Eula tracking down an escaped reader

(CWs ; kidnapping, re-abduction, mentions of chloroform in Eula, general yandere stuff y'all know)

Jean

She hadn’t noticed that you’d left until Barbara tentatively asked if you and she had had a fight.

Jean is too busy to even go home, some nights, and you’d planned your escape right when the citizens of Mondstat would be asking for the most help.

When she learned that you were missing, she tore up your rooms looking for anything, any clue that could tell her where you went.

And she finds it. A flier for a ship to Inazuma, asking for deckhands, no questions asked. She doesn’t know how you got it- you weren’t allowed to leave the house without her, let alone roam the city.

Even as the Acting Grand Master, she can’t put everyone at work to find you, if only because that would cause some awkward questions.

But she can do some work that benefits the city and herself. It’s the right of those who lead, is it not?

Six months later, Jean has worked through dozens of pages of legal paperwork to set up a brand new trade route between Mondstat and Inazuma. Quite impressive, considering Inazuma had shut itself off from every other country 9 months before.

And of course, a meeting between the Acting Grand Master and the Raiden Shogun to celebrate would not be amiss.

It’s only a matter of pure luck that she finds you so fast- if you have such a distinctive signature dessert, perhaps working directly under the Raiden Shogun wasn’t the brightest idea. Or perhaps you thought that said God would provide you safety.

It didn't, of course. Nothing short of death could tear you from her grasp. She would have manufactured reasons to stay in Inazuma for months to find you.

You’re going back to Mondstat with her. No matter what you think.

Amber

I see Amber as being extremely delusional. She never thought she pressured you into dating and then moving in- her, shall we say, selective memory, only remembers your agreement, not the days she spent guilt tripping you into saying yes.

So when Eula tells her that she spotted you in Qingce village, she’s ecstatic. You must have been so scared, being so far from home! You’ve been so lost, and all the awful villagers wouldn’t help you get home!

She wouldn’t do anything to the villagers, of course- while they’re jerks for not helping you, she’s an outrider- she takes care of everyone, even for people who might not deserve it.

Even if you flat out tell her that you want to break up with you, she’ll assume you’re feeling sick. You two are destined to be together- you’re soulmates! She’ll fix you some of her special soup and you’ll be right as rain in no time!

Once you’re back in Mondstat where you belong (with her!), she’ll tell everyone that you’ve been feeling off and if you’re too close to the city limits to please stop you. Considering Amber is such a helpful person to most people, they’re glad to help her out, especially if it’s because you have an illness affecting your reasoning skills so badly.

Eula

She didn’t believe that she deserved you, but she also knew that the rest of the world didn’t deserve you either. You were an angel. You were a breath of pure white snow in a world of dark sin. She had to keep you safe.

So when you managed to escape from her safehouse for you, she was in hysterics. You could die out there, you could be hurt, other people might use you for their own nefarious schemes-

So when Amber tells her about a letter from the traveller describing their new friend that shares many similarities with you, Eula goes to Jean and requests three months of vacation. She goes home, packs, and makes her way to Fontaine, where the letter was from.

And there she puts her tracking skills to use. While her job description doesn’t say so, she gets a lot of tracking work in on the job. So in a city with so many people but so few that look like you, finding out what hovel you’ve managed to make a home in is a matter of a short week.

She embraces you the moment she sees you, telling you how worried she was and how dangerous it is for you out here.

If your reaction is… Less than positive, she was prepared for that. She’s always prepared. Chloroform is a nasty thing, but a little nap is much safer for you than a struggle.

Don’t worry- she’ll pack up everything you had in your little hideaway and bring it with her when she takes you home. She doesn’t want you unhappy- but she can’t stand you being unsafe.

[heartensoul]

[Ficlet] I Need Help, [KakaSaku, T]

Summary: Kakashi enlists Sakura's help in solving a mystery.

Prompts: I need help + those NSFW figurines of Kakashi that have been floating around Twitter.

------

There was something strange going on in the village, and Kakashi deduced it had to do with him. The office had been blissfully quiet all morning, the usual traffic from his staff nowhere to be found. At first it had been a welcome relief; however, by the time he went out for some lunch, it became an annoyance. He had never seen so many people scurry away from him, and those that didn’t outright flee avoided his gaze. A few women turned an interesting shade of red that left him perplexed and checking to see if he had an unfortunate rip in his clothes.

The answer to what was up was alluding him. That is, until the afternoon rolled around.

He was back in his office, ability to work diminished even more than usual with this mystery at hand, when the distinctive shout of one of his former students rang out from outside of his office. Intrigued, he abandoned the piles of work surrounding him and peered out into the corridor where he could get a better sense for what was happening.

“You are all supposed to be professionals,” Sakura was yelling at someone, and the pitch of her voice spoke of a woman on the edge of violence.

Kakashi didn’t want to be short-staffed the rest of the week, so he took the chance to go and intervene. Hopefully whatever had Sakura angry didn’t have to do with him.

He strolled down the hallway and toward the row of offices and cubicles where the rest of the Tower staff did their work, and he could see Sakura’s back toward him, her hands on her hips as she stood berating a small group of his staff.

“It’s a personal matter. You should be ashamed of yourselves!” She carried on, oblivious to his arrival. The rest of the group had the benefit of seeing his approach, and their eyes shifted from her to him. They seemed to believe his arrival would save them, because they hurried away from Sakura’s wrath and back to their own spaces.

Kakashi cleared his throat.

“If one more person asks me about—“ Sakura began to threaten, her finger poised to point at her next victim. However, when she saw him standing there, her hand dropped and a blush bloomed across her face.

Kakashi tilted his head; that was a new response. “Asks you about what, Sakura-chan?”

The blush along her cheeks rose to the roots of her hair and her mouth opened, then closed, then opened again.

“Um, I need to—“ Her gaze shifted away from him and around the room, and Kakashi frowned, quite tired of that response from everyone. He was determined to get to the bottom of whatever this was, and Sakura was going to be the one to help him.

“I’m glad you’re here, Sakura. I need your help with an important matter.” He smiled innocently at her. “Please come into my office.”

And then he turned around and began to walk back toward the Hokage office, sure that Sakura wouldn’t disobey and would be right behind him. And sure enough, when he turned around and leaned against the edge of his desk, she had closed the door and was waiting patiently for him to begin.

Except she was also fidgeting in discomfort and looking at the floor, allowing strands of her hair to cover her reddening face.

“What’s going on?” He asked, crossing his arms across his chest. “Today everyone I encounter either avoids me completely or does their best impression of a tomato. Including you.”

“Kakashi-sensei,” Sakura squeaked, “I think you may want to ask—“

“I’m asking you,” he interrupted. “Please, Sakura. We’re—“ he paused; “friends” didn’t encompass their bond, especially after the war, and teammates didn’t fit anymore either. “I trust you to tell me if something’s wrong,” he settled on.

He must have said the right thing, because Sakura sighed in resignation. He waited while she stood in silence a bit longer, shifting her weight from one foot to the other and still looking about the room.

“There’s a website that puts out figurines of popular and famous shinobi. They posted some pictures of your figurine last night,” she finally told him.

He tried his best to school his expression: was that what all this fuss was about?

“Did it turn out badly?” He asked, already moving around to the other side of his desk to open his computer. He didn’t like when the merchandise made with his likeness, but he understood it came with the job. He had found a few figurines of his pack in the past, but this was the first time he heard of a figure of him.

“Not exactly,” he heard Sakura murmur, but his focus was on his screen by then. He did a search of his name and figurine, and it came up immediately. He sat back in his chair in disbelief.

Well.

He cleared his throat, managing to take his eyes off of the picture of his likeness, very naked, chained, and kneeling in front of—was that a dog bowl?—with dogs flanking him on either side.

“I see,” he managed, his concern shifting to Sakura. He wondered how embarrassed she was about the whole thing. “You’ve been asked about this because we were teammates?”

“Because I’m your medic,” she corrected, and she finally lifted her face and peeked up at him. The redness in her face was beginning to subside, though the cute dusting along her cheeks remained. He wondered if he had matching coloring along the top of his mask.

“Well, you can tell everyone this is inaccurate,” he assured her. Concern seemed to bloom across her face and she almost looked as though she was going to protest. He smiled, hoping to ease some of the awkwardness. “I don’t have that breed of dog in my pack.”

Her surprised laughter rang throughout the room and settled in his chest, and then they shared a smile. It seemed no damage had been done.

But suddenly, a thought came to his mind.

“Did someone show this to you, or did you look it up yourself?” He asked, leaning forward in his chair to scrutinize her overly-innocent expression.

“I really need to go,” she hedged, and spun around to face the door. “I have a surgery. Bye, Kakashi-sensei!”

And with a wave and a quick exit, Sakura was gone.

-----

Bonus:

A few days later, Kakashi received a note with Sakura's flowing handwriting:

"My records show you're overdue for your physical. - 🌸"

Kakashi grinned, then tucked the note in his vest pocket.

[space-blue]

Kenobi Episode VI fix-it concept

Exact same characters and plot beats, a few tweaks and massive changes to editing and timeline... A more structured attempt at the final episode of Kenobi.

----

The episode opens with the Star Destroyer chasing the rebels' ship.

Aboard, Obi-Wan has a serious conversation with Roken and Haja about what he's offering to do, and asking in return. Leia interrupts them and catches on to his plans and gets upset. Obi-Wan doesn't have to justify himself (to a ship full of people who know him to be their only real fighter), but people do look askance as Leia runs off across the ship. The mood is heavy.

Obi-Wan goes to prepare and set up the small ship, and Haja talks Leia into thinking better of her pouting. Obi-Wan seeks her out, offers the blaster holster. Leia can sneak Lola or she can outright offer it to him. I like that option, because in canon Obi-Wan smiles at Lola and then flat out ignores her and puts her up like a dash decoration. We know he doesn't care for droids, so him seeing Leia's gesture, accepting Lola, and making the promise to do his best to return her, would also be a way to show how willing he is to pacify Leia.

When Obi-Wan talks to QGJ, it is to ask for guidance, and apologizes for what he's about to attempt, and nothing more.

Obi-Wan comes out flying, and Vader prompts his captain to follow him. The grand Inquisitor makes a fuss, demands they stay focused on the rebel ship. This has given Obi-Wan time to get close to them, instead of away.

An officer shouts out a warning as Obi-Wan fires on the Star Destroyer. We see a shot reminiscent of the opening to ROTS, with Obi-Wan demonstrating some incredible flying, weaving around the laser fire.

For comedic relief we can have an officer behind Vader be like "Damn" (impressed) and his neighbour (who has clearly seen colleagues die fore less before) be like (❍ᴥ❍ʋ)

Meanwhile in Obi-Wan's cockpit, Lola is having a very stressful experience, shrieking as she tumbles to and fro until Obi-Wan snatches her out of the air and slaps her firmly on the dash. She could spew a stream of binary obscenities, leading Obi-Wan to frown and ask is she talks around Leia that way. (although that's borderline too funny for this show lol)

The Grand Middle Manager wants to send TIEs after him, but Vader counters that he's going out in his own ship. In the background, the rebels go into hyperspace. Dead silence on the bridge as Vader stalks out and the GI stares balefully into empty space.

Vader gives chase to Obi-Wan, who has enough advance to avoid a full on dog fight, and manages to land on the planet. He gets there a mere couple minutes before Vader, and their ships are parked next to each other.

They face off on [whatever world that was supposed to be].

Instead of throwing rocks at each other, there's a lot of Force play. Them pulling and pushing each others limbs, focusing on the Force more than usual. After distracting him with a rock, Vader manages to grab Obi-Wan in a Force-choke hold. He marches up to him, determined to impale him on his saber, nose to nose.

This is personal. It has to hurt. You have the distinctive fear that Vader will start with chopping off limbs, actually. He raises his blade to strike.

He's so focused on his revenge, he has not been paying attention to Obi-Wan's hands, which are empty. His saber is on the ground. With Vader close, Obi-Wan flicks a finger and his saber ignites and flies up, slashing across Vader's chest-plate and helmet.

He lets go of Obi-Wan, choking, falling with both hands to the floor.

They talk then. The conversation is the same, except Obi-Wan is so emotional and wrapped into the horror of Anakin's blood curdling rage, that he doesn't react in time when Vader shatters the ground under him.

Vader is shaking and screaming as he throws more rocks into the open pit.

When it's done he stumbles back, clearly too breathless for pithy remarks. He hurries off to his ship with a halting step. It's clear this is a strategical retreat, no matter if Obi-Wan is still alive under the rocks.

Cut to Obi-Wan, chilling. He's not particularly strained, but alert. Maybe he can murmur something to QGJ again, head falling back, looking dismayed... A whimpery little "I'm sorry, I don't think I can..." It's clear he's biding his time, waiting for Vader to fuck off before crawling out.

A sudden vision wracks him. Owen is screaming for Beru, Beru screaming for Luke, and Luke running in the dark, panting hard, a shadow darker than night itself chasing him with the same halting step as Vader's. With the cape and the haircut, in this darkness, Reva is indistinguishable from him.

Obi-Wan opens his eyes, shaken, whispers Luke's name, and with firm resolve frees himself from the rocks and comes leaping out. We follow him as he races up to Vader, who is still between Obi-Wan and his ship. It's unclear if Obi-Wan thinks the vision showed him Vader or Reva.

Vader whips around, a total mess, a hint of fear in his half-hidden expression and his fumbling movements. This duel is much shorter. Vader seems like he might overpower Obi-Wan, but in a moment the man sidesteps him, steals his saber (in a move that harks back to the flashback training) and slices it in half. Vader roars, furious. He's wounded, down to his knees, without a weapon, and still Obi-Wan is forced to back off as rocks come flying his way.

Vader remains too powerful. This isn't a short or easy fight, and Obi-Wan has no time. He says he's sorry one last time, and turns around and books it. Vader yells after him.

As Obi-Wan is taking off, he's clearly nervous. He asks Lola if she's got astromech capabilities. She bleeps a negative and he frowns, saying that he needs the best route to Tatooine from here and she can try and do her best. She trills and logs into the console. A screen beeps, signaling Obi-Wan that the Imperial Destroyer is in on him. He asks Lola for an update, she replies something testy (probably along the lines of "As I was saying, I'm *not* and astromech, so bear with me")

The screen goes beep beep beep beep beep beep. Obi glances at his console. On the screen, the triangle of the Star Destroyer is hemorrhaging smaller dots.

'Lola?' he asks, pressing and tense.

Just as TIEs come scream overhead, Lola blurts something, and Obi-Wan punches the hyperdrive mid-evasive maneuver.

He lets out a heavy sigh once in the safety of hyperspace. He pats Lola, says he's grateful Leia trusted him with her. He leans back, closes his eyes, and tries to reach out to Luke. All he can see is a dark figure looming, cutting over a bright background of stars. There are three moons in the sky. It looks like a dream.

Obi-Wan frowns and grunts and focuses harder. He sees Luke's face bathed in red light, and nothing more. When he focuses again, he hears a peal of laughter, sees Leia playing with a small child, sees her resting her head down on Haja's shoulder. Clearly, she's safe, and Luke isn't. Clearly, Obi-Wan has a connection to each of them through the Force, and not just an alarm system for Luke.

The effort seems to have completely exhausted him and he slouches in his seat.

This is where things are tricky. But in the end I'm happy with my choice :

Cut to Tatooine. Owen and Luke are walking into town, chatting. They get into the shop, talk about shot speeder belts, and the man comes to warn Owen. The conversation isn't cut. The man says the inquisitor from last time has returned, the same who threatened Owen directly. He says she was asking after him, and seems to be alone and wounded. Owen, deeply concerned, grabs Luke and books it back to the farm.

Beru says they have to prepare. She asks Owen if he knows how far she is. He says he hasn't seen her on the way, but she knows where to find them. Beru replies "If she's half smart, she'll wait for the cover of darkness".

Owen replies this leaves them time to fetch help, to which Beru counters she won't imply anyone else and they have to do this alone.

The conversation with Luke about safety and escaping is a little longer, with Luke protesting that he wants to help, that this is his home and he should get to defend it too.

Beru says, "We know, Luke, we know.'

Owen says, "We all have our roles. Ours is to protect our home and you, and your role is to help—by keeping yourself safe."

Beru nods and adds, "You'll be helping us, that way. You remember, if you have to get out, you run."

Luke nods and promises, and the Reva home invasion begins. The only difference is that Reva battles Beru longer. It's clear she doesn't want to harm her, but eventually loses patience and slices her arm (a flesh wound).

Reva disappears after Luke, shuffling as fast as she can.

Cut back to Obi-Wan entering the system and flying down. When he lands on the dark farm, Beru and Owen, both wounded, are supporting each other and coming out of the house. They beeline for him, and as he comes out of the ship, everyone talks over everyone else.

Obi is asking if they're all right, what happened and where is Luke.

Owen is accusing him, asking if he's led the inquisitor back here to them.

Beru is saying "she's gone after him, we don't know where, we told him to run."

Finally Owen asks clearly "Why are you here?"

Obi-Wan looks almost lost for a moment. He explains he had a vision, thought that Luke was in danger and rushed back.

Owen sighs and visibly deflates, presumably touched that Obi-Wan means it so much, when he says he wants to help with Luke. That he cares.

The conversation turns technical. No, their speeder is broken, and anyway they have no idea where Luke went. Obi raises his hands for silence then and focuses, as if listening to the wind. He turns in the correct direction, says "Over there," and starts *sprinting*

It's made abundantly clear as Owen and Beru hurry after him that even exhausted, Obi-Wan can outpace them stupidly easily. This is the general in rescue mission mode.

Cut to the canyon. Obi-Wan comes jogging in, breathing hard, and just ahead is Luke, sprawled on the ground like in his vision, Reva standing over him, saber ignited.

It's just the two of them, as Obi-Wan left the others to catch up. Reva looks agitated. Tears are already streaking down her face.

"I knew you'd come," she says. "I knew it. " It sounds accusatory. "Who is he?" she ask, pointing to Luke with her saber. "Why is he so important to you, to Organa?"

Obi gives her a pained look, full of emotion, but then tips his head to the side and asks "Does it matter? He's just a child."

Reva is even more agitated by this question. She makes vague guesses, half formed accusations, and increasingly distressed accounts of how she "couldn't do it" and didn't manage to kill Vader.

Obi-Wan steps closer, hands open, trying to placate her. He says "I couldn't either. I tried, but I couldn't."

This gives Reva pause. Her breathing calms down a little. You see her think. Maybe, she realises that if Kenobi, one of the Order's greatest living Jedi and hero of the clone wars, couldn't take Vader down, not even knowing him from childhood, then maybe she never had a shot at all. She isn't blind to the fact she's half baked as a Force user, poorly trained. If she had any doubts about that, her own duel with Vader would have clarified things.

Though she's still hovering over Luke (now moaning and shifting), Reva's attention is inward. She says something about how she failed them. All her crechemates who died in front of her. When Obi-Wan tries to tell her she didn't, because she's tried— Reva interrupts him.

"You don't understand," she says. "You don't understand how many Jedi and Force sensitives I helped track down, I killed, just to survive as an inquisitor. To get close to him."

Obi-Wan shakes his head. "You can come back. You don't have to fall the way he did. You tried to honour them (her crechemates), you can't do that by killing an innocent." He waves to Luke as he says this. Reva looks down at him, seemingly dazed, like she forgot he was there at all. She sees herself looming there, a flash of Vader taking her form. Luke becomes her, she becomes Anakin. The vision hits her hard.

Right then Owen and Beru come rushing in, yelling for her to get back, blasters pointed but unfired. Beru covers Owen's back as he hurries forward to pick Luke up. Reva stumbles back and collapses, her wounds catching up with her. Beru gives Obi-Wan a wide-eyed look as Owen returns with Luke in his arms, and he nods to her. She nods back and runs off after Owen, leaving them to Jedi business.

Obi-Wan goes to kneel by Reva's side. She's crying, clutching her belly. She looks up at him, looking terrified as she asks, "Have I become him?"

Obi-Wan shakes his head. "No... No. You were made into this, and Anakin, he..."

He has no words, and no words are needed. [Ewan McGregor can act his heart out]

"What do I do?" Reva asks. She lets her saber drop in the sand.

"You're free now," Obi-Wan replies. "There are ways you can repay/repent[can't think of a better phrasing just now] for the harm you've done. Ways to honour the people you've lost, better than through revenge."

Reva smiles bitterly through her tears. "No rebel cell would have me."

Obi-Wan gives her a small half shrug and a sorry smile. "Freedom is a heavy burden. You have to find your own way."

He gives her a hand and helps her to her feet. "I don't even— I-I crashed the wreck I came in with," she says, as if in afterthought.

Obi-Wan snorts and says he's conveniently got a ship he has no use for.

Cut to the starry sky. A blue dot moves, growing distant. Obi-Wan comes into frame, looking up at what we presume is Reva getting away on his ship. The camera pans down when he looks away. He's at the entrance of his cave. Dawn is coming. He goes in.

Cut to angry Vader, the scene is the same, except we play a mournful Padme/Anakin theme in the end (and this isn't the first and only time you hear the blasted Imperial March).

Cut to Alderaan. The scene remains the same, except Leia is happy to see Obi-Wan and Lola both. Bail says, "We would ask you to stay a while, but—"

Obi-Wan waves him off and says something placating. He understands, they're best not seen together much. Breha insist that they can find ways to meet more often, and that Leia spoke much of him and will miss him.

His conversation with Leia is the same, except he may phrase it differently, so as to not imply that the qualities he lists are Nature and not Nurture. "Even though you are raised an Organa, you have the same XYZ as you mother, and ZXY as your father..." or something.

They say their farewells, and it cuts to Obi-Wan back on Tatooine packing his meager belonging, saddling up. He makes his way to the Lars homestead. He's wearing his hood because the sun is hot on Tatooine, god dammit!

The conversation with Owen remains the same. Taking the spaceship model, Obi-Wan approaches Luke with a smile and says, "Hello there. I'm Ben."

Luke looks up at him. He looks tired and a little wary, but he gives Obi-Wan a brave smile. "Hi Ben, I'm Luke."

Obi-Wan gives a small knowing nod and a smile. "It's nice to meet you, Luke."

Cut to Obi-Wan riding his eopie. A blue haze comes into resolution. Long dead master Qui-Gon Jinn turns around, arms akimbo.

"Hello there!" he says.

"You can't say that!" Obi-Wan scoffs, "That's my catchphrase!"

yeah yeah yeah I'm joking, whatever, I'm not a big fan of QGJ, or the prospect of Obi-Wan spending the next 8 years as a hermit with him for sole company. Not when QGJ tried to ditch him for Anakin, then foisted Anakin on him, and we all know how that ended. To be a fly on the wall of that conversation...

Anyway, sure, the ending can be QGJ being a smartass.

The end.

[writemyaceattorneys]

hey hey franziska anon from turnaboutyandere here 👀 so excited for this blog! i feel obligated to request for some general franziska and edgeworth headcanons please ✨

Of course Franziska Anon!!!! I’m glad that you have obliged me to talk about my favourite trilogy prosecutors, husband Miles and wife Franziska are absolutely fabulous angels.

I hope that you like these headcanons. I’m also really excited for this blog and I can’t wait to get into running it .

Spoilers: Phoenix Wright: Ace Attorney - Trilogy

TW: Franziska’s whip

💎Franziska von Karma💎

💎 Relationships are a concept that are very alien to Franziska. From a young age she was taught to only seek perfection in her career, that trivial feelings such as love should always come second or not come at all.

💎 Because of this, she soon came to realise that she was very unprepared for the sudden deluge of emotion that struck her after interacting with S/O a few times.

💎 She would probably be very angry with S/O at first. How dare this foolish fool just waltz on into her life and make her feel all of these feelings and just be so oblivious to their effect on her. S/O would be on the brunt end of Franziska’s wrath (namely her whip) during this time period.

💎 It would absolutely get to the point where everyone around Franziska and S/O would realise what’s going on. Getting Franziska to confess to S/O would be nigh on impossible because of her stubbornness so it would be up to S/O to confess to Franziska first, if of course, they felt the same way.

💎 Good news! They do, (although, they had been getting the distinct feeling that Franziska didn’t like them because every time they went to talk to her, they’d walk away with several whip lashes) so S/O plans to confess their feelings to Franziska

💎 Franziska would be in shock when S/O first confesses to her, as much as she had been wishing for this to happen it was still something that she would never expect could happen to her.

💎 In terms of affection, Franziska is still going to be very closed off at first. She doesn’t have much experience in terms of PDA or even private displays of affection so S/O is going to have to be initiating a lot of it. Over time, Franziska would probably clutch onto S/O’s hand if she was angry and would very much appreciate it if S/O rubbed her hand with their thumb.

💎 She would absolutely love to show her S/O off to her colleagues!! She’d bring them to fancy dinners, conferences or whatever else she was invited to as her plus one. She sees it as her own form of affection, while she isn’t 100% comfortable with initiating more personal affection yet, she will more than happily speak about her S/O if prompted (given that the person asking isn’t a foolish fool of course).

💎 If S/O were to learn some German in order to speak to her, she’d be so flattered and would probably blush, depending on how S/O decides to compliment her, she would absolutely get embarrassed.

“Hey Franziska! du siehst heute schön aus.”

“H-Hör auf mit dieser Torheit... aber danke, mein Sonnenschein.”

💎 All in all, Franziska is very grateful for S/O’s presence in her life and she hopes to one day be able to give back in tenfold the affection and support that S/O has given to her, until that day, however, she is more than happy to bask in the warmth that her S/O provides.

Translations from the text:

Du siehst heute schön aus. - You look beautiful today.

Hör auf mit dieser Torheit... aber danke, mein Sonnenschein - Stop this foolishness...but thank you, my Sunshine.

♟Miles Edgeworth♟

♟ Very similarly to Franziska, Miles is also very inexperienced when it comes to romantic relationships. He was more focused on making his mentor proud and didn’t really focus on anything to do with dating. Because of this, he is also very oblivious to how other people feel about him which means that even if he had feelings for S/O, he wouldn’t be the one to initiate a relationship.

♟ Any form of romance with Miles Edgeworth is going to be prime slow burn material. It’ll take him a good several months to even consider forming anything closer than a professional working relationship with S/O, before anything else he would come to appreciate and admire the hard work that S/O put into whatever they did.

♟ Again, S/O is probably going to have to be the one to confess how they feel to Miles and they are going to have to be very upfront about it to avoid a miscommunication. The confession would absolutely happen somewhere privately and once Miles realised that he wasn’t the only one with these strange feelings about the other, he’d feel absolutely relieved (although he’d be sure to hide it with a wry smile and his normal formal and cool manner of speaking).

♟ Miles is also someone who is very inexperienced with public and private displays of affection and the initiation of such acts will never fail to make him incredibly flustered. He might be a bit more put off by public affection and would seize up if S/O were to as much as hold his hand in public, let alone embrace him or kiss him. This is something that he’d work on over time so at some point, he’ll be more open to holding hands in public.

♟ Despite his inexperience, Miles would probably be the most comfortable with privately displayed affection, whether that be in his office when it's just the two of them or at either his or S/O’s home. He’d absolutely be down to hold hands while he works and if he was feeling particularly worn down, he might just pull his S/O into his arms while he sits and 2just lay his head against their thorax.

♟ It’s pretty much common knowledge within the fanbase that Edgeworth has a dog at this point, so a good way to spend time outside of work would be to go with Edgeworth while he walks his dog. Also bonus points if Edgeworth’s dog also likes S/O, animals are very perceptive and as far as Edgeworth is concerned, if his dog likes and trusts S/O then there’s a good chance that he can do the same.

EXTRA! bonus points here if during the walk, Miles’ dog keeps looping the lead around both Miles’ and S/O’s knees and they end up falling into each other.

♟ Routine affection is also very important to Miles, he’d make sure to have time set aside during the day to be receptive to affection and once he gets bold enough to initiate affection and romantic gestures himself, I can guarantee that there’d be at least half an hour that he’d take out of his day to just hold S/O in his arms.

♟ Miles is also one to show off, so S/O can fully expect to be brought to all of the fancy functions and conferences that Miles has to go to. He’d also take them along on all of his international excursions so if anything, S/O can expect to become a lot more well travelled. He’d take S/O to see all of the sites in whatever country he was visiting and he would absolutely take advantage of the fact that he probably knows several European languages to further impress S/O.

He would also teach S/O different languages so that they can communicate too.

♟ One thing that Miles would definitely be concerned about is his fans. He is no stranger for receiving bouquets of flowers and other lavish gifts from people who are no doubt trying to woo him. However, he wouldn’t stand for any slander against S/O and if these fangirls grew to be too much, he’d make it abundantly clear to both his fanbase and whoever checks his packages that he won’t be receiving anything else from those who only seek to interfere in his private life.

(Sorry Wendy Oldbag, I don’t think you’ll be getting your ‘Edgy-poo’ anytime soon)

♟ Miles would be fiercely protective of his S/O. If he thought for a moment that anything that he was about to get himself into was going to put S/O in danger, he’d try to keep them as far removed from it as possible. It would absolutely wreck him if S/O was hurt and even in a non-yandere situation he’d make it his mission to make sure that anyone who put S/O at risk was brought to justice.