#and i said i could i'd just have to tell them

[cipheress-to-k-pop]

ephemeral

Pairing: Batfam x Reader

Word Count: 2.3k words

Summary: You were forgetting something. However the most frustrating part was you couldn't seem to remember what exactly it was that you were forgetting.

A/N: This was inspired by this post by @bonefanatic! I know that it's Yandere!Batfam in the OG post but as soon as I read it this is just what it inspired. Anyway, I hope you enjoy!

You were renowned for forgetting things.

You'd always forget to bring your keys the day when your mother happened to be running late. You'd forget your pencil case on the day of exams and forget your bus pass on the rare days that your father didn't give you a ride.

On sunny days you'd forget to wear your sunscreen. On rainy days, much like today, you'd forget your umbrella. Now, when you were a young girl, running back home through the rain wouldn't matter. In fact, you had vague memories of your feet splashing through puddles, hands shielding your face from the pelting rain while you and an old lover got soaked to the bone.

You could hardly even remember those days; just the sound of splashing puddles and the deep petrichor, the cold of the rain mixed with the warmth of someone's laughter...

A coo brought you out of your thoughts and your eyes met those of bright blue. The baby strapped to your chest gave you a semblance of a toothy smile, his teeth only beginning to come out and you returned it, leaning in to rub your nose against his, revelling in the giggles it brought out.

The sweet boy, who only ever saw you, was the reason you couldn't let yourself get wet, standing in the shade of an apartment building and choosing to wait out the rain.

You gave your baby a once over, making sure that he didn't get wet in your effort to reach the building. He looked fine and his clothing wasn't wet, although he did seem a little cold. You held his tiny hands in between your palms, repeating the process with his feet until you were satisfied.

The door of the building swung open and you immediately covered Thomas' ears to protect him from the cold breeze, letting him burrow his face into your chest.

In came a man that had to be larger than anyone you had ever seen in your life. Clearly, he had been caught in the rain, his boots were soaked and so was his leather jacket. He donned a motorcycle helmet, and your stomach lurched at the thought of him driving that out in this weather. Without realizing it, your eyes glanced over his figure, wondering if he had possibly gotten hurt.

When you brought your eyes back up from his muddy boots to his face you were slightly startled. When had he taken off his helmet? His blue eyes stared back at you, shock apparent on his features before he had schooled them back to monotony.

"Are you lost? I don't think you live here." His voice was low and gravelly, but it found a familiar place in the back of your head.

You gave him a small smile, "No, I'm just trying to wait out the rain. I forgot to bring an umbrella, and I really don't want my son to get sick."

His eyes glanced down to your son and you curiously watched as something swirled in his eyes. Longing perhaps? Maybe he had some baby fever? It didn't quite seem like that though...you just couldn't put your finger on it.

"Would you like me to call you a cab?"

"I already tried. The streets here are too narrow for a cab to drive through so I'd have to walk a bit before I'd reach the road."

He nodded, taking a beat before he responded, "Wait here."

And then he took off for the stairs and even though he looked relaxed, you saw him taking multiples stairs in a single step, resisting the curious urge to tell him to be careful and not to slip because of his wet shoes.

He didn't make you wait long, reappearing in less than 5 minutes with an umbrella and something else in his hands.

"Oh, I couldn't."

"Please, I insist. I don't think the rain is going to stop anytime soon and there isn't anywhere for you to sit down," He said earnestly, placing the umbrella in your hands, "I already called a cab. It should be waiting for you at the corner."

"Thank you, young man." You watched him run his fingers through the cute little tuft of white hair bashfully before he handed you something else—a fuzzy blanket patterned with bats.

You looked curiously up at him, "For the little guy. He looks cold."

You really wanted to refuse, but Thomas' nose and ears had begun to turn red from the chill and with the blanket he'd be better protected as you walked to the cab. So, you bundled up the baby in the cozy blanket and thanked the man again who said goodbye with a melancholic smile.

While taking the cab home, your fingers traced over the embroidered monogram in the corner of the blanket that looked like it was brand new.

T.W.

***

You don't know what it was about the travelling circus that had you so enraptured. There was just something about watching the acrobats soar through the sky like birds, as though they were weightless, that made you feel equal parts worried and in awe.

It was unusual. You didn't enjoy watching gymnasts while you grew up and you had certainly never visited a circus, and yet while sitting in the seats for the performance of Haly's travelling circus for the 4th time since they had arrived at Gotham, you couldn't help but wait in anticipation for the show to begin.

Thomas was clutched to your lap, every bit as excited as you were, when a man with dark hair and blue eyes—a common feature here in Gotham, it seemed—sat next to you.

You spared him a glance, only to find him staring back at you with a small smile and a cone of roasted chestnuts in his hand. He handed you a pair of ear protectors.

"They're handing it outside the tent—wouldn't want the little guy to hurt his ears."

You thanked him with a smile, placing them over Thomas' ears and giggling when he laughed at you pointing at the man who returned his toothy grin with one of his own.

"Would you like one?" He offered, holding out the warm chestnuts for you to take and you obliged, thanking him and relishing in the taste and the immediate warmth that spread through your body.

"So, what brings you to the circus?"

Your arms tightened around Thomas, resting your cheek on the top of his head as you contemplated the answer, "I don't know. I just like the acrobats. Every time I watch them, I feel comfortable, like I've been watching them my entire life. Which is weird because I've never seen acrobats before Haly's circus came to Gotham."

You looked back at him, "What about you?"

"My mom used to be an acrobat here. After I lost her, I like to visit, so I don't forget her." He explained, eyes scrolling across the bright colours of the circus, taking everything in. You placed a gentle hand on his arm, trying to comfort him.

He looked down at Thomas, watching as the baby gave him an innocent grin that had returned with a sad smile and giving a delicate little pinch to his pudgy thigh before looking back up at you.

"I really don't want to lose my mom a second time."

***

One thing you really couldn't appreciate enough before having children was the freedom to shop for groceries all alone. Now, after having an infant, something as simple as stocking the fridge turned into a long and arduous feat.

You’d have to get Thomas dressed, make sure his nappy was changed, and time it just right—long enough since he’d eaten that you wouldn’t need to change him again, but not so long that he’d get hungry and need you to breastfeed him in the middle of the store.

Not only that, you'd also be stuck pushing a cart around with him strapped to your chest because he was still too young for the shopping cart.

And finally, the most torturous part of this whole excursion—the car loading. Most of your bags were heavy and packed full, and you couldn’t load them into the trunk with Thomas strapped to you.

So, you’d carefully place him in the car seat, turning on the engine and air conditioning to cool the car after its time baking in the parking lot. Then, you’d haul the heavy groceries into the trunk, turn off the car, take Thomas back out, return the trolley to its rightful place, and—once again—secure him in his car seat before finally heading home.

You stared at the cart full of groceries—enough to last you at least 3 weeks so you wouldn't have to make another trip for a while—trying to summon the energy to load the heavy items in the blasted vehicle.

"Mo—Ma'am?"

A young man approached you, a half-drunk coffee in his hand and your brows twitched. Just how many coffees had this boy had today? You shook your head of the thought. Why would you even care?

"Do you need some help?"

Giving him a polite smile, you shook your head, "I'm okay. Thank you, sweetie."

He gave you a sad smile, and it made you immediately want to take your words back and to give him the world instead. The feeling confused you even more. Why were you so concerned about him? And why did he look so sad after you refused his request? If anything, he should’ve been relieved that he wouldn’t have to do any work.

"Are you sure? I really don't mind." He tried again, this time placing his hand on the handle of the trolley, his hand just a hair away from yours. It was peculiar—your instinct for stranger-danger urged you to pull your hand away, and yet, you felt an equally strong urge to place your hand over his.

You smiled again, "I guess I'll take you up on your offer."

He was stronger than he looked. Despite his scrawny frame, he easily lifted your bags into the trunk, loading everything and shutting it in record time. Dusting off his hands with a proud smile, he turned to you as if expecting praise—only to deflate when he caught you watching him with a small, lingering smile.

It was as though he grew sadder with each passing second, his expression dimming as he gave you one last longing look before turning that same gaze to Thomas, "I’ll return the cart for you. Why don’t you strap him in?"

You nodded, thanking him again, "Thank you so much for your help."

Using Thomas’ little fist, you waved goodbye to the boy. He returned it with an expression far too tired for his young face. You resisted the urge to tell him to get a good night’s rest, instead watching him push the trolley away through your rearview mirror. A pang hit your chest at the sight of his slumped shoulders.

***

A figure collided with your back and you would have been knocked over if he had been any taller, however when you looked down, a young boy with dark hair and beautiful green eyes looked back up at you.

"Ummi..." He murmured, before he even had a chance to stop himself and you frowned in concern for this child who couldn't have been more than 9 years old who all of a sudden looked so small and unsure and something in your soul reached out for him.

You leaned down, well, as much as you could with a baby strapped to your chest, "Did you lose your mom, sweetheart?"

He flinched, eyes going wide and his bottom lip began to tremble in a way that made you want to hold him to your heart and soothe him, "Yes...I have lost my ummi...and I wish she'd come back....I miss her very much."

You reached out a hand before you could stop yourself, almost reaching for him to run your fingers through his hair and scratch your nails lightly against his scalp—

"Damian!"

Your hand froze an inch away as a man, slightly older than you, ran up to him. When your eyes met his, a rush of something surged through you—so intense and so sudden that there wasn’t even time for an epiphany.

All you knew was, you had met this man before.

Only, you couldn't remember when.

"I'm sorry about him. You know how kids are." The man with familiar blue eyes told you, flashing you a charming smile that had done an incredibly good job of hiding the misery underneath. And yet, you still saw past the mask. And still… you chose to look away.

You smiled up at him before glancing down at Thomas, now realizing why this curious stranger's eyes felt so familiar—your son looked up at you with almost identical ones, "I do know."

The man followed your gaze to the happy baby in your arms and you watched as the corner of his lips had dropped from the calculated smile he had worn. It was like he had frozen in time and the more you watched him, the more despondent his expression became.

His son—Damian. Why did that name sound so familiar?— looked up at him with concern, now grabbing his hand and tugging him away.

"Baba." He said softly, finally managing to knock the man out of his stupor.

"Oh," He finally spoke, looking down at his distressed son, "I'm sorry, miss. I hope my son didn't hurt you or the baby. If you need any medical bills covered, you can contact this number."

He handed you a business card and walked away before you could even argue about how absurd it was that you would ask for him to pay your medical bills over his adorable son bumping into you. It was an honest mistake!

You could only watch them walk away before your eyes looked down at the Wayne Enterprises business card.

"Bruce Wayne, CEO."

'Bruce'

You swore you had heard that name before.

And yet... you'd forgotten.

***

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[creativepromptsforwriting]

Drabble List #12

75 prompts to write drabbles or longer stories.

"Everyone should be delighted to know me."

"Tick tock, the clock is ticking."

"What a fantastic idea!"

"Not going to destroy the world or anything."

"You're awful at solving riddles."

"That was a poor decision."

"Do you really think you can handle the truth?"

"I never thought I'd see you again."

"Why did you lie to me?"

"This isn't the end, it's just the beginning."

"You promised you'd never leave."

"There's more to this story than you know."

"I'm not the hero you think I am."

"Sometimes, doing the right thing means making tough choices."

"If you walk away now, don't bother coming back."

"I've kept this secret for far too long."

"Are you sure you're ready for this?"

"They'll never believe us, but we have to try."

"I can't believe you just said that."

"No one else knows, and it has to stay that way."

"Do you trust me?"

"We can't let them win."

"You have no idea what you're getting into."

"This changes everything."

"I thought I knew you."

"I've waited my whole life for this moment."

"You were the last person I expected to see."

"Why does it always have to be you?"

"We're running out of time."

"Do you think they suspect anything?"

"I've made up my mind."

"This isn't what I signed up for."

"How can you be so sure?"

"We can't afford any mistakes."

"You can't keep running away from your past."

"What are we supposed to do now?"

"Sometimes, the hardest thing is to let go."

"You know this isn't right."

"What are you hiding from me?"

"We have to stick together."

"I'm not giving up on you."

"There's no turning back now."

"I never wanted any of this."

"What if we don't have a choice?"

"It's time to face the music."

"You have to trust your instincts."

"Everything we've worked for is at stake."

"I didn't expect you to understand."

"This is our only shot."

"I'm not interested anymore."

"You owe me an explanation."

"We can't do this alone."

"I thought you were on my side."

"This is bigger than both of us."

"What do you have to lose?"

"I can't pretend anymore."

"You're not as invisible as you think."

"What's the worst that could happen?"

"You're the only one who can help."

"We need to be careful."

"Are you with me?"

"No, this is enough."

"I don't think I can do this."

"Ok, so sue me."

"What a fine young man."

"This isn't about you."

"I know what I have to do."

"We need to find a way out."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"It's not as simple as it seems."

"I can't believe it's come to this."

"This isn't over yet."

"What's the plan?"

"Take me to court."

"There's no easy answer."

Drabble Masterlist

Have fun creating and writing!

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[mumblingsage]

This is one of the additions I appreciate most (there have been many great ones!), and in hindsight, I wish I'd put more context like this my original post. It was unnecessary to insist books/media can't be traumatic, which is dismissive of anyone who might be vulnerable and unfortunate enough to actually have been traumatized in that way and created a lot of side disputes about whether it's possible, which has distracted from the main goal of better understanding what trauma is like. If I had a do-over, I'd have phrased more of it with questions -- "Do you actually mean 'traumatize'? Do you know what goes into trauma and PTSD or acute stress disorder? Knowing that, do you feel it's accurate to use that term? What do you think might be the knock-off effects on trauma survivors (including and especially anyone who has been through a real-life version of the book/movie? Are you telling someone their basic existence is an infohazard, contaminating, unspeakable)? And lastly, could you use advice or support or resources to manage the aftermath of reading that book?"

Depending on how the rest of the conversation went, that last question might be said sarcastically. Though I do realize, especially after reading the notes of this post, that some people need access to much better coping strategies for managing feelings that fiction gives them. And stories can have lingering effects, some of them downright strange when we type them out (your snake example reminds me of some childhood experiences I blogged about earlier as an outgrowth of discussion around this post, and a few continuing adult habits of mine). But not all effects, even negative or uncomfortable ones, rise to the level of "trauma." And the experience of learning and having empathy for a terrible situation can, as you say, result in a "me" the reader likes and appreciates! (My last caveat is that nonfiction on topics like the Holocaust, because it's a real-life and generational trauma, might not always function the same way as fiction. People can and do get secondary/vicarious trauma from taking in media coverage of real life atrocities and tragedies. Though it's more likely to happen to the contractors moderating Facebook to remove violent imagery for hours on end, or someone processing information about their own family or loved ones' deaths or injuries, rather than to a Gentile like me reading a book on the Holocaust written and illustrated for a general audience while reclining comfortably on my couch. I read Primo Levi's Survival in Auschwitz as a preteen 21 years ago, and some details and phrases stick with me. But I'm not getting sensory flashbacks or dragging myself around in a fog on the anniversary of the date I read the book. Levi survived the trauma of Auschwitz. I just read about it.)

I'm wondering if, as a society who cares about vulnerable people, we could stop saying "traumatize" when we truly mean "upset"?

I am sick of hearing sad books or movies "traumatize" their readers. I simply do not believe that happens. A traumatic experience might be adjacent to books (I have vivid memories of books I was reading around certain experiences and even how the contents of those books affected my processing of the experiences). But it's not caused by the book. And, y'know. The weather is Christofascist Censorship Attempts outside.

Meanwhile from the other side I continue to be surprised at just how badly people fail to understand trauma and traumatic experiences in general. Watering down the term isn't helping. Find other hyperbole to express that The Bridge to Terebithia gutted you, chewed on your heartstrings, and made you cry your first pair of contact lenses right out of your preteen eyes.

[sandyca5tle]

Was having a semi-serious conversation with some friends, and accidentally found myself quoting RWBY in a way that actually helped the discussion at hand, which got me thinking, there's a good few lines in RWBY that are just generally good things for life, so i decided to write a post about it 'cause fuck it. Some'll have commentary some are self explanitary enough. "I'm not any one thing, I'm somewhat of a lot of things" - this was the one that actually sparked this, was talking about identity with a friend, and found this quote very applicable - you don't always have to neatly fit in a box, you can be somewhat several things at once, if that's what fits for you. "Well that embaressment, that desire to go back and tell yourself not to be so stupid, that just proves you're not the same person you used to be. And you're not done growing yet" "You don't have to look cool all the time"

"Of course you are [a real girl]. You think just because you've got nuts and bots instead of squishy guts makes you any less real than me?" - This is less a general life lesson, but more of a 'just because someone is different to you, doesn't make them/their experiences any less real'. And obviously there's the trans angle on this, not being a 'real girl' is an anxiety many trans girls have struggled with, or is something people throw at us to put us down. But just 'cause we're built a little different than cis girls, doesn't make us any less girls "Pyrrha thought that, if there was even the smallest chance of helping someone, that it was a chance worth taking" "I'd be lying if I said that it didn't hurt, that I didn't think about them everyday since I lost them. That I didn't wish I had spent more time with them. If it had been me instead, I know they would have kept fighting too, no matter how dangerous it was, so that's what I choose to do. To keep moving forwards." - Mostly putting this here 'cause it's always nice to have a talk like this regarding grief/loss, and yeah, i just think this is nice and fairly honestly reflection of how a lotta people feel when they lose someone, coupled with the adivce to keep moving forwards. "I'm not asking you to stop. Just please, get some rest, not just for you, but for the people you care about," - I like this one 'cause a) self care is important bitches! Burning yourself out isn't gonna help whatever you're trying to do and b) hurting yourself like that is also gonna hurt those who care for you, 'cause no one wants to see those they care for suffer. So remember to take a break from time to time. "You think you're being selfless, but you're not. Yeah that chameleon friend of yours got me pretty good, but I'd do it all again if it meant protecting you... and I promise Yang would say the same. You can make your own choices sure, but you don't get to make ours. When your friends fight for you, it's because we want to, so stop pushing us out. That hurts more than anything the bad guys could ever do to us," - Obviously the parts about fighting can be taken a little more metaphorically for everyday life, but I like this quote 'cause yeah, the people who are there for you *want* to be there for you, so deciding that you're a burden on them and hiding away/pushing them away is gonna hurt them because they *want to be there for you* - don't decide something for other people. "My losses, my failures, those, more than anything, are what have shaped me into who I am; showed me how I need to grow. If there's something I'm missing it's not because I've lost it, it's 'cause I haven't found it yet" - I just think this is a beautiful line. We've all wished at moments to undo the mistakes we've made, however those mistakes made us the people we are now. And yeah, I love the idea that something you're missing is not because you lost it, it's because you haven't found it yet. "One small kindness, in one small moment, lead to such a marvelous transformation, just like one act of dishonesty caused an unfortunate change" - Reminder that even small actions can mean a lot to others "What happens if I chose me?" "Then maybe, that girl is enough,"

But yeah, all of this to say I love RWBY, it has so many amazing and emotional moments and yeah, if you haven't given it a watch I would highly reccommend (and if you've heard bad things, i'd maybe give it a watch yourself first, a lotta people like to hate on the show in bad faith). But yeah, love RWBY and love all the wonderful moments and messages within it

[atlas-of-a-human-soul]

Hey can you do cullens x reader when its readers first time sleeping over at there house and the reader kicks and sleep talks in there sleep? x

Pairing: Jasper Hale x human!reader

A/n: I don't do requests as much anymore, but since I'm in the hospital, waiting for surgery, unable to sleep �� anyway, it's not some masterpiece, but enjoy

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

"Does she always do that?" Emmett raised his eyebrows, a horrified look in his eyes.

"I've never stuck around long enough to notice", Edward notes with a slight frown, looking to Carlisle. "Their thoughts are too...graphic for my taste. And her dream makes her thoughts seem... saintly."

Chuckling, Jasper appears before them. "Are you badmouthing my mate?"

"She's moaning your name", Emmett grimaces. "I'm scarred for eternity."

Jasper smirks. "Imagine what sounds she makes when I'm actually touching her."

"If this is your tactic to chase us out of the house so you can get your dirty hands on Y/N....it's working." Edward admits before disappearing from sight.

"Carlisle, tell him to stop letting mortal women sleep over." Emmett insists, his eyebrows furrowing as he hears Y/N mumble about Jasper's lips.

"I won't forbid his mate from staying here....but we might soundproof his room."

"You know what's the worst part?" Rosalie storms in. "They have barely kissed and we are all listening to her nasty little fantasies."

"Rosalie", Carlisle warns as he sees Jasper's lips press in a thin line.

"I'm that good of a kisser", Jasper boasts proudly. "And if you don't want to listen to her fantasies come to life, you might wanna get out of earshot really, really fast."

"Someone has to stick around in case you decide her blood is sweeter than her moans", Rosalie remarks begrudgingly.

Jasper's smile is replaced with a scowl. "I'd never!" He swallows thickly, "I would rather die than harm a single hair on her head."

"Edward said that and now we have Bella."

Rosalie is right, Jasper realizes. Despite what he believes and wishes, he might never be able to bring Y/N's fantasies to life without him risking her life. And as long as she's not asking to become a vampire, he wouldn't dare. For his sanity, as well as everyone else's.

His human mate is too fragile for all the ways he wants to love her. Every move he makes around her has to be carefully thought out, even the slightest mistake could leave him devastated.

So, when he returns to her side, he lets out a gentle sigh. It's surprising how many human mannerisms he's adopted since she waltzed into his life, every bit of her mirrored in him.

Laying beside her, she kicks his chest and yelps. Waking up, hair disheveled, her eyes meet his golden hues and her lips spread in a warm smile.

"You're here", she mumbles, still half asleep.

"I promised, didn't I?" Jasper pulls her closer. "I'll be here until you say otherwise. Always."

Nuzzling her face in his neck, she relaxes and her breathing evens out.

Pressing a cool kiss to her forehead, Jasper closes his eyes. He might be unable to sleep, but he can still fantasize of a day where he will be able to do more than just peck her lips.

[isabelawritesthings]

The last dance

Pairing: Katarina x F!reader

Synopsis: You are one of the guests at the Black Rose Ball, and your dance partner catches your eye.

Word count: 823

Warnings: Mentions of war and death, mentions of relationship breakups.

An: I know it's just a cinematic, but my heart can't stand seeing beautiful women in fiction and not writing about them 😭 I tried to make it longer but my creative block isn't helping. (In case you're confused and only know Arcane, Garen is her romantic interest in the lore of League of Legends and Jericho Swain is the one who rules Noxus, Demacia and Ionia are regions that are at war with Noxus.)

What happened in Piltover was surprising for all of Runeterra. A simple inventor becoming a kind of God? Even more so in the city of progress? Simply surprising.

Your parents were longtime members of the Black Rose, and with Mel Medarda's return, the organization needed a distraction. And just like in the times when Noxus was a monarchy ruled by an emperor, why not have a ball?

"You look beautiful.” Your mother said to you. “Do we really have to go to this ball? Are we really going to pretend that Ambessa's daughter isn't coming back to finish us all off?" Your mother looked surprised. "You better not say things like that at the ball.” Your father enters the room. "We're going to be late like this, ladies."

It was a masquerade ball, as the Black Rose always liked anonymity, but you didn't care, you wouldn't be wearing a mask that night, you thought the masks were too ugly to wear.

“Honey, do you mind if me and your father go say hi to some friends?" Your mother asked. "No, I think I'll just dance a little." You walk out onto the dance floor, and dance with the first person you see, not caring who it is under that mask. “You dance very well," said the masked person, it was a female voice. "Thank you... Are you part of the Black Rose, or are you just one of those nobles they invited?" The person behind the mask laughed. "You tell me, you're not wearing a mask after all.”

“Those are pretty ugly." You and your dance partner change positions. "I prefer you like this without the mask, you're very pretty.” You gave a small laugh. "You must be the one who's beautiful, redheads usually are." The woman looked you in the eyes. "Maybe we could talk in a more private place." You smiled. "I'd love to." The two of you walked to the garden.

In the garden, the mysterious woman takes off her mask, you weren't wrong, she was indeed beautiful. "Nice to meet you, Katarina." you smiled. "Y/N." Katarina sits on the garden bench. "Your parents are members of the Black Rose, aren't they?” You sit down next to her. "Yes, long before I was born." She gives a shy laugh. "They're all liars and murderers... You don't look like one of them.”

“And I'm not, it's just my parents who have these crazy ideologies of theirs, if I could, I'd be in Demacia or Ionia right now, but I would rule out going to Ionia, there's a very anti-Noxian sentiment there thanks to the war.” Katarina looks at the floor. "Demacia... That name brings back memories." You looked curious. "Are you from there?" Katarina looks at you. "No, I was born right here... It's just that it was there that I lived the best moment of my life, because I found love." You looked even more curious.

“Garen, his name is Garen, he was in the Demacian army, it could never work since we are also at war with Demacia, he would probably be executed for treason if anyone found out.” She looked sad. "Jericho Swain is still going to destroy this country with those stupid wars!" She looked at you again. "I still love him, but it could never work." You changed the subject. "So, what are you doing here? You don't look like a member of the Black Rose." Her eyes looked at you intently. "Let's just say I came to finish something." You thought it was strange that she was staring at you like that.

“You're taking too much of a risk by meeting me in a secluded location, if I were a spy you'd be dead by now." You looked even more surprised. "I... I... It's just that I found you quite peculiar…” She stopped staring at you. "Peculiar? I've heard better compliments... You look like you're also trying to forget a love." She figured it out pretty quickly. "I fell in love with a girl recently, she was in the army, she ended up dying in Ionia." Katarina's face remained still. "I'm sorry." You looked at her. "Don't be sorry, this fate was already predictable.”

You lost track of how much time you spent talking to Katarina on that bench, the more you found out about her, the more impressed you were, like how she had been trained by generals from all over the country.

“I think you need to go now, your parents must be worried." She stood up. "Thanks for the evening, I needed a little chat before I do what I came to do." You stood up too. "You keep mentioning this duty you have to do tonight but you never say what it is." She looks at you. "Let's just say it involves shocking some people at this ball."

She kisses you on the cheek before she leaves, you blush slightly.

[the-kingshound]

I loved the update just because it exists. I loved the bit with the mounts (especially Arthur's trying to ground MC) but my tiny bit of concrit is the "I know you're a mage" convo feels...shoehorned? Like we get the panic attack and Arthur just says he doesn't think the same way as Uther and it's just...It feels (imo) that the Hound once more just accepts Arthur at face value again? I loved the rewrite making the Hound more wary of Arthur, and this kinda felt like a slip? Idk it just feels like there could be...more there. Or perhaps Arthur will try to revisit the topic? Cause like idk about you but if I was just told "I don't want to do anything to you buuuuuut people in my court might," I'd feel threatened and like...I wouldn't believe a single word prior to the "my court might" part. Cause like the Hound is a political prisoner, the nobles (Our sister in law is amazing) made that clear, so it's just another chain Arthur is adding, a little "Be careful love, you don't know what SOMEONE might do if they found out you're a mage :) :)", you know?

And as someone who played as a Hound who is absolutely dreading this marriage (they literally feel like a prisoner) that whole thing kinda felt as if that wasn't an option? Like for example, the walking into the church thingy you have: I feel better, I'm not alone, and the "I am strong and proud" options, but no real option for...just numb? I personally just headcanoned the Hound was disassociated to the point they won't remember the day at all. (I kinda hope we might just get to breakdown with our brothers, or idk alone in the dark)

Also I forget, but is this a game where we have to rack up romance points to lock in? Or one we choose the route? Because I honestly didn't feel that my Hound would want to talk to anyone during what is (to them) a celebration of their collaring/house's defeat.

BUUUUT I truly do hope you take this as constructive. You won't please all of us, and you shouldn't try to. I love that you gave us even this and you are incredibly strong and lovely for pushing through everything. If I am out of line, feel free to ignore or tell me off and I'll just smash my Hound into a better mold for the story lol. After all, it is your story, tell it how you want.

I would really like to give you a long response to your very helpful feedback, but I fear I am lacking the energy to do so. I just want you to know that I hear you, and in truth you make really good points.

1) yeah I do admit I was getting close to burnout with writing in this update, and that scene in particular might have suffered for it. I'll revise it, and hopefully try to not make the interaction feel so jarring. (Note: did you try to pick the more... aggressive option? It goes in a different way, maybe it is less weird?)

2) you are totally right on the options for the marriage - especially because you can play a very numb MC. I'll either edit or add that option. Ohh and the breakdown with the siblings is peak idea. I'm writing that down.

3) as for the romance points: this game is focused strongly on MC. You can choose the pace of the relationship your Hound develops, and for romance, you need to first have some platonic points with said RO. Platonic means in this case that MC wants to spend time with them, and doesn't have to go further than what will become a lifelong friendship.

You do have to pick at least an option to have platonic points with a RO, but you won't get locked out of anything in this game. Every choice shapes your personal Hound's story, this is not a game that punishes you, or that is focused solely on romance.

Thank you for sending this in! This kind of feedback, especially if worded clearly and kindly lik you did, can be so helpful and I love getting it even if it makes me pause and rethink some things.

[gayofthefae]

"I should have explained myself because maybe then Eleven would have taken me with her, but - I don't know. I didn't know what to say."

That isn't what he said the first time.

"I should have said something. And maybe if I had said that thing, Eleven would want me there with her."

The sentiment of him being with her and knowing/ensuring she's safe is consistent. But he isn't actually repeating himself. There's no need for him to as a person and as a screenwriter, repetition should DEFINITELY be cut.

He's changing. He's brainstorming. He's starting to consider other angles of the "could have"s. The "what if"s.

He starts with "what if I'd just forced an 'I love you'". But I think he likely settles on what we can logically deduce for ourselves in that situation - "I made the right choice prioritizing with what I knew of the consequences at the time".So he changes. He changes.

He changes to "I should have explained myself".

"Explained myself" is NOT the same as "said that thing" and that is VITAL.

I should have just sucked it up and told her I loved her if it meant keeping her safe.

No, I did the best I could with the information I had

I should have told her the truth. Maybe she would have taken it better if I had just told her that I don't love her but it's my fault, not hers. Now she thinks it's hers and that I'm hiding it.

And, perfect timing, Will comes in with (in Mike's pov) "It makes sense why you didn't, though, don't beat yourself up. She was gonna get hurt either way and everything would have been a risk as to how much."

And Mike nods. And the next time we see him, he's saying

"Will she still even want me in her life if I can't give her the love she wants? All I can do now is to make sure she knows it isn't her fault, that's the selfless act I can do for her, but if I confess I don't love her, what other use am I to her? Will doing what's best for her by telling her it's not her fault, it's mine, instead of continuing to lie make me lose her?"

He says "explain". He starts with "maybe I should have changed the 'what'". Then he shifts to "maybe I should changed what she thought of the 'why'". Ironically, his question in the van once he's come to that conclusion is "how?".

The first pitch he makes is "maybe I should have told her I loved her" and Will says "don't worry, you'll have another chance", and he turns away and introspectively reacts with

aversion.

But then he says "maybe I should have just explained the real reason behind my actions instead of denying them all together" and Will says "that's a scary thing to do. It's a hard decision. You're doing your best", and he turns away and introspectively reacts with

understanding.

Honestly, being understood. And sometimes that's what you need to find understanding. He's been confused this whole time, that's been his whole thing, but he looks like he's starting to piece something together now - finally. Will put his own feelings into words for him to hear out loud so could finally get them and get them in a validated way.

Instinctively, he knew the first one was easier but wrong. He didn't want to lie to her. Both times Will said "if that's what you want to do, I believe in you", but only once did he agree. He knew it felt like the wrong choice the first time and you can see it. The second time was a new choice he was considering.

And you know what? While we're here. Telling her he loves her: aversion. Telling her the truth: understanding and drive. What happens next?

He expresses "what if when I tell her the truth, as I've decided is the right choice, she appreciates it but doesn't need me for anything else beyond that?" And Will says "she'll stay. You got this.", and he reacts with

Comfort.

He didn't know what to do. Then he did, but he was scared to do it. Then he wasn't so scared anymore.

He's thrilled to see her and forgets for a second but - much like El with Will on roller rink day - is reminded by seeing Will that now that she's actually here, it's real. He's committed to his actions and they're impending.

But he's not so scared anymore. Bravery, though, doesn't mean no nerves. He's hesitant and not happy looking when he talks to her about it first. He tries to lighten the mood - "the whole world went to shit and everything" - and he's watching her reactions like a hawk. It feels like less of a risk now enough that he can do it, but not so little that he isn't scared. Either way though, it's worth the risk for her to know the problem isn't her.

He didn't know what to do. Now he does. He was scared, but he's not as much anymore. Not too much to do it. They're interrupted. Okay, oh well, he'll find another time.

And now to break your heart:

Mike had an idea, Will said it was good, but Mike met that with aversion.

Mike had an idea, Will said it was good, Mike met that with understanding and agreement.

Mike was scared, Will said he had no reason to be, Mike met that with comfort.

(I'm sorry) Mike was scared for El - unrelated - and looked to Will for comfort - as he had every other time - when he tapped him on the shoulder, Will said he should tell her he loves her, and he reacts with

anguish.

This was not Mike's plan.

This was not their plan, so he thought.

Mike's reaction tells us everything about what he knew and what he meant for what's to come. This was not what he meant. That was not what he was going to say. This was not his plan.

And there's that part of you too that always wishes to go back to semi-ignorant bliss. Even if just panicked confusion. Because wasn't it nice: when telling her you loved her evoked this

And not this

Wasn't it nice when you knew...just a little less?

Wasn't it nice, in a way, when you couldn't see the happy ending so clearly?

Don't you sort of miss - when you couldn't taste it?

also fuck it for just for that list bit and the bridge of this song here's my illicit affairs edit linked because "you showed me colors you know I can't see with anyone else"

[asktheritobowyer]

(This is the blogger here, making a post that I never thought I'd be making, but due to recent events, regarding threads, and my inbox, I feel like I need to)

First of @askthenewritoelder @asktheritochampion @asksakitherito @askaritobard @askthehylianchampion I want to make it make clear, none of you are at fault for this, nor could any of you have predicted your replies, or posts would have caused something like this to happen.

As @asktheritochampion said on their blog, there has been no drama, or anything of the sort between us, just bloggers having fun with the characters, engaging, and creating fun scenario's for us to play out.

Unfortunately with that said, for the past couple of days, my inbox has been flooded with nothing but death threats to myself and the character of Harth.

I've had messages telling me to kill myself. I've had messages telling me they hope Harth commits suicide. I've had messages hoping Harth gets killed in his sleep by Tulin in graphic detail. I've had messages telling me they look forward to Teba stabbing Harth to death and taking Molli. I've had messages saying they hope Revali kidnaps Molli and kills Harth. I've had messages hoping Saki cooks Harth and feeds his remains to Rito Village. I've had messages telling me Harth is going to get hacked into pieces by Link, and he's going to eat him. I've had messages hoping I die for not falling in line and loving Revali like everyone else. I've had asks saying Harth should make a bow and shoot himself with it. etc...

It really is as bad as I'm describing. I sincerely wish it wasn't. Nor will I show the asks, as they're incredibly graphic and disturbing to read. I haven't gotten any genuine asks lately. Just simply death threats, or messages hoping I die, or Harth dies, or Molli getting taken away because Harth gets killed by someone. I've counted 60 so far and counting.

It goes without saying I'm here to have fun. I'm here to enjoy myself. I'm here to interact with others. I'm here to have fun answering asks in character. I'm here to engage with other threads. I'm here to respectfully freely express my feelings and opinions to others, and respect their opinions. I'm here to get into all sorts of fun shenanigans with Harth.

I didn't come here to be harassed. I didn't come here to get ridiculed for being different. I didn't come here to be sent constant death threats because I think differently. I didn't come here so people can tell me they hope Harth dies, so someone else can take his daughter. etc...

I understand people may like a character, but there comes a point where you shouldn't take things to this extent because someone has a different stance to someone else. Things have been taken way out of context, and people have gone to the extremes in my inbox.

We all have different opinions and should respect them. We should be polite to one another regardless of the differences. I'm just someone looking to have fun with others, and create stuff by myself or with them. Nothing more nothing less.

There's a right way to engage with someone and express yourself. This isn't that way. I don't want to make posts like these, but I'm hoping in doing so people are mindful of what their doing and the effect it can have on someone simply wishing to enjoy themselves.

[mitchfynde]

Being transphobic doesn't make you a fascist. I realize trans rights don't appeal to most current fascists, but fascism is an ideology and you could easily devise a trans positive fascist ideology.

Don't act as though I didn't outright say he was adjacent. Give me some credit here. I said outright that he may be cryptofash. But aligning with those extremist groups could easily be a cynical politician vote grab thing. As far as I can tell, his stated ideology does not align with them and they have harassed him before.

He may very well be a fascist. However, it's just simply too early for me to call him as such, especially when we are next door to a leader that is actually provably fascist. As I said, I'm not going to step on your toes for saying it, but I'm not going to say it until my understanding changes, which it hasn't yet.

I hope you understand. I'm very much NOT trying to defend him here. I'm just trying to think strategically. I'd appreciate if this discussion ends here, as I'm afraid you are going to start reading my responses as combative and I do not wish to make enemies with you. I didn't intend to drag this out even this far.

I'm happy to stay in my lane.

How are you feeling about the state of Canadian politics?

Quite depressed.

I'm a very optimistic person, but as a Trans person, it feels like the writing is on the wall for this upcoming federal election.

I don't know if the Liberals or NDP will get their shit together enough to prevent a Conservative majority. I'd really not like to start losing my rights or for my friends who are marginalized in different ways than I am to l lose theirs.

Poilievre is a fascist, and Canadians seem willing to elect him just because Trudeau is useless and unlikeable. We are not a 2 party system. There is another option. We don't have to flip back and forth between useless Centrists and Authoritarian Conservatives.

It all just makes me worried.

[scrollonso]

Cinnamon — Strollonso (1) (Prologue)

Lance sat at the same round table in the campus café, nursing yet another iced coffee, but this time, his nerves were frayed. His mind kept replaying the interaction with Dr. Alonso from the day before — the way his gaze had lingered, the way his voice had softened when he said Lance’s name.

“Earth to Lance.”

Jessica’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts. She, Esteban, Charles, and Zhou were all gathered around him again, but this time, they looked like they were dying to know what was going on inside his head.

“So?” Charles prompted, leaning in eagerly. “What’s the plan? Are you gonna talk to him again?”

"Are you going to suck him off?" Somehow, Zhou always knew what to say to get Charles to try and knock some sense into him.

Lance groaned, burying his face in his hands. “I don’t have a plan. I don’t even know what I’m doing.”

Esteban snorted. “You’re definitely flirting with him.”

“I’m not—”

Jessica cut him off with a knowing grin. “Oh, you are. And he’s flirting back.”

Lance peeked at her through his fingers. “You really think so?”

Charles rolled his eyes. “Yes, Lance. We all think so. The only question is: what are you gonna do about it?”

Before Lance could answer, his phone buzzed on the table. He glanced down, his heart skipping a beat when he saw the email notification:

From: alonso@mit.edu

Subject: Office Hours

Lance tapped the screen, opening the email.

Mr. Stroll,

I noticed you seemed uncertain during yesterday’s lecture. If you’d like to discuss the reading further, I’ll be holding office hours this afternoon at 2 PM.

Dr. Fernando Alonso

Lance stared at the message, his mind racing.

Jessica grabbed his phone out of his hand. “Oh my God. He totally wants you to come see him.”

Zhou whistled. “Office hours. That’s classic professor code for ‘I want to see you alone.’”

Lance snatched his phone back. “It’s not—” He stopped, rereading the email. “Okay… maybe it is.”

Esteban grinned. “You’re going, right?”

“I don’t know,” Lance muttered, his fingers twitching over his phone. “What if I’m wrong? What if he’s just being nice?”

Charles shook his head. “Nice professors don’t stare at their students like they’re dessert, Lance. Go.”

Jessica smirked. “Besides, don’t you want to see him? You’ve been drooling over his forearms for weeks.”

Lance flushed. “Fine. I’ll go.”

At 2 PM sharp, Lance stood outside Dr. Alonso’s office door, his palms sweaty again. He raised his hand to knock but hesitated.

Before he could talk himself out of it, the door opened.

Dr. Alonso stood there, impeccably dressed as always, his expression calm but unreadable.

“Mr. Stroll,” he greeted, stepping aside to let Lance in. “I’m glad you came.”

Lance swallowed hard and stepped inside, his heart pounding in his chest.

Dr. Alonso closed the door behind him, the soft click of the lock sounding far louder than it should have.

“I thought we could go over the reading in more detail,” Dr. Alonso said, motioning for Lance to take a seat. "it's not often you struggle in my class so i'd rather eliminate any possible confusion before you get behind."

Lance sat down, trying not to fidget as Dr. Alonso moved to sit across from him. The desk between them felt like a flimsy barrier, one that could easily be crossed.

“So,” Dr. Alonso began, his gaze steady. “Power dynamics. You seemed particularly interested in that topic yesterday.”

Lance cleared his throat, struggling to find his voice as he pursed his lips into a fine line. “Yeah, um��� it’s an interesting concept.”

Dr. Alonso tilted his head slightly, his lips curving into a faint smile. “It is. Especially when applied to… certain relationships.”

Lance’s breath caught.

“Tell me,” Dr. Alonso continued, his voice dropping just slightly, “what do you think happens when one person holds more power in a relationship? How does it affect… let's say, attraction?”

Lance’s heart was racing now. Was this still about ethics?

“I think…” Lance hesitated, meeting Dr. Alonso’s gaze. “I think it depends on whether the power is mutual.”

Dr. Alonso leaned forward, resting his arms on the desk. “And do you think it can be?”

Lance nodded slowly. “Yeah. If both people are willing to… share it.”

Dr. Alonso’s smile deepened. “A wise answer.”

For a long moment, neither of them spoke. The air between them crackled with tension, unspoken words hanging heavily in the silence.

Finally, Dr. Alonso stood, walking around the desk until he was standing just in front of Lance.

Lance looked up — he hadn't felt this small in god knows how long — his pulse thundering in his ears.

“You’re not just any student, Mr. Stroll,” Dr. Alonso said softly, his eyes never leaving Lance’s. “You’ve… caught my attention.”

Lance’s breath hitched. “I have?”

Dr. Alonso nodded, reaching out to gently brush a stray lock of hair from Lance’s forehead.

“Yes,” he murmured. “And I find myself… wanting to know more.”

Lance’s heart nearly exploded. Holy shit. This is actually happening.

“And you?” Dr. Alonso asked, his voice barely above a whisper. “Do you feel the same?”

Lance swallowed hard, then nodded. “Oh, Yea— Yeah… I do.”

Dr. Alonso’s hand lingered for a moment before he pulled away, stepping back.

“We’ll need to be careful,” he said, his tone serious. “But if you’re willing to take the ri—”

Lance stood, closing the distance between them. “I am.”

Their eyes met once more, and this time, neither of them looked away.

Dr. Alonso’s lips curved into a smile. “Good.”

For a moment, the world outside the office ceased to exist. Lance could feel the steady thrum of his heartbeat in his ears, his gaze locked on Dr. Alonso’s — no, Fernando’s — dark, intense eyes.

Fernando leaned against the desk, his posture casual yet commanding. “You’re certain?” he asked, his voice low and deliberate.

Lance nodded again, more confident this time. “I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t.”

A flicker of something passed through Fernando’s gaze — surprise, maybe even amusement. He crossed his arms, the muscles in his forearms flexing under his rolled-up sleeves.

“You realize this… complicates things,” Fernando said, his lips twitching into a faint smirk.

Lance couldn’t help but grin back. “I’ve never really been one to go for simple.” He figured that much was obvious considering he was a double major and had managed to take one of Fernando's classes two years in a row now.

Fernando chuckled softly, shaking his head. “Of course you haven’t.”

The tension between them hung in the air, thicker now, charged with anticipation. Lance shifted his weight from one foot to the other, resisting the urge to close the remaining space between them again.

Fernando tilted his head, his eyes narrowing slightly in thought. “There’s a fine line, you know, between temptation and consequence.”

Lance quirked an eyebrow. “Which side are we on right now?”

Fernando’s smile deepened. “That depends on how far you’re willing to go.”

Lance took a slow step forward, his voice steady. “I told you — I’m all in.”

The room felt smaller now, the distance between them shrinking with each breath. Fernando watched Lance carefully, his expression unreadable, but there was no denying the spark in his eyes.

“I could lose everything,” Fernando murmured, almost to himself.

“And so could I,” Lance countered, his tone gentle but firm.

For a long moment, Fernando said nothing. Then, with deliberate slowness, he reached out, his fingers brushing Lance’s cheek. The touch was light, tentative, as if testing the boundaries of what they were about to cross.

“You’re dangerous, Mr. Stroll,” Fernando whispered, his thumb grazing Lance’s jaw.

Lance smiled, leaning into the touch. “Maybe you like it.”

Fernando chuckled again, his hand slipping to the back of Lance’s neck, pulling him just a fraction closer.

“Perhaps I do,” he murmured, before finally — finally — closing the distance between them.

The kiss started soft, almost cautious, as if both of them were testing the waters. But the moment Fernando’s hand slid to the back of Lance’s neck, pulling him closer, the tension that had been simmering between them exploded.

Lance’s hands gripped Fernando’s shoulders, fingers digging into the fabric of his shirt. He wasn’t holding back anymore — neither of them were. Fernando's lips moved with purpose, deepening the kiss until it became all-consuming, leaving Lance breathless. Their mouths melded together in a frantic rhythm, desperate and hungry.

Fernando backed Lance up against the desk, his hands traveling down to Lance’s waist, pulling him flush against his body. Lance gasped into the kiss, his fingers sliding into Fernando’s hair, tugging just enough to earn a soft groan from the older man. It sent a shiver down Lance’s spine.

“Fuck,” Lance whispered against Fernando’s lips, his voice shaky.

Fernando chuckled, his breath warm on Lance’s skin. “Language, Mr. Stroll.”

Lance laughed softly, tilting his head to capture Fernando’s mouth again, more eagerly this time. Their kisses grew messier, more fervent, teeth clashing and tongues tangling. Fernando’s hand slipped under the hem of Lance’s shirt, fingers tracing over his hipbones, and Lance arched into the touch.

“Do you have any idea what you’re doing to me?” Fernando murmured, his voice low and strained.

Lance bit his lip, his cheeks flushed. “I think I’m starting to.”

Fernando’s lips found Lance’s neck, leaving a trail of kisses along his jaw and down to his collarbone. Lance tilted his head back, eyes fluttering shut as Fernando nipped at his skin, leaving faint marks.

“You’re driving me insane,” Fernando muttered, his grip tightening on Lance’s waist.

“Good,” Lance breathed out, pulling Fernando even closer. His heart was pounding, every nerve in his body alight with desire. “I want to.”

Fernando pulled back just enough to meet Lance’s gaze, his eyes dark with want. “Careful,” he said, voice rough. “You don’t know what you’re starting.”

Lance smiled, his lips swollen and his hair a mess. “Maybe I do.”

“I’ve wanted to do this for longer than I care to admit,” Fernando confessed, his voice rough with emotion.

Lance laughed softly, brushing his fingers through Fernando’s hair. “Glad I’m not the only one.”

The moment was perfect — until a sharp knock on the door shattered the silence.

Fernando pulled back quickly, straightening his posture and smoothing down his shirt. Lance stepped back as well, his heart still racing.

“Come in,” Fernando called, his voice calm and composed, as if nothing had happened.

The door creaked open, revealing Jessica standing there with a smug grin on her face.

“Lance, you’re late for our study session,” she said, her tone dripping with amusement. Her eyes flicked to Fernando briefly before returning to Lance, a knowing look in her gaze.

Lance cleared his throat, grabbing his bag. “Right. Study session.”

Jessica smirked, stepping aside to let Lance out. “See you in class, Dr. Alonso.”

Fernando nodded, his expression perfectly professional. “See you, Ms. Hawkins.”

As they walked down the hallway, Jessica glanced at Lance. “So… how was your ‘context’ conversation?”

Lance groaned, running a hand through his hair. “Don’t start.”

Jessica laughed. “Oh, I won’t. But Charles and Esteban? Good luck.”

Lance couldn’t help but smile, his mind still lingering on the kiss — the kisses.

“Worth it,” he muttered under his breath.

Jessica raised an eyebrow at him as they walked. “What was that?”

“Nothing,” Lance said quickly, but the grin tugging at his lips gave him away.

Jessica looped her arm through his. “You’re glowing, Stroll. I’ve never seen you like this. I mean, I know Dr. Alonso is… well, ridiculously hot — but damn. I didn’t expect you to actually do something about it.”

Lance’s cheeks turned pink, and he tried to hide his face by looking straight ahead. “It wasn’t planned.”

“Oh, clearly,” Jessica teased. “You just happened to make out with your ethics professor during office hours. Totally normal.”

Lance groaned. “Okay, fine. Maybe I’ve been crushing on him for a while.”

Jessica stopped in her tracks, forcing Lance to do the same. “You think?”

Before he could answer, the sound of familiar voices echoed down the hallway. Charles and Esteban were leaning against the wall outside the study lounge, deep in conversation.

When they spotted Lance and Jessica approaching, Esteban’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Where the hell have you been?”

Charles crossed his arms, a smirk already forming on his lips. “Wait. Don’t tell me. Were you—”

Jessica cut him off, grinning wickedly. “Let’s just say someone got a little distracted.”

Lance shot her a warning look. “Don’t.”

But Esteban was already piecing it together. His jaw dropped. “No way. No fucking way. You and Alonso?”

Charles barked out a laugh. “You absolute madman.”

“Guys, seriously—” Lance started, but it was no use.

“Holy shit,” Esteban said, his eyes wide. “This is like… forbidden romance. Teacher-student. Secret meetings. Do you know how scandalous this is?”

Jessica rolled her eyes. “It’s not a soap opera, Esteban.”

Charles leaned in, his grin smug. “So… was it good?”

Lance flushed, glaring at his friends. “I hate all of you.”

“Come on, tell us,” Charles pushed. “He doesn’t strike me as the kind of guy who does anything halfway.”

Lance groaned again, rubbing his temples. “I’m not discussing my love life with you two.”

“Love life?” Esteban repeated, eyes wide. “You’re calling it a love life already?”

“God, you’re all insufferable,” Lance muttered, but he couldn’t stop the smile from creeping onto his face. His thoughts kept drifting back to Fernando’s touch, his kiss, the way he’d looked at him like Lance was the only person in the world.

Jessica patted his shoulder. “It’s okay, Lance. We’re just jealous. None of our professors look like that.”

“Or kiss like that,” Charles added with a wink.

“Shut up,” Lance hissed, though he couldn’t help laughing.

As they finally settled into the study lounge, Esteban leaned over, whispering conspiratorially, “So… what happens now?”

Lance’s smile softened. “Now? I guess… we figure it out.”

And, deep down, he already knew he was willing to take the risk — because something told him that whatever he and Fernando had started was only the beginning.

Next

[ineed-to-sleep]

Yk I don't think ai art will ever really substitute real art. Like I don't think a future like that is possible, and if I'm wrong, we'd be living in the saddest, most depressing version of reality.

The thing about ai is that it will never be able to tell you a story in the way that an artist who actually drew the image will. Even my old drawings I did at age 13 with the wonky poses and huge anime eyes could tell you more of a story than ai ever could, even if it was just a very human story about a kid who liked soulcalibur iv and wanted to draw her ocs. If I'd only been messing with ai back then instead of picking up a pencil, imagine how sad it would be to look back and realize the art said absolutely nothing about me or my personality or intentions or where I was at in my life and with my skills.

It might look pretty. Maybe. But that's it. The result is shallow. You can't read into it, you can't think about the person behind it, because it says nothing about them. It's honestly the saddest thing. I hate to think about a future where people only want to produce ai art because it just sounds so empty. You can see none of yourself and your tastes and your history in an ai produced image. I think that's what people mean when they say ai art is souless and has no human behind it, because even if a human used the ai tool to generate it, there's none of themselves in it.

Real art feels more like an inescapable mirror. An amalgamation of the things you love poured into every line and brushstroke. A frankenstein of everything in the visual world that has ever inspired or fascinated you, built up over a lifetime of learning and repetition. And the more you learn and the better you get the more it grows and the more of yourself you can see in it, the more it looks back and screams at you the story of who you are. If your art doesn't feel like a living thing your hands have birthed then what's even the point?

[archerdepartures116]

Hope you feel better soon!

Also I forgot if you already answered this just like I forgot Anon wasn't on when I sent the ask orz but in the pet cafe au have cultivation being a thibg? If so I'd agree possible to even partially gain a human or humanoid form. Night time peopling escapades could be funny. Especially for the MBJ blanket cat.

Any highlights of the "Pets"antics with SQH and SY?

ive been corrupted by seeing skinzhun and skinhe creatures and when you said humanoid my brain immediately jumped to this and well...

...furhe

but yeah i think humanoid night escapades would be funny so... tell me what y'all think

AS FOR THE PET ANTICS!! Even though they try to avoid property damage out of respect for the cafe, there's bound to be some gnawing on wires and paper rolls being destroyed (courtesy of sj and mbj)

heres a list tho:

Mbj blanket cat, SQH woke up many times being nearly suffocated by him

LBH likes to snuggle on SY's chest when he was younger but he started getting too heavy and SY woke up many times thinking he was having sleep paralysis demons

SY and SQH being jumped by the animals for attempting to take them to the vet

SY and SQH taking LBH out on a "trip", LBH coming back bald, it was quite horrifying to look at

LQG chasing SJ around (bunnies can be menaces too ok)

LBH dragging around LQG (SQH and SY had a heart attack because they thought he was being eaten)

LBH dragging SQH and SY when they take him on walks

SJ tried to drown LQG in YQY's bathing pool

SHL sitting on top of YQY's head and SJ tried to eat her

SHL sitting on top of LMY's head and LQG trying to kick her

QQQ sometimes falls into deep sleep and hangs like a bat in her cage, scaring SQH and SY many times into thinking she died

SJ likes swatting MQF's dust bath into whoever pissed him off that week

not really a pet antic but SQH using the most diabolical photos of the animals to promote their cafe online, much to everyone's dismay

[thatnoulguyorsomething]

As someone who is almost religiously obsessed with fixing and maintaining my old electronics as long as possible, there's a thing to be said about repairability, planned obsolescence, etc.

I have a phone. I've had it for close to seven years, and I dug it out of the trash, so it's probably a couple years older. I mainly use it to listen to music. The headphone jack is now starting to bend out of shape, one side completely does not work anymore. There are no replacements for that part - it is so specific that the only way to get a replacement is to find another phone of the same make and take it apart (which is pretty counter-productive).

The phone is otherwise perfectly capable, but because of the failure of a single, simple part (six wires in a plastic casing), I can no longer use it (I can, but I'd have to get something else to listen to music, and that defeats the purpose.)

Another example. My laptop is half as old as I. The cd drive started failing years ago (the ribbon cable had started tearing), I had to remove a single screw to remove the entire thing (to make sure it stopped messing with the device settings). The 'z' key stopped working, so I learned to type without it (either rewording stuff, or using unicode escapes if really needed - fun fact, german uses that letter a LOT). At some point, the 'e' key stopped working, which was a lot more critical - so I started lugging along a usb keyboard (that I also dug out of the trash). Wifi card started failing - got clever with how I use the internet (mainly doing stuff over cable). The battery started failing, so I promoted it to a PC and set it up on my desk, where it is always connected. Lately, the usb ports have been wearing out, so I'm considering opening it up and replacing them with a usb hub board (have a guess where I got that one from). People have been telling me it is too broken to use for a decade, yet lo and behold, I am still shitposting from it, making and playing games, and as of late, making an operating system.

Crucially, those are things that can be fixed. In part, because it's a laptop and laptops are easier to manage than mobile devices, though in large part because the people that designed it did so in a way that I can do anything I want with it with a 4mm screwdriver and a soldering iron. And that makes it very easy to fix broken parts and just keep it going. When corporations try to make this impossible by removing all outside access and installing traps and then making things break quicker so they can charge you more money for repairs and replacements, they are also causing absurd amounts of trash and waste that could have been used better and lived longer if only it had been made fixable.

So yeah, being unable to fix things and having to toss them away are manufactured problems. Upcycling and tech hackery are one side of it, but those rely on the people making these electronics to make them properly in the first place.

Not a bold take here, but I believe nevertheless that our current way of producing and consuming electronics (I speak globally here) is not sustainable and built on huge human suffering. On the logistical level, virtually all of the world's microchips are made in a single factory on Taiwan because every single technology company outsourced it to them. Any conflict or disaster could simply stop the delicate supply chains that have their point here and make anything related to microchips, that is, our entire lives become much much harder. It is, in fact, very likely this might happen in our lifetimes and might lead to a major crisis in the first world.

This does not mean that computers or robotics shouldn't get produced anymore because that's a stupid idea by jokers. It means that the world needs to rethink how we make and consume electronics. Stupid fashion items like iphones are only possible because of this system; a tool, like a smartphone is, a very useful tool, shouldn't be needed to be replaced with each new model but endure. Computers should last longer and be upgradeable. I'd even go as far as to say that the power of a device should be proportional to its function; if a rugged brick phone can do the job, it will do the job. The exploitation of African countries for mining cannot continue, any international trade must be done in their terms and with the rights of their workers fully respected, no matter the price the end consumers will have to pay.

This cannot happen in a world where computers are seen as luxuries instead of tools and where capitalism creates demand.

[radioactivepeasant]

Snippet Thursday:

Giving Sig gray hairs for fun and profit (sorry, Sig, it's for a good cause)

Going with the winner of the poll here: "Damas Commits to the Bit too hard and Sig is Going To Slap Him"

Premise: Sig went on all of two missions with the Demolition Duo and decided "dibs, my rookies now, no take-backs".

"No leads on Mar yet."

Sig slouched in the corner booth, eyeing the empty bar as he spoke quietly into his talk-box. "Been trying to work out why Jak was able to talk to that Oracle in the slums. Only thing I know for sure is that it's teaching him to control all the dark eco Praxis forced into his bloodstream."

"His bloodstream?!"*

Damas sounded appalled.

"Eco outside of the core organ is some of the worst pain a hu'men can experience shy of a gut-shot! When did that happen?"

Sig clenched his teeth hard.

"Over the last two years. Snatched the kid off the street and put him through that for two years trying to make a super-soldier while Jak fought him every step of the way."

"I wish I could say that didn't sound like a logical progression of his depravity," Damas hissed on the other end of the line. "That your recruit managed to walk away from that -- let alone resist for two years -- is impressive."

There was a thoughtful note in the king's voice. He was considering something. Now was as good a time as any to try to catch him in an agreeable mood. Sig braced himself.

"...I have a request. I know you don't want to get involved in the civil war beyond runnin' guns, but-"

"Spit it out, Sig."

Sig rubbed the skin under his prosthetic eye and groaned.

"I'm...scared for Jak, man. Every time I see him, he's weaker. Kid’s about to drop over the edge of exhaustion and he keeps trudging on because he says "they" told him to. And I'm pretty sure he's talkin' about the Underground. Now, I know it's off agenda, but- I wanna follow him back. Find out whose trying to work him to death and straighten em out."

He could barely see the shrug on the monitor as Damas answered.

"Why're you asking me? He's your kid."

Something warm fluttered in Sig’s stomach and he grinned despite himself. "Yeah. I...guess he kinda is at this point, isn't he?"

The line was quiet for a few seconds. Time enough for sounds to begin emanating from the street. Then,

"When you find Mar-"

When. Not if. As if his success wasn't even in question.

"When you bring him home, bring Jak, too. I want to meet this kid in person."

"You think I'd let him and Daxter stay here?" Sig scoffed.

Just then, the door swung open, bringing with it the ottsel's familiar voice.

"I'm tellin' you, sweetheart, it's all about the pine-pears. Slice em, grill em, put em on the steak. I guarantee even Hoverboy will love it."

Tess walked in with the boys -- Sig didn't blame them for walking together. This wasn't the nicest neighborhood even without the KG -- and she giggled.

"Daxxie, I've never even had pine-pear. How am I supposed to convince Krew to put something on the menu if we can't get any?"

Jak looked worse than before. The circles beneath his eyes were deep and purple, and he looked dehydrated. Daxter perked up from his shoulders to glance in Sig’s direction.

Crap. He loved the boys, but they weren't cleared to know about Spargus yet.

"Hey, shift's gonna be starting soon, hon. Imma have to call you back."

"I beg your pardon?!" Damas sputtered.

After a beat, in which he must've heard the other voices, he sounded calmer. "Ah. You have company. Carry on."

"Yeah yeah yeah. No, I'll remember. Don't worry about it," Sig said quickly, and a little louder than necessary. "Milk, eggs, paper towels. You need me to grab anything else when I clock out?"

Jak stopped next to his table and cocked his head with a soft frown.

"Who you talkin' to?" he asked.

With a sardonic lilt, Damas’s voice grated in his ear.

"Oh, is that my "stepson"? Yeesh, he sounds rough. Tell him to take a nap."

"Tell him yourself!"

"Sure. Watch your ears."

And before he had time to brace himself, Sig had his ears ringing as Damas raised his voice and loudly called,

"Hey kid! Be good for your old man today. Take a nap when he tells you to this time."

"What the-?" Jak squinted at the talk-box.

Sig flushed scarlet from the tip of his ears to his neck when he heard the usually stoic king burst into uncontrolled cackling.

"I'm gonna round up the kids, and then I'm gonna smack you when I get home" he whispered harshly into the line.

"You wouldn't!" Damas snickered, just before ending the call, "Think of the children!"

"I am going to get him for this," Sig muttered as Jak’s face twisted in confusion.

"Who the heck is that?"

"A menace, that's who," Sig growled. "Ignore him."

Unfortunately, Jak did not.

The more time he and Daxter spent with Sig, recovering from missions under the guise of "Wastelander training", the more comfortable he became with Sig having more or less unceremoniously adopted them. And the more comfortable with Sig he got, the more accustomed he became to encrypted calls from Spargus. The ones Sig wouldn't tell him about yet.

Damas’s terrible habit of taking a Situation and running with it came back to bite them both when a message came while Sig was running perimeter check. And Jak answered the comm.

"You...are not supposed to be on this line."

To his credit, Damas kept reasonably calm.

"Where's your dad, rookie?"

"Sig's clearing the building," Jak answered with a shrug.

"I'd go grab him, but apparently broken toes disqualify you from pest control."

"Eco would fix that quickly enough."

"That's what I said!" Jak gestured vaguely towards the door. "It's not even the worst injury I've gotten in a base!"

Daxter paused on his way past Jak to the kitchen.

"That's true," he called over, "I think catching the live scatter rounds with your bare hands still holds the title on that one, pal."

"Eh." Jak made an entirely too casual shrug.

"Now, don't tell me you were juggling ammunition," Damas said, with a bit of mild reproof under the dry tone.

"The kid tried to channel em," Jak defended himself, "Slight burns or crabby toddler with super strength? Definitely could have been worse. Sig freaked out over that one, too."

Damas’s face went blank very abruptly.

"What toddler."

The door opened, and Jak glanced over.

"Oh, hey Sig. Your "it's complicated" is on the comm."

Sig made a very amusing impression of a fish out of water. He rushed across the room and snatched the talk-box.

"You don't have clearance for my comm, cherry! You know that!"

"What?" Jak asked indignantly, even as Sig propelled him out of the room.

"It's just that stepdad guy! What's the big deal?"

Sig glared at the box. "You did this."

Damas barely noticed. "He can stay, I need to clear something up with him."

If looks could kill, Damas would have been shaking hands with his ancestors at that moment.

"Out. Go run your weapons drills." Sig waved the boys away.

"Well so much for being consistent with him," Damas needled.

Another discreetly murderous glance was aimed at the camera lens.

"Are you serious right now."

"Jak may have information about Mar's location, Sig. I'm dead serious."

Sig snapped back to look at Jak so quickly that Jak was afraid he was going to get whiplash.

Jak blinked.

"Uh...we're not talking about the dead city founder guy, are we? Because I don't know where he is, but the old lady is making me look, so I can probably get you intel later."

*"Toddler,"* Damas corrected tightly, "Green hair, wearing an amulet of Mar. Powerful but uncontrolled channeling potential. Would be about four now."

Jak relaxed. "Oh, him! Yeah, I dropped him off with Vin at the power station because the Shadow was letting him play in the street again."

The combined stares of his semi-legal guardian and the man on the tiny screen left him fidgeting uncomfortably.

"....what?"

[kazenehoshizora]

The Third Division cafeteria buzzed with its usual activity. Plates clattered, voices chattered, and amidst the commotion, you stood frozen, staring at an empty dessert plate. Your Mont Blanc—the one you had carefully hidden earlier—was gone.

As if on cue, Vice Captain Soshiro Hoshina strolled in, looking entirely too relaxed. Spotting you, he waved casually, then stopped mid-stride as if recalling something. "Oh, by the way, that dessert in the fridge? Damn, that was somethin' else. Didn't think I'd like chestnuts that much."

Your jaw dropped. “That was mine!”

Hoshina blinked, then winced slightly. “Ah... my bad. Didn’t have a name tag on it, so I figured it was free game.”

You glared at him, crossing your arms. "Free game?" Without another word, you turned on your heel and walked off, deciding then and there to give him the silent treatment.

-------next day --------

The cafeteria buzzed with activity, but for Vice Captain Soshiro Hoshina, there was one notable absence—your usual cheerful greetings. Over the past four days, you had mastered the art of ignoring him, and he was not enjoying it.

As the Third Division prepared for the kaiju subjugation that evening, Hoshina spotted you near the mission briefing area, double-checking your gear. With his usual laid-back grin, he approached.

“Yo, rookie! All set for tonight? Make sure ya don’t forget anythin’—wouldn’t want ya to freeze up out there.”

You didn’t even glance at him. Instead, you adjusted your helmet strap and walked away as if he didn’t exist.

Hoshina blinked, momentarily stunned before muttering under his breath, “Cold as ice. Thought we Kansai folks were supposed to be the stubborn ones.”

---

Four Days Later: The Subjugation Mission

Night had fallen, and the Third Division was fully mobilized for a large-scale kaiju subjugation. The battle was intense, but the team worked like a well-oiled machine. However, just as victory seemed within reach, the ground beneath you and Vice Captain Hoshina gave way, sending you both tumbling into an underground chamber.

Dust filled the air as rubble settled around you. Groaning, you blinked and realized you were pinned under Hoshina—his arm braced against the wall to keep from crushing you entirely. The awkward proximity made heat rise to your cheeks, but Hoshina seemed unfazed.

“Well, this ain’t ideal,” he muttered, his Kansai accent slipping into his voice as he shifted slightly.

“Operations room, this is Hoshina!” he called into his earpiece. “The attack of the other beast caused our footing to collapse, and we’ve been buried under rubble in the ○ area! There’s a possibility of secondary damage, so we’ve determined it’ll be difficult to escape by releasing our fighting forces. Please send immediate support.”

Konomi Okonogi’s voice crackled back. “Copy that, Vice Captain. Are you and the recruit injured?”

“Nah, we’re fine fer now,” he replied. “But ya might wanna hurry—this ain’t exactly comfortable.”

“I’ll dispatch reinforcements immediately,” Konomi said. “Hold tight.”

As the earpiece fell silent, Hoshina shifted again, trying to ease the pressure on your legs. “I’ll be like this for a while. If the position’s uncomfortable, don’t hesitate to tell me.”

You huffed quietly, muttering, “Ha... yes.”

Hoshina chuckled lightly, his lavender eyes glinting in the dim light. “Still givin’ me the silent treatment, huh? Four days, rookie. Gotta admit, I’m impressed by your commitment.”

You bit your lip, refusing to meet his gaze.

“C’mon,” he said, his tone softening. “Look, I’m sorry ‘bout the Mont Blanc, alright? I didn’t know it meant so much to ya.”

Still, you didn’t respond, though your silence felt less like defiance and more like hesitation. Hoshina tilted his head, his expression turning curious. “Wait… was it somethin’ special?”

Finally, you sighed, the words slipping out before you could stop them. “It wasn’t just for me. It was a gift. From the whole recruitment team. For you.”

Hoshina froze, the weight of your words sinking in. “For... me?”

You nodded, looking away. “We wanted to thank you for being such a great mentor. Everyone chipped in to get it. And you just... ate it without even knowing.”

There was a long pause before Hoshina let out a low laugh—not mocking, but warm and slightly self-deprecating. “Well, damn. Guess I really screwed up, huh?”

You didn’t answer, but your pout deepened.

“Alright, alright,” he said, his voice taking on a playful lilt. “How ‘bout this? I’ll make it up to ya. I’ll treat the whole team to somethin’ better. Or maybe I’ll bake one myself. Couldn’t be that hard, right?”

You snorted softly, unable to hide your amusement. “You? Baking? I’ll believe it when I see it.”

Hoshina smirked. “Don’t underestimate me, rookie. I’ve got plenty of skills you don’t know ‘bout yet.”

The tension between you began to ease, his lighthearted banter making the situation feel less dire. His voice dropped into a softer tone as he continued, “Y’know, for someone givin’ me the cold shoulder, you sure look cute when you’re mad. Maybe I oughta mess up more often.”

You rolled your eyes, though your cheeks flushed. “Don’t push your luck, Vice Captain.”

Hoshina shifted slightly, careful not to worsen the situation. “Alright, rookie,” he said softly, his Kansai accent thick but his tone unusually tender. “This ain’t exactly how I imagined spendin’ the night with ya, but I reckon it could be worse.”

You turned your head to avoid looking at him directly, your face flushed. “Vice Captain, now’s not the time for jokes.”

“Who said I’m jokin’?” he teased, though his lavender eyes softened. “Honestly, though… I’m sorry. Not just about the Mont Blanc. ‘Bout the whole thing. If I’d known it was somethin’ so special, I’d have guarded it like my swords. You didn’t deserve me makin’ ya feel ignored.”

You blinked, caught off guard by the sincerity in his voice. “It… It wasn’t just for me. It was from all of us.”

“I get it now,” he said, his voice dropping lower. “And I’m touched, rookie. More than you know. Y’all wanted to thank me, but here I am makin’ a mess of it. Guess I owe y’all big time, huh?”

You hesitated, your pout lingering as you muttered, “It’s not about owing us…”

Hoshina’s gaze softened further, his smirk fading into a rare, gentle smile. “Nah, it is to me. Yer one of the most dedicated recruits I’ve had the pleasure of workin’ with, ya know that? Yer silent treatment these past days—it hurt more than I thought it would. Made me realize how much I enjoy our chats, even when yer givin’ me sass.”

Your cheeks flushed, but before you could respond, he continued, his tone turning more playful again.

“Plus, ya look kinda cute when yer mad,” he drawled with a wink. “Almost makes me wanna steal more desserts just to see ya all pouty again.”

“Vice Captain!” you protested, finally meeting his gaze, though your embarrassment was evident.

He chuckled, the sound deep and warm. “Alright, alright, I’ll stop. For now. But seriously, rookie… Thanks for tellin’ me the truth. I’ll make it up to ya somehow, even if it means learnin’ to bake somethin’ better than a Mont Blanc. Think I could manage that?”

You couldn’t help but laugh softly, your annoyance starting to melt away. “I don’t think anyone would survive that experiment, Vice Captain.”

“Ya wound me, rookie,” he said dramatically, though his grin didn’t fade. “Guess I’ll stick to what I’m good at, then—swordplay and sweet talkin’ ya outta yer bad mood.”

You rolled your eyes, but the hint of a smile tugged at your lips. The atmosphere between you grew lighter, even as fatigue began to settle over you.

Hoshina noticed the way your eyelids started to droop, and his expression softened again. “Hey, don’t tell me yer driftin’ off already,” he murmured, his voice quieter now. “Ain’t exactly the best time for a nap, rookie.”

“I can’t help it…” you muttered, your voice barely above a whisper. “It’s been a long day…”

“Yeah, no kiddin’,” he replied, adjusting his position slightly to give you more support. His shoulder became your makeshift pillow, and he made no effort to move you. “Guess I’ll just sit here an’ keep ya safe till help gets here. Not like I’ve got anywhere else to be.”

The warmth in his voice made your heart flutter, but the weight of exhaustion pulled you under before you could say anything more.

Hoshina tilted his head slightly to glance at you, a rare softness overtaking his features as he watched you sleep. “Ya really know how to keep a guy on his toes, don’t ya?” he murmured.

For a moment, he let the silence linger, the chaos outside feeling worlds away. “You’re somethin’ else, rookie,” he added quietly. “An’ maybe… maybe it’s not just yer fightin’ spirit that’s got me so hooked.”

He sighed, leaning his head back against the rubble as his eyes flickered closed for a moment. “Guess I’ll just have to stick around long enough to figure out the rest, huh?”

The faint sound of distant footsteps signaled the arrival of reinforcements, but Hoshina didn’t move. Not yet. For now, he stayed still, letting you rest against him, a small, genuine smile tugging at his lips.

Hoshina smirked faintly, his voice soft as he murmured, “Guess I owe ya more than just a Mont Blanc, huh?”