#but i also just generally love my friends

[no1mikasimp]

I’m from India, my parents thought having a TV created ‘bad habits’ in children so we’ve never had a Television in my household, instead me and my sister had unlimited and unsupervised internet and PC privileges since kindergarten.

Once we were trying to watch Phineas and Ferb on YouTube (we heard about it from our friends) when I was in first grade and my sister in second, in the YouTube recommendations on the side it recommended us a Princess Tutu AMV. We watched it— instantly fell in ✨ love ✨ and my sister soon found a website where we could watch the entire thing aside from YouTube (Animenova was the site’s name, it’s shutdown now)

After that watching Princess Tutu we found other anime like Mermaid Melody, Mew Mew Power, Cardcaptor Sakura and by the time I was we were in 4-5th grade we had already started watching almost anime anime we could find from comment sections and recommendation lists, it was then around the time AoT released and we watched it, then my sister found an anime called Owari no Serpah (Seraph of the End) which had the same concept as AoT but with vampires and it became our fav anime for a few long years along with stuff like Magi and Railgun through Owari no Seraph and the incredibly gay sexual tension between its two male protagonists Mika and Yuu, my sister and I found ✨ Yaoi ✨ at 10-11 years of age. I initially didn’t really like it but then by the time was 11 I was consuming that shit almost every day (started with Hybrid child, Sekaichi Hatsukoi, Junjou Romantica and Super Lovers) i wanted to consume more super lovers so I asked my sis where she read her Yaoi manga and general mangas too ofc, she recommended me our god and saviour ✨ mangago ✨ from where I proceeded to read Super Lovers and got heavily confused cuz everything was highly censored and I didn’t know what sex was (growing up in a conservative society like india does that, especially when you’re a girl watching anime since first grade and have no interest in anything else) then I read Royal Servant and found out what 🎀 sex 🎀 was.

Have never looked back since.

I only watched Death Note when u was in like 7th grade, so pretty late I guess. Mainly watched it cuz I heard there was a popular shop between L and Light.

Now, I’m turning 20 in a month and over half my life has been spent being a full time weeb, and almost my half life spent reading gay people making love and holding hands.

Never could have asked for a more perfect life.

Before anyone asks,

No, my parents still don’t know what me and my sister did with that unlimited and unsupervised internet access.

Whenever my parents see me reading Ao3 and ask what it is, I just tell them I’m reading a novel and they get so proud and like, ‘we raised you two so well.’ And give themselves a pat on their backs. They don’t know. It’s so freaking funny.

I also make my mum buy me Yaoi manga and BL novels with her money and she never says no cuz ‘reading is a good habit’

I have two entire bookshelves filled with books, one half normal stuff like Rick Riordan and stuff and the other half pure BL.

That post about death note being "everyone's first anime" (untrue statement) made me curious and now I want to gather data for science

Can you reblog this and tell me where are you from and what was your starter anime?

[hellenhighwater]

Whilst browsing my dash I came upon a couple of posts of yours. One being the citrus garland one, and the other being the completed pepper juice to the eye post. I've wanted to do citrus garlands for *years* but I am allergic to citrus. Only upon seeing your post did I realize that I should be fine if I wear gloves.

Now to the second post and my reason for being here. Forgive me for being a bit long-winded, I promise it goes somewhere. I am the director for the elementary DnD after school club. I had intended to run a wizard themed game, but multiple things got in the way and I was unable to get any of those ideas off the ground. However, my students did come up with what their wands were going to look like. And so I have a new quest: make wands for my kids. I have the wands themselves already made, and today I picked up things to make the wands unique (paint, gems, clay, etc.) But upon seeing your post about making the big batches of stuff to give away as gifts I went, "Ooh, I want to do that!" But I am no good in the kitchen so I turned to Pinterest for potential ideas. I saw many tutorials on how to make tiny potion bottles, and reached out to a friend who also hoards crafts like a dragon. I sought for her to make me stop, but truly I wanted permission to go for it. She suggested that I go all in and make a jar of homemade spice blend, decorate it with witchy stuff, throw in some fake potions, and make a whole gift box for the holidays.

So yeah, I guess I'm making wizard boxes now.

You should be able to use the orange drying method on most fruits, for what it's worth (persimmons, especially, give a very vibrant orange color, though they are still citrus) including apples and pears. So if the gloves don't do the trick, maybe try a different fruit entirely?

From the depths of my tiny bottles drawer: a handful of spell component jars, made for a campaign that's years ago now!

Spice mixes are fun, but because they generally go into hot beverages, maybe not the best option for elementary schoolers. Instead, may I suggest "mystery" powdered drink mixes, re-packaged into tiny potion bottles like the two above? You could label them and have a pitcher of water and cups with each character's name at the table, and let players dump the powder into their cup and drink whatever it is, either when they use a potion or as a spell component. (Small cups just larger than a shot glass may be preferred to stave off constant pee breaks.) You could also mix in festive sprinkles or food-safe luster dust for visual texture; a little extra sugar in most powdered mixes won't be highly noticeable.

But I do love the idea of a little wizard goodie box to take home! That sounds like a super fun campaign; I hope they enjoy it.

[wolftarotcrafts]

Hello this is my first ever post I hope you like it.

Pile One

Hello pile one I see your future spouse having dark hair, like dark black or dark brown that might even look black. As for eyes, I see them having dark blue eyes, and just in general, really dark eyes. I don't see them having light eyes. I can also see them having really intense eyes, like they can be very intimidating. Like they can see into your soul type of thing. For their skin color, I see for some of you they will be light skin, possibly really pale, and for others of you, I am seeing a really tan to darker skin tone. They either be really tall or really short, so like taller than average or shorter than Average. There is something about them that stands out, like their eyes, hair, or how they dress. They might dress really expensive and just look expensive. You look at them and go, "Damn, they got money." They might look really intimidating, but when they smile, their whole face changes, and they look all soft and nice. They have a cute smile. They are also gorgeous and look very put together. They take really good care of themselves. For their body type, you can tell they go to the gym because they look strong. I see them being muscular. 

Extra: Straight hair, red hair, short hair, really long hair, colored hair, Sagittarius, may, cancer, Capricorn, water signs, earth signs, French, Canadian, Mexico, love songs, weekday, freckles, clean-shaven, smart, twin flames, 2, in a few months, stands out from the crowd, red, money, witty, intelligent, strong.

Pile Two

Hey, pile two for how your future spouse looks; I'm getting they kind of look spunky and fun. They may have some type of birthmark or markings on them that are noticeable. I can see them dressing in some dark colors; they could even be more punk or goth. For hair, I see light auburn hair and blond. I see them being lean and athletic. They are not that muscular, but they do look like they are active and workout. For eye color, I see green and brown, maybe a mix of those. For skin color, I see them having a tan to olive skin tone. I see them being averagely tall—not too short but not overly tall either. I can see them having piercings and tattoos. I see them having an intense or strong gaze. I see them having interesting eyes. They might have heterochromia eyes; there is something about their eyes. 

Extra: Eyes, gaze, observing, birthmark, tattoos, dark skin, fire signs, curly hair, blond hair, 32, 41, 16, brown, green, red, friends, friendly, extroverted, party goer, fun, loud.

Pile Three

Hi pile three, Your future spouse is really intimidating, and I think even more than pile one's future spouse. I see them possibly being spiritual, and they also seem very serious. They might not smile that often and have a resting bitch face. I see them having dark hair, like black hair. I see them have darker skin tones. I see them having brown eyes. I can see them being tall, at least taller than you. For their body type, I see them having muscles but not to prominent. They are fit, and they take care of themselves, but I see them taking care of their minds and souls more. So they may do meditation and self-care. They might not really go to the gym. They may work out by going on runs or cycling, something like that. I see that while they have a strong aura around them, they are very calm. 

Extra: Proposal, children, family, traditional, masculine energy, music, sneaky, Gemini, 45, 35, 1212, good looking, stern, macabre, grim, morbid, serious, protective, physical touch, romantic, black hair, RBF, spiritual. 

Thank you, and I hope you liked my reading. If you want to buy a personal reading, I have a Esty shop called WolfTarotCrafts. I plan to open a Ko-fi, but for now, I have them available on my Esty. 

[chaotechnician]

Do The Thing

PCs start with 0 Power and no Skills. When a PC attempts to do a thing using their skills/abilities, the GM determines it's Ease, typically between -8 and 8. The player rolls 2d10, plus their most applicable Skill, plus the Ease, and determines their success using the first column of the table below. The GM narrates any extra details. If the player and GM agree no skill fits well, they can instead first create a new Skill with a value between -10 and 10, where 0 is average for the type of characters being played in the campaign, and increases their Power by that amount.

When a PC wants to do a thing based mostly on luck rather than skill (e.g., find a gate undefended or have a convenient friend in town), the GM determines a base percentage chance of success, subtracts both the PC's Power and the result of a d100 roll, then determines their success using the second column of the table below. The player narrates any extra details, within reason.

Do You Do The Thing? 18+ | 40+ | Yes, and… 14 — 17 | 20 — 39 | Yes 11 — 13 | 0 — 19 | Yes, but… 8 — 10 | -20 — -1 | No, but… 5 — 7 | -40 — -21 | No 4- | -41- | No, and…

Feel free to archive offsite. This is literally my first Tumblr post (I created this blog years ago for something I didn't end up doing) so let me know if I messed anything up.

The logical way to approach a tiny RPG challenge would be to target a very specific premise and mode of play. So obviously I had to try to create as stupidly general an RPG as possible so that I had an excuse for how sloppy it is because I love a challenge! I don't know how good the result is overall, but at least I'm pretty sure that a group with a good familiarity with RPGs could at least muddle through playing it. My favorite part of it is the improv-inspired results table, which covers so much with just ten words. It was also interesting how not being able to find a good way to fit any sort of traditional character balancing mechanism in resulted in a system where less powerful characters get lots of lucky breaks while more powerful characters have to earn every victory, which I think is often how things go in fiction.

The hardest part of this entire process, by far, was figuring out how to post a simple three-column table on Tumblr.

200 Word RPGs 2024

Each November, some people try to write a novel. Others would prefer to do as little writing as possible. For those who wish to challenge their ability to not write, we offer this alternative: producing a complete, playable roleplaying game in two hundred words or fewer.

This is the submission thread for the 2024 event, running from November 1st, 2024 through November 30th, 2024. Submission guidelines can be found in this blog's pinned post, here.

[xaverie]

So. I love Evan Kelmp. And - imagine that I'm trying to choose my words carefully here.

I've been getting annoyed with him over the last three episodes. Because. I don't like how he tends to impose his beliefs. About what is correct and should happen. On the other characters. And our Black characters, specifically. Which. Was really put on clear display by his interaction with The Qohlye.

Evan seeks to be understood. But I don't think he has.. put in the required effort to reach that same level of understanding with his friends, or in general. Perhaps because they haven't said things in the exact way that he needs to hear them. But he behaves as though he does understand, even though I personally think. That there are things he's missing.

The treehouse conversation. Lots of people seem to get and relate to Evan's side of the convo, which is fantastic! But not as deep an understanding of Jammer's side. Evan decides that the correct thing is for Jammer to come out not hide his magical experiences. He jumps to a few conclusions about the reason - first that maybe Jammer was ashamed, then that he wasn't confident it would go well.

Instead of asking for clarification about what "They need me to be Whitney, you guys need me to be Jammer" means, he had made up his mind. Evan likes that Jammer is magic because that is the way in which Evan feels most connected to Jammer, thus everyone should admire Jammer for his magical abilities the way Evan does. And if Jammer hasn't allowed for that it's some kind of rebuke of Evan, of magic, and of Jammer's own self. Therefore the only correct thing is to merge these identities, but really just be the Jammer that Evan knows.

And I'm not saying Evan is wrong here. But in the same way he's missing the fact that Jammer did try to expose his magic in S2E1, but he couldn't prove it because magic is fucking broken. He's also missing how naturally we, as Black people, fall into code switching. Not just historically as a method of survival, but for practical reasons, privacy reasons, or just to keep our peace. To treat that unilaterally as the same thing as a kind of toxic compartmentalization, or hiding the true self (all of them are true selves), was. Kinda. Sad to me.

Not to take away from Jammer's triumphant success on Galamanis or the freedom represented by growing wings, because this is what he chose and I love that he made those choices. But it also represents potentially giving up fitting into his mundane life and dream career, something he had fought so so hard to keep thus far, and destroying 'Whitney'. This, more than anything before it, might be a fundamental shift in identity.

The same way it made me a little bit sad that Evan had assumed Jammer didn't mean "family" literally, when I immediately recognized that of course he did. There has never been a point in American history where part of being Black and being family hasn't meant - we may have to be apart, but as soon I'm ready (as soon as we're safe), I'm coming back for you, no matter what. It is THE very first promise, the foundational truth, or the only thread of hope that tied so many Black families together through all these generations.

So while everyone recognizes what a sweet moment it was, I also hope people feel the gravity and the history behind "I dream of making that space for you." And the weight of how many people must have said that before him. And what a profound act of love it's always been because sometimes that's all we have.

When Evan tells Sam, "I think you are the most powerful wizard," she instantly replies, "I hope not." Evan's response to this was essentially - who were are is true whether we want it to be or not. Which, to be fair, is both consistent with what he expressed to Jammer and with his own experience. What it leaves out is that our hopes are also who we are. And that maybe the same way he mistook her love toward him for general gregariousness, he is still misunderstanding her a little.

While he deferred to Sam on the matter of whether they should pursue the Qohlye or not, I think it was still Evan's (or Brennan's) idea that not only must all four of them be chosen, but that The Qohlye must be the best choice for Sam.

When the Qohlye says 'I think you're only here because you're convinced you need to be the same as your friends,' is he wrong? When he asks why she needs to be chosen by his magic specifically, she can't answer on her own. When Sam was given the choice between Power and Understanding she immediately chose understanding because of COURSE she did. (She instantly replies, "I hope not." I hope not. My heart breaks.)

And yet. Evan insists that she's given the power anyway. Because that's what fits neatly into what he already believes is correct and should happen. He believes in winning and rewards. He believes she deserves that power and that they need it. So even though I know he does this out of love, he doesn't even consider for a moment that he might be wrong.

Because Sam does get the power, she does thank him, and again not to diminish Sam's accomplishment - once again Evan gets what he wants and is proven right.

Except.

When The Qohlye doesn't give him the answers he wants in the exact form that he demands them. Evan decides that this is a crime for which The Qohlye deserves to die. The Qohlye, who helped return him to life. Who has a strong connection to his friends. (Who chose to be Black, which meant so much to Jammer that he cried.) Who asked each of his friends, in turn, if they thought The Qohlye meant what Evan thought he meant. Who demonstrated that he is not (and cannot be) obfuscating something that is apparently obvious to everyone else.

Evan refuses to accept that yes, The Qohlye can give him information, but cannot understand it for him. And Evan is not ready to Understand because Evan keeps choosing Power. Understanding takes work, even (or especially) when it doesn't come naturally to you. And answers will not always come in a clear and concise way. And this makes him so angry that he wants The Qohlye dead.

While Evan always presents his beliefs and demands as logical and rational, his reaction to The Qohlye's refusal to engage on his terms was simply entitled and immature.

[nagaytoe]

Got a req! Howlw about some angst? What would happen after the bad end?

Evanescent

(Adj.) Soon passing out of sight, memory, or existence; quickly fading or disappearing

Solivan Brugmansia X Reader

TWs: Murder, attempted murder, weapons, just a lot of death in general, loss of loved one, shifting blame, like one mention of necrophilia

Word count: 2.3k

I am currently cooking up 3 more scenarios of what could've happened after the bad end on day 2 but this is the first one that's actually finished (there were just too many ideas popping into my head so ofc i have to write for all of them lmao)

Requests: open

Disclaimer: i tried my best to proof-read it and tried using they/them pronouns but when i first wrote it i used she/her, i just hope i got all of 'em lol

Also, apparently 'whose' can also be used for objects as well and not just for people??? Sounds wrong to me but if the internet says it's right then lets hope its right haha

SPOILERS FOR DAY 2 OF THE KID AT THE BACK

Sol was inconsolable, his face buried in your neck, tears staining your shirt. His arms were wrapped around you but you didn’t reciprocate the gesture. How could you anyways? You were dead. Stabbed by Sol's only friend, Hyugo, who was currently cleaning up the gory scene.

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

Just a few moments ago you stumbled upon a horrifying view: Your friend, best friend, and your first love, Jericho Ichabod, laid on the dirty ground of a shed whose door you just broke down, his head barely attached to the neck.

Your knees gave in beneath you as soon as you gazed upon Crowe, grabbing his body, shaking it and willing him to wake up again. How could this happen? He was well liked, nice to everyone he met, who would think about taking his life? You barely registered footsteps behind you because of how loud you were sobbing, but the clanking of metal on the ground didn't slip past you. Turning around, your eyes are met with the sight of someone you didn't expect. You expected a gang leader, a thug, everyone but the one who actually stood in front of you.

Solivan Brugmansia

Just yesterday you befriended the seemingly timid boy and now he was soaked in blood, his red eyes wide as your gazes met.

“[____]...?” Tears of his own started to well up in his eyes which currently roamed over your hunched figure.

“What are you doing here? You're not supposed to be here, you need to leave!” By the end of his sentence he was yelling, tears streaming down his face.

Truly a miserable, pathetic sight.

“You killed him, you killed Crowe, didn't you?” Anger was bubbling up in the pit of your stomach. On the inside you were praying to whatever god was watching from heaven above, if there even was one to begin with, that all this was nothing more than a bad dream, hoping insistently to wake up. However, this was a nightmare you were not permitted to ever wake up from.

“I only did what I should've done years ago.” His words caused you to huff in disbelief, “You're not even gonna deny it, huh?”

“I would never lie to you, [____]” Was he fucking serious? He just killed someone, but at least he's not a liar? What the hell was wrong with him?! You were enraged, he had no reason to kill Crowe, to play god by ending his life and taking your love from you.

“Why? Why did you kill him?!”

"BECAUSE I LOVE YOU! I LOVE YOU AND HE TRIED TO TAKE YOU AWAY FROM ME! I COULDN'T SIT BY AND LET THAT HAPPEN… YOU'RE MINE! MINE ALONE!” he finally snapped, showing his true colors. Was everything he showed you before just a facade? It had to be.

The words he just spoke left a disgusting taste in your mouth. Love? Love?! How dare he use this sweet word in such a disgusting fashion? How dare he taint it in order to justify his vile actions? It made you sick to your stomach and you were blinded by rage as you lunged at him.

“YOU MONSTER!”

You unbuckled the strap of his choker and pulled on it, strangling him in the process.

“YOU LOVE ME?! I LOVED HIM! HE WAS EVERYTHING TO ME! MY BEST FRIEND, MY FIRST LOVE, MY SAVIOR! YOU ARE NOTHING TO ME, I DON'T EVEN KNOW YOU! DON'T YOU DARE IMAGINE YOU KNOW ME IN THE SLIGHTEST! I WILL MAKE YOU PAY FOR WHAT YOU'VE DONE!”

Sol was clawing at your wrists by now, but it was no use, every action of his seemed slow and heavy, as if it took a lot of effort, almost as if he was paralyzed.

His hands fell to the side and just as you thought you managed to avenge your love something sharp pierced through your chest.

--

Here you were, taking your last breaths in the arms of the person you despise most.

“[____], please… please stay with me… don't leave me [____]...” his pleas were a stark contrast to what he is screaming at the person who stabbed you.

“HOW COULD YOU!? ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR MIND?!”

Then he went back to sobbing into your shoulder. He seemed completely out of it, switching between grief and anger every other second.

You couldn't seem to make out the words your killer was saying, everything they said was incoherent, except for the last two words:

“No witnesses.”

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

“What do you plan on doing? Hold them until they start rotting?”

Hyugo was standing in front of Sol, who was still sitting on the ground, sobbing and cradling you in his arms. After he managed to clean up the scene, the only thing left to do was the disposal of your corpse.

“Just kill me alongside them.” Sols voice was quiet, barely above a whisper and it was strained from crying and screaming so much. It hurt Hyugo to see his best friend like that.

“You know very well I can't do that.”

“YOU WERE ABLE TO KILL THEM THOUGH! I JUST GOT THEM BACK AND YOU TOOK THEM FROM ME!”

Hyugo couldn't hold back his anger anymore. How could Sol still fail to see that this would've never worked out either way?

“THEY TRIED TO KILL YOU!”

Hyugo sighed deeply in an effort to calm himself before continuing, “Even if I had only knocked them out, do you think they would’ve forgiven you for killing Crowe-”

“Don't you dare bring up that bastards name. All of this is his fault anyways. If it hadn't been for him… me and my sweet [____] would still be together now…”

Sols voice was laced with venom as he gripped your body tighter. You have stopped breathing by now, the color has long drained from your face and the warmth of your skin has vanished. All that was left was an empty shell of who you once were.

Just yesterday, you were breathing, talking, laughing. Now? Now you will never be able to do any such thing again.

“It was you or them, Sol. I need you to understand that. Do you truly believe they could've loved you back after finding out you killed someone? Do you think the two of you would have lived happily ever after?” The blue haired man was trying his best to reason with his best friend, but to no avail.

“We could've made it work, I know that we would have… We were destined to be together, there wouldn't have been any other way…Maybe I should just keep them…”

“Sol.” Hyugo put his hand on the taller males shoulder, who was still sitting on the sheds ground. “We need to bury them.”

Sol seemed to be pondering for a moment, the hold he had on your body relentless.

“I can't… I can't let them go. They're gonna be really scared if we bury them and leave them in the darkness forever…”

“Sol, I'll repeat myself one last time. We need to bury them. What else are we supposed to do with their body? Keep it?” Hyugo put his hands on his hips, his patience wearing thin.

“I see no reason to not keep it…” the males words were muttered, but his friend was still able to hear them.

“You can't be serious! Do you know what happens to a body when it decays? They'll have 2 weeks at best before there's nothing left of them, except for the bones.”

Sol knew his friend was right, but how was he supposed to let go of you?

“They deserve a gravestone… a funeral… they deserve a memorial and not to be buried in the woods like some dead animal…”

Hyugo sighed. He knew that there is pretty much nothing he could do right now to convince Sol to do the right thing, he will keep arguing until he gets his way.

“What's your plan?”

Sol considered his options for a few moments before responding,

“Let's call the cops, make it look like an accident or shift the blame onto someone else”

Hyugo scoffed, “And what do you plan to tell them? We don't exactly have an alibi and there aren't that many families with Katanas either, you know? The only other family I can think of right now is Subarus.”

Red eyes met Hyugos teal ones, it's obvious an idea struck Sol. “That's right…”

Hyugo immediately cut Sol off before the latter could finish his sentence.

“Absolutely not! I will not drag my brothers family into this.”

“He doesn't even like you!” Sol retorted.

The shorter males eyes grew wide for a moment, but he quickly regained his composure.

“You know what? Do whatever you want. Keep their body like some necrophilie if that's what you desire.” Turning on his heel, Hyugo began walking off. He already took care of everything necessary, cleaning the scene and disposing of the weapons alongside Crowes body. He was not in the mood to argue with someone whose judgment was clouded and wouldn't even listen to him in the first place.

Sols rage grew stronger by the minute. How dared he? Hyugo killed his one and only soulmate in cold blood, like they were nothing and now he walked off just like that? No… No, he won't. Sol won't let that happen. He couldn't let him disrespect you like that. Carefully lowering your body to the ground and standing up, just as Hyugo walked out of the cabin, Sol quickly lunged at the shorter, unsuspecting male.

If there was one thing he knew, it was that Hyugo might be good with weapons but he wasn't all that strong physically.

Well, at least he was weaker than Sol. Since Hyugo buried his katana alongside any other evidence all he can fight with were his bare hands.

“SOL, GET OFF OF ME!”

Sols hands wrapped themselves around Hyugos throat, just like yours were wrapped around his not even half an hour ago. Pressing his friend's head into the dirt ground, Sol is blinded by rage. Hyugo clawed at the taller males wrists, kicking him but Sols grip won't loosen. Letting go of the hands that were wrapped around his throat, Hyugo felt the dirt ground around him for something he can potentially defend himself with and sure enough - he managed to grab ahold of a rock, swiftly smashing it against the side of Sols head.

The taller male staggered and collapsed on the floor next to Hyugo, who hit the exact right spot to knock someone out.

Hyugo stood up, dusting off his clothes and sighing. What a mess. He knew that he needed to get rid of the body, even if it'll drive Sol further into madness.

So that's what he did. He buried [____]s body deep in the forest before sitting down by Sol's side, waiting for him to wake up.

—————————

Sol didn't attempt to kill Hyugo again after the first time, though part of the reason might be the ax Hyugo found in the shed and kept on him afterwards for self-protection. Either way, Sol acted like Hyugo didn't exist. To him he was dead anyways.

He tried his best, tried to go to school but the next days there were hell. People talked, gossiped, conspired as to what could've happened to [____] and Crowe. Were they kidnapped by the mafia? Did they commit suicide together? Did they run away together? Did they join a cult? People made up all kinds of stories in order to make sense of the situation, but only Sol and Hyugo were the ones who knew the truth.

After a few days, Sol stopped going to school. He couldn't handle it any longer.

Every time he sat in his classes he would draw you, instead of paying attention to what the teacher was saying.

Every time he sat in art class he was met with the sight of your unoccupied seat.

Every time lunch break rolled around he would go to the library where the two of you met and sit down in the seat he sat in on that day.

After school he would go to your apartment complex and break into your apartment to lay down on your bed, hugging your sheets and pillows, pretending they were you.

Hyugo never told Sol where he had buried you, too anxious about what Sol might do were he to know where you've been buried.

Not even a week passed before Sol decided what he had to do next.

On monday, almost a whole week after your death, Sol went back to school. The place where he first saw you, where he fell for you and in whose proximity you had died. Though, instead of attending class, he walked up the stairs to the school roof. The cool november breeze brushed over his face, twirling his hair and swaying single strands from side to side.

He climbed over the fence, briefly sitting down on it.

There was no further purpose in living, that, he was sure of. He lost his only purpose and what meaning does life have if it has to be spent without you, his darling?

All he could do was atone for his sins.

His mind is occupied with memories of you as he leapt forwards, clutching his fist to his chest where his heart resided.

“See you soon, pumpkin.”

Everything went dark as his body met the ground. There was no pain, there was no afterthought. All that's there is nothingness.

Of course, to the people now surrounding his body there was a gruesome scene, perhaps they would prefer nothingness as well. But if there was nothingness, there would be no note either, tucked away in his fist.

“In the forest”, the note read.

Sol promised to atone for his sins and he would never lie to you, remember?

[idkyetxoxo]

Jacaerys Velaryon - Before You Go

Summary - In their final moments together, Jace confesses his love for her just before stepping into the tempest of a storm, leaving her haunted by the foreboding promise that the day he declared his love was also the day he died.

Pairing - Jacaerys Velaryon x reader

Warnings - None

Word count��- 2057

Masterlist for Jacaerys • House of the Dragon General Masterlist.

The day Jace told me he loved me was the day he died.

The sky was bruised with storm clouds, thick and heavy, rolling in from the sea. I could feel the storm in my bones, the chill of it seeping through the walls of my room. 

Rain splattered against the window in sharp bursts, a steady drumming that should have been soothing but only added to the knot of unease tightening in my chest.

Jace was coming today. He hadn't been by in weeks—his duties had kept him away, first at Dragonstone, then flying across the realm in his mother's service, dealing with alliances, and preparing for war. 

And now, for some reason, he had sent word that he needed to see me. Needed to talk.

But his tone... there had been something in his voice, something unfamiliar. As if he were carrying a weight too heavy for even him.

I stood by the window, watching the rain pour down, the dark clouds swirling ominously overhead. 

It wasn't just the storm outside that had me on edge. No, it was something deeper. A fear I couldn't name but could feel gnawing at me, hollowing me out from the inside. 

Every part of me was waiting for the moment when he would knock on the door and everything would change.

He'd said he had something to tell me. Something important. And my heart had lurched when I heard those words.

I had loved Jace for as long as I could remember—long before he knew it before even I knew it. 

It was the kind of love that grows quietly, sneaking up on you until you realize it's rooted so deep that you can't imagine a world without it. 

He was my friend first, and somehow, over the years, he had become my world.

But he was never really mine. He couldn't be. He was a prince, a dragon rider, the heir to the Iron Throne in a world that had been set aflame by war. 

A war I was terrified would take him from me.

I should have told him sooner. I should have said the words. Maybe then I wouldn't have felt this crushing weight in my chest, this regret that sat like lead inside me.

But I never said anything. I couldn't. I couldn't bring myself to burden him with how much I needed him. How much I feared the day he would leave and never return. 

So I kept it inside, where it twisted and coiled like a snake in my chest.

Now, with the storm raging outside, it felt like everything I had feared was crashing down at once.

I was still by the window when the knock came. Three soft raps, like he was hesitating. My heart stopped in my chest for a moment before it started again, hammering against my ribs. 

I stood frozen, unable to move, as if opening the door would seal my fate.

But I forced myself to cross the room, each step heavier than the last. 

When I opened the door, there he was. Jace stood in the doorway, his dark hair soaked from the rain, clinging to his forehead in damp waves. He looked... tired. 

Not just physically, though that was evident in the way his shoulders slumped under the weight of his sodden cloak. 

No, it was something deeper—his eyes. They had always been so bright, so full of life like he was holding a secret that made the world lighter for him. But now, they were dark, clouded with something I couldn't place.

"Jace," I whispered, barely able to say his name.

He offered a faint, almost broken smile. "Can I come in?"

I stepped aside, wordlessly, my throat too tight to speak. He moved past me, trailing droplets of water in his wake, and I shut the door behind him, shutting out the world for a moment.

He stood in the centre of the room, his hands at his sides, still dripping from the storm outside. He didn't seem to notice—or maybe he didn't care. 

There was something in the way he stood like he didn't know how to begin. And that scared me more than anything else. 

Jace was never at a loss for words. He always knew what to say, always had some quip or teasing remark to fill the silences. 

But now... now the silence between us stretched on, unbearable.

"I—" he started, then stopped, his brow furrowing as he stared at the floor. "I don't even know how to say this."

My heart was in my throat. "Just... say it," I managed my voice barely a whisper. "Please."

He looked up at me then, and the anguish in his eyes nearly undid me. I had never seen him look like that before. So raw. So vulnerable.

"I'm leaving," he said quietly, his voice thick. "Tomorrow."

The words hit me like a punch to the gut. "What do you mean?"

He sighed, running a hand through his wet hair, pushing it back from his face. "My mother's orders. I'm flying North, to treat with the Starks. She needs their allegiance, and... she trusts me to win them over."

The North. Winterfell. It was far, so far. And dangerous. 

With war looming, every corner of the realm felt unsafe, especially for someone like him—someone carrying the weight of the crown on his shoulders. 

I felt a cold dread curl in my stomach, the thought of him flying so far into the unknown, into danger.

"But... you'll be back, right?" I asked, my voice small, fragile, like I was a child begging for reassurance. "It's just a negotiation. You'll come back."

He hesitated. And in that hesitation, I felt the ground beneath me shift.

"I don't know," he said, his voice rough, pained. "I don't know what's waiting for me there. What's waiting for any of us."

The world felt like it was shrinking. Like everything around us was pressing in on me, suffocating me. My breath hitched, and I felt tears threaten to spill, but I forced them back. 

Not yet. I couldn't cry yet.

I took a step toward him, my hands trembling at my sides. "Jace, please. Don't talk like that. You'll be fine. You'll come back. You always come back."

He closed the distance between us in two quick strides, his hands gripping my arms, his touch both urgent and gentle. "I'm not sure I will this time."

His words cut through me, sharp and cold, like a blade sliding between my ribs. I couldn't breathe. 

"No," I whispered, shaking my head, trying to pull away from the truth that was pressing in on me from all sides. "No. Don't say that. You have to come back. You can't... you can't leave me."

He swallowed hard, his hands tightening on me like he was afraid to let go. "I wish I could stay," he said, his voice breaking. "Gods, I wish I could. But this is bigger than me. It's bigger than us."

"I don't care," I choked out, my tears burning at the edges of my vision. "I don't care about any of that. I care about you. I can't lose you, Jace. Please."

I hated how desperate I sounded, how weak. But I didn't care. I couldn't let him go. Not like this. Not without knowing if he'd ever return.

His thumb brushed against my cheek, wiping away a tear I hadn't realized had fallen. His touch was so gentle, so familiar, it broke me all over again. 

"I never wanted this for us," he whispered. "I never wanted to hurt you."

"Then don't," I begged. "Stay."

He had never looked so vulnerable before, standing there in front of me with the weight of the world bearing down on him. 

He wasn't just the boy I had fallen in love with anymore. He was a prince, the heir, and he was going to war. There was no escaping it. No stopping it.

He smiled then, a sad, broken smile that shattered what little resolve I had left. "I can't. You know I can't."

The silence between us was deafening, filled with all the things we couldn't say, all the things we were too afraid to admit.

Finally, I whispered, "Why are you telling me this now? Why now, Jace?"

His hand slipped from my cheek to my hand, and he held it tightly, his grip like a lifeline. "Because I can't go without telling you the truth."

"The truth?"

He nodded, his eyes searching mine as if trying to find the words. "I... I love you."

The room spun around me. My heart stopped, then started again, pounding so hard I thought it might burst. "What?"

"I love you," he repeated, his voice low, filled with so much emotion it felt like it might break him. "I've loved you for longer than I can remember. And I... I couldn't go without telling you. I couldn't leave without you knowing."

I stared at him, my mind reeling, trying to process his words. 

He loved me. He loved me. 

The words I had longed to hear for so long, the words I had been too afraid to hope for—now they were out in the open, and it felt like my heart was being ripped apart.

"Jace..." My voice cracked, my tears falling freely now. "Why are you saying this now? Why does this feel like goodbye?"

His eyes were shining, his own tears threatening to fall, but he blinked them back. "Because I don't know what's going to happen. I don't know if I'll ever get the chance to say it again. And I couldn't... I couldn't leave without you knowing how much you mean to me. How much you always have."

I couldn't breathe. It felt like the walls were closing in, the air too thick, too heavy to take in. 

He loved me. And now he was leaving. 

It felt like some kind of cruel joke like fate had decided to give me what I had always wanted, only to rip it away in the same breath.

"I love you too," I whispered, my voice barely audible over the sound of my heart breaking. "I've always loved you."

He pulled me into his arms then, holding me tightly, as if he could keep us both from falling apart. 

I buried my face in his chest, inhaling the familiar scent of him, the warmth of his body, and I clung to him, desperate to hold on to this moment, to make it last forever.

But even as I held him, I could feel him slipping away.

"I'll come back to you," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "I'll do everything I can to come back."

But we both knew the promise was hollow. The world was crumbling around us, and nothing was certain. Not anymore.

"I'm scared," I admitted, my voice shaking. "I'm so scared, Jace."

He kissed the top of my head, his lips lingering there for a moment before he whispered, "So am I."

We stayed like that for what felt like hours, holding each other in the dim light of the storm, the rain pounding against the windows, the world outside as chaotic as the storm inside us. 

Neither of us wanted to let go, but we both knew we couldn't stay in this moment forever.

Finally, Jace pulled back, his hands lingering on my arms before he let them fall to his sides. "I have to go," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

I nodded, though it felt like I was breaking into a thousand pieces.

"I'll come back," he said again as if saying it enough times would make it true.

I couldn't hold back the sob that escaped my throat, a sound so broken it felt like it came from the depths of my soul. 

The weight of it all was crushing me, pressing down until I could barely stand. This was it—the moment I had dreaded for so long, the one where he walked away, where everything I feared became real. 

I reached out, my fingers brushing his, desperate for one last touch, one final moment to hold onto. 

But he was already slipping away, like sand through my fingers, and there was nothing I could do to stop it.

I watched him leave, watched him walk out the door and into the storm, I couldn't shake the feeling that I would never see him again.

The day Jace told me he loved me was the day he died.

A/n - I just finished reading 'if he had been with me' and I am distraught, like I cried on my train home and couldn't eat dinner type of distraught... so ofc I had to instead move my torment here and write something inspired by Autumn and Finny.

[brandthefish]

EEEEEEEE This is so rad! I plan on doing this with all my Tavs, starting with Wren! (Tiefling Rogue)

General

Wren can be recruited under a piece of rubble from the crash, somewhere near Astarion.

Shadowheart: "That tiefling seems awfully suspicious. It's rather strange to see someone with that many daggers and in that attire," Astarion: "I must say, our latest aquisition is absolutely delightful. I do love finding like-skilled individuals," Karlach: "Normally I'd tell you to be careful around a rogue, but Wren seems alright! They're the dash, I'm the smash!" Gale: "I have high hopes for our new friend. Hopefully their wits are as sharp as their knives." Lae'zel: "I am torn. On one hand, the purple one seems competent at the least. On the other, hiding in the shadows to make a kill? Cowardly." Wyll: "Keep an eye on that tiefling. They have a look about them I know all too well," (If pressed) "Let's just say that from my time in Baldur's Gate I've met a fair few 'friends' from the Thieves Guild,"

They have a BIG reaction when meeting Astarion. They're a bit cagey and comment about knowing him. Other than that, they act pretty gay around Karlach and are definitely displeased at Wyll's actions. (When they find out Wyll is the grand duke's son, they make a comment about almost carrying out a hit on him before he left Baldur's Gate)

Raise in Approval: Mischief and strange acts of kindness. Necessary violence, like after you've tried to talk out of it. Lower in Approval: Anything excessively horny (Ace moment) or letting someone who is clearly a problem or a bad person live (+8 points for killing Gandrel w Astarion)

They'll permanently leave the party if you come on explicitly sexually. (Agian, Ace moment) They'd give Tav one chance to apologize, and if they don't, Wren's out.

Them being a member of the Thieves Guild in Baldur's Gate. This would come up after finding the Zentarim hideout in Act 1 and more references would pop up after that.

Their personal quest involves them leaving the Thieves Guild and becoming a better person more in touch with their emotions like guilt, remorse and affection. Also letting their guard down. A branching path could be re-joining. You would have more allies among the city and to get in fights (such as another rogue, a drow named Soren) but Wren is back in the guild, and not loving it. They wouldn't be at the epilogue in this branch, called away to a job in Neverwinter.

Stay: "Fine. Not as fun to just sit here. I'll just... sharpen my knives I suppose... or read a book," Leave: "Hells yeah! Let me get my gear," (Because whenever they have the chance, they take off their armor, it ain't comfy)

The shtick with Wyll about almost killing him, and they explain why they didn't. (Change in Thieves Guild management, and their own moral compass) Once the player knows Wren is a member of the thieves guild, Wyll confronts them about it. "Why should we let an assasin stay? How heartless do you have to be to end lives for money?" "Says the man who nearly ended Karlach's life for a devil, oh virtuous Blade of Frontiers. For what it's worth, Wyll I'm not a complete monster." "Aren't you? Please elaborate." "When I was seventeen I refused to carry out a hit. On Ulder Ravenguard's son."

Yes! The Thieves Guild Master (in my fics, that's a human woman named Lorenna, but that role would be replaced with whoever the canon Guild Master is) and another thief named Soren, who's basically their chosen brother. (He's who their dream guardian is based on)

After killing the goblin in the tiefling camp. "Shame... could've prodded the old girl for information. Now there's blood to clean up," After meeting Alfira "humming The Weeping Dawn with their eyes closed before answering you,"

Story Specific

"If something's sounds too good to be true, it probably is. Nothing good ever came to anyone from blind trust."

"Absolutely not. I'd sooner let the bard pluck my eye out, then sell what's left of my soul to a devil. And a right cad of a devil at that."

"Glad he's in the open about it now. But if we can't get him bodies to drink from, he may need com- help hunting in the woods at night,"

"*groan* Gross. I mean, more power to you if you like it but... *shudders*,"

"Oh gods, you're actually doing it. I'll um... I'm going to go sharpen my blades... and poison them," (generally afraid)

They will leave if the player kills the tieflings. "They were good people. They didn't deserve that. I... If that's how you're willing to treat innocent civilians, who's to say how you'll treat us? (If the player knows they're with the Guild) Would you turn me over to The Guild for a high bounty if you were low on gold? Or Astarion to Cazador? Or Karlach to Zariel? Wyll to Mizora?"

Singing along and dancing to Alfira's songs!

"Have fun, I'm going to partaking in the wine, the music, then getting some rest. Don't have too much fun though, we still need to be able to function in the morning ;),"

"WHAT THE HELLS?! NO. THIS IS NOT SOMETHING YOU GET TO APOLOGIZE FOR I- *groans in agony* ... leave me for a moment, if you will,"

"Oh- well let's hope it wasn't venomous, or we're about to have much bigger problems than a foul taste,"

"Alright, fine. Perhaps I'll get used to being on a stage,"

Nah. I think even Orin would be a little wary of them. They're equally stabby, Wren is just aimed differently. And ima be honest, I haven't gotten far enough in my Durge run to know what that is.

Non-Ascended "I'm proud of Astarion. He was able to turn away the power, even knowing how safe it would've made him... He's a good lad." Ascended. "Let's hope he doesn't get too mad with power... I'm already seeing him change and it's scaring me. Let's hope I don't need to get The Guild involved,"

"Gods, I... I hope it was worth it," Narrator: There's more wariness in Wren than you've seen before. They're frightened of you. If they're romanced it adds. "I... I can try to get used to this, as long as all my um... as long as I'm still being listened to,"

"Then make it productive. Focus the urges on the goblins and their leaders. The urges are your arrows, and you are the bow."

They're investigating it crime-scene style, knelt over her body. "Gods... it's not a clean assasination either. Slashes and stabs long after she'd died," they close her eyes. "This was a crime of passion... almost animalistic. And the spatters... was this you?"

"Well... it's a bit sick to say I'm flattered." They hold down Durge and pour wine down their throat that's laced with something to numb them and put them to sleep. After they come to they ask if durge is alright. They just have a few scratches, they're fine. "I will get you through this. My blade and my heart are yours, I swear it."

Romance

Yes they are romanceable! They're a romantic asexual. The player would need to not give them back to the guild or their romance stops immediately. They feel too betrayed.

They do need to be flirted with.

They are technically a poly option. They're ace so they're okay with the player getting their needs satisfied by someone else. "I... I am not in a place to be picky about that, I think,"

You can dance with them at the tiefling party to music played and after share a bottle of wine and cuddle. (Shown to just be cuddling by both of them still having clothes on)

Just the one romance path.

Breaking up: "I... It was good while it lasted. I understand though." Choosing them over someone else: "Oh um... are you sure? I mean, I'm not blind to my looks or anything but... I'm not interested in... carnal delights, like your other flame is,"

"What is Wren's greatest fear?" Answer: Being controlled. "What is Wren's dream?" Answer: To quit the guild and be a poet or a singer. "How does Wren like to fight?" Answer: Throwing knives from the shadows. They named one 'Featherlight Wrath'.

"No protests from me, my love. Just be sure he knows I don't want to be directly involved in sex bit."

Mizora: "Out, devil." "I... I don't blame you for needing something but did it have to be her? Just talk to me next time you want to lay with someone." Emperor: "So... quite adventurous." Haarlep: "Are you okay? Are you hurt? Does he need a knife in his eye?"

No they will not. I think that was pretty clear from the rest of this. "Have fun, I'll be waiting outside when you've finished... ugh, realized it as soon as I said it, gods,"

They ask Tav to settle down with them anywhere not in Baldur's Gate. With the treasures they've gained on their adventure they're living comfortably and they want to take up singing. They would be interested in getting married, but later down the line. At the epilogue party if Wyll is the grand duke and the player knows about his adopted daughter, Wren would bring up adopting a tiefling from an orphanage in the city they're living in. "I don't want to have my own children at all... but I'd love to help a child so they don't have to go down the same path I did.

It would technically be possible to convince them to have sex (DC 20 Persuasion check), but it would be like if you picked the option after Astarion's Act 2 confession. It would just be a fade to black, and you would lose approval with Wren a LOT. If you were at highest, it would go back down to the middle.

Baldur's Gate 3 Companion!Tav Ask List

What if your Tav was a recruitable companion, instead of the main character? (contains major spoilers for the game, and for some dark urge runs as well)

General

Where can your Tav be recruited?  Are they first encountered on the Nautiloid, or in the Nautiloid crash region?  Or are they not recruitable until a later act?

Do the other companions have special comments or reactions upon recruiting your Tav?

Does your Tav have any comments or advice when you recruit other companions?

What sort of general actions raise or lower their approval?

Are there any instances where your Tav can permanently leave the party, depending on player character actions?

Do they have any secrets that can be revealed?  What are the prerequisites for this secret coming to light?

Do they have their own personal quest that spans the course of the game?  Can it take different branching paths depending on the choices the Player Character makes?

What do they say when the Player Character asks them to stay in camp?  How about when the Player Character asks them to come adventuring again?

Does your Tav have any escalating conflicts with one of the other companions, like Lae’zel and Shadowheart’s knife-fight?

Are there any unique NPCs associated with your Tav that can show up during the course of the game?

Are there any moments in the game that trigger unique dialogue for your character? (Like Gale’s anecdote about the barfight after you save the goblin prisoner) 

Story Specific

How does your Tav advise the player character when it comes to the Dream Visitor?

How do they advise the player character on Raphael?

How do they react to Astarion biting the Player Character?

How do they react to the Player Character letting Abdirak whip them?

How do they react to the Player Character taking their first tadpole power?

Will they stay with the Player Character regardless of siding with the goblins or the tieflings, or is it possible for them to leave the party permanently?

What can they be found doing at the tiefling/goblin party?

Do they have comments on who the Player Character chooses to spend the night with? 

Do they have unique dialogue if the Player Character lets them die when they steal the Blood of Lathander?

How do they react if the PC licks the dead spider in the Gauntlet of Shar?

What do they say if the PC tries to force them to go up on stage with Dribbles the Clown?

Is it possible for your Tav to be kidnapped and replaced by Orin?  How is Orin's deception revealed?  How do they react to the PC rescuing them in the Temple of Bhaal?

How do they react to the PC either allowing Astarion to ascend or convincing him to spare the 7000 spawn?

How does Tav react to the PC becoming a mind flayer?  Can they offer to become one themselves?  Does their reaction change if they’re romanced? 

How do they react when the Dark Urge first reveals their amnesia and murderous thoughts to them?

How do they react to the Dark Urge killing Alfira?

If romanced, how do they react to the Dark Urge trying to kill them in Act 2?

Romance

Is your Tav a romanceable character?  Are there any specific requirements to romancing them?

Does your Tav need to be flirted with to start the romance, or will they approach the PC themselves if approval is high enough?

Are they a polyamorous or a monogamous option?

Do they have a special romance scene at the tiefling/goblin party?

Does the romance have different branching paths, or just one route to take?

How do they react to the player character breaking up with them, or choosing another character over them?

What questions can Zethino ask the PC about Tav in the Love Test? 

If they’re poly, do they have a reaction to the PC engaging in a relationship with Halsin?

How do they react if the PC has sex with Mizora? The Emperor?  Haarlep?

Will they join in with the PC and the Drow Twins, or no?

What are Tav’s plans for the future?  Do they propose to the PC, or is marriage not something they’re interested in?

Free space! Share anything from your companion!Tav au!

[gilverrwrites]

Pervy Dick touching Tim’s friend for the first time and just slowly striping another layer of your clothes each time you finish. Dick absolutely loving how fucking shy you are about how dirty you’re being, cheeks growing warmer each time he opens your legs a little wider…

The real question is: does Tim ever begin to suspect anything?

━ [Post in reference] Warnings: Manipulation, Virgin!Reader.

OOOOhhhhhhhh, him just loving the sound of your meek little voice, shaken by pleasure and punctuated by little whines and moans as he fucks his fingers in and out of your needy pussy in slow, calculated movements. He can’t resist whispering teasing questions in your ear between nipping at your neck, and sucking on your collar, just to coax more out of you.

“You like that, don’t you?” His teeth sink in a little harder when all you do is nod, and his cock throbs at the little squeak that escapes your lips. “C’mon, baby girl. Use your words for me.”

“Yes!” You cry, scrunching your eyes shut as if to hide your shame, but your walls tighten around him. You’re fucking loving it, and he knows it. “I like it.”

“Yeah?” He rewards you by brushing your already swollen clit, his breath hot on your face as he leans up to get a better look at you. “What do you like about it?”

“C’mon baby, Tim likes dirty talk, you gotta practice.” He keeps encouraging when you fail to answer. It’s a big fat lie, probably. Dick has little to no idea what Tim is into in bed. “Tell me what you like so I can keep doing it.”

“I don’t know.” You winge. He’s awful. Getting off on how naïve you are. He’s pumping your pussy so good that you can’t get your thoughts straight, can’t put your wants into words. “Just feels good, so good. I feel so full, Dick!”

The use of his name almost makes him snap, makes him want to rip your panties off and bury his cock so deep inside that tight little hole. Then you'll feel full, so fucking full on this thick cock, overflowing with his his load as he ruts it deep into you. But he doesn’t want to push you too far too fast.

At his prolonged silence, you peek through your heavy lids, so perfect, so eager for his approval and he can’t help swooping down to capture your mouth with his own.

“You say my name so pretty, baby.” He coos against your lips. “Say it again.”

And dear god, one piece of clothing per orgasm is insane. Just imagine, by the time he gets you down to your panties they’re well and truly ruined. A bit like you.

The elastics all stretched out by his hand, the crotch too from where he’d held them to the side while he’d eaten you out like he was on death row, and you were his last meal. Not to mention they’re absolutely drenched, having soaked up every last drop from your weeping cunt. All your slick and cum, all of Dick’s excess spit.

He wonders how easy it would be to sneak them out of your place in his pocket later.

As for Tim, of course he’d catch on eventually. He’s supposedly the world’s second greatest detective after all, but he’s so into you that he’s a little blind to it at first. Sure, he thinks it’s strange that you’re spending so much time with his brother, even when he’s not around. That Dick is so frequently visiting from Blüdhaven, and seemingly only to see you, but he just pegs it down to the two of you having such a great, platonic connection. He’s happy that you get on with his family, and that Dick has found a friend outside of vigilantism.

But then he notices how frequently the two of you text, from first thing in the morning, right into the late hours of the night. Previously you’d been pretty relaxed about letting him pick it up for you when your hands are full, or just generally letting him look, but recently you’re becoming more and more cagey about it, always tilting your screen away or getting panicky when he offers to check your messages for you. He convinces himself it’s nothing though. Sure, when he asks, you almost always tell him you’re texting Dick, but that doesn’t mean you’re not also texting other people. The two of you aren’t exclusive, you’re not even technically dating, so you could be chatting to other guys, and he hates the idea of it but it’s your prerogative. He doesn’t make the link that the suspected other guy and Dick might be the same person, because unconsciously he doesn’t want to.

But the red flag really starts waving when you arrive at his place one morning for breakfast. You're kind of a mess. Your hair is unkempt, there are dark circles under your eye, and you’re wearing a very familiar, dark blue hoodie.

“You good? You look…” He racks his brain for the right word. You’re still cute but he doesn’t want to come on too strong, nor too harsh. “Rough.”

“Me? Yeah, just couldn’t sleep last night, and then when I did, I overslept and basically had to run over here.” You’re lying, he knows your tells but he doesn’t call you out on it. You’ll talk to him when and if you’re ready.

“Is that Dick’s hoodie?”

“Um, yeah. We hung out last night, it was cold, so he let me borrow it.” It’s the truth, but it rolls off your tongue nervously, and it doesn’t sit right with him.

20 minutes later you’re sitting in a diner, ordering your usual, chatting with the waitress. Your head is turned to face her at just the right angle for Tim to spot the reddish-purple mark peeking out from the collar of Dick’s hoodie. A love bite that certainly had not been there when you’d sent him a Snapchat selfie yesterday afternoon. He’d know, he’d studied every inch of that photo; the way the light hit your eye, the smile on your soft lips, how the vest top you’d been wearing exposed your unmarred shoulders and neck.

“Did you say you only hung out with Dick last night?” He asks when it’s just the two of you again.

“Uh, yeah.” You look at him quizzically.

“Just Dick? Nobody else at all?”

“Nope, just Dick, me, and Cary Elwes’ Robin Hood.” The truth again. “Why?”

Things rapidly start making sense. There was a time when Dick had to lodge himself between the two of you just to join in your conversations, but recently it’s like you’ve been glued to him. Anytime Tim makes a dirty joke, or pays you a compliment, instead of looking away all sheepishly like you used to, your eyes now flitter over to his brother. You always smell like his aftershave, and just last week he’d picked up the undeniable stench of sex on you after Dick had dropped you off for a coffee date. He was pretty sure he spotted one of Dick’s shirts peeking out from under your bed the other day, but now he’s certain.

“No reason.” He mutters. Hurt that you’d been sneaking around with his brother and lying to his face about it. Furious at Dick for sleeping with you when he knew damn well that you were his, or at least that you would be one day. He’s annoyed at himself for not figuring it out sooner.

And just under that storm of anger and disbelief, there’s a tiny little spark. A competitive, possessive notion tapping incessantly at the back of his brain that wants to win you back and rub in Dick’s face.  

[satansdarlin]

Marigold Margins: Chapter one

Wayne Enterprises CEO!Tim Drake x Fem!reader

Notes: a thank you to my lovely gf for beta reading this for me, this has been set up to at least to have ten chapters but I might combine some into one. Tim and the reader are both in their early twenties between 21-25ish. (Also indi and scarlet might be the yns of their own up coming stories :^ if yall would be interested). Drop a comment or a reblog! I'd love to hear your thoughts.

Warnings: mentions of cheating, slightly toxic work environment, dick being shameless and trying to set you and Tim up, timmy being cute

Word count: 8.4K

Rating: T

Shit, your feet hurt like a bitch. Your heels clicked against the marble floor, each step sending sharp reminders of the blisters forming on your skin. The golden stilettos had seemed like the perfect accent to your outfit this morning - now they felt like an exercise in masochism. Fashion over comfort: the eternal struggle.

"Morning, Gary," you called out to the janitor, who was already familiar with your early arrivals.

He paused his work, offering a knowing smile. "Good morning, miss. Mr. Drake hasn't made it in yet."

"Thanks for the heads up." You appreciated Gary's small kindnesses - they were rare enough in this department, where your rapid promotion to executive secretary had earned you more enemies than friends.

The executive elevator hummed to life as you pressed the button for the top floor. While waiting, you shifted your weight, trying to ease the pressure on your aching feet. Tension. The word perfectly described your entire situation at Wayne Enterprises. Was the forty-dollar hourly rate worth it? Absolutely. What secretary made that kind of money, complete with generous paid leave? But loving the job? That was... complicated.

The work itself came naturally to you. The real challenge was Timothy Jackson Drake himself. Everyone knew about him - Gotham's wonder boy, the youngest CEO in the country, part of the infamous Wayne family. But after a year as his secretary, you'd learned there was more to him than the nepotism narrative suggested. He'd earned his position through genuine brilliance and dedication. That same drive, however, meant he had... expectations. While never openly cruel, he could be relentlessly demanding.

The elevator announced your arrival with a soft chime. Your morning routine unfolded with practiced efficiency: lights on, computers booting up, files arranged on your desk. The coffee maker gurgled to life, filling the office with its rich aroma. You prepared Mr. Drake's desk with military precision - work files stacked just so, his favorite mug ready, a banana and granola bar positioned nearby (which he'd likely ignore until you forced lunch upon him).

Settling at your desk, you dove into the morning's emails and calls. The sound of dragging footsteps announced Tim's arrival, and you glanced up to find him looking like he'd just crawled out of bed - or perhaps never made it there at all. He mumbled something vaguely resembling gratitude before shuffling into his office, his silhouette visible through the frosted glass partition that separated your workspace from his. You watched as he slumped into his chair, took a long drink of coffee, and gradually transformed from zombie to CEO. It was a fascinating metamorphosis you'd witnessed countless times. The way his shoulders would straighten, how his eyes would sharpen from bleary to laser-focused. Even his typing changed - from hunt-and-peck to a rapid-fire staccato that filled the office.

"Meeting minutes from yesterday?" His voice carried through the intercom, significantly more human than his earlier greeting.

"Already uploaded to the shared drive and hard copies are in the blue folder on your desk," you replied, allowing yourself a small smile. After a year, you'd learned to anticipate his needs with almost supernatural accuracy.

"The Robertson contract?"

"Legal returned it this morning. I've highlighted the changes they suggested in yellow. Green tabs mark where you need to sign."

There was a pause, then: "What would I do without you?"

"Drown in paperwork and caffeine withdrawal," you answered before you could stop yourself. These little moments of casual banter were dangerous - they made it too easy to forget he was Timothy Drake-Wayne, your boss, and not just Tim, the overworked genius who occasionally made you laugh.

The intercom crackled with what might have been a chuckle. "Fair enough."

The morning proceeded with its usual rhythm until your phone buzzed with a text from Bruce Wayne's secretary. Your stomach dropped as you read the message: the Wayne patriarch was making one of his surprise visits. These always put Tim on edge, though he'd never admit it.

You pressed the intercom. "Mr. Wayne will be here in fifteen minutes."

The typing sounds from Tim's office stopped abruptly. Through the frosted glass, you could see him run a hand through his hair - a nervous tell you'd picked up on months ago.

"Right," he said, voice tight. "Can you-"

"I'll get fresh coffee, clear your schedule for the next hour, and make sure the quarterly reports are ready," you interrupted, already standing. "And yes, I'll grab you a proper breakfast from the café downstairs. You'll need more than a forgotten granola bar for this."

Another pause. "Have I mentioned you're terrifying sometimes?"

"Only when necessary, sir." You slipped on your torturous heels again, ignoring the protest from your feet. Bruce Wayne's visits always meant a performance - from everyone.

As you rushed to prepare for the impromptu meeting, you couldn't help but wonder what drama today would bring. Bruce Wayne's "casual visits" were never actually casual, and being caught in the crossfire between two of Gotham's most powerful men was not how you'd planned to spend your morning.

But then again, when did anything at Wayne Enterprises go according to plan?

You stood up when the elevator binged, quickly tapping the intercom to alert Tim with a short chirp. Your hands clasped professionally in front of you as your eyes landed on Mr. Wayne, himself. The man commanded attention without even trying, filling the space with his presence in a way that made your spacious reception area feel suddenly cramped.

"Good morning, Mr. Wayne. Mr. Drake is in his office." Your greeting was the perfect blend of professional courtesy and careful distance. Your gaze slid over to Samantha, Mr. Wayne's assistant, and you felt your smile tighten imperceptibly. She returned it with one of her trademark saccharine smiles, so sweet it could rot teeth. The fakeness radiated off her like cheap perfume.

Last thing you needed was another gentle lecture from Tim about "trying" to be nice to her. You still remembered his exact words from last time: "I know she's... difficult, but we need to maintain good relations with Bruce's office." Easy for him to say – he didn't have to deal with her passive-aggressive emails and tendency to "accidentally" schedule conflicts with Bruce's calendar.

Bruce Wayne nodded in acknowledgment, his steel-blue eyes taking in every detail of the office with that unnerving intensity he was famous for. "Thank you. The quarterly reports?"

You smoothly retrieved the leather portfolio from your desk. "All prepared, sir. I've included the updated projections you requested, along with the comparative analysis from last quarter." You handed it to him with practiced grace, careful to maintain eye contact for exactly the right amount of time – long enough to show confidence, short enough to show deference.

"Excellent." He accepted the portfolio, and you caught the slight raise of his eyebrows – approval? surprise? With Bruce Wayne, it was impossible to tell.

Samantha's voice cut through the moment like a dulled knife. "I hope those numbers match what we have downstairs. It would be... awkward if there were any discrepancies." Her tone suggested she'd enjoy nothing more.

You felt your smile freeze in place. "Everything has been triple-checked against the master database, of course." And quadruple-checked, because you'd learned early on that giving Samantha any ammunition was like handing matches to a pyromaniac.

The sound of Tim's office door opening saved you from further interaction. He emerged looking every inch the CEO – tie straight, jacket buttoned, not a hair out of place. The transformation from his earlier zombie state was complete.

"Bruce," he greeted, managing to make the single syllable sound both warm and professional. "I wasn't expecting you today."

"Best meetings are the unexpected ones," Bruce replied with that particular smile that always made you wonder if he actually believed that or just enjoyed keeping everyone on their toes.

You caught Tim's slight shoulder tension as he gestured toward his office. "Shall we?"

As they moved past your desk, Tim gave you the briefest of glances – a look you'd learned to interpret over months of working together. This one clearly said: "Hold all calls unless the building's on fire, and maybe even then."

Samantha lingered, adjusting her designer handbag with deliberate slowness. "I'll need copies of all correspondence between our offices from the last month," she announced, as if she hadn't already received them twice.

"I'll have those ready by the time the meeting concludes," you replied smoothly, silently adding 'you insufferable paper-pusher' in your head.

As she finally followed the men into Tim's office, you sank back into your chair, already pulling up the correspondence files. At least you'd had the foresight to grab that extra shot of espresso in your morning coffee. Something told you this was going to be a long day.

Eventually, as you'd expected, Samantha was ushered out of the room to give the two men privacy. The glass frosted further, obscuring Bruce and Tim from view – a clear signal that whatever discussion followed would be more about family than business. You mentally added "pick up comfort donuts" to your afternoon agenda, already knowing Tim's favorites: chocolate-glazed for regular bad days, Boston cream for family drama.

The rhythmic clicking of your keyboard filled the silence, punctuated only by Samantha's restless shuffling. She cleared her throat with obvious intent, and you looked up, raising an eyebrow in what you hoped was a passably polite expression.

"You know we've never actually talked," she began, voice dripping with artificial sweetness. "Which is so weird considering aren't we the same age?"

You bit back the urge to point out that she was actually five years your senior and somehow acted a decade younger. The irony wasn't lost on you.

"How did you exactly get this job?" she pressed on, tilting her head in practiced curiosity. "I always heard Mr. Drake was... picky."

Your eye twitched at the obvious implication, but you maintained your composure. Years of advanced placement courses had taught you patience, if nothing else. "Mr. Drake hand picked me for this job," you responded, keeping your tone professional and detached.

She gasped with theatrical surprise, as if this wasn't common knowledge in the Wayne Enterprises gossip circuit. "Really? Do you mind if I ask why?"

'Yes,' you thought, but instead rolled your head side to side, releasing some tension with a satisfying pop. "No, I don't mind. Mr. Drake chose me because he met me through the Martha Wayne scholarship. I was looking for a job during that time and my professors recommended me for the position."

You deliberately omitted how Tim had tracked your academic career with interest long before that – how you'd graduated high school two years early, earned a full ride to Gotham University, and excelled in advanced courses he'd specifically recommended. Let her draw her own conclusions; you had nothing to prove to Samantha or anyone else.

The silence that followed was thick with unspoken questions. You could practically see her trying to piece together a narrative that fit her preconceptions, one that wouldn't force her to acknowledge that maybe, just maybe, you'd earned your position through merit rather than whatever implications she was so eager to make.

Before she could formulate another sugar-coated barb, your phone buzzed with an incoming email. The subject line made you suppress a smile: it was from Tim, sent from his phone.

"If you'll excuse me," you said, turning back to your computer with practiced dismissal, "I have some urgent matters to attend to."

You could feel her hovering, reluctant to give up her fishing expedition. But years of dealing with Gotham's elite had taught you the art of creating an impenetrable wall of professional busy-ness. After a few more moments, she finally retreated to one of the waiting area chairs, her designer heels clicking in defeat.

Opening Tim's email, you found a single line: "Order lunch in. This might take a while."

You glanced at the frosted glass of his office, wondering what family drama was unfolding behind it. In your year working here, you'd learned to read the signs: the level of frosting on the glass, the tension in Tim's shoulders, the particular way Bruce Wayne's visits seemed timed to maximize inconvenience. Something was definitely up, and judging by the atmosphere, it was bigger than the usual Wayne family dynamics.

"The Martha Wayne scholarship?" Samantha's voice dripped with faux interest, her voice cutting through your thoughts like nails on a chalkboard. "That must have been... nice. Getting a free ride like that."

Your fingers paused briefly over your keyboard before resuming their steady rhythm. Two could play at this game. "It was an honor," you replied evenly. "The foundation only selects the top 1% of applicants. I'm sure you're familiar with the process, working so closely with Mr. Wayne."

Her smile flickered for just a moment. "Oh, I handle more of the... executive side of things."

"Of course." You kept your eyes on your screen, responding to an urgent email from R&D while she processed your subtle jab.

"Still," she persisted, examining her manicured nails, "it must be challenging, working for someone so... young. Especially given your... background."

You felt your jaw clench but maintained your professional demeanor. "Mr. Drake's age has nothing to do with his capabilities. He's one of the most brilliant minds in Gotham's business sector." Your tone carried just enough edge to make it clear you wouldn't tolerate any disparagement of Tim.

"Oh, I didn't mean anything by it," Samantha backpedaled, though her smirk suggested otherwise. "It's just that some of us had to work our way up the traditional path. But I suppose there are... other ways to advance."

You actually had to bite your tongue to keep from pointing out that her "traditional path" had involved an uncle on the board of directors. Instead, you smiled pleasantly and reached for your coffee. "Everyone's path is different. For instance, I started in the scholarship program at fifteen, finished my degree at twenty, and earned this position through academic excellence and practical capability. But you're right – there are many ways to advance."

The subtle emphasis on your achievements made her shift uncomfortably in her chair. Before she could respond, your intercom buzzed.

"Miss (L/N), could you send in the Miller files?" Tim's voice was perfectly professional, but you caught the underlying tension.

"Right away, Mr. Drake." You stood, gathering the requested documents, grateful for the interruption. As you moved toward his office, you called back to Samantha, "Please excuse me. Duty calls."

You could feel her glare burning into your back as you approached Tim's door, but you kept your posture straight and your stride confident. You'd worked too hard to let someone like Samantha make you doubt your place here, even for a second.

Besides, you had more important things to worry about – like what kind of family drama was causing that muscle in Tim's jaw to twitch visible even through the frosted glass, and whether you should upgrade those comfort donuts to a full stress-eating care package. You handed him the files before going back to your desk.

Your phone buzzed against the desk, the screen lighting up with a notification that made your stomach turn.

Text notification: 1

Asshole: hey bbg can we talk? I know you're probably still mad at me…

You swiped away Josh's message with perhaps more force than necessary. Josh. Your sweet, charming, lying ex-boyfriend who apparently thought "probably still mad" was an adequate response to finding him in bed with your supposed best friend. You'd been playing an exhausting game of dodge-the-ex across Gotham for weeks now, removing yourself from your usual haunts just to avoid his attempts at "explaining." The mere thought of him made your skin crawl.

"Whose that? Your little boyfriend?" Samantha's sugary voice cut through your thoughts like nails on a chalkboard. How someone could have such a grating voice was beyond you.

"Ex. Ex-boyfriend," you corrected automatically, then mentally kicked yourself for engaging. You shook your head, redirecting to safer, professional territory. "I'd rather not talk about it. Do you think you could send over the info for the upcoming Christmas gala when you get back to your office?"

Samantha's face fell into an exaggerated pout at your deflection, clearly disappointed at being denied fresh gossip fodder. You could practically see her filing away this nugget of personal information for future use. Nothing stayed private for long in Wayne Enterprises, but you'd be damned if you gave her the satisfaction of spreading this particular story.

Your phone buzzed again, and you flipped it face-down with a bit more force than necessary. The movement caught Samantha's attention, her eyes lighting up with predatory interest.

"Bad breakup?" she pressed, leaning forward slightly. "Those are always so... difficult. Especially when you have to maintain a professional image at work."

The implied threat in her words – that she could make this gossip very public, very quickly – wasn't lost on you. But you'd handled worse than Samantha's attempts at social manipulation.

"The Christmas gala details?" you repeated, your tone making it clear the previous topic was closed for discussion. "Mr. Drake needs to review the schedule, and I'd like to avoid any potential conflicts with Mr. Wayne's calendar."

Her lips pursed at your professional pivot, but before she could attempt another probe into your personal life, the sound of approaching footsteps from Tim's office made you both straighten instinctively. The frosting on the glass cleared as Bruce emerged first, his expression unreadable as always. Tim followed, and your trained eye caught the tension in his shoulders, the slight clench of his jaw that spelled out family drama in neon letters.

"I'll expect those reports by Friday," Bruce stated, though something in his tone suggested this wasn't really about reports at all.

"Of course," Tim replied, professional mask firmly in place. Only someone who knew him well would catch the slight strain in his voice.

Samantha jumped to attention, gathering her things with practiced efficiency. "I'll send over the gala information this afternoon," she chirped, finally, blessedly ready to leave.

You watched as Bruce and Samantha departed, waiting until the elevator doors closed before turning to Tim. He was still standing there, staring at the closed elevator doors as if they held the secrets of the universe.

"I ordered Thai from that place you like," you said softly. "And I can have someone grab those donuts from downtown if-"

"You're a lifesaver," he interrupted, running a hand through his carefully styled hair, completely destroying its professional arrangement. "But can we... can we not eat in the office?"

You blinked in surprise. In all your time working here, Tim had never suggested leaving the office for lunch. "Of course. Where would you prefer?"

"The roof?" He looked almost sheepish suggesting it. "I just... I need air that doesn't smell like Wayne Enterprises for a few minutes."

Your phone buzzed again – probably Josh – but you ignored it. "I'll grab the food when it arrives. You should go up now, get some fresh air."

He nodded, already loosening his tie as he headed for the stairwell. Twenty minutes later, you found him sitting on the maintenance ledge, jacket discarded, sleeves rolled up, looking more like a college student than a CEO.

"One Pad Thai with extra peanuts," you announced, settling down beside him with the takeout bags. "And yes, I grabbed extra spring rolls."

"You know me too well," he managed a small smile, accepting the container you handed him. "I'm sorry about..." he gestured vaguely with his chopsticks, "all that."

"Family's complicated," you offered, carefully keeping your tone neutral as you opened your own lunch.

"Bruce wants me to relocate to the Metropolis office," he said suddenly, staring out at the Gotham skyline. "Says it would be 'good for my professional development.'"

You nearly choked on your spring roll. "Metropolis?"

"Yeah." He stabbed at his noodles with more force than necessary. "Because apparently running the Gotham office isn't enough of a challenge."

"That's ridiculous," you said before you could stop yourself. "You've increased productivity by 40% since taking over, our client retention is at an all-time high, and the employee satisfaction surveys-"

"Have you been memorizing my achievements?" He turned to look at you, a hint of amusement breaking through his stress.

You felt heat rise to your cheeks. "It's my job to know these things."

"Right. Your job." Something flickered across his face too quickly to read. "Speaking of jobs... you'd have to come too, you know. To Metropolis. If I agreed."

Your heart did a complicated flip in your chest. "Are you... considering it?"

"No," he said quickly, then paused. "Maybe. I don't know." He set down his food and turned to face you fully. "Would you? Come to Metropolis, I mean? If I asked?"

The question hung in the air between you, heavy with implications neither of you were ready to address. Your phone buzzed again in your pocket, but for once, you didn't even notice.

You hummed softly, letting your gaze drift over Gotham's sprawling landscape. From this height, you could actually see past the city's ever-present smog, though any true Gothamite knew the city's real beauty emerged after dark. The endless sea of lights, the way the neon cut through the darkness – it was home, or at least it had been.

Your phone buzzed again, another message from Josh joining the pile. You glanced down at the string of notifications, each one a reminder of how quickly your social circle had imploded. Some friends they'd turned out to be – taking his side, sending nasty messages about how a "prude" like you had it coming. The betrayal still stung, but maybe not as sharply as it should. Maybe that said something about how ready you were to leave it all behind.

Your parents had always encouraged you to spread your wings beyond Gotham's borders anyway. "The world's bigger than Crime Alley," your mom used to say. You slipped the phone back into your pocket, silencing the ghosts of relationships past.

"Yeah, I'd come with you," you said finally, turning back to Tim with a slight smile. "It's my job to be at your side during all the professional hours anyway."

Something shifted in his expression at your words. "'Professional hours,'" he repeated, as if testing the phrase. "Right. Because that's what this is about. Professional... obligations."

The way he said it made your heart skip a beat. There was a weight to his words that seemed to encompass more than just office dynamics and working relationships. The autumn breeze picked up, carrying with it the distant sounds of the city below, and you found yourself hyperaware of how close you were sitting, how his rolled-up sleeves revealed surprisingly toned forearms, how his hair was still slightly mussed from running his hands through it.

"Tim," you started, then caught yourself. "Mr. Drake-"

"Don't," he interrupted softly. "Don't do that. Not up here." He gestured to the expanse around you. "We're literally above all that right now."

Your phone buzzed again, and this time Tim noticed your slight wince. "Everything okay?"

"Just..." you waved a hand dismissively, "ex-boyfriend drama. Nothing important."

His expression darkened slightly. "Josh?" At your surprised look, he added quickly, "I... might have overheard some break room gossip. About what happened."

"Great," you muttered, heat rising to your cheeks. "Good to know my humiliation made it all the way to the executive floor."

"Hey," his voice was gentle but firm, "you're not the one who should be humiliated. He's the idiot who-" he cut himself off, jaw clenching. "Sorry. Not my place."

"No, it's..." you found yourself smiling despite everything, "it's kind of nice. Hearing someone take my side for once."

The look he gave you then made your breath catch. "I'm always on your side," he said quietly, and somehow you knew he meant more than just the Josh situation.

You forced yourself to take a steady breath, trying to calm your racing heart. No. Absolutely not. You were not going to develop feelings for your boss. It didn't matter that Tim was barely a year older than you, or that his disheveled appearance right now made him look unfairly attractive, or that the way he was looking at you made your stomach do flips. This was a completely professional relationship and it would stay that way. You cleared your throat and offered him a carefully measured smile.

"Well, if we do end up moving to the Metropolis office, I'd have to start looking at apartments over there," you murmured, already running calculations in your head. Even with your generous salary, Metropolis real estate prices were notorious. Maybe you could find something affordable downtown, though the commute would be rough. Your inner penny-pincher was already cringing at the potential security deposits and elevated cost of living.

"About that," Tim straightened slightly, his expression shifting to something you couldn't quite read. "Wayne Enterprises has corporate housing in Metropolis. High-rise apartments, actually. Usually reserved for executives and their... key personnel."

The way he said 'key personnel' made your pulse jump again. Traitor heart.

"Key personnel?" you echoed, trying to keep your tone light.

"Well," he shifted slightly closer, and you caught a whiff of his expensive cologne mixed with coffee, "can't have my irreplaceable assistant living in some sketchy downtown apartment, can I?"

"I'm hardly irreplaceable," you protested weakly, even as your brain helpfully reminded you that no other assistant had lasted more than three months before you.

Tim's expression turned serious. "You are, though. You're the only one who's ever..." he paused, seeming to choose his words carefully, "understood. The job. The pressure. Me."

The last word hung in the air between you, loaded with unspoken implications. You became acutely aware of how close you were sitting, how easy it would be to just lean a little closer, how his eyes seemed to darken as they met yours.

Your phone buzzed again, shattering the moment. Tim's gaze flickered to your pocket, then back to your face, something almost like frustration crossing his features.

You sighed, glancing down at your persistently buzzing pocket. "I should probably..." you mumbled, finally pulling out your phone. You knew Josh well enough to know he wouldn't stop until you dealt with him directly. Your face twisted in disgust as you scrolled through the barrage of messages – a nauseating mix of sweet manipulation ("baby, please, we can work this out"), degrading insults, and crude comments about your intimate life together. The last ones made your skin crawl, especially his boasts about being the 'only one who could make you feel that good.' Gross.

You could feel Tim's eyes on you as you stared at the screen, trying to formulate a response that wouldn't just feed into Josh's need for attention. The weight of Tim's gaze was different from the usual scrutiny you felt in the office – more protective than professional.

"Maybe you should just block him?" Tim suggested, his voice carrying an edge you rarely heard. The CEO tone, as you privately called it – the one that made board members squirm.

You shook your head, words tumbling out before you could stop them. "No way. I need him to see I can live without him." The admission hung in the air, more vulnerable than you'd intended. Your fingers hovered over your phone's keypad as you entered your passcode, very aware of how childish that might sound to someone like Tim.

But when you glanced up, there was no judgment in his expression – just something fierce and protective that made your breath catch. He shifted closer, close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating from his body in the cool rooftop air.

"He already sees it," Tim said quietly, his eyes fixed on your face. "Every day you walk into this building, every meeting you handle perfectly, every time you prove you're exactly where you belong – that's you living without him. And doing it better than he could ever imagine."

The intensity in his voice made you look up, and suddenly you were trapped in his gaze, your phone temporarily forgotten in your hands. This wasn't your boss speaking anymore – this was something else entirely, something that made your heart race and your professional boundaries start to blur.

Your breath caught as you suddenly became hyperaware of every point of contact between you – his fingers wrapped gently but firmly around your bicep, his head tilted toward yours, close enough that you could see the flecks of blue in his eyes. "Mr. Drake, I-"

He rolled his eyes, but there was a playful warmth in the gesture that made your stomach flip. "Tim. Just Tim for right now."

Your lips parted to respond, but the creak of the rooftop door shattered the moment. Dick Grayson, the eldest Wayne sibling, emerged into the afternoon light, and Tim immediately pulled back, professional distance snapping into place like a shield. The sudden absence of his warmth left you feeling oddly bereft.

"Hey Timbo, sorry to interrupt your lunch but I need a favor." Dick's trademark charming smile did nothing to soften Tim's exasperated expression.

"Sure, just let me finish my food-" Tim paused, catching something in Dick's expression. "This is kind of favor you need now?" When Dick nodded apologetically, Tim grumbled but began closing his takeout container.

Before standing, he turned back to you, placing his hand over your phone. His eyes locked with yours with an intensity that made your knees weak despite sitting down. "Block him." It wasn't a request – it was pure CEO Tim Drake, the voice that brokered no argument. "We won't have room for people like him if we move to Metropolis, am I understood?"

The 'we' in that sentence felt weighted with possibility, but you pushed that thought aside. "Yes, Mr. Drake."

You watched as he gathered his things, noting how his professional mask slipped perfectly back into place, though something in his eyes remained softer when he looked at you. As he followed Dick toward the door, you could have sworn you saw him shoot his brother an irritated look.

Your phone buzzed again in your hands, but this time, instead of anxiety, you felt a surge of determination. Tim was right – you didn't need Josh's validation. With steady fingers, you pulled up his contact information and hit 'block.'

The city stretched out below you, Metropolis somewhere beyond the horizon, and for the first time in weeks, you felt like you could breathe properly.

.

.

.

Red and blue lights pulsed across your face as the bass thundered through your chest, making your ribs vibrate with each beat. The news of the Metropolis transfer was official now – you and Tim would be heading the new office. You couldn't quite suppress the smug satisfaction you'd felt watching Samantha's face fall when the announcement was made, her practiced smile cracking just slightly at the edges.

Now, though, you were somewhat regretting sharing the news with your family. Your elder sisters had immediately sprung into celebration mode: Indi, the successful Gotham model, had easily swept you all past the velvet ropes of one of the city's hottest clubs, while Scarlet had managed a few congratulatory drinks before motherhood called her home to your nephew.

That left you nursing a dirty triple Shirley temple (which had been a mouthful to order over the deafening music) and hugging the wall like it was your job. From your vantage point, you could see Indi on the dance floor, practically melded to some guy she'd been flirting with all night. The sequins on her dress caught the strobing lights, making her look like some sort of disco ball goddess – exactly the kind of attention-grabbing presence she was known for.

You took another sip of your drink, the cherry sweetness a sharp contrast to the adult addition of vodka. The music shifted, something with a heavier beat that made the crowd surge with renewed energy. You checked your phone out of habit – no more texts from Josh, thank god, but there was a work email notification that made your heart skip:

From: Timothy Drake-Wayne

Subject: Tomorrow's Schedule Change

Time Sent: 10:47 PM

Your finger hovered over the notification, debating whether to open it. Tim had been... different since that day on the roof. Not obviously so – you both maintained perfect professionalism in the office – but there were moments: lingering glances, fingers brushing when passing documents, the way he'd started saying your name just a touch softer than necessary.

As you hesitated to open it someone bumped into you, luckily you saved your drink from spilling all over the black halter dress you were wearing showing off your back.

“I'm so sorry, I didn't-” the masculine voice was cut off as you looked up and you both stilled. Seeing Tim out of a suit was jarring, seeing tim out of a suit and in a club? That was wild.

“Mr. Drake!”

“We are out of work. Just tim” he sighed at you but it was almost in a pleased exasperation.

“I'm sorry, Mr. Drake but you'll have to try harder than that,” The teasing words slipped out before you could stop them. Tim blinked and then a wry smirk pulled on his face.

Tim's eyes darkened at your challenge, that CEO intensity suddenly focused entirely on you. "Try harder?" He stepped closer, just shy of improper, voice dropping low enough that you had to lean in to hear him over the music. "What exactly would that take?"

The bass pulsed through your bodies, and you were acutely aware of how different this felt from your usual office dynamics. Here, in the strobing lights and thundering music, with your back exposed by the halter dress and his suit traded for dark jeans and a fitted black henley, the careful professional distance you maintained seemed to blur and shift.

"Tim!" A familiar voice cut through the moment. Dick Grayson emerged from the crowd, another brother – Jason – trailing behind him. "Thought I saw you come this way." His eyes landed on you, and his grin widened. "Well, well. Fancy meeting you here."

You felt heat rise to your cheeks, suddenly very conscious of how close you and Tim were standing. "Mr. Grayson," you managed, trying to sound professional despite the club setting.

"Oh god, not you too," Dick groaned. "It's just Dick, please. We're not at work."

"Leave her alone," Jason cut in, giving you a knowing look. "Some of us appreciate proper manners." He turned to Tim with a smirk. "Though I gotta say, baby bird, running into your secretary at a club? That's some rom-com level timing."

"Assistant," you and Tim corrected simultaneously, then shared a quick glance that made Dick's grin grow impossibly wider.

"Right, assistant," Jason drawled, making the word sound far more suggestive than it had any right to be. "The one Bruce mentioned is moving to Metropolis with you?"

The music shifted again, something slower but still thrumming with energy. Tim's jaw tightened slightly at the mention of Bruce, and you found yourself unconsciously shifting closer, a movement that didn't go unnoticed by his brothers.

"Speaking of Metropolis," Dick's eyes gleamed with mischief, "I hear the nightlife there is pretty tame compared to Gotham. You two might have to make your own entertainment."

"Dick," Tim's voice carried a warning edge that made you think of board meetings and difficult clients.

"What? I'm just saying, all those late nights in the office..." Dick trailed off suggestively.

You took a long sip of your drink, using the moment to steady yourself. "I should probably find my sister," you said, looking for an escape from this increasingly dangerous conversation. "She tends to get... ambitious when left unsupervised too long."

"The model?" Jason asked, eyebrows rising. "Tall, sequined dress, currently wrapped around that guy by the DJ booth?"

You turned to look where he was pointing, and sure enough, there was Indi, having apparently upgraded from her previous dance partner. "That's her."

"Runs in the family, huh?" Dick muttered, too quiet for anyone but Jason to hear, though the sharp look Tim shot him suggested he'd caught it too.

"I'll walk you over," Tim said suddenly, placing a hand on the small of your back. The touch sent electricity down your spine, his fingers warm against your exposed skin.

As you moved through the crowd, Tim's hand stayed steady on your back, guiding you through the press of bodies. The contact felt simultaneously too much and not enough, and you found yourself hyperaware of every brush of his fingers, every slight pressure as he steered you around dancing couples.

"I didn't know you came to places like this," you said, having to lean close to his ear to be heard over the music. His cologne filled your senses, different from his usual office scent – something darker, spicier.

He leaned down, his breath tickling your ear as he replied, "I don't, usually. Dick dragged me out to 'celebrate' the Metropolis news." His tone on 'celebrate' suggested this wasn't entirely voluntary. "Though it's looking up now."

The implications in that last statement made your heart race, and you were grateful for the dim lighting hiding your blush. You were nearing the DJ booth now, Indi's sequined dress acting like a beacon in the strobing lights.

Tim's hand slipped from your back as you reached the edge of the dance floor, and the loss of contact felt almost physical. You turned to face him, finding his eyes already on you, intense despite the chaotic lighting.

"About that email," he said, stepping closer to be heard over the music. "I was wondering if you'd like to-"

"Baby sis!" Indi's voice cut through whatever Tim was about to say. She detached herself from her dance partner, practically bouncing over to you. "There you are! And with company?" Her eyes raked over Tim appreciatively. "Very nice company."

"Mr. Drake-Wayne," you introduced formally, trying to maintain some semblance of professionalism even as Indi's eyebrows shot up in recognition.

"Your boss?" she stage-whispered, not nearly as quietly as she probably thought. "The one you're moving to Metropolis with?" Her grin turned predatory. "Oh, this is interesting."

You felt your face flame. "Indi-"

"Dance with us!" she declared, already reaching for both you and Tim. "Consider it a pre-Metropolis celebration!"

The music swelled, and you found yourself being pulled onto the dance floor, Tim's amused expression the last thing you saw before the crowd swallowed you up. His hand found yours in the chaos, steady and warm, and suddenly the bass didn't seem quite so overwhelming.

As Indi disappeared back into the crowd, presumably to find her previous dance partner, you felt Tim pull you closer, his other hand finding its way back to your exposed back.

"So," he said, mouth close to your ear, "about that email..."

Your heart thundered in time with the music as you waited for him to continue, but a commotion near the bar caught your attention. Your eyes widened as you recognized a familiar figure being escorted out by security.

"Is that...?" Tim followed your gaze.

"Josh," you confirmed, watching as your ex-boyfriend was firmly guided toward the exit, his protests lost in the music. "I didn't even know he came here."

Tim's hand tightened slightly on your back. "Want me to have security make sure he stays out?"

The protective edge in his voice made something warm bloom in your chest. "No," you said, surprising yourself with how much you meant it. "He's not worth the effort anymore."

Tim's eyes softened as he looked at you, and suddenly the club, the music, even Josh's dramatic exit – it all faded into background noise. "Good," he said quietly, though you heard him perfectly despite the chaos around you. "Because I was thinking..."

The music shifted again, something slower, more intimate, and Tim pulled you imperceptibly closer.

"Yes?" you prompted, your heart racing as his hand traced small circles on your back.

"Maybe we should discuss those Metropolis arrangements... over dinner?"

The implications in his tone made it clear this wasn't about corporate housing or office logistics. You looked up at him, finding nothing but sincerity in his eyes, and felt a smile tug at your lips.

"That would be highly unprofessional, Mr. Drake," you said, but there was no real protest in your voice.

His answering smile was worth every HR regulation you were about to break. "I thought you told me to try harder, hm?"

And there, in the middle of a Gotham nightclub, with your ex being thrown out and your sister probably watching with glee, you finally let yourself lean into the warmth of Timothy Drake-Wayne's embrace.

"Dinner sounds perfect," you whispered, "Tim."

His smile could have lit up all of Gotham.

That's how you and Tim had gotten swept over into a booth and were actually just talking for once. Well. You both might have been a bit tipsy.

“Honestly Josh wasn't even my worst ex. There was this one girl, Maxine. Max and I dated for like all of college but she'd never bring me home or anything cause she was still closeted and stuff which I mean I get it. I didn't come out til I was like sixteenish luckily my family had enough things to worry about with my sister scarlet becoming a mom that one of us being bi-sexual was kinda glossed over. But anyway Max ended up breaking up with me and getting engaged to just some guy within like a month.” Your hands moved as you spoke, nearly sloshing your drink but Tim steadied it for you and gave a sympathetic nod.

“I get that,” he murmured. Your eyes trailed over the crowd again silently checking up on your sister. You nearly spat your drink out causing Tim to also look over. “I think your brother is trying to serenade my sister.”

You watched in horror and slight pride as indi and dick were clearly flirting with each other on the other side of the club.

“Probably planning how to embarrass us next too,” Tim hummed his hand resting on your thigh.

You let out a soft laugh, not moving away from his touch. "Oh god, can you imagine the family dinners? Indi would absolutely weaponize her model status to terrorize Bruce Wayne."

Tim's thumb traced absent patterns on your thigh, sending little sparks of electricity through your body. "Honestly? I'd pay to see that. Bruce needs someone to ruffle his feathers occasionally." His eyes sparkled with mischief. "Though I have to say, you've been doing a pretty good job of that yourself."

"Me?" You blinked in surprise, taking another sip of your drink.

"Mmhmm." Tim shifted closer, his shoulder pressing against yours in the intimate space of the booth. "The way you handle Samantha? Your complete overhaul of the filing system? That presentation you gave last week?" His voice dropped lower. "Bruce hasn't been this impressed by anyone since Barbara Gordon herself."

The comparison to the legendary Barbara Gordon – now CFO of Wayne Tech – made you flush with pride and embarrassment. "I just do my job."

"No," Tim's voice was serious now, though his hand remained warm on your thigh. "You do so much more than that. You..." he paused, seeming to gather his thoughts. "You make everything better. Easier. Not just the work stuff, but..." he gestured vaguely with his free hand, "everything."

The vulnerability in his voice made your heart clench. You'd never seen him quite like this – guard down, words flowing freely, eyes soft in the dim club lighting. It was a far cry from the composed CEO who commanded boardrooms and managed million-dollar deals.

"Speaking of making things better," you said, trying to lighten the suddenly heavy moment, "remember that time you caught me stress-eating donuts in the supply closet after the Johnson meeting?"

Tim's laugh rumbled through his chest. "And instead of being professional about it, I just sat down and asked for one?" His eyes crinkled at the corners. "Best decision I ever made. Though I still maintain Boston cream is superior to your chocolate glazed preference."

"Excuse you, chocolate glazed is a classic for a reason." You nudged his shoulder playfully, then froze as you caught sight of Dick and Indi again. "Oh my god, they're exchanging numbers."

Tim followed your gaze and groaned. "Dick's never going to let this go. He's probably already planning double dates."

The casual way he said 'double dates' made your stomach flip. "Is that what this is?" you asked before you could stop yourself. "A date?"

Tim's hand tightened slightly on your thigh as he turned to face you fully. The booth suddenly felt much smaller, more intimate. "Do you want it to be?"

Your breath caught as you met his gaze. There was no trace of the CEO now – this was just Tim, looking at you like you were something precious and dangerous all at once.

"I..." you started, then jumped as someone slid into the booth opposite you.

"Baby bird!" Jason's voice cut through the moment like a knife. "And the assistant who's definitely just an assistant." He waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

Tim's hand didn't move from your thigh, though you saw his jaw clench slightly. "What do you want, Jason?"

"Can't a guy check on his baby brother?" Jason's grin was positively feral. "Especially when said brother is getting cozy with his very attractive employee in a very public place?"

You felt heat rise to your cheeks, but before you could formulate a response, Indi appeared at the table, Dick in tow.

"Sister swap!" she announced cheerfully. "Dick's taking me to this amazing late-night food truck, and you" she pointed at you with a perfectly manicured finger, "are coming with us because I refuse to eat street food alone with a strange man, even if he is unreasonably attractive."

"Hey!" Dick protested, though he was grinning.

You felt Tim's hand squeeze your thigh once before reluctantly withdrawing. "Rain check on that answer?" he murmured, low enough that only you could hear.

Your heart did a complicated flip in your chest as you nodded. As you slid out of the booth, letting Indi pull you toward the exit, you couldn't help but look back. Tim was watching you go, something intense and promising in his expression that made your skin tingle.

"So," Indi linked her arm through yours as you emerged into the cool Gotham night, Dick and Jason trailing behind you. "Want to tell me why you never mentioned how hot your boss is? Or why his hand was very obviously on your thigh for the past hour?"

"Or why you're both looking at each other like you're starring in your own personal rom-com?" Dick added helpfully.

You groaned, but couldn't quite suppress your smile. "Can we just focus on finding this amazing food truck you mentioned?"

"Oh honey," Indi's grin was wicked, "you really think we're letting this go? You're about to move to Metropolis with that man. This is prime sisterly interrogation material."

As your sister dragged you through the neon-lit streets of Gotham, Dick and Jason providing running commentary on the best late-night eateries, you found your thoughts drifting back to the booth, to Tim's touch, to that unanswered question hanging between you.

Your phone buzzed in your purse:

From: Tim

Message: Dinner tomorrow? Somewhere without nosy siblings?

You bit your lip to hide your smile as you typed back a response:

To: Tim

Message: Only if you promise to let me order chocolate glazed dessert.

His reply was immediate:

From: Tim

Message: Deal. Though I still say Boston cream is superior.

"Oh my god, you're texting him already, aren't you?" Indi peered over your shoulder. "This is adorable. Dick, look how adorable they are!"

"I hate all of you," you declared, but your grin betrayed you.

"No you don't," Dick said cheerfully. "Just wait until family game night. Bruce is going to have an aneurysm."

As your sister and the Wayne brothers debated the merits of various food trucks, your phone buzzed one last time:

From: Tim

Message: For the record? I definitely want it to be a date.

The Gotham night suddenly felt a lot warmer.

"You know, we do have another sister-"

"Indi! Stop it!"

You lunged for your eldest sister, but she was already showing Dick and Jason photos of Scarlet on her phone. Running a hand down your face, you fought the urge to text your other sister a warning about Indi's matchmaking schemes.

"Scarlet might actually kill you, you know," you deadpanned. Indi just shrugged, elegant and unrepentant in her sequined glory.

"That girl needs more to life than her shop and Harkin," she stated with a dramatic eye roll, scrolling to another photo.

"Harkin brings up my point. She's a mom, Indi. She can't just—"

"Lalalala can't hear you!" Indi sang out, covering her ears like a child rather than the successful model she was.

"I swear you are not the oldest out of all of us," you muttered, watching as Dick and Jason peered at the phone with increasing interest. "She runs a successful business, has an adorable kid, and is actually happy. Why are you like this?"

Dick looked up from the phone, his expression thoughtful. "The flower shop on Kane Street? With the blue awning?"

"You know it?" you asked, surprised.

"Bruce gets arrangements from there sometimes," Jason supplied, then smirked. "Though I'm betting he'll be ordering a lot more now that his son's dating the owner's sister."

"We're not—" you started automatically, then stopped, thinking of Tim's text burning a hole in your phone. Were you? The memory of his hand on your thigh, his quiet question in the booth, made your cheeks warm.

"Oooh, she's blushing!" Indi crowed triumphantly. "And here I thought Scarlet would be the one to snag a Wayne. She always was the pretty one—"

"Shut up," you groaned, snatching her phone. "Scarlet will murder us both if she finds out you're showing her photos to random men in clubs."

"Random men?" Dick pressed a hand to his chest in mock offense. "I'll have you know we are now practically family. In fact..." He plucked Indi's phone from your grasp with surprising agility and continued scrolling. "As your future brother-in-law, I think I have a right to know all about my new sisters."

"Oh my god," you muttered, watching helplessly as Indi and Dick huddled over the phone, Jason offering commentary that was absolutely not helping.

Your phone buzzed again:

From: Tim

Message: Everything okay? Jason just sent me a very cryptic text about flower shops.

You looked up to find Jason watching you with a knowing smirk. "Did you seriously just text him?"

"Someone's gotta keep baby bird in the loop," he shrugged. "Besides, your sister's shop really does do nice arrangements. Bruce wasn't lying about that."

"The pink roses last month were from there," Dick added absently, still scrolling with Indi. "The ones for that charity gala?"

You remembered those roses. Scarlet had spent hours getting the gradient just right, each bloom a slightly different shade of pink fading to white. She'd been so proud of that order, even if she hadn't known it was for Wayne Enterprises.

"Speaking of flowers," Indi's eyes gleamed dangerously, "didn't Scarlet just hire that new delivery guy? The one with the motorcycle?"

"Indi, I swear to god—"

Your phone buzzed again:

From: Tim

Message: Should I be worried that Dick just asked Alfred for the flower shop's number?

You typed back quickly:

To: Tim

Message: Your brothers are conspiring with my sister. Send help.

His response was immediate:

From: Tim

Message: On my way. Though I should warn you, once Dick gets an idea in his head...

You looked up to find Indi and Dick exchanging contact information, presumably to better coordinate their matchmaking schemes, while Jason watched the whole thing with undisguised amusement.

To: Tim

Message: Too late. I think we're going to be seeing a lot of family dinners in our future.

From: Tim

Message: Good thing I like your family then. Even if Indi is currently plotting with Dick to revolutionize Wayne Enterprises' floral arrangements.

Despite everything, you couldn't help but smile. Your ridiculous family and his ridiculous brothers, all tangled up in each other's lives now. It should have been terrifying, but somehow...

"See?" Indi nudged you, having apparently finished her plotting with Dick. "This is what happens when you finally let yourself have some fun. Now come on, that food truck isn't going to wait forever."

As you let yourself be pulled along the Gotham streets, your phone warm with Tim's messages in your hand, you thought maybe – just maybe – your sister had a point.

Even if you'd never, ever admit it to her face.

.

.

.

Taglist:

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[save-the-villainous-cat]

“You’re awfully cheerful.” The villain leaned back on the hero’s couch and cocked their head. There was only a hint of a smirk but the hero didn’t need more than that to determine their nemesis’ mood.

It was all about the subtle movements.

A twitching eyebrow. A look at their own shoes. A breath taken in a little too quickly.

The hero knew the villain - knew every little detail about their behaviour, knew what they were feeling. Feelings were one thing, facts on the other hand…the hero didn’t know what their nemesis was planning, nor what their next move was. They could tell when the villain was angry, disappointed, amused. But why…?

Nevertheless, the hero smiled and lounged in their armchair, making themselves as comfortable as possible in their own home.

“I’m trying this new thing…having a positive mindset and all. You know, not taking everything so serious.”

“Someone blew up your car today,” the villain pointed out. They stared at the bottle of wine the hero had opened an hour ago. Half finished. “You must be quite upset.”

“I’m kind of grateful, actually.”

“Grateful?” The villain raised a brow and the hero tilted their head. It must have looked rather confident. Cocky, almost. Whether it was the little bit of alcohol or the situation in general - the hero did feel a bit cocky.

“Yeah, I mean. I’m glad I wasn’t in the car when it exploded. That’s a reason to celebrate.”

“Someone knows you’re involved with me,” the villain said.

“We don’t know that for sure,” the hero answered.

“Evidence suggests it, though.”

The hero whistled, impressed. Their eyes widened and something inside them wanted this to be their fault.

“What else is the evidence suggesting, Detective?” The hero let their eyebrows wiggle and took a sip of the wine. They liked to think that not only the villain was changing the hero but that the hero was also influencing their nemesis.

Detective. The villain was definitely smart enough to be one and, Lord, the hero would have loved to see that brilliant mind work on cases with them.

The hero smiled to themselves. Fantasising about the villain being their partner wasn’t new. But it was entertaining. Over and over again.

“That you’re not careful enough.”

“Hm?”

“You got into a fight again. Your knuckles are bruised. Someone blew up your car today. And all you do is sit here and drink,” the villain said. A twitching eyebrow. “You’ll get yourself killed.”

“Aww, are you worried about me?” The hero’s eyes narrowed. “Scared your favourite hero will end up dead?”

The villain’s face didn’t change and at first, they didn’t say anything.

So, the hero observed them carefully.

Their relationship was at a point that suggested they were either hooking up or just really good friends. For the neighbours, it was normal to let the villain in. And for the hero, it was normal to visit the villain in their lair.

Quite risky. Quite rewarding, too.

Exchanging information was crucial to the both of them.

Additionally, the hero kind of liked them.

“I would get you a bodyguard but as of right now, I can’t guarantee that whoever wanted to kill you today isn’t one of my men.” A look at the ground and the hero had to frown. “I’ll take care of that, obviously.”

“You want to hire a bodyguard? For me?” the hero asked. They chuckled into their wineglass.

“No, I won’t hire anyone. I’ll be your bodyguard.”

“Huh?!” The hero’s grip around the glass tightened.

“You’re irreplaceable as informant and in case you die, all your secrets which means all my secrets are very likely to see the light of day. The files on your computer won’t stay hidden forever. I’d like to avoid that.”

“I think I can take care of myself.” The hero looked at the wine. Did that mean the villain wanted to move into this apartment?

The hero blushed softly.

More reasons for the neighbours to gossip about a possible relationship. Jeez.

“I don’t think so,” the villain said. “I haven’t threatened you in weeks, so don’t make me do it. I won’t debate this. I need you alive and I don’t trust anyone enough to do this job right now. I’ll take the couch.”

“I don’t get a say in this?” the hero asked. They laughed at the absurdity.

“No.” The villain’s voice was stern now.

“Hm.” Slowly, the hero finished the glass and set it down on the little table between them and the villain. “Maybe it’ll be fun to watch you follow me around like a dog.”

A blush.

“Call it whatever you want.”

And that’s how the both of them became roommates.

[noperopesaredope]

I recently watched a video talking about what your favorite Mouthwashing ship says about you (spoilers: most of them are bad), and one thing I explained in the comments that I think is important to explain to certain people (in general with a lot of fandoms, tbh) is that a lot of shippers in the fandom understand that these relationships would not be good and are in fact deeply unhealthy, but perhaps that's the point.

Like, most of the Jambone x Curly shippers I've seen don't like the ship because it's cute or good, but because it's narratively interesting and would be extremely compelling to see. I honestly get it even if I'm not super interested in it. Jildo and Curly already have an extremely interesting and unhealthy relationship dynamic. It is heavily implied that JarJar acts very emotionally abusive towards Curly, belittling and manipulating him frequently and likely damaging his confidence and ability to stand up to people. But he is also obsessed with Curly in a very fascinating way.

Meanwhile, Curly has not only been friends with Jimbo for a long time, but has a fatal flaw of being too loyal and passive for his own good. As many have said, Curly is like a golden retriever in both a good and bad way.

Curly is Jackass' victim and enabler at the same time, which is why he is one of my favorite characters in the game. You both feel bad for him but also understand that he really fucked up and a lot of stuff is his fault. His most endearing traits are also some of his worst traits. Again, the golden retriever comparison is very accurate. He is friendly and loyal and believes the best in everyone (and very cute), but that loyalty and belief in everyone are also his fatal flaws.

He enables Jello because he thinks that there is good in him, and like a dog, he sees no wrong with most people no matter what they do (until it's far too late). I can't remember the fic I saw this in, but one good line I saw once was something along the lines of: "You believe in people and see nothing wrong with them no matter what until they abandon you at the park in the middle of the night." Curly sees no wrong in his friend because that's the type of person he is, and while it can be cute, it's also dangerous.

It can also often be detrimental to himself, as we see Juice be cruel to him as well, yet Curly excuses it as just Jizz being Jizz. He doesn't see anything wrong with the way he is treated, making him become desensitized to Jive's behavior and seeing it as not a big deal.

I think Curly's status as both victim and enabler would be interesting under the context of an abusive romantic relationship. There is an even greater power imbalance present, and Jojo may do a lot worse things as a result and be a lot more controlling and manipulative. He could be more physically and verbally abusive, make more threats, and even be sexually abusive (since he is canonically a rapist already, and hates Curly more than he hates Anya, thus he would probably put more aggressive hate into it). The whole relationship would be horrible and disturbing, but also interesting to see.

I love fics exploring their unhealthy friendship, so seeing it as an unhealthy romantic relationship could be even crazier to see.

~~~~~~

There's also the nuances of Anya x Curly. Most people ship it specifically in the context of AUs where Curly actually stands up for Anya and helps her out. Their dynamic as characters could be really cute, especially if he puts in the work to protect her.

I personally find the potential of post-crash Anya x Curly to be interesting as hell. I generally find their non-romantic dynamic post-crash to be interesting enough on its own, but I also think it could be absolutely crazy if they developed romantic feelings because those feelings would develop from some really unhealthy places for the most part.

I see Anya as someone who still holds some resentment towards Curly, but also sees herself in him and feels he doesn't deserve what happened to him. Maybe at one point seeing him go through something similar to what she went through might feel a little cathartic, but anything after that is too much to her. She is also his primary caretaker and a nurse, so she feels responsible for his wellbeing and wants to take care of him. She also seems to read and talk to him a lot, which probably feels nice because she can have some company while also being safe because Curly is not in a position to be able to hurt her. Anya doesn't exactly develop proper feelings for him per say, but she still uses him as a bit of an emotional crutch of sorts and becomes very attached to him because of it.

Meanwhile, Curly feels deeply guilty for not helping Anya and feels she deserves better. He believes she has no reason to care for him, but chooses to anyway, and thus he is extremely grateful towards her, possibly idolizing her to a certain degree. He slowly develops his own weird feelings, seeing himself as unworthy of her kindness and wanting the best for her, while also being dependent on her, even if it's in a more direct way.

They never get together or even realize that they themselves have feelings for each other since those feelings are #messy, but do form a weird codependent relationship of sorts. I've seen some cool fanart of Anya hugging/holding onto post-crash Curly, and it made me think about the potential this whole dynamic has and how unhealthy it could be, both for Anya and Curly. I believe they would not work out or be healthy (though probably better than Jazzy x Curly), but could be interesting narratively.

~~~~~~

Basically, what I'm trying to explain is that a lot of people don't ship certain Mouthwashing ships because they think it's good or want to romanticize it, but because it is narratively compelling and can explore complex dynamics more.

[zigrethsnotebook]

Hello @zuekdaria and thank you so much for your kind words!!<3 It means a lot to me that you enjoy my little stories so much🥰

I think your ideas are lovely and I would love to morph them into one story featuring Ford, I hope that's alright with you! I hope you enjoy<3

Still waters run deep

Ford x Reader

words: 2,584

tags: sfw, fluff

You had moved to Gravity Falls early this year and needed a job quickly to get your footing. Something that would get you enough money to pass the time until you found the job you wanted. The Mystery Shack, owned and run by Stanford Pines, or Stanley Pines as you later learned, was the perfect place for you.

You were a good worker in Stan's eyes: always on time, never stole anything and did the work he asked of you. However, he was a little puzzled by you. You weren't the most outgoing person. The only times you talked to him instead of the other way around was when you needed something from him. Be it a new task, some clarification on a task or something else entirely.

He also noted that he never even saw you smile. Stan tried to tell you that it would look better for the customers when you greeted them with a smile at the cash register, but he never actually saw you do it.

However, being the massive flirt he is, he tried to get a rise out of you one way or another whenever he had the chance to. You always kept your cool. Unfazed by the old man and his weird but charming persona.

At least that's the way it looked to him. To you, he was slowly becoming your friend. You liked working for him and just generally having him around. So much so that you subconsciously started to put off looking for a different job.

Summer rolled around and you found yourself in the midst of the Pines' family drama. You didn’t mind that much, they had quickly all become very dear to you.

Then, Stan finished the portal and got his brother back. You didn’t know about the portal, of course. So, when you came to work the next day and saw a man who looked like Stan eyeing the souvenirs in the gift shop suspiciously, you didn’t even bat an eye.

At least not until Stan entered the room as well and you had to do a double take. "Ah, perfect. I see you've already met my brother, Ford." Stan's hand came down on his brother's shoulder who looked at him and then to you. "Oh, hello. I didn’t even hear you enter."

Stan laughed loudly. "Yeah, she does that. Not very talkative. But she gets things done and that's what counts." Ford raised an eyebrow at you, scanning you from head to toe. You didn’t flinch under his gaze, quite enjoying his eyes on you.

As much as Stan was charming and good looking when he wanted to be, his brother was something else. They shared the same good looks, of course, but Ford carried himself better. It made him appear taller, more put together. You liked him.

Stan and Ford quickly came to an agreement that Ford would stay in the basement and keep all his science and research down there, for the kids' sake. What that really meant was that Ford barely saw daylight at all. It quickly started to worry you.

The gift shop was slow one day, so you asked Stan about his brother. "Has Ford eaten today?" Your question was short, but Stan was surprised you asked it at all. "Not that I know of. Why, you wanna bring him something?"

"Yes." Stan wished he could read your expression. Were you just concerned about Ford's health? Did you see something in him? Either way, there had to be a reason and he decided to keep a closer eye on you.

After you got an 'okay' from Stan you made your way to the kitchen and prepared a simple meal. You took the plate back into the gift shop where Stan opened the Vending Machine Door for you.

You knocked on the door to his lab and the door swung open on its own. Quietly, you stepped inside, looking around the new room until you reached Ford, sitting at his desk with his back turned to you.

He was too focused on his work to notice you. Without a word you moved next to his desk, moved a few pieces of paper out of the way and placed the plate onto the wooden table.

Moving his papers was what made Ford look up at you with a raised eyebrow. He eyed the plate you set on the desk. "Did Stan put you up to this?" You found his eyes. Gorgeous big brown eyes. "No." You turned around and left again, leaving Ford looking at the door and the plate in bewilderment.

This became a daily routine. At the end of your shift you would prepare a simple warm meal for Ford and bring it to him without saying much or anything at all. You understood how important his work was and you didn’t want to bother him. Just wanted to make sure that he stays healthy.

A few days into this, Ford came up the stairs suddenly and started looking around the shop frantically. "Whoa, whoa, Sixer slow down. What's gotten into you?" Stan held his hands up as he stepped closer to his brother, calming him down.

"I lost... a creature got loose. It must be in the shack somewhere. It-It looks like a little orange fairy." Stan calmed him down further and asked if the fairy would be dangerous. Ford explained that it was entirely harmless, which seemed to ease Stan's worries. He was always so worried for Dipper and Mabel, it was very sweet.

After they both looked around the shack for a while and came up empty-handed Ford went back down with a sigh and Stan went back to his office. You sat at the register, reading a book. Stan didn’t mind you reading a book at work as long as you did all the things you needed to do.

After a few minutes something caught your eye. At first you thought it was a bee, zooming around the shop but as you looked more closely, you realized that it looked like a little person. This was the perfect opportunity to help Ford with his research.

You grabbed an empty jar from behind your counter and quietly made your way over to the shirt that the fairy was looking at. In one swift movement you put the jar over the fairy, using the shirt as a lid until you quickly put the actual lid on the jar.

You were careful not to shake the jar too much as you made your way to Ford's lab. Down there, Ford was scribbling away in his journal again. Without a word you carefully placed the jar on his desk. He looked up at you with wide eyes. "Thank you!"

You just nodded and headed back upstairs. God, the look on his face was everything to you. You wanted to see his face light up like that again. The rest of your shift you spent daydreaming about Ford and his big brown eyes. Surely, you would see them in your dreams that night.

When your shift was coming to an end you once again prepared something for Ford to eat and brought it to him. "You know you don't actually have to bring me food every day, right?" You looked at Ford. "I know." He furrowed his brows. "Then why do you do it?"

You thought for a moment, not quite brave enough to tell him just how much you care for him. "It makes me happy." Ford's expression softened and he chuckled lightly. "Well, you could have fooled me. I was worried you saw this as just another chore."

"I don't." Ford smiled at you and you felt like you were about to melt on the spot. "Well, in that case, thank you very much for looking out for me." You nodded and left the lab again.

Ford looked at the door for a moment after you were gone. He could not read you at all. It drove him a little wild. He seriously thought you hated having to come down here every day until mere moments ago.

He continued his work for a little while after he had eaten your food. Then, as he brought the empty plate back upstairs and found Stan in the kitchen as well, he decided to talk to him about you. But Stan was quicker.

"So. How's the food?" He smirked at his brother as he watched Ford clean the plate. "It's really good. But you know that already." Stan raised an eyebrow. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Ford looked at Stan as he clarified. "I mean, you know her food is great because you ate it, too?" Stan scoffed. "No, smart guy. She only makes it for you." This took Ford by surprise.

To think that you only brought him food? Made it only for him? Why would you do that? Ford looked at his brother for help in organizing his thoughts. Stan chuckled at Ford's confused expression.

"Well, if I didn’t know any better, I'd think she has a crush on you." Ford stilled. Could that be? "But you know better?" Stan laughed, shaking his head. "Can't say I do."

Ford went back to his lab, trying to clear his head with science. But now, all he could think about was you.

Life continued the same as before. You came to work, did it quietly and efficiently. At the end of your shift you prepare some food for Ford and bring it to him. And, over the course of a few days, you watched his expressions change.

He had started out barely acknowledging you and the plate at all but now, every day he smiled a little smile at you. It made your heart flutter while also feeling appreciated for the work you were doing.

Today was another slow day in the shop when Dipper and Mabel stormed into the room. Dipper was holding something and looked to be running away from his sister. It was her glue gun.

Dipper had backed himself into a wall as Mabel tried to reach for the object. "Mabel! Grunkle Ford's Journal doesn't need to look cute! It's serious scientific research!" Mabel stood on her tiptoes, reaching upwards. "Science can be cute, too!"

A gentle smile graced your lips as you watched them. You put your book down and walked over to them. Being taller than both of them, you plucked the glue gun from Dipper's hand, turning both of their attentions to you.

"Mabel, I know you mean well. But maybe ask your Grunkle if he wants a cute journal?" She looked at you with big puppy eyes. "But... what if he says no?" You smiled at her. "Then I will let you turn my journal cute."

Mabel's eyes widened and a big grin appeared on her face before she hugged you. She quickly made her way down to the lab. Dipper looked at you suspiciously. "You write a journal?" You hummed. "Not a big scientific one. But I like to keep track of my life."

Dipper nodded in approval and then walked back to whichever part of the house he came from. You walked back to the register and placed the glue gun in one of the shelves behind it.

You didn’t know it at the time, but Stan watched every bit of this interaction between you and the kids through the security camera. He couldn't believe his eyes when he saw you smile at them. And you talked so much!

He took the tape and made his way to Ford as inconspicuous as possible to show his brother this new side of you. When Ford saw it, it warmed his heart. The men only knew you as this cold exterior, but to see some of the warmth underneath it? He wanted to see more of it.

Ford asked Stan for some more of the security camera footage of you. Stan raised a brow at him but obliged anyway. Ford had to look through the videos, surely, this hadn't been the first time you had some reaction to something?

On a tape from two days ago he found something. You were reading a book like you so often do when not much needs to be done. And there he saw it, the slighted crease between your eyebrows and the tiniest tilt of your lips downward. You were frowning at your book!

Ford felt like a child at Christmas, giddy from seeing you express any emotion at all. He now had a new mission. A new experiment if you want. He wanted to hear your laugh.

A few more days passed and somehow, Ford felt like you were even more distant. And he hadn't even started on his new mission. But you weren't even meeting his eyes anymore when you brought him food. Said even less.

He made his way upstairs, feeling it necessary to ask you about it. But when he got to the gift shop, you weren't there. Ford looked around the house but didn’t find you. Eventually, he decided to climb to the roof. An elevated position would surely help locate you if you were outside.

But he didn’t need to look anymore, because you were sitting on the little balcony, quietly sobbing. He felt his heart shatter.

Carefully, he moved to sit next to you and as he did you silently jumped, not having noticed him join you. "Hey, it's alright. I didn’t mean to startle you." You sniffled, wiping the tears from your face and trying to keep it together.

"What happened ...if I may ask?" He was careful, he didn’t want to scare you off with being too forward. But he also wanted nothing more than to hug you tightly and tell you that everything would be alright.

"Too much..." You shook your head, sorting your thoughts before continuing. "Job search is not going well." Ford felt something in his chest tighten. You wanted to leave the shack? "My landlord is about to throw me out. And my family wants me to-" Your voice broke off, unable to finish.

Ford looked at you. "Would a hug help?" You looked at him as well, meeting his eyes, your tear stained cheeks reflecting the sunlight in a bittersweet picture. You nodded.

Ford's expression softened as he moved closer to you, wrapping his arms around your shoulders. After a moment you let your arms snake around his waist, pulling him closer, as you took the warmth radiating off of him in. It helped to ground you, remind you that not everything is terrible.

Letting his own affection for you overwhelm him, Ford pressed a gentle kiss into your hair. The moment lingered for a little bit. Then, you took a deep breath, steadying yourself. You pulled away from him, feeling better. "Thank you."

Ford nodded, offering a smile. You two sat next to each other for a while, just enjoying the view and each other.

Even though he hadn't reached his goal of hearing you laugh yet, Ford felt like he was slowly getting through to you. Slowly understanding you. He felt pride in being the one to help you feel better today.

And maybe he could talk to your landlord for you. Or he would just offer you to stay here with him, even though that would be way too direct. Either way, he looked forward to every moment he would be able to spend with you.

[deepestdelulu]

A cosy guide to a cosy December ‧͙*̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆

Have a Christmas movie marathon.

Cinnamon oatmeal... or just oatmeal in general... winter is oatmeal season... make it cute, though!! :)

Having hot Chocolate by the fireplace

Bows. Bows. Bows.

Visiting Christmas markets and going ice skating

Cute Knitted sweaters and uggs

Baking cute Christmas cookies and decorating them with your friends

Spending hours making your wish list

Writing cute Christmas cards to friends and family who live far away :)

Start working on your 2024 vision board

Buying cute ornaments for the Christmas tree

Fluffy socks and fuzzy blankets <3

Experiment with your coffee order!! I've been OBSESSED with mochas; cinnamon is also a MUST.

Trying. a different make-up style. I always love the frosty/blushy look for winter <3

Planning your Christmas outfit

Buy some cute Christmas-themed pyjamas (Victoria's Secret always has cute ones!!)

Scented candles to set the mood. My current fav is the salted caramel one from ZARA Home!! <3

Go see the Nutcracker

A good Christmas playlist is a MUST. I already made mine :)

As always, please feel free to add your own suggestions and tips in the comments!! •̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙‧͙♡*̩̩͙❆ ͙͛

❆‧₊*:・love ya ･:*₊‧౨ৎ

[fuckitupfelix]

ANON. LET ME COOK WITH THIS ANON.

third time's the charm !?

miya atsumu x male reader

word count: 1.8k

atsumu's self proclaimed "flirting" doesn't get him very far when the guy he's crushing on is absolutely clueless.

FEM ALIGNED DNI

atsumu miya is a fairly popular student. he’s quite well known among his classmates, and generally well liked. as a result, he’s grown a bit cocky. he considered himself a chick magnet— osamu jokes that he’s actually just a manwhore, to atsumu’s dismay— but the fact remains that he was attractive and he knew it, even if he never really acted on it. sure, he liked the attention, but when it came down to it, and osamu or suna ever prodded on why he didn’t get with any of the countless people leaving love letters in his locker, he would simply say they were ‘distractions’. his main focus was volleyball! he’d mess around here and there, but he would never take any of his little flings seriously. that’s what he’s been telling himself. he knows he could get with anyone, and he prides himself on that. it gives him a sense of power; a sense of control— until a certain (name) (surname) joined his class.

the teen had transferred into inarizaki in the middle of second year, and while he knew of the ‘wonder twins’ (he so aptly nicknamed them in his head) through friends and bits he’d seen online, he didn’t care much for them. as far as he was concerned, they were just teenagers. athletes with admirable skill, sure, but teenagers nonetheless. just the same as he was.

atsumu’s been pulling his hair out over the past few weeks because of (name)— his previous logic going straight out the window with the new transfer student. any and all attempts that the setter made to drop hints were futile. the guy was, to put it simply, far too dense.

ATTEMPT ONE: HOMEROOM.

upon (name’s) initial arrival, atsumu’s hooked immediately. it’s not like his introduction was anything crazy; the teacher called him in, he introduced himself, and sat down in the free seat next to suna and behind atsumu. but there’s something so appealing about the teen that draws atsumu in. the setter turns around in his seat, his usual lazy grin sprawled across his face.

“hey there. name’s miya atsumu,” he hums, before jutting a thumb towards the seat to (name’s) left. “that there’s suna rintaro.”

the expected reaction, if you know who he is— and he’s offended at the notion someone at his school potentially wouldn’t— would be absolute joy and surprise. instead, the new student responds with a, “oh. you’re the volleyball guys, right? nice to meet you two.”

suna has to bite back a snort at atsumu’s expression— his jaw dropped, his eye twitching. that’s it? “ya know who i am, yeah?” he asks, regaining his composure immediately. “ain’t i impressive?” he drawls.

“i guess? yeah. you’ve got impressive skill.” (name) responds, seemingly missing the way atsumu bristles at the lack of praise. he decides to flirt a little, wanting to throw this guy off his game.

“since ya missed some of the curriculum already, i can help ya study. get ya caught up.” atsumu says. he catches the way (name’s) face lights up and feels the pride bubbling in his chest. “really? that’d be such a big help! where should we meet up?”

“i was thinkin’ we could study at my place,” atsumu hums, voice a bit lower.

“. . . wouldn’t it be more productive if we went to a library or cafe? i also don’t wanna disturb your parents at all.” (name) replies. suna barks out a laugh, and atsumu shoves his shoulder. “shut it, suna!” he sputters.

“i’m definitely tellin’ ‘samu this later,” the teen snickers, leaning back in his chair. “‘n turn around, ‘tsumu, the lesson’s startin’.”

with a grumble, atsumu turns back to face the front, his arms crossed. there’s no way he just got blown off like that . .

ATTEMPT TWO: VENDING MACHINE.

atsumu refused to give up, even after the relentless nagging from suna to ‘quit being a pussy’ lasted for weeks on end. the two of them sat together with osamu and ginjima on their lunch, a figure slumped over the table, groaning dramatically; the person being atsumu, of course.

“could ya whine a lil quieter? i’ve gotta finish my history assignment and yer bein’ distractin’,” suna says, prodding at atsumu’s crunchy hair— which only prompted another, longer, louder groan.

“i don’t get it! how oblivious is this guy gonna be?!” atsumu whines, his cheek pressed against the cool table. his teammates were going to comment on how none of his attempts were straightforward in the slightest, but decided to let him wallow a bit longer. with a sigh, atsumu stands from his seat, shoving his hands into his pockets. he just needs to clear his head.

“d’you guys want anything from the vending machine?” he asks. they tell him their respective requests, and he exits the cafeteria to find a free vending machine. as he’s wandering about, mind filled with thoughts and plans to get (name) to give in to his ‘flirting’, lo and behold, he’s right there, crouched in front of the vending machine. a pretty face contorted into a hardened expression, eyebrows furrowed as he scans the contents, before letting out a sigh and standing. he turns in the direction of atsumu, and he jumps a little.

“oh! miya-san, hey.” he hums. atsumu scoffs lightly at that, walking closer and leaning an arm against the edge of the vending machine. at this angle, he can see (name’s) face perfectly, the light from the window on the other wall shining beautifully against his skin. it makes him feel giddy.

“i told ya, you can jus’ call me atsumu. drop the honorifics already, (name),” he drawls, his signature smirk on his face. “ya grabbin’ a drink?” (name) nods. he frowns slightly, turning back to look at the vending machine. “i can’t decide what to get, though. any suggestions?”

it’s almost like a lightbulb sparks above atsumu’s head. he has a perfect idea. leaning over (name), he comes closer to the glass dividing them and the drinks, purposefully drawing his face inches away from (name).

“hm,” he narrows his eyes, pretending to think about it, before pointing to a peach tea can, letting that same arm loosely wrap above the other teen’s shoulder. “this peach tea’s pretty good. it’s sweet, just like you,” he says, adding that last part a little quieter.

this has to be it. (name) has to hear that and take the hint, atsumu thinks to himself. so when (name) turns, his face lighting up with joy, and he responds with, “that sounds perfect, man! thank you!” he gawks at the teen's obliviousness as he punches in ‘D-3’ on the keypad, sliding the coins in. the can falls down with a thud, and he takes it, walking off as he cracks it open and takes a sip.

atsumu really cannot catch a break.

ATTEMPT THREE: NATIONALS.

atsumu's been going at it in the gym for the entirety of his lunch break, practicing his serves, sending ball after ball over the net.

“i’m done!” atsumu sputters, his shoes squeaking as he jumps up, arms stretched out as he slams another volleyball across the court. it lands out, and he grits his teeth. “he's impossible! he keeps actin' all buddy-buddy with me!”

osamu snorts at his brother's pouting. “so you'd rather (name) hate yer guts?” “that's not what i meant!” he huffs childishly, kicking at the floor. “fuck it. i’m tellin’ ‘im! ‘samu,” he whirls around to face his twin, jostling him by the shoulders.

“where would (name) be right now?” “why would i know that? it's lunch, check the classrooms.” osamu says dryly, shoving atsumu off of himself.

atsumu just nods, ignoring the action. like his life depends on it, he sprints out of the gym and towards the main building. through the side doors, past the lockers, up the stairs, to the very end of the hall, until he reaches their classroom.

“(name)!” he all but yells, sliding the door open with too much force. students whisper and murmur around the room, girls huddled up in the corners, eyes wide and hands cupped over their cheeks as they practically marvel at the sight of atsumu. (name), however, looks a bit concerned. placing his lunchbox onto his desk, his fork laid gently beside it, he stands and walks over to the door, not noticing the stares from all over the classroom. as he steps out, he shuts the door behind him.

“atsumu? are you alright?” he asks, eyebrows furrowed. “you look like you just ran a marathon—”

“we're goin’ to nationals tomorrow,” atsumu pants. (name) knew that— he's heard him and the others on the team talk about it in the halls, or when they have lunch at atsumu's desk.

“right, yeah. goodluck with that. you guys are gonna do amazing, obviously,” (name) chuckles. god, the sound makes atsumu's heart ache. he needs to get it out already, he's wasted far too much time dawdling.

“right, yeah. words don't mean much, though,” atsumu leans an arm against the wall, right next to (name). “a goodluck kiss would work wonders, though.” he says smoothly. this was his final attempt for (name).

the teen stiffens up at that. “what?” he laughs, wondering if he even heard atsumu correctly. “ya heard me. it’d be pretty motivatin’ if the pretty boy i’ve been likin’ gave me a lil goodluck kiss. just a lil peck.”

what?

“. . . you like me?” (name) asks. “since when?” atsumu huffs at that. “since forever! yer just too dense, i’ve been tryna hint at it for months now!” at that, the realization dawns on him. oh. “i thought you were just being nice!” (name) sputters, clearly trying to defend himself. atsumu lets out a choked noise.

“am i that bad at flirting?” he asks weakly. “no! i don't think so? i didn't realize you liked me at all! you should have said something!”

yes. he should have. he knows that, god knows osamu does as well. he just leans in a little closer. “so, how about that goodluck kiss, hm?” he asks after a beat of silence.

with a light scoff, (name) plants his hands on atsumu's shoulders, gripping at the fabric of his uniform shirt. it’s crumpled and smells slightly like sweat, but he decides to overlook that detail. he leans in, capturing atsumu's lips with his own. the kiss was brief, but atsumu's hands had already flown to cup the back of (name's) neck, gently tugging him forward. (name) lets out a startled noise, but doesn't move back until a few seconds later.

“so. you'll be watchin’ me at nationals, yeah?” atsumu drawls, his fingers carding through (name's) hair, idly twisting a strand.

“of course i will.”

this was so fun to write omg!!! also my reqs are open if you wanna drop any ideas for any fics !!

divider by @/plutism !!

[theresattrpgforthat]

So, I went to a game store, and I asked if there were any good beginner games for someone who tried the DnD Essentials Kit and found it too complicated, and you'll never guess what one singular game they suggested!

THEME: Simpler Games than DND.

My friend, I’m not a very good guesser, but I hope that I am able to present you with some games that will give you what you’re looking for.

24XX: Chaos Unit, by polyhedralmice

Deep under the busy streets of Sapien City is the headquarters of the Vermin Squad, the espionage wing of a secret organization of urban animals known as the CHAOS Unit. They capitalize on the fact that vermin are virtually invisible human inhabitants of the city and use they use their street smarts to run vital missions for the unit. Raccoons, opossums, pigeons and squirrels each play specific roles and together form teams that take on the most vital of missions. From intercepting life-saving pizza orders to rescuing their colleagues from the dastardly Animal Control, there is no task too daunting for the brave animals of the Vermin Squad. Every night teams are sent out on their missions, and this is the story of one of those teams. Nothing will stop these brave agents from successfully completing their tasks (except maybe a humane trap baited with peanut butter). 

CHAOS Unit is a spy themed hack based on Jason Tocci’s 24XX.

24XX games are great for groups that love different-sided dice. In general, you only have a few skills for your character that are outside the normal parameters (upgraded to d8 - d12), and the success threshold is the same for pretty much every roll. The challenges and situations of any given scenario are typically presented as roll tables, allowing the GM to come up with an adventure just by rolling a few dice.

CHAOS Unit has just a few character options, some simple gear options, and a comparatively light-hearted premise. It’s a great introduction to the system, and learning how to play one 24XX game makes every other 24XX game a piece of cake to learn, even if they include new rules.

Loot, by Gila RPGs.

LOOT is a fantasy TTRPG by Gila RPGs that combines looter shooter mechanics with west marches vibes. When a rebellion toppled a lich overlord and torn down his city, the people were left with a lot of loot, and a lot of problems. That's where you come in.

Get some friends together, fight some monsters, deck your characters out in cool loot. Do it all over again.

Even though LUMEN uses grid-based combat, your character’s stats are simplified, reduced to a few things: health, armour, and three action types: force, flow & focus. Your stats themselves come from the items that your carry - your loot.

Your loot is organized through slots on your character sheet: you can only carry so much, so you’ll have to think carefully about what kind of stat bonuses and abilities you want. I find that a visual inventory can make it easier to keep track of everything you have, and can help some players learn how to think strategically. If you like the fantasy and strategy that exists in D&D but don’t want to do nearly as much math, you might be interested in LOOT - although the lack of dice is certainly a big change.

Slugblaster, by Wilkie’s Candy Lab.

In the small town of Hillview, teenage hoverboarders sneak into other dimensions to explore, film tricks, go viral, and get away from the problems at home. It’s dangerous. It’s stupid. It’s got parent groups in a panic. And it’s the coolest thing ever.

This is Slugblaster. A table-top rpg about teenagehood, giant bugs, circuit-bent rayguns, and trying to be cool.

Forged in the Dark games can be tricky to introduce to a new table, but Slugblaster is one of a few that I think can do the job. It’s a streamlined version of the system, that takes away a lot of the crunch that comes from Stats, Position, and Effect, and boils it all down to Kick and Boost. It also streamlines harm into 2 levels of slams, and keeps stress and downtime to a procedure that you can follow step-by-step when you finish a run. Finally character creation is very easy: you only make few choices in terms of abilities, and many of these choices are descriptive, rather than mechanical.

One thing I’ve noticed about games with “simpler” rules systems is that they typically do require a bunch of improv, which can be scary for new GMs. Slugblaster isn’t that different in this regard, but it does have a few things you as a GM can prepare beforehand if you want to make things easier for yourself. For example, you can set up your map of the different dimensions beforehand, including the doorways that the teens can get through. If you know that the teens get back to your home dimension without going through Operablum, then you can prepare a few location - specific threats to confound the teens as they try to get back in time for dinner.

Another strength of these games is that typically, if a player wants to do something, they just have to be able to describe how they’d do it - you can then work backwards using the gear & resources on your sheet to give you some dice to roll, as well as the logic of the game world, to figure out what happens next.

Lady Blackbird, by John Harper

Lady Blackbird is on the run from an arranged marriage to Count Carlowe. She hired a smuggler skyship, The Owl, to take her from her palace on the Imperial world of Ilysium to the far reaches of the Remnants, so she could be with her once secret lover: the pirate king Uriah Flint.

Lady Blackbird is the first game I ever played, and it’s a game I fell for - hard. It involves rolling pools of dice that you pull from descriptive collections of tags assigned to pre-generated characters. It simplifies game-play by taking away the step of character creation, and gives the group a pretty solid story to pick up and follow wherever your heart may lead.

While the rules of the game are fairly simple, I think that as a GM, you’re going to need to be comfortable with a fair bit of improv to make this work. The game has some excellent pieces of advice on how to come up with scenes for the characters, and even includes some example complications to throw at the party. I’m really glad this was my first game because from the beginning, it affirmed that roleplaying games are a communal experience, and even if the characters and the starting scenario are already written for the group, the players have a lot of freedom to decide who their characters are, and what they’re going to value.

Liminal Horror, by Goblin Archives.

There’s a strange comfort to ambiguity. To stand at the threshold between states of what was and what’s next, to inhabit the places of transition. But you’re never truly alone here. There are things that hunger within the dark places. Strange creatures and mysteries lie in wait and tumbling into the wrong place at the wrong time may put you on the path towards doom.

Grab your flashlights and blood splattered jackets as you try to make it through the night. Beware, snapping bone and rending flesh are often the simplest outcome. While there may be great power within these places… not all mysteries can be solved and not everyone can be saved. Above all, there are fates far worse than death.

LIMINAL HORROR is a rules-lite, adaptable Survival-Horror roleplaying game about normal characters and their struggles against the things that go bump in the night. The game focuses on surviving the weird and Investigating horrors while blending simple, old-school inspired rules with modern, narrative first principles. Survival is not guaranteed and those that do make it through the night are often forever changed.

In Liminal Horror, character creation is rather quick, often easily generated using a few dice rolls. For most tasks, your characters will roll a d20 and try to get a number lower than one of their three stats, so when you get started, teaching the game should be pretty simple. Of course, since it’s a horror game, there’s more than just trying to roll under a stat: characters will find themselves subject to the consequences of being exposed to horrors that are far beyond the limits of human experience. As a result, characters will find themselves dealing with two different kinds of harm: stress & fallout. These two harm systems will make the stakes feel real, and they’ll also inflict changes on your characters as you play.

Liminal Horror has a few things going for it. The basic rules are fairly straightforward, but they’re also free. The game is meant to be paired with pre-written adventures, which often include place descriptions, NPCs, and adventure-specific consequences to torture the characters with. A lot of the adventures available come with a price tag, but if you want to try out the system, there’s a couple of free ones out there - I recommend Messenger National Park, by capacityforwonder.

For the Ship And Its Crew, by Adeline Fowl Games.

We've crewed this Ship for years together. We've seen wondrous sights, gotten ourselves into seemingly insurmountable trouble, and have owed our fair share of creds to the wrong people. And yet, still, we fly. But after all these years, our past may be catching up with us. As the missiles tear across starlit space, we'll be forced to ask ourselves: What will we do, for the Ship and its Crew?

This is a hack of For the Queen, which mostly involves answering prompts, using something like a card deck, or in this case, a digital hosting service. Your group is telling a story by taking turns answering questions, which makes the game fairly easy to teach, even to people who don’t have a lot of roleplaying experience.

These kinds of games can also be played very quickly, which might also make it easier to introduce to folks who aren’t used to sitting around a grid and calculating resources for 2+ hours.

Other Recommendation Posts To Check Out…

Easy To Teach Recommendation Post

First Time GMs Recommendation Post

Little Reading or Writing Required Recommendation Post