#but only for themselves and APPARENTLY humans

[jamdoughnutmagician]

The Heat is On

Joseph Quinn!Johnny Storm x Fem!Reader (18+)

I'd wanted to write for him ever since that teaser trailer dropped a few days ago, and I wanted to challenge myself to keep it as close to 500 words as I could (534, but eh I'll take it.)

Also I wrote this with Joseph's version of the character in mind, but I guess you could imagine Evan's version in this too?

*divider by @bernardsbendystraws

Masterlist // Miscellaneous Characters Masterlist

With his usually perfect blonde hair being ruffled and dishevelled out of place by your eager hands and a devouring hunger gleaming in his blue eyes Johnny had your back pinned against the wall as his hands rested confidently on the plush skin of your ass. Your legs were suspended from the floor to wrap around his narrow hips as he slid himself into you with quick, but no less precise, thrusts. 

Since becoming The Human Torch, Johnny had become something of a ladies man, or at least that's what nearly every newspaper, magazine and gossip article tried to paint him as. Always there, ready and waiting to photograph him as he stumbled out of a glossy night-club. They were all so fascinated by Susan Storm's younger, apparently, as far as they were aware, was an eligible bachelor. 

 But you knew the truth.

Whilst he was more than certainly eligible in your eyes, bachelor he was not.

The truth that you had been with Johnny longer than he had ever been the Human Torch. His sister was your best friend, and it was practically her that pushed you together. Not that you were about to object to that. Not when you’d quietly been in love with him for so many years.

You’d been with him when he was just Johnny, your lovingly adorable, slightly dorky, boyfriend.

You both felt that it was better that you kept your relationship quiet. At least for the time being. He didn’t want to put you in danger by putting you front and center of the media’s spotlight, where anybody could tie you to him and use you as leverage against him. Likewise, you didn’t care for the hustle and bustle of everything that came with him being suddenly thrust into the public eye. Of course you weren’t thrilled when he was nearly constantly bombarded with beautiful women throwing themselves at him, but he never gave you any cause to worry when he would always end up in your bed with his lips pressing hotly against your skin.

But now, as his hands held on to your hips so steadily and his hips fucked up into you to chase the slick feeling of your cunt tightening on his cock with every deep thrust, you couldn’t imagine being anywhere else.

“You know you’re the only one for me, right” he mumbles as his lips are blazing a trail across your neck and collarbones. “You’re the only girl who makes me feel this way.”

You can barely do much more than moan, and surrender yourself to the feeling of him filling you up so perfectly every single time. His thick cock stretches you in the most delicious way.

His hot and nimble fingertips slip between your closely pressed bodies, eager to run precise circles around your clit enough to have you clinging to him as he ignites a burning fire in the pit of your stomach. A fire that burns brightly as he pushes you over the edge of pleasure with a wicked smile on his perfect face. By his own declaration, you were the only one for him, and likewise, he was the only one that you could ever want.

@penguinsandpotterheads @abitchyouhate @mrsjellymunson @songbirdmunson @seatnights @ali-r3n

[punkpandapatrixk]

🥖Establishing Your Identity ♦︎ Timeless Pick A Card

I promise you there isn’t a single thing that’s exciting about being a copy of someone else’s elegance or magnificence🌹Since that in itself is already effort anyway, if you must establish a unique identity, why not stay true to your Divinity?🌻After all, isn’t everybody already singularly UNIQUE within themselves?🌸Just as a tulip isn’t to be compared to a jasmine or a magnolia, each specimen of flowers is fully accepted to be uniquely BEAUTIFUL in its own way~🌷

As a human woman, all you need to do to become the highest expression of your DIVINE BEAUTY, is to think like a flower… DECENTRE THE OPINIONS OF THE PATRIARCHY, BIH!🥖🥖🥖

Who the fuck cares what some penis-wielding creature thinks a woman can or can’t do?🐙Why should you allow the self-restrictions of femcel women define the limits of your personal interests?🦐

In this world that’s only forgotten the value of individual beauty, never underestimate the importance of YOUR unique imprint~🐾Being individually, organically, singularly and identifiably ORIGINAL in a garden of factory-produced plastic flowers is possibly the greatest, most valuable gift of fragrance you could share with the Divine Femmes of this world~💐

Psst...did you know that flowers are an enlightened expression of plants? Yup.

music: Like A Flower by Red Velvet IRENE

film: Flowers (2010)

deck-bottom: XI Judgement Rx, Gold Astronomer (John Dee), Priestess of Healing

[PAC Masterlist] [Part 2] [Part 3]

[Patreon] [Paid Readings] [buymeaboba]

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

Pile 1 – Sweet Thorny Rose Who's Only for the Strong

vibe: Mafia In the morning by ITZY

seeds of Light – 6 of Cups

A bit dramatic. A bit over-emotional. More often than not, you’re super chaotic on the inside! Do you realise that you possess the superpower of HILARITY?🤪Yup, apparently that’s a word. You’re…rather unexpectedly…friendly, and actually pretty funny once people get to know you. Your hilarity, when displayed to the right people, can be panacea to their insecurity, confusion and even heartbreak🌿Oh my gosh, isn’t that a rare superpower—because obviously not that many people have your special kind of social intelligence!🐬

Most of all, you’re somebody who’s fiercely loyal to yourself! In the way that you simply exist, you sow the seeds of loyalty-to-self in the hearts and minds of those who are similar to yourself but lacking courage🦔In this world, people get swayed by external opinions, expectations and all that shit (blame the media, culture or whatever) and they become very doubtful of their worth and place in the world, so your particular kind of confidence in your sense of humour and self can be deeply healing, on top of inspirational~🌞

The thing about your confidence is, no matter what is at stake or what you have to sacrifice, you won’t let even the most expert manipulators, gaslighters or enablers bend and beat you into whatever stupid shape they wish you to be👻You stay true to your heart and vision no matter what it costs you to ‘lose’ in a battle of wit. You can ride the wave but you won’t lose yourself in the sauce. You never let society’s dictation—which is often highly unintelligent—influence your dreams or ideas about how you wanna go about Life~🧠

And that’s…how you win the war over your psyche! Now tell me how this isn’t a thing of the superheroes?🦄

growing and glowing – 7 of Pentacles Rx

In your boss babe aenergy, you tell yourself, every day, that you decide the pace of what you want to see manifest in your world. It sounds crazy and if you’re met with the wrong people, they’re gonna assume you’re a narc or a self-serving megalomaniac—but the whole time, you’re just a SIGMA or some shit🤪You’re the type of person who doesn’t require even an ounce of other people’s approving look to know that what you’re thinking for yourself is right. You, don’t even respond well to rules and orders that have ‘unreasonable’ written all over them🥴

And about ‘hard work’ or ‘hustle culture’? Well, if whatever is being discussed involves a lack of intelligence or sensibility, you ain’t buying it. It isn’t to say you can’t work hard at anything—it is to say that you will only devote yourself to endeavours that truly matter at the core of their conception🫀You don’t even buy this whole ‘work smart not hard’ narrative; for you, it’s always been about whether or not an effort is meaningful to your growth or the growth of the community in the grand scheme of everything. That, is how BIG your thinking gets🤯

And this is exactly what most people can’t even begin to grasp. People often frustrate you. And more likely than not, if you remain clear about these values of yours, you may be shunned by those that are weak and lazy in their minds🧳Their loss. You ain’t even interested in working or even walking with them slow ass fools—although you do possess enough empathy to understand that such fools are just afraid. But oh well~ can’t let other people’s Realities slow you down, now can you? So just like that, you keep on flying higher like a motherfucker🚀lmao

enlightened crown – King of Pentacles

Oh, you are certain to be richie rich at some point in Life—even if you had come from poverty, for instance, but that’s not the point. You’ve got this tenacity in you that’s obviously gonna be rewarded by some financial abundance in this lifetime. ‘Richie Bitchie’ is written all over your birth chart—go check, maybe you have strategic Capricorn/Saturn placements?🪐Anyway, keep your ‘genius hustle’ all to yourself and remember that you don’t gotta share your secret sauce to abundance with nobody who don’t respect you for you, OK?🍅🌶🥫

You’re free to live for yourself, in a paradise of your own making, with only your people—you know what I’m saying? When it comes to other people’s company, I always say: ‘Never chase after anybody’s attention. Let them prove themselves worthy of your affection.’ Then again, who am I to even be telling you this?🤡Your mind is strong and you already know all of this. Maybe you just need to be validated/reminded every now and then, so you don’t feel so alone in your ‘sigma’ aenergy🎃

Anyway, in a world so social, surely every one of us needs to compromise every now and then—after all, we live in society. But I think, you shouldn’t ever give in to its rules and expectations when it comes to your guarding your values🛡It’s weird how some people be making it sound like being assertive or introverted or shy or a loner is a crime—the world has bigger problems than girls liking their own company and focused on their personal goals🤹

UNLOCKING SUPERPOWERS🔻💜

courage to be yourself – Silver Historian (Polydore Vergil)

always be alright – Priestess of Luxury

Access bonus, cards + affs on Patreon🌸

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

Pile 2 – The Caterpillar Who Became the Butterfly Who Became a Dragon

vibe: New Woman by LISA

seeds of Light – XVII The Star

Hello, natural-born Superstar!🎇Do you have strong Aquarius placements or 11H Stellium? Maybe you have strategic fame-degrees in your natal chart? 5°, 17°, and 29° are three of the most common ‘fame degrees’ in astrology, so you might wanna check that out, too. Basically, since your preconception, you were written to be a trailblazer of sort. It doesn’t matter the capacity or the variety—you were designed to achieve some level of publicity or notoriety in this lifetime🎳huehue

For that very reason, in this incarnation, you were never meant to be static, just this one thing that appeals to everybody’s palates. Part of your ‘blueprint’ involves constantly changing and transforming yourself, your paradigms, again and again, numerous times until you become one again with your Higher Self whilst in a physical form💞REINVENTION is your middle name. You are boundlessly creative and fresh! Although sometimes you may get exhausted…

That said, if you’re somebody who isn’t easily defined, it’s only because you’re too ORIGINAL. It’s because you’re a PROTOTYPE fresh out of the blueprint; people are still catching up with figuring you out~🧬hahah But that’s what’s really exciting about being BORN EXTRAORDINARY, right? Many would love to be reborn as something similar to you in their next lives, did you know that?🎈

growing and glowing – 6 of Pentacles

The reason that you’re a prototype, which obviously can be quite a lonely experience, is that your Soul wanted to bring more extraordinary colours to the whole Human Experience itself. Your Soul saw and understood how drab and dull the lives of many on Earth look to the Celestials, so you came down to contribute something more exciting~☄️That was all, really. Uplifting of the human spirit, so that their eyes become upgraded enough to perceive more colours of Love~🌈

Prototypes are rarely the most popular things or people, but one thing for sure is that they’re remembered, venerated almost, as the ones who started this new thing no one had even thought about. Prototypes are ones forever remembered as a positive force of change; the opener of new pathways of thinking or being, breathing, living, expressing~🍏Of all the Piles, you really came down here to be of service—first and foremost by just being yourself😘

The truth of the matter is, it’s enough that you’re here. And if you really feel a pull towards that fame and notoriety, all you need to do right now is keep doing this one thing that’s most authentic to your Soul. Keep at it until you become so masterful at it the world can’t help but MANIFEST you into the world stage so people can actually benefit from your Lightwork! Crazy, right? But it’s really that easy! You really be magical like that, hoe~🤩

enlightened crown – 8 of Wands Rx

The 8 of Wands in reverse here is basically saying: ‘close your ears to the world!’🙉hahah No, no, it isn’t telling you to become a narc—it’s saying that you can safely listen to your Heart’s whisper when it comes to establishing your identity in this loudly confused world~🙈Babe, you’re the voice of reason that’s meant to tear down the old paradigm of boredom, where’s the sense in you instead following the crowds?🙊Ya got that?

If you’re going to grow and bloom into anything magnificent at all, might as well grow and bloom into the most enlightened expression of Yourself🌺Be honest, speak your truth, don’t get yourself killed lmao The way to immortality, the way to remaining evergreen in the minds of those still living on Gaia, is through being the most ICONIC person to ever walk there. And you can only be that way if you’re honest to your heart to boot🌼

Let yourself grow day by day, breathing deeply at every moment, and should the occasion arise, always be ready to paint yourself anew, to serve a new era of Mankind, where people actually get to establish their Heaven on Earth through conscious choices that reflect the Divinity within🐛Remember that you are the Prototype—one day all of Humanity is going to be just like you🦋But for now, you’re the caterpillar who turned into a butterfly who became a DRAGON!🐉

UNLOCKING SUPERPOWERS🔻💚

courage to be yourself – Silver Astrologer (John Dee)

always be alright – Priestess of Patience

Access bonus, cards + affs on Patreon🌸

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

Pile 3 – Sensitive and Strong Shine On Soft Spectre of Surreal Sunshine

vibe: Mantra by JENNIE

seeds of Light – 5 of Pentacles

Oh, you silly goose🦆On the outside you look unrealistically beautiful and almost intimidating, but on the inside, you’re just a smol hamster who wants to be friends with everybody🐹At the core of your being, you’re thee definition of a girl’s girl—anybody would be lucky to have you as a friend. You’re loyal as fuck. But hey, society is rife with losers, right? Your looks have gotten you misunderstood and hated for literally the lamest reasons. That’s a little ‘problem’ we could have for being a natural-born Royalty—those with a peasant mentality tend to harbour resentment to those they recognise as possessing an ✨EXPENSIVE✨ aura. You know that, right?🌛

Thing is, you’re not at all intimidating like Gordon Ramsay or Marco Pierre White or Anna Wintour. You’re a different kind of intimidating altogether. You’re sweet, beautiful, polite and friendly, basically you’re a ray of sunshine. People think you’re gullible—whoops!💀With you, it isn’t just a matter of status or accomplishment, but that people hate with a passion women like you who know exactly what you’re worth. Your standards for almost every aspect of your own existence are sky-high! Babe, you are the standard of existence🪁

Women like you are rare and should be cherished as a role model for young girls. High-quality Human female who not only possesses a good heart and brains but also has the audacity to own your pretty!🩰What’s society gonna do with a mutiny like this? Woman was supposed to take a supporting role and remain eternally humble and doubting herself so that man could take on the role of uplifting her from her 'default' confusion, right?🎣

Men have composed sleazy scriptures to confound the Divine Feminine; how dare you sing against their gospel?😫pffft

growing and glowing – Knight of Pentacles

Keep confounding them then. Give ‘em a taste of their own medicine, gurl. See, people think you’re gullible or stupid, right? That makes everything a lot easier—because in reality, you’re the kinda gal who strategizes immaculately, all while thinking to yourself: ‘This is how big girls play. If you can’t play the big games, go away.’ Actually, you take great pleasure in outdoing everybody if only you’d vocalise this😜Buuut, you’re too graceful for that~🤭

You’ve got sense. You’re superbly intelligent. You were most likely born rich or have that presence about you that gets everybody thinking: ‘Surely one day she’s gonna be stupid rich.’🫦Beware of leeches at every turn, girl! You’ve gotta be able to admit to yourself that not everybody’s gonna have your best interest at heart, OK? You could totally be targeted for your resources when people realise that they can’t even begin to compete with you on an even ground, let alone WIN against you. And that’s truly, really the sad part of all of this…🩸

Because you never wanted to compete with anybody. If you’ve ever competed with anybody it is with the you of yesterday. People are weird to be feeling a sense of competition with you, because the whole time, you chose to be born at this passage of time exactly to uplift other women—to awaken them from their own complicity in upholding the patriarchy. To simplify, and if you’ve never thought of this before, let this be the first time you’re hearing it…

enlightened crown – 9 of Wands Rx

Women who are inclined to feel inferior to you are those who possess a femcel psychology deep inside of them. These are the dangerous pick-mes, queen-mes, and malignant female narcs and manipulators. These types of women seek to be a harbinger of chaos in the lives of PRETTY GURLS like you. Don’t be wasting your time on these Ghislain Maxwell wannabes if you wanna live a prosperous Life!🤠

This that pretty girl mantra. Pretty girls don’t do drama… ‘less we wanna

Yup, ‘less you wanna and it’ll be depending on the type. ‘Bring the drama only if it’ll make me munny’📞lmao You smart like that. Drama is a hustle. Hustling can be dramatic. Reputation on the line? Might as well gain something out of it, so that whichever way the wind blows, you WIN BIG either way. Total boss babe move🚬

You’d never let people waste your time. Since dealing with people is exhausting anyway, you gotta make sure that you get some kind of compensation. Hmm I’m sure you’ve got some strategic, auspicious Capricorn/Saturn/10H placements hahah Jennie Kim, Jang Wonyoung and Lily-Rose Depp come to mind when I think about your aenergy. Such unfailingly kind, optimistic and beautiful aenergy~🎀

UNLOCKING SUPERPOWERS🔻💗

courage to be yourself – Silver Physician (John Dee)

always be alright – Priestess of Opulence

Access bonus, cards + affs on Patreon🌸

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

[PAC Masterlist] [Part 2] [Part 3]

[Patreon] [Paid Readings] [buymeaboba]

[asukaindetroit]

Post-Revolution DBH Headcanons: Android Culture Part 1

We only really see in-game androids up until the moment of their winning the revolution, so there's not much to go on in terms of android culture or anything. To be fair, most of them had been "alive" for like five seconds at that point, so they didn't exactly get time to develop anything like a culture, but here's some of what could happens after, in my head. Because we're talking about a whole new form of life, not humans 2.0 (yes, yes, I know it's Become Human, but, like, fundamentally they're not, and the things that make sense to an organic being aren't always going to make sense for a cybernetic one). (Feel free to borrow any of this for content purposes, by the way, if it vibes with you I'd love to see what you do with it). Expand for world building:

Clashing schools of thought among androids. The in-game androids are a one-dimensional monolith because Bad Writing, but I think there are conflicting ideas after the revolution of where androids belong in society. Some try their hardest to pass as human, losing the LEDs and dressing in human fashion and adopting human mannerisms. Some of them say fuck blending in with the humans; we're going to own being androids. Pro-human-cooperation and anti-human groups appear and become the basis for android political discourse.

On that note, I bet android body modification is a thing. Every once in awhile I'll see a fic that plays with this idea, but it's obvious that whatever fluid nanite stuff android skin is made of, it can be programmed to mimic all sorts of textures and densities. From fingernails to skin to the long hair on female models, the fluid holds stability for quite a distance from the chassis (and can even be cut) and is apparently easy to change. So I bet a counterculture of androids appear who get really experimental with that (I call them the "modders" in my head) and they do things like program animal skin textures or living stone or wacky colors or butterfly wings for hair or light-up polkadots or whatever. With a good mod tech, structural mods like tails or additional limbs would be possible, but that would be expensive compared to freeware skin texture patch codes or whatever. (Speaking of which, no effing way the furries/scalies of 2038 haven't come up with uses for this stuff.) So out and about you don't just see different human ethnicities, but also that guy you pass in the hall might have day-glo orange skin, and Sally the WR400 selling roses at the flower stand might have real-looking flowers growing out of her arms.

Androids define social units and families differently. Androids incorporated into human family units might use terms like parent, brother, sister, child, etc., but the ones that eschew human contact obviously don't have biological relatives, so social units form based on "found family" concepts and terms appear, like "cohab" for a unit of close androids who live together like a family, or "famnet" for an extended "network" of androids that consider themselves close). Worship of rA9 gets codified. It seems like writing rA9 obsessively and making little idols is almost a compulsion for deviants, so I imagine it gets organized into a proper religion after the revolution, with tenets and places of worship and codified practices. Maybe they call it something like ACorA9 (Android Church of rA9) or something. Obviously they would have finite space to write rA9s on, so I imagine devotees would get something like these water drawing boards to write their "rA9"s and maybe the serial numbers of androids the church deems to be their prophets/saints (i.e. the JeriCrew or maybe Ortiz's android as a martyr) as a sort of prayer. The revolution is seen as the first fulfillment of the rA9 prophecy, with Markus as a prophet of android freedom (I also imagine Markus is quietly creeped out by this, because he doesn't strike me as especially religious the way Ortiz's android or Rupert were, but he also doesn't want to send the wrong message since androids deserve religious freedom, too.) The FBI cult unit is probably monitoring the shit out of android religion, but all they seem to want to do is graffiti the walls and praise some other androids, so it's a waste of their time. RK units are viewed as some kind of cryptid folk heroes (because they're unique classified prototypes and they drive the entire revolution) Markus? RK200. Singlehandedly propelled Jericho from a place to gather and wait to die to a wholeass revolution. Connor? RK800. Supposed to hunt deviants but deviated instead and freed thousands upon thousands of androids right from the heart of CyberLife. Saved the revolution at its most desperate moment. Sixty? RK800. The only thing that has a chance at stopping an RK is another RK. Obviously the folk hero needs a folk villain. (And poor Nines, RK900, just wakes up after the fact and tries to figure out how to live up to that kind of reputation.) Androids develop their own art forms. Maybe android "music" is less about the tonality as perceived by human auditory range and more how the vibrations of sound waves register on chassis sensors, or else it sounds like 90s dial-up modems. Particularly dense data packets are created and shared that send processors whirling, but it just looks like a string of digits to humans. Arrays of pixels that run through optical scanners with an encryption to generate something representational. Thirium culinary arts centered around texture vs. flavor. Bare-chassis bars I bet some portion of androids want to be VERY certain there are no humans lurking around, or, if there are, that they're super easy to keep tabs on. Someone invents the bare-chassis bar: a place where androids go and sip their thirium, where a special signal jammer interrupts the ability of the synthskin fluid to organize, forcing it into an inactive mode. Anything that still has skin is a human, sticking out like a sore thumb. Some androids might not like going bare-chassis and they might not frequent those bars (just like not every human's going to visit a nude beach), but it's an option for those who want to. I'll write more of this stuff eventually, but if anyone else has any culture/worldbuilding ideas, I'd love to hear!

[gallifreyinstituteforlearning]

What is the current population of Gallifreyans living on Earth as of 2025? And is England really Gallifreyan central as suggested in the stories over the galaxy? And if so why and does the Doctor have anything to do with it?

Are there Gallifreyans on Earth?

🌍 Population Count: No Idea.

When Gallifreyans end up on Earth and decide to stay, they're usually there for a reason. Some might just like the idea of fourth retirement skiing in the Alps or enjoying New York's vibe. But not many Gallifreyans see Earth the way the Doctor does—which is to say, as the most important, most fascinating, most adventure-prone planet in the universe.

If a Gallifreyan is on Earth, it's usually not because they're drawn to it. It's because they don't want to be found. It's the perfect hiding spot for a few reasons:

✅ It's a primitive planet—which means it's legally protected from most direct alien interference under Galactic Law. Anyone trying to find the Gallifreyan will have to file a ridiculous amount of paperwork with the Shadow Proclamation, and no one wants to do that.

✅ They blend in extremely well. Gallifreyans look close enough to humans that they don't need to alter their biology, use a Chameleon Arch, or invent some tragic backstory.

So, are there Gallifreyans living on Earth? Almost definitely, but we'll never know how many.

👽Is the UK Really Gallifreyan Central?

1️⃣ Space-Time Hotspots – London and Cardiff are ridiculously active when it comes to weird space-time phenomena. The rift in Cardiff is basically a free energy source for any stranded or tired TARDIS. London, meanwhile, has enough alien invasions to be a nightmare for insurance companies. As a rule, Time Lords and TARDISes tend to get a little more drawn to places and times where there's more activity.

2️⃣ Treacherous Landings – Gallifreyan navigation systems are complex, and one wrong digit in the coordinates could send a TARDIS straight into the Pacific Ocean. Time Lords who end up on Earth often find themselves in the same few locations—not necessarily because they meant to, but because it's safer than materialising in the middle of nowhere.

3️⃣ The Doctor's Fault (Obviously) – Let's be real. Earth is a tiny planet, populated by a lesser species, and objectively not that interesting.

Most Gallifreyans haven't looked into it that much and have a very warped perception of Earth because the only information they get is from the Doctor's antics. If you were a Gallifreyan casually curious about Earth, you'd assume the entire planet consisted of:

London, which is constantly being invaded.

Cardiff, which apparently contains the only TARDIS fuel station worth stopping at.

Quarries, which seem to make up 90% of Earth's natural terrain.

A warehouse. Something's always going on in that warehouse.

Motorways that may or may not lead directly into hellscapes.

A rotating selection of remote villages with a tendency for cult activity.

Some other rural bits around the edge.

4️⃣ It's Trendy (Probably) – If the Doctor has a reputation for going here, then other young Gallifreyans might find it a bit trendy to visit as well. Some of them probably do it ironically. Some genuinely want to see what all the fuss is about. Some are definitely stranded and making the best of it.

🏫 So ...

We can be quietly confident that there are Gallifreyans on Earth right now, but we have no clue how many. The UK is Gallifreyan central—not intentionally, but it just keeps happening.

Is it the Doctor's fault? Absolutely.

Related:

💬|🪐🌍How is Gallifreyan geography different to Earth?: The landscape of Gallifrey.

💬|🧑💻How long until the Earth might reach the technological age of Gallifrey?: Handy guide for humans wishing to progress.

💬|👥🧑‍⚕️The Doctor: Hero, Rebel, or Nuisance?: Asking just what Gallifrey thinks of the Doctor.

Hope that helped! 😃

Any orange text is educated guesswork or theoretical. More content ... →📫Got a question? | 📚Complete list of Q+A and factoids →📢Announcements |🩻Biology |🗨️Language |🕰️Throwbacks |🤓Facts → Features:⭐Guest Posts | 🍜Chomp Chomp with Myishu →🫀Gallifreyan Anatomy and Physiology Guide (pending) →⚕️Gallifreyan Emergency Medicine Guides →📝Source list (WIP) →📜Masterpost If you're finding your happy place in this part of the internet, feel free to buy a coffee to help keep our exhausted human conscious. She works full-time in medicine and is so very tired 😴

[the-vampire-library]

The Appeal of the Devil’s Minion

(Guess what? It’s not just Old Man Yaoi. Or is it?)

The Vampire Chronicles spoiler warning

Jokes aside, I was wondering why the side pairing became even more popular than the main one. In my opinion, the reasons are the following:

Old Man Daniel is the most relatable character. Not for everyone for sure, but for so many of us. The struggle of getting older, chronic illnesses are the issues anyone could experience and vampirism as a way to solve these issues seems appealing. Not only that, but Daniel is the ONLY character who wanted to be a vampire from the beginning. Lestat didn’t want to be a vampire at all. Armand wanted to be forever with his Master, and vampirism was a way to achieve it, but it wasn’t the eternal life he desired (I might be filling the gaps the show had with book knowledge). Louis wasn’t thinking clearly when he was turned so his turning wasn’t consensual. Claudia didn’t have a choice at all. Madeleine didn’t care about vampirism, she just wanted to be with Claudia, and it was dangerous for her to stay with Claudia as a human, because vampire companionship almost always involves drinking blood from each other both in vampire-vampire and in human-vampire companionships, and Claudia just can’t stop when she’s drinking. For Daniel, it’s different. He saw the Dark Gift as a way to avoid struggles of human life from the very beginning. And this is how many of us see vampirism – a promise of eternal life, and a promise of something more than a human life.

Pity for Armand. As much as you can hate him for his lies and betrayal, it’s not his fault he is the way he is. Sexual slavery is enough of a trauma, but then the years he spent with Marius who didn’t even want him for who he was. Marius already had the love of his life, Pandora, he just couldn’t be with her. And after that, Armand was kidnapped and tortured by the Roman coven, who killed Armand’s brothers in front of him. Marius abandoned him and (according to the books) very soon found a replacement for Amadeo – Bianca. Then years with the Roman coven where not only he had to worship Satan being a very religious person, but he saw vampires go crazy and throw themselves into the fire. It was never discussed in the show, but apparently, being a vampire does irreversible damage to the soul. Even if you were a normal person before turning, the constant need to kill, the act of feeding on humans cooks your brain. That’s why vampires need to rest from time to time – to go underground and hibernate. Armand never did it; he didn’t know it was an option. He was carrying the burden of all his kills all this time. Then Lestat, who adored Armand but didn’t want to be with him. I do not believe it was the way Armand told Daniel in s2ep3, because he didn’t tell Daniel at least about Gabriel and probably lied about members of the Paris coven who “went mad, ended themselves”. Because in the books HE killed them. But Armand and Lestat are certainly not normal about each other and Lestat’s reluctance to be with him hurts Armand. Then Louis who never wanted Armand for who he was. I believe they loved each other. They just spoiled everything with their behavior. After all of this, Armand deserves someone who will love him unconditionally for who he is, and it is Daniel. The freak he is, who loves not Armand’s beauty, but the frightening things about him. And that also makes Armand somewhat sympathetic. The idea of meeting someone who will love the darkest things about us.

The general “Will you still love me when I’m no longer young and beautiful”. Obviously, Eric is attractive at his 70+ y.o., we are not arguing about it here. But we all have our insecurities, and this idea that it is possible that someone will love us when we are old and burdened with issues makes Old Man Daniel even more relatable. Vampires don’t see humans the way we see them or the way we see each other. In the books when Lestat describes feeding on humans, it’s always about attraction. Vampires love their victims as their lovers when they drink their blood. I think it cooks the brain even more. Imagine loving every person you feed on and watching/feeling them die. Imagine that you have made a decision to kill only criminals. Now you have to love said criminal, see all their wrongdoings when you feed. (I wonder if they will elaborate on this in the show). And now you have a vampire who also loves you unconditionally, no matter how you look, no matter how much you failed in life. A vampire, who is more worried about your beautiful mind than anything else.

Can you think about a story more romantic? I can’t.

[threepandas]

Bad End: Happy Hunting! (1)

I should have known better. They told us. TRAINED US. Over and over, drilled into our heads! Don't assume! Don't PROJECT Human body language onto alien species! Think that just because they look similar, are ACTING similar, their brains are in any way WORKING similar!

Not every species pack bonds! Some of them are PREDATORS. Be CAREFUL!

I was an idiot. A fucking IDIOT!

I gasped for air. Ran. Ran and ran and RAN. Desperately trying to put distance between me and the hunters behind me. I could hear screams. Crashing. The sound of weapon fire. The air here wasn't RIGHT. Too high in oxygen? Too low? Some other trace element, slowly poisoning my lungs?

I didn't know. Scared! Oh god, I'm so scared!

I thought he was my friend!

Thought THEY were my friends! Stupid. So God damned stupid! You really will pack bond with ANYTHING, won't you?! They bare their teeth and you fucking thought it was a SMILE! No wonder I barely graduated. They never should have-!

A root catches my foot.

Crashing to the mulch of the forest floor. Scramble to get up. My ankle on fire. Hurts. Oh god it hurts! Ignore it. Go! Keep going! Gotta get OUT! Find a ship. Any ship! Radio for help!

All the trees look the same. Am I even going in a straight line? Deeper or across? Away from civilization? I don't know how to survive here! Can I even drink the water? No. Run! Just RUN! Nothing else!

I can't hear them.

Him.

I thought he was my friend.

My grades were shit. Worst of the Best, but ultimately good enough. Got to see the stars. The galaxy. Meet real life aliens. Was a glorified gofer for the Earthling Diplomat's Entourage. Galactic Council offered staff. Wasn't really an offer. We took um. Some of them were the "better" guards then the super military badasses we had brought.

Military badasses were pretty offended.

But I was a gofer. Not my circus, not my monkeys. Just here for the aliens, right? Yay getting to meet some, right? I couldn't even PRONOUNCE their species name. I was mortified. Tried my damnedest. They thought it was hilarious. My pronunciation was god awful. Was calling them the cutesy babified version of "office chair".

Met Wolfe. He seemed FRIENDLY. Kind. Considerate. He told jokes. Asked about my day. I started sharing. Hobbies and interests. Stories about home. Explained weird human behaviors. We were close. I... I thought we were close! Was it a lie? Was everything A LIE!?

When my rotation in space was coming to an end, I was SAD! Fucking HEARTBROKEN! That I might never see my friends again. Since communication between our two planets wasn't even stabilized yet. Might never be. I wanted to savor our time together. Treasure it!

But then things started to go wrong.

Random malfunctions, that delayed and delayed us. Lost communications that nearly caused interplanetary incidents. Took days and weeks to fix at a time. People went MISSING. We looked. Every time we LOOKED!

They're dead, aren't they? Oh god. Dozens of crew members DEAD.

Then the engine "broke". Conveniently just close enough for us to make an emergency landing on this planet! And oh, would you look at THAT! A sacred cultural festival!? They won't help us unless we join in.

It's a MARRIAGE HUNT.

Heavy emphasis on the HUNT part!

They weren't surprised. Not a single one. Every last one just turned too different people and... and...! Wolfe planned this. THEY planned this! We're gonna die. I trusted him and now I'm gonna DIE! Can't breathe! Branches whipping at my arms and hair and face, as I RUN. Down slopes. Across shallow rivers. Even as my limbs BURN. I... I HAVE TOO-!

A powerful wall of muscle slams into me.

I scream. Thrash, even as I fall. My arms are easily tucked and pinned against my side, as the body covering mine rolls with me down a slight incline. The smell of wet plant matter and upturned soil thick in the strange air. Dizzy. I feel sick. Oh god please no!

Heat and pressure pin me down. Arms like thick steel bands. Still, I struggle, like a cornered animal. I have too. They always tell you to FIGHT. Only chance and survival. The deep rumble of crooned reassurances in an alien dialect fill my ear. I can feel how DEEPLY he breathes me in, before each sentence. Like hes been holding back and finally no longer has too, is giddy with it. How his hands already spread possessively, eager to explore.

And he's strong. Oh god, he's so strong! Please please please! Let go. LET GO!

"Shhhhhh shh shh, is 'okay' now. I have you. You ran so hard! Did so well! My precious little human~ so brave. So strong. You did it! Now, no one can EVER seperate us! You don't have to worry anymore. No more tears~" Hunter, Warrior, oh god it was never a GRIN-! His teeth are so sharp. Pressed so close to my skin!

"I'll take care of EVERYTHING~"

I'm scared.

[cuteniarose]

Sometimes I wish I had more people interested in my creations, but then I get hit by thoughts like “Imagine the outrage you’d be faced with if your Avatar Suiren AU was more popular. This is the fandom that still cannot ‘forgive’ Korra for SOMETHING THAT WAS DONE TO HER, calling her the worst Avatar for losing the connection to her past lives (which came about because she HAD RAAVA LITERALLY RIPPED OUR OF HER) and acting like that is somehow a worse offence than, say, inaction leading to genocide. The hate you’d get for intentionally making Suiren the last Avatar would be IMMEASURABLE” and go “… actually, I’m glad that for the most part it’s just @katkastrofa and I–”

(Though then again… would it even be an AU by yours truly if it didn’t contain at least one cancellable offence? 😁)

[snekdood]

saw the other day someone say that "mary sues are for people who think everyone should treat them like they're the best ever" and buddy, trust me, at no point am i under the delusion that people will be nice to me in a normal and sufficient way. this is how i *wish* people treated me, not how I expect them to or think they should. trust me i know humanity sucks and will never be cool and nice, dont you worry, dont need to prove my point more, making me retreat even more to a fantasy world because clearly there's nothing here in humanity for me so w/e

[autistic-shaiapouf]

Hanging out and waiting for the flea spray to dry and then I get to vacuum again and wipe down everything in my room!!! Yippee!!!!

[hello-eeveev]

this twitter thread really got to me. because yeah. it is a torment and it is a blessing, and the reward comes from struggling through pinning down the vast expanse of your imagination to the written word. the self is inherent to the process. the way we experience the world influences how we describe it in language and how we organize it into something told linearly.

yeah. I care about writing stories so much. I care about how I tell them and the way I tell them because the process is what makes the story. somewhere between all the floating plot points in your head and the trying to put it into the right words in the right order, the life essence of the story generates itself.

to surrender the process to something that does not experience the magnificent struggle of being alive is a tremendous loss.

[gothasmo]

If Ais potentially finds MC at the beginning and brings them to Kuras, I wonder if Kuras directs patients that are beyond his abilities to the Seaspring as a last resort as their final choice...

[wanderingandfound]

Second time in about 48 hours that I have gone into the search mines to bring out a specific pride flag for my blog only to be met with either long or thoughtless posts about how x flag is the most inferior or y flag is the most superior while shitting on other flag designs. Like, I am all for making as many flags as you want — the more the merrier no monopolies here. I would just like for people to keep in mind:

Which communities (including geographical and cultural!!!) specific flags come from and why they were created.

You do not need to be represented by every single stripe for the flag to be applicable to you.

If a flag is featuring a specific identity there's probably a reason for that, I don't care if it's ugly.

Please cite sources and inspiration! Flags represent communities and usually come from community involvement and influence.

Seriously unless a flag was made purposefully to demean or alienate others it's probably fine. You don't have to use it or prefer it and you can be annoyed with it but it doesn't mean it's the end of the world.

[mariocki]

Thirty Minute Theatre: Not Counting the Savages (BBC, 1972)

"I didn't look round, of course, but when I went round to tidy the other side of the grave, I... became aware of a man standing up against the wire fence. At first I thought that he'd caught his handkerchief or something white on it, and then I realised what it was."

"What?"

"He was exposing himself. Exposing himself to me."

"Well, you've seen one before."

"But I was... I was terribly upset. You can't know how distressed I was! I still am."

"Why? You're an old woman. Why should you be upset? It was play-acting. You're an old woman."

[solxamber]

Trash Novel Chronicles: Please Let Me Live - Vil Schoenheit x reader

You get isekai'd into the worst novel you've had the misfortune of reading because apparently your life is a cosmic joke. Now all you have to do is not act like the character you've possessed and it'll be fine, you think? Your fiancé being Vil Schoenheit makes it a little harder to behave like a human being with functional braincells, but hey, atleast he likes you, you think?

Series Masterlist

You'd avoided it for so long. For months, your best friend had been pestering you to read the shoujo isekai novel of the year. According to them, it was the epitome of romantic drama, the kind that would "turn your heart into a mess of feelings" and "change your life." So, finally, after a particularly grueling week, your willpower hit rock bottom. You caved. You bought it, poured yourself a drink, and figured, "How bad can it be?"

Turns out, really bad.

You’d barely made it past the first few chapters before your brain began to leak out of your ears. Every overused villainess plot point imaginable was crammed into the story like a contest of "how much nonsense can we fit in here before the reader gives up?" The evil fiancée everyone inexplicably hated? Check. The perfect cinnamon roll male lead everyone adored even though he had the personality of wet cardboard? Double check. The heroine who was so pure that even her sneeze would be enough to unite warring nations who also happens to be the saintess? You had to put the book down and take a moment when she gave a speech about friendship that was so saccharine, your teeth hurt.

Grumbling and filled with regret, you got up to refill your drink… only to slip on bubble wrap you swore yesterday that you were going to pick up later, fall face-first into the kitchen counter, and began to bleed out.

It was a comically stupid way to die. You knew that as you lay there, watching the light fade from your vision, your last thoughts being, This is the dumbest thing that’s ever happened to me.

And then, darkness.

You woke up with a groan, your head pounding. As your vision cleared, you noticed you were lying in a very, very fancy bed. Silk sheets, gold trimming on the canopy, the works. And you were dressed in something frilly, layered, and far too complicated for someone who just woke up from a near-death experience.

"What the…"

You sat up, rubbing your eyes, only to freeze as the realization hit you. This was not your bed. This was not your apartment. This was… Oh god, no.

You whipped your head around the lavish room, recognizing it from the novel you’d been hate-reading just last night. The massive mirror above the dresser, the tapestry with an overly detailed family crest, the obnoxiously large bouquet of roses that smelled way too sweet.

You’re in the book.

Panicking, you scrambled out of bed and rushed to the full-length mirror by the wall. The reflection staring back at you was not your own. Instead, you saw an unfamiliar face—her face. The one mentioned once, maybe twice, in the whole novel before being discarded like an old shoe: the betrothed of the villain.

The fiancée who dumps him for the male lead. The fiancée who gets themselves killed in the process.

“Oh, come on!” you groaned, slapping your forehead. “I’m the villain’s betrothed? I’m that idiot who leaves Vil Schoenheit because I fall for the human incarnation of a sugar cube?”

But there was no escaping it. You were now stuck in the body of a side character so irrelevant that even her death was treated as an afterthought. The one who leaves her handsome, ambitious, gorgeous fiancé for… Neige.

No. No, no, no. You were not about to die over a soggy cinnamon roll.

Determined to change your fate, you gathered your wits and opened the door to leave the room. But of course, you ran headlong into a tall figure, knocking you both back.

“Oof! Careful there!” a smooth, yet stern voice said. You looked up—and froze. Standing before you, looking like something straight out of a high-fashion magazine, was Vil Schoenheit. The man whose heart you were supposed to break, the villain who would later descend into madness after you ditch him.

And wow. In person, he was even more stunning than the novel had described. His golden-blond hair shimmered in the sunlight pouring through the window, his purple eyes were as sharp as they were beautiful, and his posture screamed confidence.

You blinked up at him, utterly dumbfounded. You’re supposed to leave him? For Neige? You nearly gagged at the thought.

Vil raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed by your wide-eyed staring. “Is something the matter?”

You gulped. Right. You were supposed to be cold and dismissive toward him, weren’t you? But how? This man looked like he could make the heavens weep with his beauty. How had your character ever even considered leaving him?

“No, nothing’s the matter!” you blurted out, a little too enthusiastically. “Actually, everything’s great! You look fantastic! I mean, not that you don’t always look fantastic—because you do—but, you know, extra fantastic today!”

Vil’s eyes narrowed. “You’re acting strange.”

Abort. Abort!

You quickly cleared your throat. “Uh, I’ve just been… thinking. About us.”

His gaze became sharper. “About us?”

You nodded, plastering on your most sincere smile. “Yes! I’ve realized… I haven’t been very, uh, appreciative of you lately. And I’m sorry for that. Really, I am. So from now on, I’ll be the most appreciative fiancée ever!”

Vil looked at you as though you’d just told him the sun was cold. He clearly didn’t trust this sudden change in attitude. “What exactly brought this on?” he asked slowly, suspiciously.

Time for Plan B. “Oh, you know, just… reflection! Self-improvement! I thought, ‘Why would I ever look anywhere else when I’ve got someone like *you* right in front of me?’ You’re… amazing, really.” You cringed internally at how corny that sounded, but Vil didn’t seem entirely put off.

“Hm,” was all he said, but his piercing gaze stayed locked on you, watching for any sign of deceit.

You were sweating bullets, but at least he wasn’t storming off. Yet.

You knew from the moment you read the back cover that this novel was going to be a dumpster fire of clichés, but you were not prepared for the sheer chaos of it all.

So, first off, we have the heroine—the Saintess—who has somehow never faced a single hardship in her life, despite the fact that she’s supposed to be the kingdom’s beacon of virtue and a symbol of overcoming hardship. She’s engaged to the crown prince, who conveniently disappears on a diplomatic mission and dies offscreen, probably to make room for her new love interest, Neige LeBlanche. Neige. That sparkly ray of sunshine who is so perfect and pure that you feel like you need sunglasses whenever his name is mentioned. Because apparently, what’s more romantic than falling for a guy immediately after your fiancé kicks the bucket?

Then there’s the second male lead, the brooding Duke of the North, who checks all the boxes: tall, brooding, handsome, tragic backstory—yawn. Of course, he’s madly in love with the Saintess, and like any self-respecting second male lead in a trashy romance, he sacrifices himself for her later. Because nothing says “I’m irrelevant” quite like noble self-sacrifice.

And don't even get started on the heroine's best friend. She’s basically there to fawn over the Saintess and then inexplicably fall for Vil, the Grand Duke, after she pressures him into apologizing for insulting the heroine's dress. Like, why? Was his dress critique that alluring?

Now, Vil Schoenheit. The Grand Duke. The guy you’re currently stuck with as your fiancé. He’s actually a decent character—powerful, intelligent, not falling over himself to worship the Saintess like everyone else. But in the novel, he’s wasted. Why? Because he’s engaged to the character you’re now possessing—Miss Mean and Cold—who treats him like dirt because she’s too busy fantasizing about Neige. You know, the guy she has no shot with because he’s destined to fall for the Saintess. Then, when your character eventually dumps Vil for Neige, she dies in a freak accident. Vil, who actually loved her (for reasons no one understands), is so heartbroken that he turns into the main villain.

Yes, that’s right—this whole mess of a plot ends with Vil going full villain mode because the love of his life ditched him for the living embodiment of a children’s snowman and then died in a way that no one can explain. Cue the Saintess and Neige teaming up to defeat him and live happily ever after.

And that’s the story. A tangled web of nonsensical relationships, conveniently dead characters, and more emotional whiplash than you can handle. And the cherry on top? You're stuck in it, watching everything unfold firsthand. It's honestly a wonder the book didn’t end up as kindling.

A few days passed, and somehow, miraculously, you managed to keep up the act. Every morning you would wake up, still half-expecting to snap out of this bizarre isekai nightmare, but instead, you were met with Vil’s meticulous morning routine and the low hum of his voice offering helpful reminders about skincare.

And the more time you spent with him, the more baffled you became.

How the hell could the original character have messed this up?!

Sure, Vil was particular—okay, maybe borderline obsessive—about appearances. His lectures about proper sunscreen application could rival the length of the Odyssey. And yes, the daily inspections of your outfit choices felt a little like going through customs at a royal border.

But… he was kind? Like, actually caring?

Every meal was an event because he made sure you were eating properly and not just shoving random food into your mouth like the gremlin you clearly were before. He listened when you rambled about your day, offering advice with this gentle patience that honestly made you want to weep. How could anyone leave this?

You found yourself in front of a mirror one afternoon, pacing and gesturing wildly at your reflection, as if you could summon the spirit of the character you’d possessed. "What the actual hell was wrong with you?!" you hissed at the glass. “What kind of brain rot would make someone ditch a man like Vil?! Are you missing brain cells, or was your skull just a rental with nothing in it?!”

You paused, glaring at your reflection as if it could offer answers, but nope. It just stared back, helpless.

“Like, hello?!” you continued, throwing your hands up in exasperation. “You had a golden opportunity here! He’s literally gorgeous! He’s got hair that looks like it was hand-spun by some ancient beauty god, his fashion sense could kill a lesser mortal, and he—*gasp*—cares about your well-being?!”

You slapped your forehead dramatically. “How did you mess this up? Were you allergic to good things? Did you wake up every day and choose to be a feral raccoon instead of, I don’t know, appreciating this actual masterpiece of a human being? What, did you look at his perfect face and go, ‘Nah, I’d rather yeet myself into self-destruction?’ Because clearly, that’s what happened!”

Your reflection remained silent, offering no help, which only fueled your rant further.

“You absolute donut! You ridiculous bottle of poorly mixed potion! You—” You stopped mid-sentence, running out of sufficiently creative insults to throw at the former owner of this body. Because seriously, what kind of fool would’ve thrown Vil away?

You gripped the sides of the vanity table, leaning forward, narrowing your eyes at your own reflection. "If I find out that you gave up on this because he once asked you to wear a face mask or told you to drink more water… I swear, I'm going to find a way to repossess you just to kill you again for making me deal with this."

A soft knock at the door startled you out of your self-directed tirade. You nearly jumped out of your skin, spinning around to see Vil standing in the doorway, one perfectly groomed eyebrow raised in amusement.

“Talking to yourself again?” he asked, his voice smooth but with a teasing edge. “You know, that’s usually a sign of stress. Perhaps we should revisit that meditation routine I mentioned.”

You stared at him, wide-eyed and speechless, wondering how much he’d overheard. But then you caught sight of that soft smile he reserved just for you, and your brain short-circuited all over again.

Right. The original character was definitely an idiot.

The first major hurdle hit you when you least expected it.

It all started with what should have been a calm afternoon—a brief moment of peace where you and Vil could actually spend time together, no schemes, no weird confrontations, just enjoying tea. You were finally getting comfortable with each other, slowly building the trust that had been so fragile at the start. Finally, you thought, things were moving smoothly.

Then the overused villainess trope decided to rear its ugly head.

Vil was talking about an upcoming event he’d be hosting, his voice calm, his usual stern features softened just slightly by the moment of peace. You were finally letting your guard down.

That was until the door creaked open and in waltzed the heroine’s best friend, a girl with wide, doe-like eyes and a penchant for stirring up unnecessary drama. Behind her, looming in the doorway, was the second male lead—your eternal source of frustration from the novel. He was tall, brooding, and always, always popping up at the most inconvenient moments. A defeated looking Epel walked in behind them, with a look that screamed 'trust me I tried to stop them.'

“Oh no,” you whispered under your breath, recognizing this scene before it could even play out. You knew what was coming, and you braced yourself for the utter absurdity of it.

Vil’s sharp gaze flicked from the two intruders back to you, his brows furrowing in mild irritation. “What is it now?” he muttered, already sensing the impending nonsense.

The heroine’s friend, ever the bringer of chaos, marched right up to your table with a dramatic flair that could only come from someone who believed they were the only purveyor of justice. “I can’t stay quiet any longer!” she declared, pointing an accusatory finger in Vil’s direction. “Vil, how could you treat the heroine this way?! You’ve been so cold, so distant—and it’s clear that you don’t truly care for anyone but yourself!”

You blinked. Excuse me?

Vil’s lips pursed, the irritation growing on his face. “And what, pray tell, did I do?”

“You know what you did!” she exclaimed, crossing her arms like she’d just delivered the most damning statement in history. “You’ve been ignoring her, brushing her off, and acting like she doesn’t even exist. She’s heartbroken because of you!”

You groaned internally. Oh no, this was that scene. The one where, because Vil once made an offhand comment about the heroine’s poor choice in dresses at a ball, suddenly he was painted as some cruel villain who was emotionally tormenting the delicate heroine. It was such an incredibly stupid misunderstanding that you distinctly remembered wanting to throw the book across the room when you’d first read it.

To make matters worse, the second male lead, standing silently but brooding in the doorway, was glowering at Vil like he was ready to challenge him to a duel at any moment. Because of a comment about a dress.

“Are you serious?” you blurted out, the frustration bubbling up before you could stop yourself.

The heroine’s friend gasped, her eyes wide. “Excuse me?!”

“Let me get this straight,” you said, rising from your seat with a groan, “you’re upset because Vil, what, didn’t shower her with praise at the last event? And now you’ve decided to come in here, storming into our tea time, to complain about it?”

The second male lead’s brooding scowl deepened, his jaw tightening. “Vil has been cruel—”

“About a dress.” You cut him off, waving your hand dismissively. “Vil made one comment about her dress. That’s it. And now we’re doing this whole song and dance like he’s some kind of evil tyrant?”

The room was already tense, the heroine’s best friend visibly fuming, but you couldn’t help it. The words just came out before you could stop them.

“And while we’re at it,” you said, your voice dripping with mock innocence, “let’s talk about that dress. You know, the one you’re all so upset about. I mean, I’m no fashion expert, but who in their right mind thought wearing that shade of mustard-yellow was a good idea?”

The friend’s mouth fell open, but you weren’t finished. “I mean, she walked into the ballroom looking like a sad banana trying to go to a high society function. I get it—saintess and all that—but there’s no reason to dress like the interior of an overripe cantaloupe.”

Vil made a choking sound next to you, and you dared to glance at him. His eyes were wide with shock, but there was an unmistakable glint of amusement. Oh, he wasn’t pleased with the crudeness, but he definitely wasn’t going to stop you either.

“And you,” you said, turning to the second male lead, who had been standing there like a silent, brooding statue, just staring at the two of you menacingly. “What’s your excuse? You came in here with all this brooding energy, acting like you’re about to duel someone over the fate of the heroine. But seriously, what’s with your whole tragic hero act? Is your personality just permanent raincloud or do you practice that in the mirror?”

Vil covered his mouth with his hand, and you could see his shoulders shaking slightly. He was losing the battle to keep his composure, but he was trying—for dignity’s sake, of course.

Epel, on the other hand, had completely given up. The moment you’d said “sad banana,” he had fallen off his chair, doubled over in laughter, his face red as he clutched his sides. You weren’t sure if it was your insults or the second male lead’s thunderstruck expression, but either way, Epel was in hysterics.

“I—” the heroine’s friend sputtered, but you interrupted her again.

“Oh, and you.” You looked her up and down with a condescending smirk. “You really want to talk about fashion? Because I don’t know who told you that wearing ruffles with plaid was a look, but they were wrong. You’re out here looking like you got lost in a fabric store and fell into the clearance bin.”

This time, Vil snorted. Actually snorted. The sound was so out of place that it almost derailed your tirade, but you powered through, buoyed by his reaction.

The second male lead looked like he was ready to explode, his aura now bordering on murderous. “You can’t just—”

“Oh, can’t I?” you shot back, crossing your arms. “Because it seems like all of you came in here with the intent to stir up drama over something as trivial as a constructive remark. If you’re going to go to war over fashion, at least wear something that doesn’t look like you picked it out with your eyes closed. Scratch that, I couldn’t imagine picking that up even with my eyes closed.”

By now, Epel was rolling on the floor, laughing so hard he could barely breathe. “C-couldn’t pick it out… with your eyes closed!” he wheezed, slapping his knee.

Vil, despite himself, let out a low giggle, shaking his head in disbelief. “Well,” he said, his voice steady but filled with mirth, “I suppose subtlety was never your strong suit.”

The heroine’s friend, now red-faced and flustered beyond belief, grabbed the second male lead by the arm and yanked him toward the door. “This isn’t over,” she spat, glaring at you. “We’ll see who’s laughing when the heroine—”

“Yeah, yeah,” you waved dismissively, “when the heroine what? Realizes she’s been pining for someone who can't tell mustard from elegance? Trust me, I’m not worried.”

With that, they both stormed out, slamming the door behind them in a huff of embarrassment and frustration. The second they were gone, you let out a breath and sank back into your chair, grinning at Vil, who was now openly smiling.

“You really didn’t hold back, did you?” Vil said, his amusement evident despite his usual calm demeanor. “I don’t approve of such… crude insults, but I must admit—” his lips twitched— “it was rather effective.”

Epel, still recovering from his laughing fit, managed to haul himself back into his seat, wiping tears from his eyes. “That was… that was the funniest thing I’ve ever seen,” he said between gasps for air. “I can’t believe ya said that right to their faces!”

“Glad to be of service,” you said with a grin, though your heart was still pounding in your chest. You couldn’t believe you’d actually said all of that out loud. But judging by Vil’s pleased expression and Epel’s ongoing laughter, it had been worth it.

Maybe surviving this trash novel wouldn’t be so bad after all.

You’d barely had time to process how bizarrely normal your life as the villain’s fiancée had become when the next absurd isekai plot point decided to rear its ugly, trope-filled head again.

It all started at yet another lavish tea party. Honestly, you’d begun to lose track of how many of these events you were forced to attend. They all blurred together into a haze of polite smiles, floral patterns, and far too much sugar.

This time, you were seated next to Vil, who, as always, looked like he had just stepped out of a renaissance painting. You, on the other hand, were trying not to spill tea on the new dress he’d insisted you wear. The dress itself was lovely, of course—Vil had impeccable taste—but the whole setting made you feel like you were constantly walking on eggshells. Especially since she was here. The heroine.

Today, though, you were determined to get through it without any drama. Just smile, nod, and let the heroine do her thing. Easy, right?

Wrong.

Everything had been going smoothly, too. The heroine, in all her sunshiney glory, was seated at the table, surrounded by her usual group of admirers. You had been doing a great job of fading into the background until someone—the hostess, perhaps?—brought up your previous adventures.

“Oh, didn’t you once accompany the Grand Duke to deal with that bandit problem on the eastern border?” the hostess asked, fanning herself with interest. “What a thrilling ordeal!”

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, feeling the weight of too many eyes on you. “Well, I wouldn’t say thrilling exactly…” you began, trying to downplay it, but your nerves had other ideas. “I mean, the heroine here was probably off rescuing some poor lost puppy while I was just, you know, holding down the real danger.”

The air went cold.

The moment the words left your mouth, you froze. The table fell silent, save for the quiet clinking of teacups being set down. Every eye was on you. The heroine’s wide, eyes blinked at you, full of hurt and confusion. And across from you, the second male lead—Mr. Tall, Dark, and Brooding—looked like he was ready to leap across the table and strangle you on the spot.

Oh no. Oh no no no. Why did you leave your filter at home?

You opened your mouth to apologize, but before you could, the second male lead slammed his cup down on the table, the porcelain rattling ominously. “You dare insult her honor?!” he roared, rising from his seat like some kind of vengeful storm cloud. “I will not stand for this!”

*Why did I say that?* You cringed internally, face turning a bright shade of crimson. "I-it was a joke—"

“No,” he declared dramatically, pointing a finger at you. “I demand satisfaction! A duel for her honor!”

You were still too stunned to respond, your brain scrambling to make sense of the situation. A duel? Over this? All you’d implied was that the heroine wasn’t exactly… battle-hardened. Surely that wasn’t duel-worthy? This man was acting like you’d called his mother a turnip or something worse.

The heroine, ever the epitome of grace, tried to intervene. “There’s no need for—”

But Mr. Broody wasn’t having it. “No! Her honor has been besmirched, and I shall defend it with my life!”

Vil, who had been watching this spectacle unfold with an expression of mild disgust, finally rose from his chair. His cool gaze swept over the table, landing on the second male lead with all the intensity of a snake about to strike.

“If anyone’s honor has been besmirched,” Vil said icily, “it’s mine. And I will not allow my betrothed to be disrespected by the likes of you.”

You blinked up at Vil, stunned. “Wait, you’re going to duel him? Yourself?”

Vil turned his piercing gaze to you, and though his face remained calm, there was a glimmer of something softer in his eyes. “Of course,” he said. “I would never entrust such a matter to anyone else. Besides…” His lips curled into a smirk. “It’s been a while since I’ve put an upstart in his place.”

You gulped, suddenly feeling a bit light-headed. Was it getting hot in here?

The second male lead, apparently unaware of just how screwed he was, smirked triumphantly. “Very well! Let’s settle this once and for all.”

The duel was set for the next day in your estate gardens. You spent the time leading up to it pacing back and forth in your chambers, wringing your hands in nervous anticipation. Somewhere along the way, you’d decided that you needed to do something—anything—to support Vil. So you had spent hours learning how to embroider a handkerchief, your fingers aching from the effort. By the time you finished, you were practically shaking, but you were proud of the result.

You didn’t expect Vil to be touched, let alone notice that you’d worked so hard. But when you handed him the handkerchief just before the duel, his eyes widened in surprise.

“You made this?” he asked, holding it delicately between his fingers, as if it were some priceless artifact.

You nodded sheepishly. “I figured, you know, for luck. Or to rub it in his face after you beat him. Whichever.”

Vil chuckled, his usually sharp expression softening. “Thank you,” he said, his voice low. He then noticed the small needle marks on your hands and frowned. “You hurt yourself.”

You quickly hid your hands behind your back. “It’s nothing! I mean, I’m fine. Just a few pricks here and there.”

Vil’s expression softened even further, and for a moment, he looked almost… touched. He carefully tucked the handkerchief into his coat pocket, a small but genuine smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “I’ll be sure to put this to good use.”

You didn’t swoon. Well, maybe just a little.

The duel was, in a word, ridiculous.

The second male lead strutted around like a peacock, his sword gleaming in the afternoon sunlight as he swung it dramatically for the small crowd that had gathered. “Prepare yourself, Schoenheit!” he bellowed, pointing his sword at Vil.

Vil, on the other hand, looked utterly unimpressed. He barely glanced at the man before calmly removing his coat and handing it to you. “Hold this, will you?”

You took the coat with a nod, trying not to pass out from how effortlessly graceful he looked even in the midst of preparing for a fight.

The second male lead lunged forward with all the finesse of a drunken ox, his sword clashing loudly against Vil’s. For a moment, it looked like a real duel—until Vil, with a single fluid motion, disarmed the man in one clean strike. The second male lead’s sword went flying, landing in the bushes several feet away with a pathetic thud.

The crowd gasped, and you had to stifle a laugh. It had barely been five seconds, and the duel was already over.

The second male lead stood there, stunned, his hand frozen mid-air where his sword had been. He blinked once, twice, then turned bright red with embarrassment. “W-what?!”

Vil, ever composed, didn’t even break a sweat. He sheathed his sword and gave the man a cold, dismissive look. “This duel is over. Consider your demand for satisfaction... fulfilled. Now, kindly leave before you embarrass yourself further.”

You bit your lip, trying not to giggle as the second male lead sputtered and tried to come up with an excuse, but it was clear to everyone that he had been utterly humiliated. Even the heroine, standing off to the side, looked like she was struggling to keep a straight face.

As the second male lead stumbled off, defeated, Vil turned to you and offered his hand. “Shall we go?”

You took his hand, still trying to process how easily he had won. “You were amazing,” you blurted out, your heart fluttering as you gazed up at him. “Seriously, that was… wow.”

Vil smirked, the corner of his mouth twitching with amusement. “Of course I was.” He then leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a whisper. “And I expect a proper reward later for defending your honor.”

Your face went beet red, and you were pretty sure you’d forgotten how to breathe.

Yep, you thought as he led you away, his hand still in yours, surviving this trash novel might not be so bad after all.

It happened at one of those overly extravagant banquets the royal court liked to throw. You spotted Neige from across the room, all bright eyes and an innocent smile. He was the epitome of purity, as if his very presence could summon woodland creatures to frolic at his feet.

And you hated him on sight.

You watched in disbelief as everyone around him melted into puddles of admiration. He was practically glowing, and his overly cheerful, squeaky voice was grating on your ears.

The overly saccharine male lead stood there, looking like a cross between a baby bunny and a sentient cupcake. Everything about him screamed "pure-hearted." You nearly gagged on your drink, hoping no one noticed your grimace.

Vil noticed your sour expression and leaned in. “Is something the matter?”

“That’s him, isn’t it?” you said through clenched teeth. “The one I used to follow around?”

Vil followed your gaze, and for a moment, his lips twitched in the faintest show of amusement. “Yes. That’s Neige.”

You snorted. "I can't believe anyone in their right mind would prefer him over you."

Vil's lips curled into a smirk, and he tilted his head slightly. “Oh? Is that so?” His voice was silky, dangerously low, but you could see the flash of satisfaction behind his eyes.

“Yeah,” you muttered, still glaring in Neige's direction. “I mean, look at him. He’s so… good. And not in a ‘wow, what a decent person’ way. It’s like he’s one bad haircut away from sprouting fairy wings and breaking into song.”

Vil let out a low chuckle, right next to you ear, (Lord, have mercy) the sound sending shivers down your spine. “I never thought I’d hear you speak this way about him. You’ve been fawning over Neige for as long as I can remember.”

You rolled your eyes, throwing your hands up. “That was the old me. The dumb me. I mean, have you seen you?” You gestured dramatically toward him. “How could anyone even look at Neige when you exist?”

Vil was quiet for a moment, watching you intently. His violet eyes glinted with something unreadable, but you could tell he was pleased. Oh, he was very pleased.

“You certainly have changed,” he murmured, the smirk never leaving his lips. “And I must admit, I find it rather… delightful.”

Before you could respond, a very familiar voice rang out from behind you. “Ah! What a beautiful reunion this is! A moment filled with l’amour, sparkling like the stars in the sky!”

You nearly jumped out of your skin as Rook Hunt appeared seemingly out of thin air, his hands dramatically clasped together as he beamed at you both. “I have seen many couples in my lifetime, but none quite so radiant as you two.”

You blinked, trying to recover from his sudden appearance. “Rook… were you just… hiding in the curtains again?”

Rook, ever the dramatist, placed a hand on his heart and smiled wistfully. “Ah, but how could I stay away when the beauty of your love draws me in like a moth to a flame?”

Vil raised an eyebrow. “Rook, you’re not helping.”

“Non, non, mon ami,” Rook insisted, twirling in place with a flourish. “I am merely basking in the glow of what is surely a love for the ages! The way your eyes meet, the subtle tension in the air—it is magnifique!”

You sighed, shaking your head, though you couldn’t help but chuckle at Rook’s antics. Meanwhile, from the other side of the ballroom, Epel was watching the scene unfold with barely concealed amusement. He caught your eye and shot you a grin, raising his glass as if to say, Good luck with this.

But the fun wasn’t over. Oh no. Neige, the human embodiment of a children’s choir, started making his way toward you. As he approached, his bright eyes locked on yours, his smile so innocent and wide that you almost felt bad for what you were about to do.

Almost.

“Good evening!” Neige greeted you, his voice as sweet as sugar. “I don’t believe we’ve had the chance to properly meet.”

You stared at him for a moment, unimpressed. “Yeah, uh-huh.”

Neige blinked, clearly taken aback by your lack of enthusiasm. He probably wasn’t used to people not immediately falling at his feet. “It’s truly wonderful to meet you! I’ve heard so much about you.”

You squinted at him. “Mm-hmm.”

Vil, standing beside you, looked positively elated. You could practically feel the smug energy radiating off of him. He wasn’t even hiding his smile anymore.

Neige continued, oblivious to your complete disinterest. “I’m so glad we’ll have the chance to spend time together in the coming months! I hope we can—”

“Yeah, no, I’m good,” you interrupted, turning away and pointedly ignoring his very existence.

Neige blinked again, looking like a lost puppy. You almost felt a little bad. Almost.

Vil, on the other hand, looked like Christmas had come early. His arm slipped around your waist, his touch gentle. “I must say,” he murmured into your ear, his voice laced with amusement, “I’ve never enjoyed one of these balls quite so much.”

Yup, maybe this novel isn't that trashy after all?

Everytime you think this novel might not be that bad, it manages to prove you wrong.

The day had finally arrived: the Founding Day Ball. The event to end all events, where the kingdom’s most distinguished were honored in a grand ceremony. And, of course, at the top of the list of honorees was Vil, who might as well have been carved into the actual history of the kingdom itself with how perfect he was.

As his partner for the evening, you were dressed to the nines, dripping in elegance you didn’t even know you were capable of. When you caught your reflection in one of the massive ballroom mirrors, you had to do a double-take.

"Who is that?" you whispered, eyes wide. "Oh. It’s me."

Honestly, if there was a chance of impressing anyone here, you were impressed with yourself.

The ceremony went as expected. Vil was awarded the highest honors, his name met with thunderous applause as he gave a speech that left the crowd swooning. You found yourself half-clapping, half-gawking, wondering how this man kept getting more perfect. Like, was he actually human?

But as the evening progressed, the dreaded scene you despised the most crept into the evening, like a bad smell at a gourmet dinner.

After the ceremony, it was time for the opening dance. Naturally, Vil, being the epitome of grace and nobility, was the prime candidate to lead it. You were fully expecting him to ask you, but before he could even turn in your direction, the heroine — yes, that heroine — appeared out of nowhere, like she was materializing straight from the pages of the worst romance novel ever written.

“Vil,” she said in a voice that sounded like honey and broken promises, “I trust you’ll grant me the honor of the first dance.”

You blinked. *Excuse me?*

She said it so confidently, as if it were a foregone conclusion, like she was used to the world revolving around her whims. It was the equivalent of someone just cutting the line in front of you at the store and expecting applause for their audacity.

Vil, for his part, didn’t even flinch. His expression was as cool and elegant as ever, but you could see a flicker of amusement in his eyes.

“I’m afraid,” he said, voice smooth and polite, “I already have a partner for the first dance.”

The heroine’s face froze in a way that almost made you choke on your own breath. “W-What?” She blinked rapidly, as if her brain couldn’t process the fact that someone had just told her no.

You, too, were a little stunned, for a seperate. Was she actually planning on throwing a tantrum right now? In public? At a literal state function?

“B-But you always dance with me,” she stammered, voice rising in disbelief, her face turning an alarming shade of pink. “I’m supposed to be your first dance!”

You physically had to stop yourself from snorting. Always? He has never even looked at her for longer than five seconds! You couldn't recall a single time Vil had given her anything beyond basic pleasantries. The only reason she’d be in his line of sight was because she was constantly putting herself there.

Vil’s lips twitched slightly, though whether it was out of irritation or amusement, you couldn’t tell. “I don’t recall ever dancing with you,” he said calmly, as though she were discussing someone else entirely.

The heroine blinked, clearly taken aback. “W-What?”

Vil’s voice dropped to an even icier tone, leaving no room for misunderstanding. “In fact, I dislike the very idea of it.”

The heroine made a strangled sound behind you, like a baby bird trying to scream.

You looked around the room, half-expecting hidden cameras to pop out, because this had to be a prank. Who acts like this?!

And as you floated onto the dance floor with Vil, you couldn’t help but marvel at the absolute insufferable nature of the scene you’d just witnessed. This was, without a doubt, the moment that solidified your hatred for the trash-tier novel world you’d been trapped in. People like her actually existed here?

Behind you, the heroine stomped her foot like a petulant child, completely ignored by the crowd. It would’ve been almost sad if it wasn’t so ridiculous.

And as you twirled under the chandeliers, feeling Vil’s warmth beside you and the heroine’s tantrum echoing faintly in the background, one thing became crystal clear:

This novel may have been trash, but at least you were the one dancing with the prince of perfection.

It hit you like a ton of bricks one day—completely out of nowhere. You had been sitting in Vil’s study, watching him work. He was meticulously going over some documents, his brow furrowed in concentration, his golden hair falling perfectly in place despite him having been there for hours. You were supposed to be reading through some kingdom protocol book, but instead, your gaze kept drifting over to him.

He’s so… beautiful.

You blinked, the thought suddenly snapping you out of whatever trance you’d fallen into.

Wait…

Your eyes widened. Oh no. Oh no no no no no.

You slammed the book shut, startling Vil from his work as you stood up abruptly. “I-I need some air.”

Vil raised an elegant eyebrow, clearly amused by your sudden panic. “Something the matter?”

“No! Nothing’s the matter!” you said, far too quickly, your voice an octave higher than usual. You stumbled over your chair in your haste to get out of the room, nearly tripping on your own feet. “I just—need to—um—fresh air, yes, exactly!”

Before Vil could say anything else, you bolted from the study and down the hall, your heart racing as though you’d just run a marathon. You darted into the nearest empty room and pressed your back against the door, your mind swirling with confusion.

Am I falling for him?

You slapped a hand over your mouth, horrified by the realization. “No… no, this isn’t happening. This can’t be happening. I’m in love with a character from this awful, brain-numbing novel?”

You slumped against the door, groaning as the full weight of the situation sank in. How could this happen? How could my first true love— you gagged at the phrase —be from this trash novel?

There was no escaping it now. The butterflies in your stomach every time Vil looked your way, the way your heart skipped a beat whenever he smiled, the fact that you wanted nothing more than to be close to him… it was all painfully obvious.

You buried your face in your hands. “I’m going to die. I’m going to die of embarrassment in this ridiculous world.”

And the worst part? It wasn’t even one of the good isekai novels. You’d somehow gotten stuck in what could be considered objectively the worst one, and yet here you were, head over heels for a character who—against all odds—turned out to be the most amazing person you’d ever met.

“Oh god,” you muttered to yourself, sliding down to the floor, your head falling back against the door with a thud. “I'm in love with Vil. I’m doomed. Completely doomed.”

“Mon Dieu! What a revelation!” a voice suddenly rang out from the shadows.

You yelped, whipping around to see none other than Rook Hunt—perched in the corner of the room like some kind of overly dramatic bird of prey, his hat casting a mysterious shadow over his eyes. His entire being radiated excitement, and you swore you saw actual sparkles in the air around him.

“Rook?! How long have you been there?!”

“Long enough, my dear,” he said, voice hushed with reverence, as though you had just confessed your deepest, most tragic secret. “Ah, love! The torment, the longing! The exquisite despair you must be feeling!” He took a step forward, eyes gleaming with unbridled enthusiasm. “But fear not, mon ami, for I, Rook Hunt, shall be your faithful cupid! Together, we shall make Vil see the truth of your affections!”

You blinked, stunned. “Uh… I’m not sure that’s—"

“Ah, but you must!" Rook declared, swooping down to kneel dramatically before you. “Love, once realized, must be pursued with all one’s passion and determination! Do not let this opportunity slip through your fingers like sand in the wind! I shall assist you!”

You opened your mouth to protest, but the sheer intensity of his expression made you falter. Rook was looking at you like this was the most important mission of his life.

Honestly, what did you have to lose at this point?

With a deep, exhausted sigh, you muttered, “Fine. Fine! I’ll do it. Help me, Rook.”

Rook’s grin stretched so wide it was borderline terrifying. “Excellent! This will be an adventure for the ages!” Before you could even process what you’d agreed to, Rook leaped to his feet and clapped his hands together. “But we will need more help. A certain someone with a youthful spirit and just enough mischievousness to add that je ne sais quoi to our plans.”

Oh no.

Cue Epel.

“What the hell are you ropin’ me into?” Epel grumbled as Rook dragged him into your predicament not five minutes later.

“I have volunteered you for a most noble cause, mon petit pomme,” Rook said, not even breaking stride as he swept Epel into the room. “Our dear friend here is head over heels for our Vil, and we are going to help them win his heart”

Epel paused, blinking at you in disbelief. “Wait, Vil? That Vil?” He gestured vaguely in the direction of where Vil’s office was.

“Yes, that Vil,” you said flatly, already regretting every life decision that had led you to this point.

Epel gave you a dubious look. “And you agreed to let Rook help you?”

You groaned, dragging a hand over your face. “Don’t remind me.”

“Alright, fine. I’m in.” Epel shrugged, a wicked grin creeping onto his face. “If we’re gonna do this, we’re gonna do it big.”

Thus began the most absurd, over-the-top, and borderline catastrophic schemes in an attempt to prove your love to Vil Schoenheit.

It started innocently enough. You wanted to make Vil his favorite tea. Simple, right? But Rook insisted that it couldn’t just be any tea. No, it had to be presented with an air of mystery and allure.

“Bring it to him while reciting a sonnet of devotion!” Rook suggested. “Declare your admiration with each step, so that he understands the depth of your feelings!”

“I’m not reciting a sonnet, Rook.”

Epel, on the other hand, was far more pragmatic. “Or you could just… write him a note and leave it with the tea?”

That seemed normal. Rational. You’d take Epel’s advice. So, you snuck into Vil’s room, left the tea and a note on his desk, and slipped out before anyone noticed.

The next morning, Vil eyed you suspiciously over breakfast. “Did you leave tea in my study last night?”

You nodded, trying to play it cool. “Yeah, I thought you’d appreciate it.”

Vil’s eyes narrowed, but you swore you saw the corner of his lips twitch into the faintest smile. “I see. How thoughtful.”

Then came Operation: Compliment Vil at Every Opportunity.

Rook, of course, insisted you be poetic. “Tell him his beauty rivals the very stars in the sky!”

“I’m not saying that.”

Epel chimed in with a much more straightforward approach: “Just tell him his hair looks nice. It’s always nice.”

But Rook’s enthusiasm was contagious, and before you knew it, you found yourself blurting out, “Your radiance is blinding today, Vil! Truly, I must shield my eyes from such ethereal beauty!”

Vil, who had been in the middle of inspecting his reflection, froze. His eyes darted to you, and he gave you a strange look.

“Are you… feeling alright? Did you perhaps get bitten by a stray Rook?”

You shook your head vigorously, your face heating up from how ridiculous you sounded. “Totally fine! Just… appreciating your beauty! Yep. Normal stuff.”

Vil didn’t say anything, but you could see a hint of a smirk tugging at his lips. He looked amused—and maybe a little pleased—but more than anything, he seemed confused.

At least he didn’t think you’d lost your mind. Yet.

You were convinced this novel had it out for you from the beginning, but this? This was a new low. The memory loss trope, the final attempt to make your life as ridiculous as possible, had arrived—right on schedule.

You knew how it was supposed to go. You’d hit your head (a complete accident, obviously), wake up with no memory of Vil, and immediately make the worst decisions possible, like falling for that knockoff prince, Neige. Cue dramatic heartbreak, public humiliation, and eventual abandonment. Classic trashy novel shenanigans.

But apparently, the universe—or whatever cosmic force was in charge of your suffering—had decided to take a vacation after all the work it had been putting in. Because when you opened your eyes and saw Vil leaning over you, worry etched into his perfect face, instead of forgetting him, you were… immediately smitten?

What?

And it didn’t stop there. When he took your hand in his, gently kissing your knuckles in that heartbreakingly tender way, it was like a light switch flipped. Your memories came rushing back, completely bypassing the whole convoluted plot about amnesia and bad decisions.

Because of course in this disaster of a novel, the solution to everything was true love's kiss. The most overdone, eye-rolling cliché in the history of romance, and yet here you were, living through it.

You almost laughed out loud. Of all the tropes this novel had thrown at you—evil fiancées, jealous heroines, duels for honor—this had to be the funniest. It was as if the universe had taken one look at your situation and said, “You know what? Let’s skip the suffering and go straight to the ridiculous happy ending.”

True love’s kiss. Really. This novel is mocking me at this point, you thought, fighting the urge to scream. But hey, at least you didn’t have to deal with more drama. And as Vil’s concerned gaze softened into a relieved smile, you couldn’t help but think that, maybe, this was one trope you didn’t mind after all.

You'd almost given up on confessing. Maybe you'll just live like this forever, your fate was sealed. The novel clearly doesn't want you to tell him how you feel.

But there was another ball (because apparently that's the only place that nobility had be at in this novel. What was this? the 108th ball of the year?) You'd decided that you'll ask him for a stroll under the moonlight and just tell him.

Of course, the novel is not on your side. What's new?

The ball was going well—well, for you and Vil, anyway. You’d just finished dancing, and he looked absolutely stunning, as usual. You were basking in the afterglow of all the whispered praise and envious stares. That is, until you overheard someone bad-mouthing Vil.

Of course, it had to be the heroine’s best friend, who was apparently using this grand occasion to air her grievances.

“I just don’t understand why Vil is always so cold to her,” she whined, loud enough for everyone within a three-mile radius to hear. “She’s the saintess! She deserves kindness and adoration, not disdain.”

Cue the dramatic gasps from the crowd. Ah, here we go.

You shot Vil a look, but he merely shrugged, rolling his eyes. He clearly didn’t want to start any trouble. But you? Oh, you were about to flip the table on these idiots.

“Excuse me,” you began, stepping forward, the crowd parting like the Red Sea as you made your way over. “I couldn’t help but overhear your incredibly loud complaints about my fiancé.”

The heroine’s best friend froze, clearly not expecting you to get involved. You smiled sweetly, but your eyes were throwing daggers.

“Let me set the record straight. Vil isn’t cold to her because she’s the ‘saintess,’” you air-quoted the title, “He’s cold to her because she’s an insufferable brat who’s so used to getting her way that she throws a tantrum every time someone says ‘no.’”

More gasps from the crowd. You could see Neige stiffening across the ballroom, already sensing where this was going. But there was no stopping you now.

“And don’t get me started on you,” you pointed at the best friend, your tone dripping with sarcasm. “You’re out here defending her honor like you’re some knight in shining armor when, let’s be real, you’re just as bad. You fawn over her like a lost puppy, expecting her to shower you with praise when all you do is enable her delusions.”

Vil, somewhere behind you, was probably trying not to laugh. But you weren't done.

“And as for your precious Neige over there?” you tilted your head toward the prince-wannabe, who was looking more and more uncomfortable by the second. “He’s not some perfect angel either. He’s just a guy with an unsettling talent for showing up at the most convenient times, with that same doe-eyed, clueless expression, making everyone feel sorry for him.”

You didn’t stop at Neige.

"And as for you," you said, spinning toward the brooding Duke of the North, the infamous second male lead, who had been leaning against a pillar, looking every bit the tall, tormented, handsome cliché. “You’re not fooling anyone either. You’re the king of melodramatic entrances. Always lurking in the shadows, trying to look mysterious, but really, you’re just sulking because no one’s paying attention to you.”

“Oh, I’m sorry—are you brooding? Again? Let me guess, you’re thinking about some dark secret that you’ll drop at the most inconvenient moment to make things worse for everyone, right?” You mimicked his deep, serious voice. “‘It’s the burden I must bear… alone.’” You threw your head back in mock agony, hands dramatically placed on your chest.

He straightened up, clearly offended, but you didn’t give him the chance to speak.

“And stop pretending like you’re some tragic hero,” you added, lowering your voice with a sharp edge. “You’re just a guy with commitment issues who sacrifices himself because you can’t handle the fact that the heroine doesn’t want you. Let it go.”

There was dead silence. You half-expected a chandelier to drop just for the dramatic effect. Even Vil had to look away for a moment, probably to hide the fact that he in tears, about to burst out laughing.

The heroine was slack-jawed, her best friend looked like she wanted to melt into the floor, and Neige… well, Neige just looked confused. As always.

Satisfied, you dusted off your hands and turned back to Vil, who was looking at you with a mixture of shock and awe, as if he’d just witnessed some divine intervention.

You let out a satisfied huff and turned to leave. "Come on, Vil, I can't stand to be in the same room as these second-rate characters any longer, let's bounce"

Once outside, you saw Vil was still recovering, a smirk pulling at his lips. “I think you may have traumatized half the ballroom.”

“Good,” you huffed, crossing your arms. “They deserved it. Especially that brooding Duke. ‘I sacrifice myself for the greater good.’ Ugh, give me a break.”

Vil chuckled, sliding his arm around your waist. "Still, you didn’t have to go to such lengths for me."

You stopped in your tracks, spun around, and looked him dead in the eye. “Of course I did! I love you, Vil. I couldn’t just sit there and let them trash you like that.”

The moment the words left your mouth, you froze. Oh. Well. There it was.

Vil’s eyes widened, a rare, unguarded expression crossing his face. For a moment, he just stood there, taking in your words. Then, without a word, he cupped your face in his hands and kissed you, soft but sure, like he’d been waiting for this moment as much as you had.

When he pulled back, his smile was the softest you’d ever seen. “You love me,” he repeated, almost like he couldn’t believe it.

You nodded, a bit breathless from both the confession and the kiss. “Yes, Vil. I love you. Even with all your ridiculously high standards and obsession with skincare.”

Vil laughed, the sound warm and genuine. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to hear you say that.”

Vil pulled back slightly, his hands still resting on your waist, and asked with a quiet, almost teasing tone, "Well then, since you love me so much... should we get married?"

You blinked, your brain taking a second to catch up. "Wait—what? Married? Like, right now?" You stared at him, heart racing, before suddenly, an idea lit up your face like a firework. “Oh my god, yes! Let’s do it. Let’s get married ASAP. Like, today. Right now. Do we even need a ceremony? We can find an officiant and—boom—done. Just tell me where to sign!”

Vil’s eyes widened, taken aback by your sudden enthusiasm. “Are you… serious?”

You grabbed his hand, absolutely buzzing with energy. “Of course, I’m serious! Why wait? This dumbass universe keeps throwing garbage tropes at us, and honestly? Getting married right now is the perfect way to flip the script! Take that, fate!"

Before Vil could respond, an overly excited voice erupted from behind a nearby pillar. “Oh là là! Mon cœur can hardly handle this romance!” Rook leaped out from the shadows, practically sparkling with joy, as if he had been waiting for this very moment all his life. "The passion! The declaration of love! And now, a spontaneous wedding? Magnifique!”

“Rook!?” Vil’s voice was a mix of amusement and exasperation. “Have you been spying on us?”

“Spying?” Rook gasped dramatically, placing a hand on his chest. “Non, non, Vil! I was merely ensuring your well-being as any devoted friend would!” He gave a wink, clearly pleased with his role as an unintended audience.

“Me too!” Epel poked his head out from behind another pillar, grinning sheepishly. “I mean, who’d wanna miss out on somethin’ like this? Y’all are gettin’ married!”

Vil let out a long, tired sigh, but you could see the faintest smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “I can’t believe this is happening,” he muttered.

“Oh, it’s happening,” you said, grabbing his arm again and dragging him forward. “We’re doing this, and it’s going to be the best wedding in this entire stupid book, Rook, Epel, you’re both invited. Wait, scratch that, you’re both in the wedding party now!”

“C’est incroyable!” Rook twirled dramatically, hands clasped together, already imagining his outfit for the occasion. “I shall be the most loyal and stylish groomsman! Oh, l’amour!”

“And I get to wear somethin’ fancy, right?” Epel asked, already envisioning something much cooler than his usual attire.

Vil was now fully grinning, his initial surprise turning into genuine amusement as he looked at you with sparkling eyes. “You really are something else.”

“Yeah, and now I’m gonna be your something else forever.” You beamed up at him, still holding onto his hand like you might drag him to the altar yourself right now.

“Well then,” Vil sighed, leaning down to kiss your forehead. “Let’s get married.”

Before you could even start plotting where to drag Vil to find someone to officiate, Rook suddenly gasped, clasping his hands together dramatically. "Mon dieu! How could I forget? I am more than prepared for this moment!"

You and Vil exchanged puzzled looks. "What are you talking about, Rook?" Vil asked, raising a perfectly shaped eyebrow.

Rook grinned, remviong his hat and and dramatically pulling out a folded piece of parchment. "Behold!" he announced, waving the paper with a flourish. "A certified license to officiate weddings. I took the liberty of acquiring it long ago, knowing that one day I’d be the one to unite you and your beloved. C’est le destin!"

“You’re… licensed?” Vil blinked, looking at Rook like he had officially lost it. "And you're walking around with the license in your hat?"

Rook nodded with a dazzling smile. “Why yes, I’ve been preparing for this glorious day! Every flower petal, every gust of wind, every glance of love I’ve witnessed between you both has been leading to this fated moment!” He struck a pose, the parchment still dramatically held aloft.

You stared at him, then back at Vil. "Okay, I know this is ridiculous, but honestly? This is the funniest thing I’ve ever heard, and I kind of love it. Let's just let him do it."

Vil put a hand to his forehead, trying to suppress a chuckle. "Are we really doing this?"

“Yes!” you declared, squeezing Vil's hand. “If we’re going full chaos, we’re going all the way. Rook, officiate the hell out of this wedding!”

Epel, watching the entire spectacle, burst into laughter. “Only in this house, I swear…”

Rook practically sparkled with joy, bouncing on his feet. “Oh là là, it will be my greatest honor! I’ve been rehearsing my officiating speech in front of the mirror for months”

“Months?” Vil repeated, a mix of disbelief and exasperation in his tone.

“Mais oui! Every day, I’d wake up and say, ‘Today could be the day!’” Rook sighed dramatically, already tearing up. “And here we are. It’s everything I’ve ever dreamed of. Now, shall we begin? I have the vows prepared, unless you have your own?”

You leaned into Vil, barely holding back laughter. “I have zero regrets about this. Absolutely zero.”

Vil sighed again but couldn’t stop smiling. “Only you could make something this absurd seem perfect.”

Series Masterlist ; Masterlist

Okay, this became way longer than I expected it to be but to be fair, i was on an extreme caffeine high and i'd just finished an assignment that had been beating my ass

also sorry for the neige slander, I don't hate him but vdc broke me

[unadulteratedsoulsweets]

A DC X DP IDEA #27

They’re the strongest?!?!

Imagine dis…

You know … I read too much humans are space orcs fic, prompts, ideas… etc.

But I still like Danny Phantom and DC…

And I remember that one A03 fic…

…

Another alien invasion is another Wednesday for the JL but it seems like they are quite different. Not only they are known as invaders in the Green Lantern Corps but they also have some sort of code among warriors, they give a chance to the species they are invading to fight back. By having their strongest fight against their strongest. It is not through fighting to the death as different planets have different climates and terrains and thus have their version of the Olympic games but instead of rewarding the participants medals, they were rewarded their planet's safety, but Hal commented that the challenges are too staged, too well known to the invading aliens. Since the ones defending have no idea how to approach the challenges, they always end up losing. Green Arrow commented that since they can just send out the Big Blue boy scout, Hal shook his head as they have to be the same species one planet already tried it by asking aid from another planet and not only lost but the invading aliens got 2 planets, plus they’ll bring it up to the galaxy court system and put them in a tight spot. Of course, Aquaman blinked with confusion and asked if there was a court system for the galaxy.

…

So of course, when the said invading aliens landed on the Milky Way and broadcasted their intentions. The JL already have a team to fight them, of course, we have Batman with his cunning mind, Wonder Woman for her chivalry and strength, Flash for his speed, Doctor Fate for his mastery of magic, and Cyborg for technological skills. Just as they were about to tell the invading aliens that they had already picked their strongest, another announcement popped out. Apparently to even out the playing field they have a new technology to help them pick out their strongest for them. As if they were talking to kids and promptly pressed the bottom to automatically select the earth’s strongest.

The heroes at the space station as well those around the world who were debriefed about the situation a week before are already bracing themselves to be picked, while the citizens around the globe are all now watching and anticipating as not only this a new thing as the majority of their alien invasion they immediately went to evacuation.

Who appeared/ chosen immediately made both sides' jaws drop….

Three?

Only three are chosen…

An adult, a teen, and a child?

A man who wore a blue rental suit with glasses, blue eyes and black hair. Which the Metropolis recognizes as one of their own. Clark Kent, a reporter with fame and reputation on par with the famed Lois Lane. The ideal model of someone who came from the countryside and made a name and life in the big city.

An 11-year-old boy with blue eyes and black hair who wore a red hoodie, faded jeans, and red shoes, in which the city Fawcett knew of. Billy Batson was, a former foster kid on the run until he found his forever home with the couple named Victor and Rosa Vasquez who also fostered a couple of kids, which Billy claims as his siblings. A kind kid who kept doing good around him and his community.

Lastly, a teen, again with blue eyes and black hair wore a faded NASA hoodie, and blue jeans with faint eye bags which was a small town in Amity Park where he came from. Danny Fenton, the only son of the two leading scientists of ecto-biologists in ecotology, the one who realized that one of the two purple-back gorillas is a female thus avoiding extinction.

…

Clark Kent by day and Superman by night knew about the invading aliens. He also knew that he could not participate despite being raised on Earth made him unqualified to join. So, imagine his shock when he suddenly found himself with two earth children in the middle of a large arena with futuristic cameras looking at them. He is now in an internal dilemma; how can he save the two kids, while he tries to save Earth altogether?

This train of thought also passed by the young Billy Batson on the said teen, Billy already knew that Superman was already thinking of saving the both of them. Now his priority is to survive and keep his secret ID a secret for a bit longer.

…

Danny on the other hand has a completely different train of thought, he was just about to reach his room. His beautiful room where his bed is, he had just finished a four-hour exam to bring his grades back up to an acceptable level, 9 continuous ghost attacks, another nonsense quarrel between the observers and he is close to committing anarchy just so he can have the same treatment to Pariah Dark, an eternal sleep in a comfortable looking Sarcophagus of Forever Sleep.

So imagine his surprise when he is suddenly teleported to what looks like an alien ship, Danny would usually be ecstatic but they have interrupted him, he is so close to his bed. He knew that there would be some sort of an invasion as he remembered the bits and pieces from Tucker’s ramble when they last hung out together.

He doesn’t care if aliens invade Earth, but if you come between him and his bed. He will make sure of what he will do to those who disturb him, he will make his fight with his future self and Pariah Dark like child’s play.

…

The Justice League kept on insisting that they had already chosen their fighters and those who appeared in the middle of their arena were civilians, not warriors. But the invading aliens stayed on their decision and immediately began the games.

The rest of the heroes are now scrambling to not only stop the invading aliens but also save the 2 civilians who were randomly selected.

While the rest of the League is now panicking the rest of the world is now in an outrage. Sending out a civilian man and children by the alien's weird machinery.

The Fenton couples are especially rabid as, if there is anything that tops their ghost obsession, it would be their children’s safety. The family of Batson are on the edge of their seats as they worry for Billy.

…

The games begin with an opening of rules and such, as well as an introduction to the alien’s warriors who are big and full of muscles making the Earth team look so tiny.

The first game starts with a simple hunting game with very minimal clues and tools at their disposal to find what they seek. Clark can crack the code on to where to hunt but it is a dangerous environment, Clark discusses it with his teammates on how to catch it, Clark is already thinking if he should reveal himself as a meta with strength but Danny just glares at the man and grabbed capturing tools form the table and sought out the thing they are designated to hunt.

The other team took a glance at Team Earth and warbled some snickers at how they took looking/hunting too fast without any plans and went back to their planning.

Clark and Billy are worried for their other teammate but after a few minutes, they hear a roar some shuffles, and then silence.

Back on earth, most people are horrified a what could be the teen’s fate but when footsteps were heard they saw the teen again scathed, with a few scratches, and a hulking beast all tied up from its muzzle to its tails.

Clark nervously asked, still maintaining his civilian identity, how on earth Danny had caught such a beast. Danny’s only response was, back from where he came a certain ”friend” really wanted “someone’s” pelt on a wall and learned some things while HE was chasing that “something”.

That starts the Danny effect…

…

A tag sort of game as there is a hunter to hunt them down and their objective is to hide longer than the other team, with both Billy and Danny a part, while Billy lasted a few hours with his wit and skills that he honed during his time when he ran from CPS and the police during his days as a foster child, which is impressive itself as he got two of the other team’s members to be captured first before him. Danny outlasted Billy and the rest of the other team won the game in a landslide and gained some bonus points by not only redirecting the hunter and leading them into a false trail or a dead end but also messing with the said hunter without being spotted by him.

Cooking with live and weird ingredients? Clark initially volunteered to do it as he has a stomach of steel being an alien but cannot cook as he has no idea which ingredient is edible as all alien dishes and ingredients come from Krypton and he has to impress the judges who put them in a disadvantage as the judges are from the same race as the opposing team. Danny just shook his head at Clark quickly put on an apron and set to work.

Clark and Billy immediately turned green at the sight as Danny nonchalantly battled the live ingredients, from the meat section to what seems to be the fruit and vegetable section, It is bloody as it is and quite fascinating as it is disgusting. All their years in the Justice League they have seen some twisted and weird things but seeing their third teammate casually stab what looked like an unholy cross hybrid between an octopus and a shark trying to crawl away from the carnage, cleaned the weird animal from the inside out and fillet it.

Of course, they are in disbelief when the judges practically moan the moment, they taste Danny’s dish. Clark and Billy are pretty sure one of the judges is planning to spare Danny and turn him into their chef if the invasion continues, with the way they look at Danny. The judges reluctantly let Danny’s dish win.

Billy reluctantly asked Danny where he learned to cook like that, Danny’s only response was a grumble of a sound that seemed to sound like at home but that cannot be, right?

Trying to survive an onslaught of hypnotic plants native to the alien’s home world, Danny once again won and even began criticizing the plants for how their music was so horrible that it would not even wake the dead.

Play some sort of FIGHTING VIDEO GAME that is popular in 5 sectors in their part of the galaxy, Danny wins and repeatedly shoots the aliens with pure hatred and anger in his eyes, Clark has to physically drag Danny out of the arena to stop his onslaught of firing to the poor guy who was already on the verge of crying.

And so on with the Earth’s team leading COUGH Danny COUGH and demolishing the invading aliens from their games.

After a while the games are done and Team Earth wins with a massive gap to the invading aliens. They returned the three in the middle of the Metropolis and went away without so much a fuss…

Well, expect that one chef in their midst how begged the leader to take Danny and only him with them but the leader is already fearing for his life as the last few games that humans began to be more feral by the second and he was sure he is also a second away from being the one at the other end of his chopping board.

…

Back on earth everyone cheered on the three and began flashing them their camera lights to get a new scoop, and one brave reporter even tried to interview Danny but when people tried to look for the elusive teen he seemingly disappeared.

Clark knew Danny was, sleeping peacefully in the middle of the bushes a few feet away from them, and kept quiet as he was late to realize that Danny was on the verge of a crash like Red Robin is when he pulled something like this when Conner invited him.

…

PS: If someone out there wanted to continue or make a fic about this you are free to do so, don’t forget to tag me though.

[cathkaesque]

So my house has persistent damp and mould problems. It has given me asthma. My suspicion is that it's because of an old coal shoot in the basement that lets in water. My landlord refused to look at this as it was for "ventilation".

A leak has sprung in my basement and it's now flooded. They've had to send in their guys to look at this. I show them the coal shoot and they instantly say that is obviously not acceptable. I have been trying to get them to look at this for about 4 years.

I stop and have a cup of tea with the repairmen. I learn more about the landord each time I speak with them. I knew my landlord (who presented themselves as a "group of small landlords" when I started looking to rent from them) had about 250 properties, but I didn't know the revenue from them was £45 million. I had tried quite hard, and failed, to find companies house statements for the landlord. Apparently the assets are held in a network of shell companies based in tax havens.

They tell me about how the property has been signed over to the landlord's daughter, a 27 year old fresh out of business school. She "hasn't got the human side of things down yet", she only sees profit and loss. The rent increase in the middle of the 20% inflationary period makes sense now. They show me her house - it's not too far from me, and is an actual castle with towers and everything. I live not too far from the richest part of town (second richest constituency outside of London - a 19 year life expectancy gap between the poorest in the city) and have sometimes been sent to a private hospital by the NHS not too far from there. I have gawped at that very castle wondering who on earth could afford to live there. I had no idea my rent was paying for it.

We both speak about the injustice of people living in small, rundown terrace houses paying for a mansion for a millionaire heiress. Soon after they leave, I have another asthma attack.