#at least I assume that's what's happening

[yogsandchaos]

Been a bit and definitely nothing has happened so I'm gonna...

7. Mental health should be taken seriously, but be wary of when it's used to distract from real issues. The fact someone did a bad thing should not be forgotten even if the results have hurt them. Instead facts like "no one deserves an internet witch hunt and death threats" along with "even still you did a really bad thing" can and should both be taken equally. At the same time though, give people at least some grace when it's brought up and don't immediately assume it's a distraction. It very likely feels important to the person bringing it up and like it's worth mentioning especially when in those headspaces. TLDR Don't be guilted, don't let guilting go unchecked, but don't inherently assume guilting was intentional and not just a poor decision made earnestly

8. People are inherently biased towards their own favor and view of events. If someone genuinely believes themselves to not have done something wrong, insisting on that is not gaslighting or anything, it's simply a different perception. Someone can be wrong without doing it on purpose, in fact this can be rather common. Don't take defensiveness and reframing as a sign of guilt, that's just how humans work.

9. Everyone involved has more information then you, random person on tumblr, it's good to get both sides, but do not presume you know everything, no one is ever 100% completely right about everything on a developing situation. You do not know these people's, you do not know the full extent of whats going on, they are not your friends. I understand the defensiveness, but you gotta remember this isn't your beef. Form your own opinion yes, but be aware that facts can change and that the truth is usually a bit more complicated then you might hope.

10. Cancel Culture is much more complex then just "100% good" or "100% bad" it's a hard to control tool that can have severe consequences, but like all tools it depends on the use and applications. Be careful on how you use it, and be understanding when people speak out about how dangerous and potentially life threatening it can be. Don't feed flames that don't need to be fed and especially don't misuse it as an excuse to be vicious towards whoever is on the weekly chopping block.

11. People can be wrong and support someone they shouldn't, this isn't a reason to immediately condemn them and cut them away as helpless, but a reason to learn more about why and their own opinions. It's an invitation for discussion, not an immediately burned bridge. Nuance good! Especially don't expect people to immediately cut off people they were close friends with for long periods of time, even if it turns out they were wrong about them, people wanna defend their friends and family, especially with how violent cancel culture can get.

12. The best thing you can do about an unfolding situation like this is to let the actual people involved settle things and do the arguing and fighting and stuff, and to simply stay somewhat informed and double checking that the information is correct. Like, make memes and jokes, but don't take it upon yourself to try and get actually involved, you'll just make things messier and more confusing with how fast disinformation can spread. Screenshots can be faked, deepfaking is a lot easier these days, I'm not saying to not believe everything ever, just, remember to further check things.

13. SENDING DEATH THREATS IS ILLEGAL, DO NOT SEND THREATS, YOU'RE GOING TO GET IN TROUBLE IF YOU SEND ANYONE DEATH THREATS OR JUST THREATS, ESPECIALLY IF THEY ALREADY HAVE LAWYERS INVOLVED IM CHOOSING TO BELIEVE MOST PEOPLE WOULD NOT DO THIS, BUT FOR THAT LIKE 2% THINKING ABOUT HOW FUNNY IT WOULD BE, YOU CAN GET IN A LOT OF TROUBLE DO N O T .

14. Don't call people narcissists or psycho, or anything, I know that's asking a lot, but at least try not to be ableist about this. The word you want is not narcissist, it's "manipulator." It's scummy to immediately assume anyone who does anything bad has to have "bad person disorder" something that does not, and never has existed.

15. Remember people who hurt others or do bad things are very rarely giant supervillains pulling the strings with dozens of scripts and plans to manipulate and twist everything. They're just a person, a person likely with some sense of entitlement. That's it. You don't gotta be a smart Machiavellian master villain to hurt someone or do something scummy. You just have to feel like you're owed something, you have been wronged somehow, or that you are an exception to something. Anyone can do that. It's basically never a big grand chessmaster plan, it's just a person who likely genuinely does not believe they did do anything wrong, or that whatever wrong they did wasn't actually what people are taking it as.

16. Continue to be nice and patient! Just, be nice, I cannot stress enough how much being nice and patient can make things easier to deal with when it comes to discourse. Like, do it for your own sanity at least, don't get in fights, or yell at people, or stay up to 3 am putting up a red string board. Be nice and patient.

17. Almost forgot, but just because one person is worse doesn't mean you shouldn't call out when the other is going too far. You're allowed to go "this person is bad, but i find this reaction or statement about it to be uneasy or uncomfortable" that's allowed, nuance nuance nuance. Someone can do something wrong about or to someone who has done harm, and the fact that they have done harm does not inherently mean you have to turn a blind eye to it.

The hermit community is pretty old so I probably don’t have to say this, but I know a lot of people in the fandom are young; but here’s a few tips from an old school yog fan

1. just because someone has left or did a bad thing, doesn’t mean you’re a bad person for enjoying the content, along with still wanting to watch that old content they did or were a part of

2. Just because someone has left or did a bad thing does not mean you cannot continue to make fan content. While it’s understandable if you don’t make more or remove art you have made, you are also not bad if you don’t. YouTube is all about collaboration and transformation. Fanart? Fanfic? Cosplay? That’s all transformative, you don’t have to stop making a new thing from the old thing. It’s fully in your right to do so, but it’s not required.

3. Do not harass people about whether they do or don’t make art or delete art, it’s transformative works and personal choice, the most you should do is ask for it to be tagged so it can be filtered.

4. Don’t harass the creators either, it’s clearly been handled and handled well. If this was a case of it being ignored for years by the company or group (COUGH SJIN YOGSCAST COUGH) then it would be more complicated, but it’s a solved issue. Don’t harass iskall or stress either

5. You are allowed to hold off on making a value judgment until you have more information. We don’t have a lot of information and things around kids media tend to be a lot more stricter then adults for what’s appropriate. so it could be a lot of different things of highly varying morality ranging from assault to a bad case of public intoxication that didn’t fit the child friendly brand of the Hermits. We don’t know. Especially about Stress her resignation and how it relates is a near total mystery right now.

6. Be kind to each other, and remember the people you watch are people, and people do dumb or fucked shit sometimes, it sucks, but these are just people, hopefully it’s something to be grown from by Iskall and not something life ruining, but let this remind everyone to not put people on pedestals as unproblematic. Every hermit has probably held an opinion or been a part of something you’d find distasteful, that’s just what it means to be human. It’s up to you to decide where your personal line is and your comfort levels on that stuff, and no one can make that choice for you.

[marauroon]

── .✦ 𝐬𝐢𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐠𝐨𝐥𝐝 (𝐬.𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤)

sirius is so adamant to prove his hatred for what his family stands for that he ends up becoming them.

sirius black x gn!reader | 3.1k | flangst | masterlist.

CW | slytherin reader, kind of bullying (marauders to reader), lots of arguing, enemies to lovers, slow burn, just general britishness

a/n — the og request was so enthusiastic so i hope this lives up to expectations 🤞

The corridors of Hogwarts are never quiet, always filled with the chatter of students, the rustling of robes, the distant hum of magical portraits gossiping amongst themselves.

You’ve grown used to it, just as you’ve grown used to the way Gryffindors look at you—like you’re something foul stuck to the bottom of their shoe.

It doesn’t bother you, not really.

You’ve learned to wear your green and silver with pride, to ignore the muttered remarks and judgmental glances.

Except for him.

Sirius Black doesn’t just glare. He sneers. He rolls his eyes. He makes a show of stepping aside when you pass, like even sharing the same air as you is offensive.

It would almost be funny if it weren’t so pathetic. If he weren’t so Sirius Black about it—dramatic, unrelenting, determined to make sure you know what he thinks of you.

“Merlin, I think the dungeon stench is getting stronger,” he drawls loudly one afternoon, just as you’re walking past him in the Entrance Hall. James, always eager to stir up trouble, chuckles beside him. “Might need to start carrying something to ward it off. What do you reckon, Moony?”

Remus doesn’t even look up from his book, but Peter snickers anyway.

You don’t hesitate. You stop, arching a brow as you tilt your head just slightly. “If you’re that worried about foul stenches, Black, maybe start with your own ego. Smells rancid from here.”

James whistles lowly, nudging Sirius in the ribs. “You gonna take that, mate?”

Sirius scoffs. “From a Slytherin?” His grey eyes flick over you dismissively, like you’re not worth the energy. “Please,”

It’s always the same with him—cold, cruel, hypocritical. And yet, every time he opens his mouth to throw another insult, all you can think is does he even realise how much he sounds like the very people he claims to hate?

But that’s the thing, isn’t it? Sirius is so desperate to prove he’s not like his family that he’s swung in the other direction entirely. His rebellion is as rigid as the ideals he’s rejecting.

The way he sees it, Slytherin equals the worst parts of his family, of the wizarding world, of everything he wants to burn to the ground. And you? You just happen to wear the wrong colours.

Fine. Let him hate you. You can hate him right back.

—

You don’t know what it is about today that makes you snap. Maybe it’s the way Sirius has been especially insufferable. Maybe it’s the way James is laughing at something he’s said, or the way Peter chimes in with a snide little comment of his own. Maybe it’s because Remus, for all his supposed mediation, never actually tells them to stop.

Or maybe it’s just because you’ve had enough.

“Honestly, mate, you’d think they’d at least try to be original,” Sirius muses, staring you down across the library table as you attempt—attempt—to focus on your Transfiguration notes. “But no. Same old pureblood rubbish, same old superiority complex. Must get exhausting,”

It’s not even a direct insult. Not really. Just another offhand remark, the same tired implication that your house defines you, that you must be just like the worst of them.

Something inside you snaps.

The chair scrapes harshly against the floor as you shove it back, standing before you even fully register what you’re doing. The words spill out before you can stop them, sharp and furious and ringing through the library loud enough that even Madame Pince glances over in alarm.

"If you’re so ‘against prejudice,’ then stop assuming that every single bloody green tie you see is the mark of a blood supremacist.”

Sirius freezes.

For the first time, you watch his usual cocky, self-assured expression falter. His lips part, as if reaching for some quick-witted comeback, some clever insult to throw back at you—but nothing comes.

James blinks. Peter’s mouth is slightly open, as though waiting for Sirius to say something. Even Remus looks up from his book now, brow furrowed, sensing something different in the air.

But you don’t wait for a response. You don’t need one.

You shake your head, scoff under your breath, and turn on your heel, leaving them in stunned silence as you march out of the library.

You don’t look back.

—

The words don’t leave Sirius alone. They lodge themselves in his brain, clawing at the edges of his thoughts, forcing their way in when he least expects it.

He tells himself it’s ridiculous. That he was right, that you’re just being defensive because, deep down, you know what Slytherin stands for. That you’re just like them.

…Except, what if you’re not?

The realisation sits uncomfortably in his chest. He doesn’t like it. He doesn’t want to like it.

Because if you’re right—if he’s spent all these years hating you for the same kind of blind, sweeping judgements he resents in his own family for—then what does that say about him?

The Marauders notice the shift almost immediately.

“You’re brooding,” James comments, flopping down on the common room sofa beside him. “That’s a Remus thing. You’re not allowed to brood,”

“I’m not brooding,” Sirius mutters.

“You are,” Remus agrees from the armchair, not even looking up from his book. “It’s a bit unsettling, actually,”

Peter squints at him. “Did you two have a duel we don’t know about? Because if they hexed your mouth shut, I think I might actually give them a round of applause,”

Sirius scowls, throwing a cushion at him. “Piss off.”

But later, when he’s lying in bed, staring up at the ceiling, he still hears your voice.

"Stop assuming."

He hates that you might be right.

And Sirius Black is nothing if not stubborn.

Which is exactly why, the next morning, he decides to prove you wrong.

By being nice.

—

It starts small.

No insults. No remarks. No sneering looks when you pass by in the corridors. He doesn’t trip you in Potions, doesn’t scoff when Slughorn praises you for a well-brewed Draught of Living Death.

You notice, of course. But at first, you just assume he’s lost interest in his usual torment.

Then he starts doing things that make no sense.

Like defending you in conversation.

The first time, you assume you’ve misheard him. Some Gryffindor is mouthing off about Slytherins in the Great Hall—predictable—and you’ve already tuned it out when you hear Sirius scoff.

“You do realise you’re sounding exactly like my mother, right?” he says lazily, raising an eyebrow at the boy. “Or is irony just lost on you?”

The Gryffindor gapes at him. You do, too. Sirius doesn’t even look at you, just shoves another bite of toast into his mouth like he hasn’t just flipped his entire personality on its head.

Then he starts helping.

When Slughorn assigns a partnered essay in Potions, you groan inwardly as Sirius drops into the seat beside you.

"Relax, I’m not gonna hex your parchment," he says dryly, rolling his eyes. And then—worse—he actually pulls his weight.

It’s so painfully obvious that he’s overcompensating. That he’s doing this out of some ridiculous, guilt-driven need to prove a point. And it infuriates you.

Because now—after weeks of treating you like dirt—he suddenly decides to grow a conscience?

After class, you shove your books into your bag with more force than necessary and whirl on him.

“If you’re trying to make up for being an arse, don’t bother,” you snap. “It’s not an apology if you’re only doing it to make yourself feel better.”

Sirius looks taken aback for all of half a second before his jaw tightens. “That’s not—”

But you don’t wait to hear whatever half-baked excuse he’s about to come up with.

You just shake your head and walk away.

Again.

And the worst part?

This time, he actually looks frustrated about it.

—

Sirius doesn’t try to talk to you again for a while after that.

And for a moment, you think—Good. Let him stew in it. Let him realise that you’re not some guilt-induced redemption project. Let him finally get it through his thick skull that you don’t need, nor want, his forced attempts at kindness.

But then something strange happens.

He doesn’t go back to his usual ways. He doesn’t start throwing insults again, doesn’t return to sneering at you in the corridors or loudly making snide remarks whenever you’re in earshot.

Instead, he just… stops trying so hard altogether.

And that’s somehow even more infuriating.

Because now, instead of forced civility or open hostility, Sirius Black simply acts like you’re—normal. Like you’re just another person in the castle, not an enemy, not a cause for guilt, not someone to be proved wrong or right.

It’s unnerving.

You’re used to his usual extremes—hot or cold, cruel or obnoxiously overcompensating—but this new, balanced in-between? It throws you completely off.

And it gets worse.

Because the universe, apparently, hates you.

First, there’s the paired assignments—because of course McGonagall has the bright idea to randomly assign partners for an extensive Transfiguration project, and of course you end up stuck with him.

Then, there’s the detention—because James Potter and Evan Rosier just had to get into a hexing match in the middle of the corridor, and you just had to be in the splash zone when Flitwick rounded the corner. Now you’re forced to scrub cauldrons in the Potions classroom with Sirius Black, of all people.

And then—worst of all—there’s the Astronomy Tower.

It starts as another unfortunate coincidence. You head up to the tower late one night, unable to sleep, hoping for a moment of solitude beneath the stars. But as soon as you push the door open, you see a familiar figure already leaning against the stone railing.

For a moment, neither of you say anything.

You could leave. Turn around, pretend you never came up here, avoid another painfully awkward interaction. But Sirius—maybe out of some residual stubbornness, maybe out of something else—just sighs and shifts slightly to the side.

Not enough to make a big deal out of it. Just enough to make room.

And against your better judgement, you take it.

Minutes pass in silence. It’s strange—peaceful, but charged in a way you can’t quite explain.

Then, in a voice so quiet you almost don’t hear it, Sirius says, “I never actually thought about it, you know,”

You frown, glancing at him. “Thought about what?”

His gaze stays fixed on the stars, but there’s something distant in it—something tired. “How I treated you,” he admits. “I just—” He exhales sharply, shaking his head. “I was so focused on not being my family, I didn’t stop to think about what that actually meant. I thought hating everything they stood for was enough, but—I ended up doing the same thing, just in a different direction,”

You stare at him, not entirely sure what to say.

Because this is different. This isn’t him trying to prove a point. It’s not a dramatic display of guilt or some exaggerated attempt at redemption. It’s just… honest.

You lean against the railing, crossing your arms. “Took you long enough to figure that out,”

He chuckles, and—Merlin help you—you don’t hate the sound of it as much as you should. “Yeah. It did,”

Silence settles between you again, but this time, it’s comfortable.

And somewhere—between detentions and forced partnerships and nights beneath the stars—you start to realise something else.

You don’t hate him anymore.

It happens slowly. So slowly, in fact, that you don’t realise it’s happening at all.

One moment, Sirius Black is the boy who made your life miserable. The next, he’s the one you’re arguing with over which essay topic is more interesting in the library. The one who always seems to find himself sitting near you at meals, not with you, but near enough. The one who makes exasperated faces at you in class when someone says something particularly stupid.

And then—one day—he’s the one standing between you and a wand aimed at your chest.

You don’t even see who casts the spell. One second, you’re walking back from Charms; the next, someone shouts “Confringo!” and the air crackles with heat. You barely register what’s happening before a body collides with yours, knocking you out of the way as the spell slams into the stone wall behind you.

When you land, it’s hard, Sirius’s weight pressing you against the ground, shielding you before he rolls off just as quickly. The world tilts for a second before you push yourself up, heartbeat thudding in your ears.

Sirius is already on his feet, wand out, furious.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” His voice is sharp, dangerous in a way you’ve never heard before. It’s not his usual bravado—not the arrogant drawl he puts on when taunting someone. It’s real, raw anger.

Whoever cast the spell is already gone, footsteps echoing down the corridor.

Your pulse is still racing when you realise he’s turned back to you. “Are you—?” He stops, eyes scanning you quickly for any sign of injury before he shakes his head. “That was—” He cuts himself off again, pressing his lips together, looking angrier than ever.

You exhale sharply, pushing yourself fully upright. “I had it under control.”

He lets out a short, disbelieving laugh. “Yeah? That why you were about to get set on fire?”

You glare at him. “Oh, piss off, Black—”

“I just saved your life—”

“I would’ve been fine—”

You don’t realise how close you are until the argument stops.

You’re both still breathing hard, tension thick between you, too much heat in the air that has nothing to do with the spell. His hand is still half-raised, like he wants to reach for you but thought better of it.

His grey eyes are darker than usual, scanning your face like he’s searching for something—like he doesn’t know what he’s supposed to find.

And suddenly, you don’t either.

Your throat feels dry.

Why are you looking at him like that?

Worse—why is he looking at you like that?

You blink first, stepping back, shaking off the moment like it was nothing. “I’m fine,” you mutter, brushing imaginary dust off your robes. “You can stop looking at me like I’m about to drop dead,”

Sirius hesitates. Then, just as quickly, he rolls his shoulders, slipping back into something more familiar—tilting his head, raising a brow, smirking like none of it ever happened. “If you say so,”

But as you turn away, you feel his gaze linger.

And that’s when it really starts.

It’s slow, almost imperceptible at first.

Conversations that used to be sharp and barbed are now laced with something else—something softer, something almost teasing. Your insults have lost their bite; his smirks have stopped feeling like a challenge.

Then, there are the looks.

Stolen glances across classrooms. Raised eyebrows in the Great Hall when someone says something particularly idiotic. That half-smile he gives you when you say something sarcastic under your breath, like you’ve shared some private joke no one else gets.

And the touches.

His knee bumping yours under the table in the library. Fingers brushing when he hands you a quill. The way he slings an arm around James’s shoulders so often that you don’t think much of it when he does the same to you.

Until—one evening—you do.

You’re both where you always seem to end up lately—next to each other at a table, books spread out between you, quills scratching against parchment.

It’s late, and most students have already trickled back to their dorms. The candlelight flickers, casting shadows over Sirius’s face as he leans back in his chair, stretching his arms behind his head with a groan.

You’re half-asleep, scribbling something about Vanishing Spells when you feel it—his fingers, barely there, skimming against your wrist.

It’s absentminded, thoughtless. But he doesn’t move away.

And neither do you.

You should.

You really should.

But all you can think about is that moment in the corridor. The way he looked at you. The way you looked back.

“This is stupid,” he mutters.

“You’re stupid,” you reply automatically, not even looking up from your notes.

Sirius huffs a laugh. “Brilliant comeback,”

“Thanks,” You flip a page. “Took me ages to come up with it,”

There’s a pause. Not an awkward one—just the kind that’s started to feel normal between you. Easy.

Then Sirius shifts, resting his arms on the table, fingers tapping idly against the wood. “You know,” he says, voice quieter now, more thoughtful, “I don’t think I hate you anymore.”

You freeze.

Slowly, carefully, you lift your gaze from your book. Sirius isn’t smirking, isn’t making a joke of it. He’s just looking at you—calm, steady, like he’s only just realising it himself.

Your throat feels weirdly tight. You swallow. “Oh?”

He nods once. “Yeah.”

You don’t know why your heart is suddenly beating too fast.

You could joke about it. Could roll your eyes, make some sarcastic remark about how long it’s taken him. Could pretend like this moment doesn’t feel like the ground shifting beneath you.

But you don’t.

Instead, after a moment, you nod back.

“I don’t think I hate you either.”

It’s quiet. Undramatic. But as Sirius’s mouth quirks up—just slightly, just enough—you realise it’s the most important thing you’ve said in a long time.

[matteglaze]

from your recent post-

omega shigaraki hcs?👀👀

Everyone thinks that Shigaraki is an alpha

SHIGARAKI wears a scent suppressor, so when anyone first meets him they immediately assume he's an alpha— or a really bratty beta. Nobody thinks that the same male that wears his deceased family on his body is an omega.

Omegas are soft, obedient, sweet, and docile. The exact opposite of Shigaraki.

No one in their right mind assumes that he's an omega, of all things— but there are the little things he does that has you questioning his 'alpha' gender.

Frankly, he's very possessive over you, not in a relatively 'sweet' way, but in a 'if you get hurt I'll fucking kill you' way, which is contradictory in itself, but you're able to see his frenzied worry when you come back with blood all over you.

"What the fuck happened.." Shigaraki practically growls, scratching at the collar around his neck as he snarls your way.

You shrug, walking further into his room as you take a seat on his bed, "don't worry 'bout it boss"

Sometimes your laundry goes missing, or he calls you to his room to just stand there and do nothing while he plays video games, cursing at his teammates and smashing controller buttons when he gets practically frustrated.

With this being a common routine between you two, you've found yourself comfortable enough to lie down on his bed, deliberately scenting it as you do. Whether it's a show for dominance, because he's a supposed 'alpha', or another thing you don't really want to think too deeply about, you always find yourself doing it.

So, as he's busy playing, you watch from his shoulder. By the way his mouth twitches, and his tense shoulders relax, you can tell he's won.

"Ah, good job" you say it absent-mindlessly, still laying down on his bed as you read through a manga he's got laying around. Definitely not rated for children, but you're bored out of your mind.

As you continue reading through it, you miss the way Shigaraki practically preens at your praise; chest heaving as he bites down on his bottom lip. If anything, he would be wagging his tail by now if he had one.

After a prolonged silence, Shigaraki composes himself and turns to you, harsh glare in his eyes.

"Shut up"

It's said so out of the blue, you forget your previous comment, because you've been sitting in silence for at least 30 minutes.

"I didn't even say anything!" You huff, dropping the manga on his bed as you grumble.

All in all, I think Shigaraki himself wants to deny his omega gender. It's seen as weak in societies eyes, and Shigaraki is anything but weak. It's why he's so annoyed by you, and the way he feels about you.

It's probably because you're just an alpha, he reasons, but he knows that's not explicitly true.

That's why he denies himself of having you. He doesn't need a stuck up alpha that just thinks with it's dick— Shigaraki doesn't need anyone, no matter how much his omega practically whines for it.

Though, even though he dislikes you, he can't seem to leave you alone.

"Which one were you reading?" Shigaraki asks, not turning your way but continuing to state at his computer screen.

You scrunch your nose, picking up the disregarded manga and turning it over to see the cover, "...four knots and one girl"

"Ha, that's a good one"

"You'd think so, freakass"

"I'll dust you, watch your mouth."

"You won't do shit." As you say that, you release some of your pheromones, and it's not a big deal (at least not to you). It's common for alpha's do it with other alpha's, a playful way to assert dominance than the more violent manners. A common occurrence between two alpha friends.

Though, Shigaraki is not an alpha. And he definitely doesn't want to be your friend.

So the moment he gets a whiff of your scent, your pure scent— not the scent he gets from your clothing, his mind turns hazy.

The smell of cedar wood and patchouli fills his vision.

"... Wha—whatever..." Shigaraki mumbles, scratching at his collar more feverantly.

He's so affected by your scent, that he can't help but to think about how you'd act if he took his scent suppressor off. How would you react to his omega scent?

Would you like his smell? Would it fill and cloud your mind like yours does his? Would you lose control?

The scratching doesn't stop, if anything, it gets worse.

Shigaraki almost wants to take his collar off— to see you lose your control this time. But he refrains himself, just barely.

The scratching still doesn't cease.

It's so aggressive, you can't help but look up from your position on your bed, a worried frown settled between your brows and on your mouth.

"Stop that."

You don't even mean it as a command, really, you just didn't want him damaging his skin as much as he does; Shigaraki treats it as a command.

His hand immediately freezes in place, and your fascinated as you watch his frozen hand stiffly return to his side.

Obediently.

Like a good little omega listening to their alpha.

the blood is not readers of I just forgot to add that in

unedited

[steddieas-shegoes]

if you fall, i will catch you

for @steddielovemonth day 2 using Time After Time by Cyndi Lauper

rated t | 855 words | no cw | tags: high school, prom, slow dance, flirting, open ending but assumed getting together

🪩🕺💃🪩🕺💃🪩🕺💃🪩💃🕺🪩

Prom is stupid.

Steve didn’t even want to come. He didn’t have a date and nothing is more embarrassing than showing up to prom alone. Even the nerds come as a group, dancing and laughing together.

His mom made an appointment for his suit fitting and he couldn’t really explain to her that there was no need. She still thinks he and Nancy are on track to be married when Nancy graduates high school. He doesn’t know how to tell her that he’ll probably die alone.

Okay, that’s a little dramatic. He’s probably not gonna die alone.

But he may die unhappy, and that’s worse.

Most of the music hasn’t been terrible so far, at least. Only one slow song played and no one seemed interested in dancing to it.

Steve’s a fucking wallflower at his own prom. He never saw this coming.

He figures he could probably escape within the next few songs, no one would even notice his absence. He makes a mental plan to wait until one of the parent chaperones walks back to the other side of the room.

Then he’s off.

He manages to escape to the hall behind the gym, the one that leads to the auditorium and drama class, not the main building of the school. No one should be back here. It’s the perfect escape route.

“Never thought I’d see the day when King Steve is trying to escape prom,” a voice says from the end of the hall. The music from the gym is echoing in here, but the voice is much louder. It’s familiar, too. “Miss Wheeler too busy with Byers to dance?”

It’s Munson. Steve sighs.

“Why are you even here?”

“It’s my senior prom, too! Or should those of us not graduating not be allowed?” Eddie walks closer and Steve sees that he’s actually dressed up. It’s not a designer suit like he’s been forced into, but it’s nice. Eddie looks…nice.

“Wait,” Steve registers what he actually said. “Not graduating?”

“Yep. Apparently quadratic formulas are crucial to my development and I cannot enter society until I understand them.” Eddie kicks his foot across the tile, leaving a scuff mark from shoes that have probably been waxed beyond necessity. “And I guess dissecting a frog and turning in homework may have helped.”

“But aren’t you pretty smart?” Steve thought he was one of those dungeon dweebs like Dustin. Dustin’s the smartest person he knows, without a doubt, kid or not. He thought all the nerds who play that game were like that.

“Sure, I’m smart enough,” Eddie scoffs. “But I don’t play by their rules. I forget to do homework. I argue.”

“But if you know the stuff, they can’t fail you.”

“Ah, but they can. I don’t have the Harrington name to convince them to change a D to a C. It’s all good. Everyone expected it.”

Steve’s brows furrow, forehead creasing as he thinks about how many things people expected of him that won’t happen.

“Just because people expect it doesn’t mean you have to give it to them,” he says.

Eddie’s eyes widen and he seems shocked by Steve’s words. But the shock wears off quickly. Steve wonders if he imagined it.

“Right you are! Very wise words from the king,” Eddie bows dramatically.

Steve laughs.

Eddie glances up, tense until he realizes Steve’s not laughing at him, just at the entertainment. He stands straight and holds out his hand.

“I do believe such wise words should be repaid with a dance,” Eddie puts on a fake British accent, nose pointed to the sky, smirk playing on his lips.

Steve thinks this must be what it’s like to be charmed by someone.

“A dance?” Steve asks. “Here? With me?”

“It would be my honor,” Eddie loses the accent and turns his head back down so he’s looking right at Steve’s eyes. “Miss Lauper wrote this song just for us, after all.”

Steve’s confusion grows until he hears the song coming from the gym. He can only imagine how awkward it must be in the gym while some couples slow dance with chaperones watching their every breath. He reaches out and takes Eddie’s hand.

“The honor is mine, sir Munson,” Steve tries for an accent like Eddie had previously, but it falls flat.

Eddie pulls him close, but hesitates before he puts an arm around his waist. Steve feels breathless all of a sudden, like they’ve rocketed into space and he forgot one of those astronaut suits. He nods, giving permission for Eddie to take the lead.

When Eddie pulls him closer, they’re almost flush against each other.

Steve’s heart is racing.

“I didn’t know you were weird,” Eddie admits quietly. It sounds a lot like admiration. He’s swaying them back and forth gently, and Steve finds it’s easy to lose track of everything but the way Eddie’s hands rest on his body. “It’s nice to see you, Steve.”

It’s a lot more than what it sounds like.

As Cyndi Lauper plays, Steve wonders if this is how his prom was always meant to be spent: in Eddie Munson’s arms, falling.

[lcvebuckley]

kiss it better

written for @bucktommyfluffebruary

prompt : day 1 - non-sexual intimacy | word count : 2.3k | rated : G

it's officially fluffebruary month yay! i will be participating in this event for at least (hopefully) half the prompts so please look forward to that! other than fics i will also be doodling 👀

enjoy! ♡

Tommy's shift had been grueling. He was assigned to do ground ops which were never easy, and today was particularly rough—two building fires and two rescues that required crawling through tight, suffocating spaces. The scratches and cuts on his arms and face were simply part of the job, nothing new. He didn't mind though, it's not like he's not used to being hurt on the job. So he didn't really understand why he got scolded right when he arrived home.

Or in which Tommy got hurt on the job and Buck has a solution.

full version below or read on ao3

So he didn't really understand why he got scolded right when he arrived home.

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

Tommy's shift had been grueling. He was assigned to do ground ops which were never easy, and today was particularly rough—two building fires and two rescues that required crawling through tight, suffocating spaces. The scratches and cuts on his arms and face were simply part of the job, nothing new. He didn't mind though, it's not like he's not used to being hurt on the job.

It was late when Tommy left after his shift and he thought about getting takeout for dinner, assuming Evan had fallen asleep since he hasn't replied to his recent texts. But the truth was, Tommy didn’t have the energy to eat. All he wanted was to get home, fall into bed, and bury himself in Evan’s arms, where the scent of his boyfriend would lull him into instant comfort.

Home.

Tommy liked calling Evan’s place home, even if they weren’t officially living together yet. For weeks now, he’d been spending most nights at Evan’s loft, only going back to his own place when he needed fresh clothes or necessities.

There was something about Evan’s place that felt… grounding. While Tommy’s house was larger and objectively more practical, it couldn’t compete with the intimacy of the loft. Its smaller size made everything feel closer, warmer. Every surface held a piece of Evan—whether it was a photograph on the shelf, the clipboard he insisted on leaving on the coffee table, or simply the faint, familiar scent of him that lingered in every corner.

Tommy loved that. Loved the way he felt surrounded by Evan, no matter where he stood.

As he stepped into the loft, using the spare key he’d been given weeks ago, he braced himself for the familiar quiet of the space. Normally, Evan would be upstairs napping after his earlier shift ended, and Tommy would sneak in, careful not to wake him. It's different today it seems, since he was greeted by his boyfriend standing in the doorway, wearing an apron and smiling like he’d been waiting all day.

“Hey, babe,” Evan greeted, leaning in for a quick kiss. Tommy didn’t think twice, meeting his lips, grateful for even the smallest touches. When they pulled away, Evan's face fell almost abruptly after seeing what Tommy assumed was his face. The younger cupped Tommy’s face gently and slowly turned his head from side to side, examining the cuts and scratches that’s on his face.

“What happened to you?” Evan asked softly, his voice tight with worry. Tommy just huffed out a small laugh. “Nothing serious. Just some scratches. Part of the job,” he replied, his voice soft and assuring. Well at least he thought it was assuring, because it doesn't seem like Evan was happy with his answer.

“Just some scratches? Babe, there’s cuts covering literally half of your face.” Evan continued moving Tommy’s head around and mumbling something under his breath, as if he was counting every single mark on Tommy’s skin. His precision almost made Tommy laugh again, though he knew better than to interrupt.

Tommy couldn’t help but smirk. The comment was wildly exaggerated, but he decided not to argue. “Okay, there's only like four of them but still—they're not small, Tommy!” Evan huffed and even though he looked mad, Tommy could hear the gentleness and worry in his tone.

“It's fine, I already applied some ointment so it'll heal on its own, don't worry. They don't even hurt.” Tommy smiled, and as if on cue, he winced when the cut on the corner of his lip stung. The timing was so perfect it almost felt like the universe was siding with Evan.

The other was quick to assess the situation, his eyes wide with concern. “Oh god, are you okay?” he asked, his fingers hovering just over the cut as if afraid to make it worse.

Tommy cursed under his breath and let out a nervous laugh, though it only made the sting worse. “Shit, didn’t think it’d still hurt,” he admitted, embarrassed.

Evan seemed disappointed but not surprised by that reaction. It's not the first time Tommy tried downplaying an injury he had. “It’s not funny, Tommy,�� Evan muttered, his thumb brushing gently over the corner of his lip. “You're clearly still in pain.”

Surprisingly, it didn't hurt when Evan did that. There was something about the way Evan cared for him that felt almost unreal. He wasn’t used to this kind of attention, this kind of love—the kind that saw past his bravado and insisted on taking care of him anyway.

Tommy put his hand over Evan’s and leaned into his touch, his eyes slowly closing as he hummed in content. “And your touch is healing it already, I can feel it,” he mumbled before leaving a kiss on Evan’s palm.

Evan’s breath hitched, his smile softening as butterflies erupted in his stomach. The gesture was so simple, yet it made his chest feel heavy with emotion. It was moments like these, small and unspoken, that reminded him how deeply he loves Tommy.

Though, seeing Tommy kissing his palm suddenly gave him an idea. “Do you want me to kiss it better?” he asked, earning a look from Tommy. “What?”

“Don't you know that kisses can heal physical wounds?” Evan responded, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. Tommy raised an eyebrow, clearly wasn't buying whatever that nonsensical explanation was. “That's not a real thing,” he deadpanned.

The younger seemed surprised by that reply, pulling his hands away and crossing his arms. Oh, he’s not letting this go, is he? “Yes it is,” his tone was serious and maybe a little offended.

“Maddie used to kiss my scrapes all the time when we were kids,” Evan continued, remembering his childhood days when he would constantly get hurt doing reckless activities and while he did get a good scolding from his sister, she also took care of him and kissed his wounds better. “At first I was surprised too, but they do work!”

Tommy raised an eyebrow, unconvinced, but there was a warmth in his chest that he couldn’t quite suppress. Evan was serious—adorably so—and the earnestness in his voice was enough to make Tommy falter. “Look, trust me on this.” With his hands back cradling his boyfriend's face, Evan is determined to show he was right.

Tommy was obviously not going to deny Evan’s kisses because that would be stupid of him, but he took this chance to tease him. “Are you sure you're not just looking for an excuse to kiss me?” He noticed the slight blush creeping up Evan’s cheeks and couldn't hide the mischievous grin on his face.

“Oh shut up, you’re just trying to distract me,” the younger protested, slapping Tommy’s chest playfully. The older chuckled, finally decided to play along. “Okay fine, I’m ready for your magical healing powers.” Evan immediately smiled, his whiny attitude disappearing within seconds.

Tommy couldn’t help but laugh as Evan leaned in, pressing a series of soft, lingering kisses to each of his cuts— his forehead, his jaw, his cheek and finally the corner of his lips.

The warmth in Evan’s touch and the softness of his lips left a trail of something far deeper than comfort. There was something so intimate with the way Evan’s focus was entirely on him, the intensity of his care leaving Tommy feeling a little dazed. Tommy closed his eyes, letting himself fall into the warmth of Evan’s affection. Each kiss felt like a promise, tender and full of unspoken care.

Before Evan could pull back completely, Tommy leaned forward and stole a quick kiss on the lips. The move caught Evan off guard, his cheeks immediately flushing a deep shade of red. “Hey!” he protested, voice pitched high as he buried himself against Tommy’s shoulder in an attempt to hide his flushed face.

Tommy’s laugh rumbled through his chest, low and affectionate, as he brought a hand up to run through Evan’s curls to calm him down. The way Evan melted into his touch was such a simple thing, yet it filled Tommy with a sense of peace he rarely allowed himself to feel.

Slowly, Evan pulled away and Tommy noticed that though slightly faded, the blush on his face remained. He narrowed his eyes, feigning indignation. “Look who’s trying to kiss who now,” he teased back.

Tommy raised his hands in defeat, the laughter still bubbling in his throat. “Not my fault you’re so irresistible,” he admitted, the words carrying a playful tone, though the sincerity in his gaze was impossible to miss.

Evan laughed at the response and wrapped his arms around Tommy’s neck, pulling him closer, while Tommy’s hands instinctively found their place on Evan’s waist. The younger grinned, his eyes alight with fondness. “So,” he asked, his voice soft but teasing, “did it work?”

Tommy tilted his head, pretending to consider the question. His eyes wandered for effect, a mischievous glint forming as he replied, “Well, I’m not sure one kiss did anything…” He trailed off, looking back at Evan with a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

Evan let out an exaggerated groan, rolling his eyes as he stepped back. “You’re so annoying,” he muttered, though the way his lips grew into a smile shows how much he loved this moment as much as the other. With a playful shoulder shove, he added, “Let’s get you dinner first, then you can have all the kisses you want.”

Tommy’s smile softened as Evan reached for his hand, leading him toward the dining table. He was in awe when he saw the food his boyfriend had prepared, ranging from appetizers to desserts. “Is this why you haven't been replying to my texts?” he asked, furrowing his eyebrows as he looked at Evan in disbelief.

The younger nodded with a proud grin on his face. “I wanted to surprise you.” Tommy shook his head in disbelief, his heart squeezing in his chest. He didn’t think he deserved any of this—this effort, this love.

“You shouldn't have made dinner, you just got off your shift too,” he murmured, concern slipping into his tone. The thought of Evan overworking himself for his sake tugged at him.

“I know that,” Evan walked closer to Tommy, sliding his hands up his shoulders and rubbing his thumb in comforting circles on his collarbone. “But I figured that you might have a hard time today and what's the best thing to come home to after a rough shift if not home-cooked dinner, right?” his voice softened, eyes filled with warmth and care.

Tommy felt his defenses crumble. He’d always prided himself on being self-sufficient, the kind of person who didn’t need to rely on anyone. But standing there, wrapped in Evan’s quiet care, he realized how much he’d needed this without even knowing it. Before Evan, bad days felt endless—something to endure until they passed. Now, bad days had an antidote. Now, they ended with Evan.

Being cared for like this is something Tommy never even imagined he could ever experience. He didn't think he deserved any of this but in that moment, surrounded by warmth and love, Tommy couldn’t imagine a place he’d rather be.

“I love you so much,” Tommy whispered, his voice thick with emotion he didn’t bother hiding. He earned a bashful smile from Evan, mirroring the same expression he made the first time Tommy said those words. “I love you too,” Evan replied softly, leaning in to press a lingering kiss against Tommy’s lips, sealing the words between them.

After they were done with dinner, they cleaned up together with Tommy insisting he should do the dishes while Evan cleared the table. Eventually, they got ready for bed, though it took longer than necessary because Evan kept poking at Tommy’s sides and making dumb jokes while they brushed their teeth. Tommy rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t stop smiling.

When they finally settled under the covers, Tommy laid with his bare back pressed against Evan’s chest, his arms wrapped securely around Tommy’s torso. Evan’s breath was warm against the back of his neck, steady and soothing. Tommy felt himself slipping toward sleep, lulled by the quiet comfort of their closeness.

But then Evan’s hands started gently roaming over his arms, fingers tracing absent patterns. He suddenly stilled, his touch lingering on a tender spot. “These are new,” Evan muttered, his voice low, adjusting his eyes to the darkness as his fingers ghosted over fresh scrapes Tommy had all but forgotten. The older hummed, “Yeah, it's from today,” he said nonchalantly.

Not even a second later, he felt soft, sweet lips peppered along his arms and he felt his heart skip a beat. He turned his head slightly, seeing Evan leaving kisses on the injured parts of his arm and locked eyes with him. “Why didn't you tell me? I told you I’d kiss all your pain away,” he heard Evan mumble, his lips brushing over his bare skin.

Tommy chuckled softly, turning around to face his boyfriend. He propped himself up on one elbow, his hand cradling the side of Evan’s face. “I didn’t want you to worry again,” he admitted, his thumb gently brushing over Evan’s cheekbone.

Evan furrowed his brows, clearly not satisfied with that answer. With a dramatic sigh, he buried his face against Tommy’s chest, his voice muffled as he muttered, “I can’t believe I missed it the first time.”

Tommy laughed quietly, his fingers threading through Evan’s hair. “But hey, let me tell you this,” Tommy looked down, hooking Evan’s chin and lifting his head up to face him. “Believe it or not, the stinging had miraculously faded,” he added. Evan grinned giddily, leaning further in and nuzzling his nose with the older.

“Told you it works,” he said proudly, and Tommy couldn’t resist closing the distance, capturing Evan’s lips in a kiss that was deeper, more lingering than before—a kiss filled with gratitude, love, and the quiet relief of knowing someone had his heart in the safest hands, the pain on the corner of his lips long gone.

When they finally pulled apart, Tommy rested his forehead against Evan’s, his voice a breathless whisper.

“You really did kiss it better.”

[kanmom51]

JM and JK shower together

FACT!!

Be honest now. We thought it, we assumed it, and now we are getting confirmation.

And yes, this is within military settings, but you need to be really naïve or daft to think that this is happening only because of the military setting or only since they enlisted.

I will explain this once, because people seem to hang on to the "they have to shower together in the military" and "these are communal showers and they shower with others as well".

NOPE.

What might have been true for basic training, the whole designated shower times and showering together (for soldiers as a whole, not JM and JK, because they did not shower with others from the start, I've talked about this in previous posts), is not true once they are assigned to their units. At that point soldiers can shower at their own free will and time, before or after duties. Depending on the barracks there will also be a difference of how these showers look - you could have a bathroom for every room of 4 (this would be in newer quarters) or multiple stall showers for barracks with bigger rooms that hold multiple soldiers. JK and JM have different duties within their unit. Different timetables. And yet they choose to wait for each other and shower together.

They don't have to!!

They choose to!!

In any case, point being that JK and JM CHOOSE (once again that word) to shower together.

Just the two of them!!!

But then, they have always been showering together.

I mean, they've been doing it for years.

And I'm not talking about the early days when the lot of them may have had to shower together. No. I'm talking about when they are 2 grown ass men, including when they are no longer living in the dorms (which would be for at least 4 years now).

We might have only guessed or assumed it in the past though. You know, because of us believing they are a couple, their shared accommodations and the crumbs they have left for us, like the good Hansel and Gretel that they are.

What am I talking about, you may ask?

Well, here are a few examples...

I guess I'll start with Jikook in Malta.

Hobi's surprise visit to JK's room.

Finding a wet haired JK in his pj's, telling us he just came out of the shower. Ignoring a wet haired JM also in the same room. Clearly having showered shortly therefor.

Not cutting proof, I know, but definitely eyebrow raising suspicious.

JM telling us JK's shower lengths

Current shower lengths.

JM knowing this. The others not (if the "they live together in the dorms" excuse is sounded).

Then we had Run BTS episodes 131-132.

I will let JK speak for himself.

Next we have JK's live 27 July 2023.

That was a doozy, wasn't it?😂😂

That was smoking

the flirting

the posturing.

This one was over the roof loud, and because of that maybe one of the loudest moments just flew over some people's heads...

What is he saying?

He'll grab his toiletries and go over to do the live? Shower at JM's before? Shower at his after? Do the live, shower and sleep over? Whichever of these you go with it's god damn fucking loud.

The ease in which JK just says it too. It's just something he's used to do. Go wash up at JM's. Because what? The shower in his luxurious unit in Brunnen doesn't work? The man lives a few minutes away from JM and yet he needs to pop over to his to shower?

I ask you this: do you think JK is going to JM's to shower alone? Something he can clearly do at home?

And JM? I didn't hear a no to the "I'll come over and shower at yours". Just a not now to the live. So...

Ays jeju shower

🐰We might feel differently after a shower.

🐰This might be because we just swam.

🐥ppeuriri~

This time no giggles, just a smile and then a sultry expression walking towards JK.

Cut.

Talk about showering with them off camera.

And lots of shady stuff going on to make us think that maybe, just maybe, those two kind of showered together.

Idk, am I being clear enough?

So, let's talk about that shower for a second.

We see JK going into the bathroom, JM nowhere to be seen.

Obviously he's not showering upstairs with Tae asleep there and both of their suitcases spread out open in front of the downstairs bathroom.

Next we see JM outside of the bathroom brushing his hair dressed after the shower and JK is in the bathroom partially dressed after that shower.

JM walking in behind JK, and yes, it looks like he's lifting his arms to fix his hair, but that cut there again.... I am choosing to believe that he also went in for a hug there. Hill meet Kanmom.

Oh, and hunger issue solved at this point.

Ppeuriri.

So if you're ready (so if you're ready) And if you'll let me (and if you'll let me) I wanna see it in motion, in 3D (uh-uh) You won't regret me (you won't regret me) Champagne confetti (champagne confetti) I wanna see it in motion, in 3D

They said it, not me!!!

Who needs to eat anything when you can get some 3D action instead?

Are you sure Sapporo

JM goes to have a shower, JK following in suit a few minutes later, walking into the bathroom (after that morning wood subsides if only a little, I may add).

JK going to shower with JM or not, they clearly have zero problem with being naked in front of each other, JK not even hesitating to walk in on a showering JM. Friends or not, living together years ago or not, there is this thing called privacy and respecting each other's privacy, oh and boundaries between 2 grown people.

You know who has zero issues with that? Couples!!!

So yeah, we got these hints and crumbs over the years.

But then JK goes and drops this, with that cute ass smirk on his face...

Like it's nothing.

Like there is nothing to it.

Like this won't break the internet, blow our minds to smithereens and break TKKs and solos and haters.

Like not only confirming they shower together (huge within itself), this confirmed what so many were trying to disprove for the past 12 months since they enlisted, and that is that the two are together by choice, have been ever since they enlisted, and choose to spend their spare time together as well. Including in the shower.

But then again...

This REALLY shouldn't have come as such a surprise seeing that JM most definitley had zero problem doing this:

With the gymnastics that it took to perfect writing his name on that chest that clearly belongs to him.

As he's made it clear!!!

And as so proudly JK is showcasing it as well.

[chilledstrawberrysoda]

I think one of the most heartbreaking scenes in the kings men and possibly all of all for the game is when Neil and Kevin are arguing in the locker room after the win against UT because Neil was talking shit about the Ravens and Riko. I think it's the only time before Jackson and Romero come for him after the Belmont Binghamton game that the weight of what Neil knows is going to happen to him and the heartbreak he is experiencing in slow motion comes to the surface and is outwardly visible and even then the only person that picked up on it was Andrew and it didn't help because there was nothing anyone could do.

Kevin is angry about Neil antagonizing Riko publicly because he knows there will be backlash and he is rightfully afraid but this is the first time since Kevin found out who Neil is that he realizes Neil is afraid too. He appears fearless to Kevin so Kevin assumes it's hubris that makes Neil willing to stand his ground over and over again but it's not.

Neil had accepted his fate at that point, and instead of turning tail and getting himself the hell out of there, his only motivation is that if he can't have this at least Kevin will survive it.

At least Kevin gets to live on and play exy and be the best player.

When they talk about it again after Baltimore in the cabin Kevin asks him outright "how do you do it?" He asks "why aren't you afraid?" But Neil admits he IS afraid but he thinks willfully giving up the best thing that has ever happened to him (i.e. exy, the foxes, Andrew) would be worse than death.

There's a popular quote by choreographer Martha Graham that goes like this

A dancer dies twice — once when they stop dancing, and this first death is the more painful

This sentiment is echoed by Neil in the kings men but also implied throughout the series. Giving up the things and the people he loves would be more painful than his actual death. That's why he drops his duffle and phone when he is taken as a signal to Andrew and Kevin. He needs them to know; he did not run, he did not give up, he did not leave them willingly. He accepted death to protect them but his last act before he let go of Neil Josten was to let them know in the only way he could that he would have held on forever if he were given the chance.

Neil's action throughout the books start to shift Kevin's mindset. Neil tells Kevin he stayed for him. Before Neil and Andrew's not nothing ever began, Neil stayed because he believed in Kevin and he wants so badly for Kevin to try. Because before Neil literally came back from the dead after Baltimore, the only thing he could hope was that after the dust settles Kevin would be on top. The first time Kevin gets any hint at that is in that locker room in Texas. I would love to read this scene from Kevin's perspective. As soon as he realizes how desperate Neil is, he stops fighting him. I think it might be the first time Kevin sees Neil as the scared kid he is and not just the partner that is willing to put himself in the line of fire for others.

I feel like that scene is always read as just Neil being kinda mean and calling Kevin a coward again but it's so complex and I wish it went on for longer. It's one of the few insights we get into Neil's crumbling psyche as his demise approaches and one of the few times he is fully honest with anyone before Baltimore and it's just so important to how his character is viewed for the remainder of the novel.

[potato-lord-but-not]

Okay question: is your Oscar supposed to be a POC or is he just supposed to be a tanned white man? Because I assumed it was the former but sometimes the way you've been drawing him recently makes me think it's the latter so I'm a bit confused and would like to know

He’s mixed Caribbean and Scottish! His mom was Jamaican and gave him up for adoption bc she couldn’t support him on her own (his dad left her). At least that’s what he’s been told, he never knew either of them and no details were given when she gave him up. And that’s why he never had a last name for the longest time, bc no one knew who is parents actually were and he’d just been given one once he was adopted anyway (which, ofc never actually happened).

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Miss Raven, may I ask for a list of the flaws in Leona’s plan from 2nd book? I knew of a couple myself at some point but i forgot what they were 😅 I was hoping you could list off as many flaws in the plan as you could find. 🤔

Please note: This post ONLY addresses the issues with Leona's book 2 plans to get Malleus out of the picture as per the asker's question. Book 2 has several other issues with its narrative (such as Leona's lack of screen presence/interaction with Yuu and co.), but I will not be counting them here.

The problems with Leona's plan are, as I could identify them:

NO Savanaclaw students were among the injured. Does this not automatically make them look really shady????

Savanaclaw students form a wall around Ruggie to shield him from sight when he uses his UM. This, too, is hella suspicious... You're telling me that there's an oddly high number of Savanaclaw students at the scenes of the crimes and yet not one of them got injured??? IT MAKES THEM LOOK EVEN SHADIER THAN BEFORE, ESPECIALLY SINCE THEY HAVE A REALLY OBVIOUS MOTIVE.

Leona openly talks about his evil scheme in his own dorm. A dorm with seemingly no sturdy doors that open and shut. A dorm that just brought in a bunch of freshmen that he doesn't know well and may not be on board with what he's doing. A dorm with a lot of beastmen... that have sensitive ears... and can probably hear you monologuing from quite a distance away...

Ruggie is sloppy and Leona just does not care about it when he really, REALLY should care; he is overly reliant on a "lack of evidence" to exonerate them. Ruggie blatantly shows off his UM and reports this to Leona. Why does Leona show like ZERO concern about this?? Why does he believe the school cannot do anything without proof? Literally nothing is stopping Crowley from detaining him under suspicion of guilt, or at least having someone watch him like a hawk if they suspect something... which will just make it that much harder to execute his plan.

Leona doesn't seem to care either when Jack overhears his plan; he just... expects Jack to feel pressured by his dorm members + the hierarchy to not squeal???? Same issue as the previous bullet point; Leona should be caring a lot more about concealing their identities than this.

Leona assumes a regular ass stampede will be enough to kill/injure Malleus. The reason provided is that Malleus wouldn't dare to use his magic to get away when it might "harm" innocent bystanders. OKAY, what's stopping Malleus from poofing out of danger? This is an even stupider point because we literally see Malleus VANISH IN THE BLINK OF AN EYE when Yuu meets him for the first time in this very same book.

The potential political fallout. I doubt Twst intended to go into the consequences of what would have happened if Leona's dumb plan had succeeded, but surely if he was caught in the act or even suspected to have had a hand in it, it would impact the relationship between their countries since Leona and Malleus are both princes??? And that sounds like it would be a massive shitshow 💀

I've done my own book 2 rewrite, which attempts to address most of these issues with Leona's plan. There is also this follow-up post, which expands on some of the ideas I proposed in my initial rewrite. Tons of other people have book 2 rewrites as well! And you can write your own book 2 rewrite! Literally almost anything is better than the canon book 2--

[celtrist]

RADIOBELLE / CHARLASTOR BAD END ROUTE

In these endings, it's more or less assumed Alastor has gotten out of his deal (if the route doesn't involve his owner)

In this ending, Alastor's day-to-day is planned out to a "T" by Charlie Morningstar! He's miserably engaged to Charlie and Vaggie (though this route can be depicted with him engaged only to Charlie as well!) She's always aware of what Alastor's doing both due to her being the one to schedule what he's doing and customizing a tracker into his ring (that she enthusiastically told him about!).

Charlie is quite clingy to Alastor and loves to shower him with affection. Especially in front of others, as she enjoys the feeling of having "won" his hand that everyone else was dying to have. She's a lot more protective of Alastor now and does not take kindly to flirting towards him. If a character like Angel Dust tries (or successfully) drugs Alastor, Charlie will punish him. After those sorts of instances, she will have Alastor confined in their room (whether he likes it or not) so he's "safe from everything in Hell". This happens fairly frequently whenever Alastor is in harm's way or even when he gets flirted with sometimes.

Charlie likes to keep Alastor in the hotel with her as much as possible, so much of her schedules for him center around her and being inside the hotel. Charlie doesn't exactly "force herself" onto him, but she pushes a lot to get him to consent and do affectionate things towards her. Charlie starts small things with "hold my hand", "hug me", "kiss me". She gets bolder with "We should cuddle. Couples cuddle Alastor" and "If it really bothers you, you can just watch Vaggie and me in bed so it's like your participating" and then to "You could at least touch here Alastor so it's not exactly sex still". You get the point. If Alastor is firm with his nos, she won't do anything. But if it's a weak no or a weak yes, Charlie will go forward and push. But she won't act until he actually says yes or gives an indication of a yes.

I imagine Alastor would go this route as it feels the lesser of any evil. Charlie is still generally entertaining and he has enjoyed the times she isn't overwhelmed with obsession. She allows him will mobility of himself and some time away from her. Not to mention, Charlie will back down on things JUST to please Alastor if he pushes enough. Although, this push gets harder and harder to do. Such as if he gives in one day to kiss Charlie and the next he says he doesn't want to or likes it, Charlie will push harder than before saying "you were fine the other day". Charlie with this route felt like the safest and least damaging route. Whether that's really true is up in the air as the longer he's with Charlie, the more concerning their relationship gets with her controlling and antics. Alastor is a very strongminded individual so something like stockholm syndrome would be difficult for him to succumb to I imagine. But not impossible, and I can see him falling into this coping mechanism of "everything alright" and "no I want this" with Charlie. In addition, I do think he'd sort of disconnect from reality whenever he's placed into a scenario he finds overly discomforting.

[00valentina-writes00]

✞⛧ Ambessa with a wolf!Vastayan reader ✞⛧

(part two)

✞⛧ Ambessa is a light sleeper, honed by years of warfare and political intrigue, yet somehow, you always manage to wake her in the most bizarre ways. More than once, she’s jolted awake to find you perched on her chest, your golden or piercing eyes gleaming in the dim light, watching her intently.

✞⛧ The first time it happened, she nearly threw you off in reflex, her battle instincts flaring before she realized it was you—her wife, not some assassin looming over her.

✞⛧ “Why,” she groaned, rubbing a hand down her face, “are you watching me like a damned ghost?”

✞⛧ You merely blinked at her, tilting your head. “You look peaceful when you sleep,” you said simply. “And your breathing changes when you dream. I like listening.”

✞⛧ She groaned again but couldn’t hide the amused smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. “At least warn me next time before you loom like a demon.”

✞⛧ Of course, you didn’t stop.

✞⛧ The next time, you were sitting cross-legged on her chest, arms folded, tail swishing absentmindedly behind you. She cracked an eye open and sighed heavily.

✞⛧ “Again?”

✞⛧ “Mhm,” you hummed, ears twitching. “You snored this time. A little loud.”

✞⛧ “You are obsessed with me,” she muttered, but her hand reached out to tug you down beside her anyway, warmth winning over exasperation.

✞⛧ Eventually, she grew used to it—though she’d never admit it, waking up with your steady, unwavering gaze on her became somewhat… comforting.

✞⛧ Ambessa is accustomed to harsh climates, to cold nights spent in tents or stone halls with nothing but furs to keep her warm. And then she met you.

✞⛧ The first winter you spent together, she was pleasantly shocked by just how much body heat you radiated. You were a walking furnace, always warm no matter how bitter the air turned outside.

✞⛧ “This,” she murmured, pressing herself against you beneath the thick furs, “is a tactical advantage. I should take you on every campaign.”

✞⛧ You chuckled, wrapping your arms around her, your tail curling lazily over her leg. “You’d miss me too much when you had to send me away to fight.”

✞⛧ “You’re assuming I would send you away,” she countered, nuzzling into the crook of your neck, utterly content.

✞⛧ The cold never bothered you, but Ambessa, despite her strength, would unconsciously shift closer to you at night, seeking your warmth. It wasn’t long before it became an unspoken habit—whenever winter rolled around, you became her personal bed heater.

✞⛧ If anyone dared mention how much she relied on you for warmth during the colder months, they’d earn a sharp glare and a firm, “Shut your mouth before I make you.”

✞⛧ She never let anyone see it, but on particularly frigid nights, she’d whine softly if you pulled away in your sleep, chasing your warmth instinctively.

✞⛧ And gods help anyone who tried to drag her out of bed on a cold morning when she had you wrapped around her. “I am not leaving this bed,” she’d grumble, tightening her grip on you. “Not until the sun itself warms this damned estate.”

✞⛧ Your nails, naturally sharp and beast-like, have always been a point of fascination for Ambessa. She’s watched you sharpen them, retract them slightly, and even use them in combat—swift, deadly, efficient.

✞⛧ So the first time she notices them dulled and carefully trimmed, she arches a brow. “Did you break a claw?”

✞⛧ You smirk, your tail flicking playfully behind you. “No. I filed them down.”

✞⛧ “For what purpose?”

✞⛧ You lean in, your breath warm against her ear. “So I don’t scratch the inside of my wife when I take my time with her.”

✞⛧ That catches her off guard. For the first time in years, Ambessa Medarda is speechless.

✞⛧ Her grip on your waist tightens as she exhales a slow, controlled breath. “…You are an absolute menace.”

✞⛧ “I am considerate,” you counter smoothly, tracing a finger down her chest.

✞⛧ That night, she tests just how considerate you truly are, and by morning, she’s more than convinced.

✞⛧ The way your ears perk up when you hear something interesting—especially when it’s her voice in the middle of a crowded hall. She’ll watch them twitch, smirking to herself every time.

✞⛧ Your tail wraps around her wrist absentmindedly when you’re together, as if claiming her. It’s possessive, and she secretly loves it.

✞⛧ How you’re instinctively drawn to the sound of her heartbeat. You’ll press your ear against her chest and just listen sometimes, sighing contentedly

✞⛧ The way you growl when someone gets too close to her in a way you don’t like. It’s quiet, just low enough to send a shiver down someone’s spine. Ambessa pretends not to notice, but she does—and she loves it.

✞⛧ If she’s injured or tired, you become restless—your protective instincts go into overdrive. More than once, she’s had to pull you into her lap and reassure you, “I’m fine, my love. Settle.”

✞⛧ You sometimes nuzzle into her when you’re feeling particularly affectionate. She grumbles about it at first, but the second she thinks no one is looking, she nuzzles back.

✞⛧ She’s never had someone so completely and utterly devoted to her well-being. It’s both overwhelming and comforting in equal measure.

✞⛧ You make her feel safe—not just physically, but emotionally, in a way she never thought she needed.

✞⛧ Ambessa has never met someone who eats as much as you. She’s seen warriors devour entire meals after battle, but you? You eat like you’ve been starved for weeks—every single day.

✞⛧ It started off as an amusing observation. She’d watch as you cleared your plate with impressive speed, barely stopping to breathe before reaching for seconds. Then thirds.

✞⛧ But when she noticed you eyeing her plate—her carefully portioned, well-earned meal—she knew you had no shame.

✞⛧ “Don’t even think about it,” she warned, spearing a piece of meat with her fork before you could make a move.

✞⛧ You whined, ears flattening as you propped your chin on the table, looking at her with devastatingly pitiful eyes. “But you’re so big, surely you don’t need all of it…”

✞⛧ “I earned this meal,” she shot back, taking a slow, deliberate bite while holding eye contact. “You, on the other hand, have devoured three plates already.”

✞⛧ Of course, the moment she looked away, you very subtly dragged her plate closer. She caught your wrist before you could snatch a bite.

✞⛧ “You are shameless,” she muttered, shaking her head. But after a deep sigh, she pushed one of her side dishes toward you. “Take this and don’t ask for more.”

✞⛧ You beamed at her, wagging your tail as you happily scarfed down the food.

✞⛧ Ambessa pretended to be annoyed, but the way you looked at her—like she was the most generous woman alive—made it hard to resist indulging you.

✞⛧ You’re naturally affectionate all year round, but when spring rolls around? It’s impossible to ignore how much your desire intensifies.

✞⛧ At first, Ambessa thought it was a coincidence. But then she started noticing patterns.

✞⛧ You became needy—touching her more, nuzzling into her scent, your body temperature running even hotter.

✞⛧ But the real kicker? The way you would crawl onto the bed with slow, deliberate movements, tail high, body stretched out, looking at her with hooded eyes that held no innocent intentions.

✞⛧ The first time it happened, Ambessa paused mid-undressing, watching as you practically presented yourself, eyes dark with something unmistakable.

✞⛧ “…Are you serious right now?” she asked, arms folding across her chest.

✞⛧ You wiggled your hips slightly, a teasing grin playing on your lips. “Mmmmaybe?”

✞⛧ She pinched the bridge of her nose, exhaling sharply. “Do you ever tire?”

✞⛧ “Not in spring,” you purred, crawling closer until you could press yourself against her, lips brushing over her jaw. “Instincts, Ambessa. Can’t fight nature.”

✞⛧ She hated how much sense that made.

✞⛧ She also hated how much she loved it.

✞⛧ Ambessa is no stranger to being watched. She’s used to scrutinizing gazes in the war room, the battlefield, the council chambers.

✞⛧ But your eyes? They never leave her.

✞⛧ It doesn’t matter what she’s doing—reading, writing, sharpening her weapons—you watch her with unwavering attention, as if every little movement she makes is the most fascinating thing in the world.

✞⛧ “Why,” she finally asks one evening, setting down her quill, “do you stare at me like that?”

✞⛧ You tilt your head. “I like watching you.”

✞⛧ “I’ve noticed,” she deadpans, gesturing vaguely at your intense, unblinking gaze.

✞⛧ You smirk, leaning on your elbow. “I like seeing how your mind works. How you move. How you handle things with such control.”

✞⛧ She arches a brow. “Are you studying me? Or admiring me?”

✞⛧ “Both,” you say without hesitation. “Can you blame me?”

✞⛧ Ambessa tries to act indifferent, but the way your voice drips with adoration? It gets to her. She smirks, shaking her head. “You are obsessed with me.”

✞⛧ “And?” you shrug, tail flicking. “What are you going to do about it?”

✞⛧ She chuckles, shaking her head. “Just don’t get in my way while I work.”

✞⛧ (You absolutely get in her way. Constantly. And she always lets you.)

✞⛧ Ambessa values her privacy. She’s spent years making sure no one could get too close, especially during vulnerable moments.

✞⛧ Then you came along.

✞⛧ The first time she noticed your presence outside the bathroom door, she chalked it up to coincidence. But then it became a pattern.

✞⛧ Every time she showered, she’d step out to find you sitting right outside the door, tail lazily swaying, ears perked as if you’d been waiting.

✞⛧ “Do you have to sit there?” she asked one night, arms crossed.

✞⛧ You blinked up at her. “I don’t like being away from you for too long.”

✞⛧ She sighed, rubbing a hand over her face. “You’re ridiculous.”

✞⛧ “You married me,” you pointed out, grinning.

✞⛧ Then came the peeking.

✞⛧ The first time, she caught you lurking in the doorway, your eyes shamelessly roaming over her body as steam curled around her.

✞⛧ She turned slowly, arching a brow. “Enjoying the view?”

✞⛧ You didn’t even have the decency to look guilty. “Very much so.”

✞⛧ “Get out,” she said, but there was no real bite to her words.

✞⛧ You did leave—but not before flashing a playful grin. “You should leave the door open next time.”

✞⛧ Ambessa pretended to be exasperated. But deep down?

✞⛧ She loved how much you couldn’t get enough of her.

✞⛧ Ambessa is a formidable woman, her voice alone carrying the weight of command. She doesn’t yell often, but when she does? It’s enough to shake even the most hardened warriors.

✞⛧ But when she raises her voice at you? It’s a whole different sight entirely.

✞⛧ The moment her tone sharpens, your ears immediately flatten against your head, and your tail instantly tucks between your legs.

✞⛧ You look so pitiful, standing there like a scolded pup, eyes wide, body tense.

✞⛧ Ambessa watches in real-time as her anger dissolves into something far less intimidating.

✞⛧ “Damn it,” she mutters under her breath, running a hand over her face.

✞⛧ “I’m sorry,” you say, voice softer than usual, ears twitching.

✞⛧ Ambessa sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose. She wants to stay firm, but—fuck, why do you have to look at her like that?

✞⛧ “Stop looking at me like a kicked pup,” she grumbles, rubbing her temples. “I’m trying to be mad at you.”

✞⛧ You nod solemnly, still looking like a kicked pup.

✞⛧ She groans. “Fine. Just… don’t do it again.”

✞⛧ Instantly, your tail wags behind you, ears perking back up. You practically beam at her.

✞⛧ “…I should not have let you off that easily,” she mutters, but when you nuzzle into her side, she knows she’s lost this battle.

✞⛧ Ambessa is a woman who values her space. She’s used to moving alone, commanding alone, existing alone.

✞⛧ Then you came along.

✞⛧ Now, she can feel your presence trailing behind her wherever she goes. Whether she’s walking through the palace, heading to meetings, or even just moving from one room to another—you’re always there.

✞⛧ “Do you have to follow me everywhere?” she finally asks one day, glancing over her shoulder.

✞⛧ You wag your tail slightly. “Yes.”

✞⛧ She sighs, rubbing her temples. “Do you not have your own things to do?”

✞⛧ “You’re my favorite thing to do,” you say with an entirely straight face.

✞⛧ She chokes on her own breath.

✞⛧ Ambessa is used to many strange things when it comes to you, but waking up to you burying your face in her neck is a new one.

✞⛧ “What are you doing?” she grumbles, her voice thick with sleep.

✞⛧ You inhale deeply, sighing in contentment. “You smell really good, Ambessa.”

✞⛧ She blinks. “I smell—”

✞⛧ Before she can finish, you let out a pleased hum and dive back down, tucking yourself firmly against her chest, arms locked around her waist.

✞⛧ Ambessa stares at the ceiling for a long moment, processing.

✞⛧ “…I have married a feral creature,” she mutters to herself, but she doesn’t push you away. If anything, her arm tightens around you.

✞⛧ Ambessa has seen you fight warriors, spar with trained soldiers, and effortlessly take down enemies.

✞⛧ She has also seen you growl at a squirrel.

✞⛧ “Are you seriously growling at that thing?” she asks, arms crossed as she watches you lower yourself into a stance, tail bristling.

✞⛧ “It started it,” you argue, narrowing your eyes at the tiny creature perched on a branch.

✞⛧ “It’s a squirrel,” she deadpans.

✞⛧ The squirrel chatters, flicking its tail in a way that definitely seems taunting. You let out a low, warning growl in response.

✞⛧ Ambessa sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose. “I cannot believe I am witnessing this.”

✞⛧ The squirrel suddenly lunges—not at you, but toward a small pouch hanging from your waist. It snatches a piece of dried fruit and scurries up the tree.

✞⛧ You gasp, ears flattening in outrage. “Thief!”

✞⛧ Ambessa does not laugh. She definitely does not double over, shoulders shaking. (Sarc)

✞⛧ You scowl at her. “This is not funny, Ambessa!”

✞⛧ “It is extremely funny,” she wheezes, wiping a tear from her eye.

✞⛧ Ambessa is no stranger to passion. She’s had her fair share of lovers, all eager to please her.

✞⛧ But you? You are something else entirely.

✞⛧ The first time it happened, she had been halfway through removing her shirt when you simply ripped it open with your claws, fabric tearing like it was nothing.

✞⛧ “Do you have no patience?” she had asked, stunned.

✞⛧ You had only grinned. “I have plenty of patience. Just not for this.”

✞⛧ Since then, she has lost several expensive pieces of clothing to your impatience.

✞⛧ “Do you have to tear everything?” she sighs after yet another ruined tunic.

✞⛧ “I get too excited,” you say shamelessly.

✞⛧ She pinches the bridge of her nose. “That was my favorite shirt.”

✞⛧ “I’ll buy you a new one,” you offer.

✞⛧ “With what money?”

✞⛧ You pause. “…Your money.”

✞⛧ Ambessa just stares at you.

✞⛧ “…You know what? Fine. But if you ruin another one, I’m making you wear it.”

✞⛧ You absolutely do not stop ruining her clothes.

[shoukokus]

Hello! Can you please write Vil with a crush on someone (preferably fem) who likes more “masculine” activities; like wrestling, rugby, weightlifting, etc (definitely not bc I do those sports). Thank you!!! 🩷🩷🩷

I love this! So cute

Vil Schoenheit

Vil doesn't know how this happened. He was high-end! Beauty oriented, grace above all else, and maintain an air of refinement. So how in the Great Seven did he fall for someone so rowdy?!

It defied all logic, but reason seemed to escape him when it came to you. He could be strictly instructing a dance course, the graceful art of ballet obviously, when he sees you. In the corner with Epel, wrestling him to the ground. It should make Vil outraged! But instead he's fixated on the way your muscles contract with each movement.

It must have taken time and discipline to get them like that... So taut and firm. Beautiful in its own way...

"Are you all right, dorm leader?" Someone asks him, pulling Vil out of his thoughts.

"Of course I'm fine," he snaps in response. "Another 30 minutes of practice for everyone."

Some time later, Epel is drowning in homework and extra assignments given by Vil. At one point during this, the younger boy timidly tells Vil that he had an alchemy project with none other than you. He had done his part, but now it needed to be delivered so it can be completed. His dorm leader doesn't want Epel to fail, right?

Vil snatches the papers and box up with feigned annoyance.

When he arrives at your door and knocks, you don't answer but he does hear loud music inside. You probably wouldn't have heard him, so he lightly pushes it open.

Down the end of the hallway in the living room, he sees you and freezes on the spot. Wearing loose workout clothing, you're lifting weights that looked... rather heavy, to say the least. It's infuriating how stunning you look, so perfectly in your element. Doing something that compliments you so well.

He clears his throat, determined not to let this fluster him, and approaches you. When you finally see him, you send him a wide smile that nearly sends him into panic mode.

A week or so later is the final straw.

Vil spots you from across the courtyard at lunchtime. It was a lovely day, and a lot of students were outside enjoying it. You're with most of the Spelldrive team, talking animatedly and laughing. Even Leona seems to be enjoying the conversation, although it was hard to tell while he lounged on a bench.

While it was unclear what was said to spark it, you and Ruggie were suddenly squaring off. It was playful and kind of... cute, but that does not diminish how easily you got him to the ground. Your technique had obviously been honed, and came from some kind of sport, but Vil couldn't pinpoint it.

After the two of you removed yourselves from each other, you went back to laughing and brushing grass off. Vil has had just about enough. He marched up to you and your little group.

"Come with me, now." Vil told you, eyes boring into yours.

The others looked at you with sympathy, assuming that you were about to be chewed out for starting a ruckus or some such. You followed, shoulders tight, worried about your fate.

When the two of you had reached a private spot, Vil turns to you. He has a slight flush on his face as he begins to speak. "You are rowdy. Your hobbies are reckless, and entirely ill-suited to my tastes." You open your mouth to protest, but he holds up a finger dangerously close to your lips. "Yet I still find myself enchanted by you. The way you are... the way you carry yourself. It is unbelievably mesmerizing. Allow me to take you on a date."

A smile had been slowly growing on your face as he spoke, while the blush on his also increased.

"I'd love that, Vil."

Requests are open!

[benisbeaaaaans]

Fragmented

Mirrors always made him uneasy.

The villagers who were aware of that always assumed it was because of his eye, the injury that was deemed so severe upon his arrival that he was given a patch to keep the non-functional socket clean and protected. He’d be lying if he said that wasn’t at least partially true, so he’d nod somberly every time it was brought up.

But it wasn’t the whole truth. No, he’d much rather they not have the burden of knowing the rest of the story.

It pained him to be reminded of what he was, and what he had left behind on Beast-Yeast.

It was the dead of night, the only night outside the window broken by tiny pinpricks of light, the moon gone from the sky tonight. He stared at the mirror on the wall, water dripping from his milk-white hair and down his back, seeping into the towel wrapped around him. His eyepatch hung on the bathroom doorknob, its lock slid into place more to hide him from unsuspecting eyes than for privacy. Witches forbid a villager or worse, Pure Vanilla Cookie come walking in and seeing the black scars on his body and the unnatural glow of his right eye. He looked like a monster in his reflection, and he was the one that was used to it. Imagining what would happen if he lost this second chance to something as easily concealed as his appearance-

He sighed. He grabbed the patch from the door handle, tying it back around his head over his eye. It took some work, given his hair was still heavy from his bath, but looking at himself too long gave covering it more priority than drying the mop of hair upon his head. He briefly contemplated cutting it short, before dismissing the idea.

‘Pure Vanilla Cookie recognizes me like this. I shouldn’t drastically change my appearance, especially so early on. I might frighten him if he thinks I’m a stranger.’

He stared at the mirror a second longer. He had yet to put on his nightgown, but even covering that hideous eye made him sigh with relief. He’d never forgive that wretched part of himself for such a vile change. He knew it didn’t care about appearances the moment corruption took hold, but to force it upon him, too?

He turned away. “It cannot be helped,” he murmured aloud. “It is simply the truth of the matter.”

‘Aw, my little parting gift isn’t appreciated?’

He froze.

“What-?”

‘And here I thought you of all people were honest about your feelings! I had to wait until you left before finding out about this!’

A cold feeling rushed over his body.

He looked back up at the mirror.

His reflection stared back.

Smiling.

That sickly cyan eye staring into his very soul.

‘Hellooooo, my darling other half~! Having fun playing family?’

‘What are you doing here?!’ Blueberry Milk Cookie’s words echoed in his mind, not daring to say another word aloud, lest he wake the entire house.

‘Mm, nothing in particular, really. Not much to do inside this wretched tree. I must say, though, I was really hoping for more excitement after the journey here… watching this is almost as boring as sitting for a portrait!’ Shadow Milk Cookie sighed, the reflection moving independently from the cookie projecting it.

‘How?? How are you able to watch me?! That shouldn’t be possible, you’re- trapped! Trapped forever, I should add, that should mean that you have no power!’

‘What a naive assumption. And here I thought you were smart,’ the mirror scoffed. ‘Did I get all the brains in the split? That’s rather unfortunate for you…’

‘I’m not stupid! The Witches chains bind you for all eternity! Any connection with me was severed when the Soul Jam’s power was split!’

‘Tch, tch, tch, sooooo naive indeed. You’re forgetting some crutial details, my “beloved” other half.’

‘Tell me, then, instead of dancing around it like a chicken with its head cut off!’

‘The Soul Jam’s power cannot be entirely severed. That’s why you were forced to bring that snot-nosed brat to a different continent to ensure I could not effectively puppet him.’

‘…’

‘Hehe~! Got your attention now, did I? Yes, I know about the heir. Too bad, so sad, you’re getting nepotismed right out of weilding your own lifeforce!’

‘Silence,’ Blueberry snapped, before thinking a moment more. ‘This must be why I’m here. So long as he doesn’t hold the Soul Jam, you have no will over him. But he still needs it eventually. I’m the beacon that must protect him not only until he’s grown, but from the very power he will grow to inherit.’

‘Yes,’ Shadow replied through a grating smile. ‘It’s so very inconvenient, all this “pure and good” nonsense he has to be. You must be so upset you have to deal with me! You’re already going mad listening to me mock you! Maybe I’ll make you have nightmares every night! Or! I’ll make you hallucinate spiders crawling under your clothes, and snakes in your shoes constricting your legs so you can’t walk! You won’t last so much as a day now that I-‘

“No.”

‘… What.’

“I refuse to be driven mad by you,” Blueberry Milk Cookie whispered, turning away from the mirror.

‘… Huh???! You can’t just- REFUSE to be driven mad! That’s stupid! I am not some meager insect that can be swatted away, you insolent fool!’ The mirror hissed, the furious cookie’s eye flashing with rage.

‘Perhaps not. But you do not worry me in the slightest. Now that I know we are still connected through the Soul Jam, I know exactly what I must do. Not just raise Pure Vanilla Cookie, but teach him. He will learn how to resist you when the time comes. I will ensure it, and until that day comes, I will suffer the consequences of holding the Light of Truth and its connection with the Sin of Deciet.’

‘That will take years! Decades, even, perhaps even centuries if his life is as long as ours!’

‘I’m sure that’s enough time to grow a tolerance for you.’

‘No one can last forever in torment…’ Shadow Milk Cookie growled, eyes narrowed into slits.

‘Not forever,’ he agreed, pulling on his blue tunic. ‘But this is my purpose now. Just as yours is to be trapped “forever”. Such fickle wording, don’t you think?’

Before the reflection could retort further, Blueberry Milk Cookie unlocked the door stepping out and closing it behind him.

[bestworstcase]

Tbh I can only imagine the rage Salem might feel on Oz's behalf once she finds out Light manipulated and trapped him into the task Light gave him, and that he has no choice in coming back (assuming she doesn't know that it isn't his choice). I think finding out he's essentially been trapped in a prison (the prison being the fucked up cycle of life/death/rebirth and the Mandate) this entire time would give her extra incentive to, presumably (if that's her goal), overthrow the tyrants that are the gods.

And honestly I think that would really show Oz that yes, Salem does still love him and care about him (quietly slides over Would You Fall In Love With Me Again from EPIC the Musical). Ugh I just want them to make uppp they mean everything to me. I need that reconciliation arc sm. And sighs. Salem saving Ozma from his metaphorical tower like how Ozma saved Salem from hers :( i want them to at least be friends again. There's sm they have to talk about and make up for

in all honesty i think her immediate reaction is more likely to be anguished guilt than fury, because the god of light deftlymanipulated her into acting as the lock on ozma's cage. it's been evident since 6.3 that salem already feels an immense burden of self-blame and guilt and in v8 we see, with cinder, salem turn on a dime while articulating a very precise and accurate understanding of why cinder acted as she did in response to the way salem treated her.

(and i do also think ozma's view that salem is at least partially responsible for what the brothers did to her and to the world may be, ultimately, because she told the story that way: if salem really did hesitate to tell him parts of it at first because she feared ozma would reject her, then it follows she felt ashamed and guilty, and feeling that way would undoubtedly color her account.) 

and in 6.4, the one time in the present we've ever seen salem truly lose her temper, what happens? she sends everyone else out of the room and self-harms. the windows shatter inward—the scene cuts away before we see salem get ripped apart by broken glass, but that is what she's doing. that unbearable uncontrollable rage is for herself. 

so how will she feel when she learns that all this time she spent believing that ozma  cynically took advantage of her trust and love to manipulate her into serving her tormentor, that he willingly bent the knee to tyrannical monsters and never wavered from his obedience—how will she feel when she finds out that actually, all that time, ozma was being tortured and forcibly twisted into an unwilling pawn by a curse he was tricked into accepting?

like. 

look at what she did to herself when she realized her decision to abandon cinder meant leaving cinder to infiltrate atlas and recover the lamp from oz all by herself, with no support, mere weeks after cinder nearly died at haven. and that was harm of a much smaller scale, spanning just a couple weeks. salem fled into exile after that horrible fight and left ozma to suffer alone in a state of inescapable torment for thousands of years. 

i think she's going to be devastated and furious with herself first, and she'll have to navigate that before she can reach being enraged at the god of light for ozma's sake. but yeah once she's had that time to process her hatred of the brothers and conviction that they must be cast down will only deepen. 

for ozma it's far more important that he sees the anguish and grief and guilt clearly. he already knows her rage. he knows she hates the brothers and why. salem is a deeply emotional character but her affect is blunted and notably in the narration of the lost fable, spite and anger at the gods are the only emotions jinn ever describes salem feeling—everything else we see salem feeling in that episode is framed as a manipulative lie, because ozma is terrified that her spiteful anger at the gods might have been the only thing that was real. 

and again i think this is a misconception rooted in the way salem presented herself because in both the kitchen scene and even more so in their last conversation, salem keeps what she wants and what shefeels very tightly locked down. from the instant ozma suggested that he wanted more than their cozy little life in her cabin, salem was one hundred percent focused on giving him what he said he wanted. literally, "whatever we want—what you want!"

salem fearing ozma would reject her didn't begin and end with just flinching before she plucked up the courage to tell him of her rebellion. it also encompassed what she wanted, if he wanted something else, and anything she felt that she feared might upset him. even when he told her the whole truth, she crushed down her own feelings and quoted from a myth—spoke in his language—and tried to reach out to somehow find a compromise because even then she was putting him and what he wanted so far above herself that she couldn't even bring herself to admit that she felt hurt. 

fundamentally what ozma needs is to see her pain, her grief, without any restraint—not just for her sake but also for his own. anger is what he expects. it's the only thing he expects. and i think a lot of the resentment he feels toward salem in the present comes from a place of believing on some level that he's just her excuse for being angry at the gods because he feels so much doubt that she truly loved him. 

which is where the maiden-in-tower allusion becomes salient; when the prince is blinded his sight is healed by her tears. ozma won't be able to see her clearly until he sees her sorrow.

[rottenpumpkin13]

It’s my birthday today. I bring this up because my family has this birthday rule where you can never be wrong on your birthday, to the point that you, as the birthday person, could go as far as to say the sky is green and no one can argue and they have to agree. (This was hilarious as people dating or marrying into the family always call the rest of the family to make sure they aren’t being punked, and has caused many funny conversations and reactions over the years from people outside the family)

As it is my birthday, I have decided that this is also an old nibel tradition for birthdays. How does Cloud’s birthday go?

HAPPY BIRTHDAY! 🎂 🥳 It'd be funny if Cloud assumed this to be a tradition everywhere, and that they're all in on it (they're not).

*The group is gathered around in the SOLDIER lounge after hours as Cloud blows the candles on his cake*

Zack: Happy birthday, buddy! What'd you wish for?

Cloud: I wish to dye my hair the same color as Genesis' natural brown.

*Everyone gasps*

Genesis: EXCUSE ME?

Cloud: Yep. Naturally, Genesis' hair is light brown. But he dyes it red for a more dramatic look.

Genesis: That is slander of the highest order! Angeal, tell him! Tell him I'm a natural auburn!

Angeal: …your hair has gotten suspiciously more red over the years..

Cloud: Also, Angeal doesn't separate his laundry despite lecturing Zack about proper fabric care and color bleeding.

*Zack stands up so suddenly it tips the chair back*

Zack: HA! I KNEW IT!

Angeal: Hey that's not true!

Cloud, sipping his drink: Sephiroth wears a wig.

Sephiroth: ?

Cloud: His real hairline starts way further back, but Shinra makes him wear those extensions to preserve his 'brand.'

Genesis: YOU ABSOLUTE FRAUD.

Zack: Wait, seriously!?? You mean that shiny silver hair is fake!?

Sephiroth: This is nonsense. My hair is just as real as the box of auburn hair dye I once found in Genesis' bathroom.

Genesis: AT LEAST I'M NOT WEARING A CORPORATE-ISSUED LACE-FRONT.

Sephiroth: You WISH my hair were a wig. Just like you WISHED your summons listened to you on the first try.

*All-out chaos ensues. Fists fly. Someone flips a table. Genesis and Sephiroth are throwing hands. Zack wields a chair against Angeal, indignant that he's been separating his delicates for years*

Lazard, walking in: What happened?

Cloud: This is foreplay for an orgy.

Lazard: Makes sense. Have a good night.

Cloud: You too.

[anxiousdreamcore]

Did Frontiers of Pandora actually financially succeed? Spoiler: yes, but…

.

To get right to the point: Frontiers of Pandora made a 133 million dollars in January of 2024 and then, presuming half a million or so bought it for DLCs the following year, and even if we assume it never went off sale, it still adds an additional 15-20 million dollars to profits.

So, the game has made a whopping 148-153 MILLION dollars in sales.

That is decent success for a game that isn’t part of an established franchise and relied pretty much entirely on the A2 movie for its promotion, but here’s the kicker. The budget of the game, according to rumours/leaks, is a grossly bloated 120 million.

For comparison, Witcher 3, an open world game with beautiful graphics, ten times the content of Frontiers, a campaign spanning 50 hours and with release date of 2015, had the budget of 81 million. A question arises: where in the hell did a 120 million go? Why did frontiers need such a large budget? I can sadly not afford a definite answer.

Some theories of mine are: the primary chunk has been lent to musicians and concept artists, who made whole new clans, character designs, environments and music to go along with all of it. A clear lack of budget is seen within the latest DLC, as it has nearly no new music compared to the base game score, which perhaps points to the developers at Ubisoft cutting pay on the labour that demanded most of it. Animators and motion capture come in close second as the dlc also severely lacks said scenes with present actors, which was another clear attempt at cutting costs.

Second theory is that, what I think happened, was that the game was severely crunched by a huge team since the executives managed it poorly and it was unable to release in tandem with the movie, hence the budget, as it might have covered salaries for hundreds of people working around the clock to somehow finish the product a year later. Allegedly of course.

In conclusion: the game has made a ton of money but Ubisoft; a company that has lately become infamous for its foolish financial practices, will not be able to enjoy any of it in the wake of their pending projects with equally bloated-out-of-proportion budgets. Allegedly.

But at least the artists managed to create a gorgeous project. Hats off to them.