#daily trope provider

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A Second Life

god x m! priest reader

Summary: Transmigrated into a new world with seemingly new beginnings, a strange god takes an interest in you.

Content warnings: very dark, non consensual touching and watching, dubcon (reader submits but isn’t really having a great time), barely any foreplay (very unrealistic), penetrative anal sex, belly bulge, size difference, overstimulation (?) if you squint, religious themes

note: Like half way through I realised the plot went off the rails but it was too late because I had already deleted a draft before this 😭 and I was gonna give up at that point so I don’t really like this 😞 but either wise, hope you enjoy and sorry for the wait!!

At first, you were thoroughly dismayed when you discovered you had been transmigrated into the world of the novel, Tyrant’s Intense Love. The night before, you had been engrossed in the romance novel that revolved around the familiar trope of a female and male lead overcoming numerous trials before finally falling in love. Unfortunately for you, you had transmigrated into a minor background character—one who was entirely inconsequential and had not appeared in a single chapter of the story. You inhabited the body of a priest devoted to Kallos, the god of light who presided over the continent. As part of the temple’s ranks, you were one of the numerous lowly priests responsible for prayer, fasting, and delivering sermons. Your duties were equally modest; you were tasked with dusting and maintaining the cleanliness of the temple. Before your transmigration, your life had been equally mundane. You were a corporate office worker who relied on far too many beers to handle the endless stream of projects your coworkers offloaded onto you. Enduring sleepless nights and relentless deadlines, your personal life was just as bleak and unfulfilling. The sole solace you found was in reading novels that transported you to fantastical romances you longed to experience.

With the simple goal of finding your true soulmate in this new life, you fervently declared your intent, only to quickly discover that such aspirations were impossible. As a priest of the Light Temple, you were required to maintain your chastity to demonstrate the purity of your devotion to the god of light. This seemed utterly absurd. After all, the renowned saintess from the novel had countless secret night rendezvous with the male lead, the crown prince, long before their relationship became official. It felt profoundly unjust and even scandalous, to say the least…. You couldn’t leave either as a priest of age in the temple, you weren’t allowed to leave. That was several years ago, back when you first transmigrated. You’ve somewhat come to terms with your fate and reality. Being a lowly priest isn’t so bad, after all. Despite the modest nature of your role and the boring nature of your duties, you have a roof over your head and food to eat, all provided by the temple. You weren’t one to complain. Given your timid and meek disposition, this role suited you well. There were no coworkers to harass or manipulate with office politics, and the absence of a demanding family was a relief. The life you led here wasn’t so bad. The body you had inhabited had belonged to an orphan adopted by the temple at a young age, and your name, like his, was (Name).

Kallos had grown weary of ruling over this world through countless cycles. Each millennium seemed as vexing as the last, with his creations remaining nothing more than soulless puppets, trapped in their predetermined fates. His sanity deteriorated further with each passing decade. Yet, something peculiar marked this cycle. He had observed a disturbance—a single priest possessed by a soul that clearly did not belong to this world. Though he could not pinpoint when he began to scrutinize you through his bronze mirror in the heavens, it had become a daily ritual for him to watch you. You were the lone human who exhibited a spark of life and vitality in this dull and monotonous world. It was so interesting to him, how a mere and fragile human, like you who exhibited little to no threat in the face of his divinity, had somewhat been a variable out of his control. A soul that wasn’t part of this world. As his sanity had been worn down through out centuries, what had been left was a sick obsession and interest in you as he saw you as a precious treasure, no, a plaything he had to have. He was a patient god, as given by his endurance through ages of rule. He would bide his time and wait to claim you.

Yes, he was patient, but he was also greedy. After a few years of watching you through the bronze mirror he once used to gaze upon the mortals, he felt he had waited long enough. With a sinister grin spreading across his face, he set his plans into motion.

Ironically, you never really had any faith in the god of light, Kallos, despite the fact that you were a priest, having to worship him. It was probably due to the fact you were from another world. You also didn’t have any of the light mana that priests and saints had, it was an ethereal power bestowed upon them as they entered the temple and led lives devoted to the god. Instead, your duties remained simple: cleaning the temple, dusting ancient artifacts, and tending to the garden, not that you didn’t like it. Not to mention, recently, you couldn’t shake the unsettling feeling that someone was constantly watching you, even though you were alone. You had brought this concern to your fellow priests, but their response was dismissive, insisting that no one would dare prey upon one of Kallos' children. Despite their reassurances, the sense of being observed persisted. However, your worries were the least of your concerns as you were selected to be one of the brides of Kallos in the temple. This unorthodox ritual never happened in the novel before and you had no idea how this happened. Hadn’t the novel gone a little off the rails? When you had questioned the elders why, they had replied with a harsh snap that you had been idling far too long in the temple and it was time to partake in your duties properly which just confused you further.

Now, you found yourself seated while Eli, one of the oracles, fussed with your hair. Having been in this world for some time, you had made a few friends, and Eli was among them. Despite her blindness, she was gifted with the ability to see the future, a paradoxical blessing given her condition. Eli was like a mother figure to you, often chiding you for overexerting yourself while working in the garden. Your workaholic tendencies had landed you in her clinic more times than you could count, and her concern for your well-being was a constant, caring presence in your life. Despite her typically vibrant and exuberant demeanor, she was unusually subdued today. In an attempt to lift her spirits, you said with a light-hearted tone, “Eli, it’s not like Kallos is going to choose someone like me—a humble priest who’s constantly laboring in the simple garden among all the stunning contenders. I mean, I’ve heard he has a penchant for…” Your voice faltered as the conversation grew uncomfortable, and you looked down, trailing off. Instead of her usual witty retort or playful response, she gazed blankly ahead with her pale, milky eyes.

Suddenly, a wave of panic washed over her. She gripped your shoulders tightly, her hands making your strands of untouched hair fall against your back, and spoke urgently, “(Name), listen to me! You’re in imminent dan—mmphm!!” Her words were abruptly cut off as if her mouth had been sealed. A bell rang, signaling the brides selected to enter the cathedral for the ritual. A servant firmly took your arm and guided you away from Eli, who sat silently, tears streaming down her face as she listlessly stared into space. As you were led down the grand corridor, the distant echoes of the bell grew fainter. The solemnity of the cathedral loomed ahead, its familiar grandeur both awe-inspiring and intimidating. You glanced back one last time, catching a fleeting glimpse of Eli's tear-streaked face and her desolate expression. The servant’s grip on your arm tightened, making it clear there was no turning back.

Entering the cathedral, you were greeted by the hushed whispers of the assembled crowd and the flickering light of countless candles. The atmosphere was heavy with anticipation and formality. The brides, dressed in their opulent gowns, stood in a stately line, their faces a mixture of nervousness and resolve. You were dressed in a simple garb—a modest robe that seemed almost out of place amidst the grandeur. As you took your place among them, your thoughts were a whirl of confusion and dread. The urgency in Eli's voice and her silent plea echoed in your mind, making it hard to focus on the ceremony ahead.

As the final bell tolled, the grand doors of the cathedral swung closed, signaling the start of the ritual. The priests and priestesses, draped in elaborate garments, assumed their positions at the altar with precision and reverence. A solemn chant began, its rhythmic, hypnotic cadence filling the air.

You, along with the other brides, were directed to kneel before the altar. The heavy scent of incense mingled with the cool, echoing silence of the cathedral, creating an almost otherworldly atmosphere. The low, resonant hum of the priests’ chants, punctuated by the bishop’s otherworldly murmurs, enveloped the space.

A sudden, blinding light illuminated you, casting your figure in stark relief against the darkness. Gasps and murmurs rippled through the crowd as the light intensified. Then, a loud, resonant voice cut through the reverent murmur: “I have chosen my bride.”

Shock overwhelmed you as a single thought raced through your mind: “Why!?” Yet, there was no time for questions as a surge of energy enveloped you. The grandeur of the cathedral began to dissolve, and the very fabric of reality shimmered and blurred. The chanting and murmurs of the crowd faded into a distant echo, replaced by a profound, ethereal silence. A radiant light, more brilliant than anything you had ever seen, surrounded you. The sensation was both soothing and overwhelming as if you were being lifted from the earth. The cathedral’s walls, the solemnity, and the weight of the ritual vanished, and you felt yourself ascending through a luminous expanse.

In an instant, you found yourself in a realm of breathtaking beauty. The sky above was a cascade of colors, shifting gently like a cosmic aurora. The air was filled with a sweet, harmonious melody, and the very ground beneath you seemed to sparkle with celestial light. The landscape was serene and otherworldly, with ethereal gardens and radiant structures floating in a tranquil sea of light.

Although beautiful, the celestial landscape seemed to radiate a certain sense of coldness and loneliness. “Beautiful, isn’t it?” a rich, magnetic voice remarked from behind you. Whipping around, you found yourself facing a man bathed in radiant light. His flowing white hair cascaded to his ankles, and his crimson eyes seemed to pierce right through you, exuding an intense, mesmerizing gaze. You had to admit that he was incredibly attractive, radiating an otherworldly charm and a palpable sense of power that left a profound impression on you. “Kallos?” you asked meekly, your voice barely above a whisper. “Yes. (Name), my beloved bride. I’ve been waiting for you for quite some time, my dearest. Come, follow me into my humble abode.” He smiled with a captivating amusement, his lips curving into a knowing and irresistibly charming expression as he beckoned you to follow him. His intimate address was slightly intimidating, but you brushed off the feeling and stepped obediently behind him.

As you followed him, the grandeur of the palace unfolded before you. The corridors were lined with walls that shimmered with soft, golden light, and the air was filled with a gentle, harmonious melody that seemed to resonate through the very fabric of the space.

Kallos led you through halls adorned with intricate, glowing patterns and serene, floating tapestries.

He guided you to a magnificent chamber, its design both luxurious and inviting. The room was bathed in a warm glow, with furnishings that seemed to float effortlessly in the air, their delicate forms illuminated by a soft, radiant light.

As you entered, Kallos turned to you, his gaze filled with an intensity that made your heart race. “This is where we will be,” he said softly, his voice a soothing balm amidst the splendor. “You must be hungry. Here, have a fruit.” Kallos extended a golden fruit towards you, its surface shimmering with a warm, radiant glow.

With your guard down, you bit into the fruit, its juices dripping down your chin as the sweetness burst in your mouth. Offering Kallos a shy smile, you quietly murmured your thanks.

A dark, gleaming look of delight flickered in his crimson eyes as he reached out, his touch both tender and assertive. His hand caressed your thigh before gripping it firmly, his gaze fixed on you with a mix of intensity and satisfaction. “(Name), you’re finally mine. I’ve waited too long.” His voice, now laced with a chilling intensity, contrasted sharply with his former gentleness. A dark, sinister smile played across his lips, revealing a side of him that was both unsettling and menacing.

Your eyes widened in terror as the reality of the danger you were in sank in, but it was too late. With inhumane strength, he held you firmly, his grip unyielding as he continued, his eyes burning with an ominous, predatory gleam. “I’ve watched over you for so long. Watching you sleep, how could you taunt me so when you didn’t wear shorts? I simply had to have a taste.” A sly smirk appeared on his face, the corner of his mouth twitching with a hint of amusement as you flushed with red-hot embarrassment. The realization hit you with a jolt: those times you woke up with hand-shaped bruises all over your body had been his doing, and that unsettling feeling of being watched��he was behind it all.

As if reading your thoughts, he continued, his voice dripping with malicious delight, “Did you enjoy my mark of ownership? And you’re simply adorable when you jump whenever I peer at you through the bronze mirror.” You sank into the mattress, cold dread gripping your heart. “W-what do you even want from me?” you managed to ask, summoning a burst of courage to meet his gaze. He laughed loudly at your response, the sound echoing with a mix of obsession and insanity. The light god, once revered by many for his kindness and generosity, now stood before you with an unsettling, unfettered look of infatuation. What he said next delivered the final blow. “I know you’re from another world. It both fascinates and frustrates me that someone like you, a mere mortal, is beyond my complete control. I simply had to have you. And now, you’re finally mine.” He gently cupped your face, his touch a jarring contrast to the harshness of his words. The shock of the situation settled in. You were paralyzed with the realization that there was no escape from a god’s grasp. The weight of his words and the power behind them left you feeling trapped and helpless, unable to flee from the divine being before you.

“What you ate,” Kallos said, his voice smooth and triumphant, “was no ordinary fruit. It binds you to this realm, a gift with a binding essence. With each bite, you became entwined with the very fabric of this heaven.”

He gently cupped your face, his eyes gleaming with a dark satisfaction. “You cannot leave now. You are part of this world, as I intended. You’re mine, completely and irrevocably.” Overwhelmed by his words and the inescapable reality of your situation, you felt a profound sense of resignation wash over you. He was a god and you were a mere mortal. You saw no way out and accepted the unyielding truth of your confinement. You simply nodded, your shoulders slumping in defeat, as you gave up the struggle.

“As husband and wife, we must consummate our love.” Pushing you against your back, he pecked your cheek with barely disguised enthusiasm before hungrily tearing at your clothes. His hands tracing down your body to find your soft cock lying against your stomach. “You’re so…small.” The marvel in his tone as he fondled your dick stung at you as you protested with a small offended squeak. You trembled as his hand wrapped around your length. The size difference was nearly alarming, engulfing you completely. You gasped as the hand moved. His hand moved up and down, teasingly light as the sensations were although unfamiliar, felt too little, but enough to rile you up. Shame welled up in you as you internally willed yourself that it shouldn’t feel good.

No. No. No. No. It shouldn’t have felt good…but it did.

Your hips involuntarily thrusted into his warm grasp. “Does it feel good?” An arm wrapped around your stomach, pinning you to the god. “I-I don’t know!” You whimpered, hands clawing at the sheets as you felt your knees give out. Mischievously, he swiped his thumb over your leaking tip as you twitched at the sudden stimulation before coming with a force harder than you had ever experienced. A foreign finger eased into you as another followed immediately. You felt yourself stretched wide and shuddering from below, a throbbing burn filling your insides. “Please! Have mercy!” You pleaded, shivering with a pathetic cry.

Kallos released you and slowly crept up your body. “You want me to show you mercy?” He asked with a smug expression plastered on his face. “Y-Yes.” You felt warm tears slip down your cheeks as you trembled in his grasp. “How can I show you mercy when you call out so sweetly for me?” He grunted, roughly gripping your legs apart as he towered before you. A blunt object pressed against your hole, bigger than his fingers, monstrous compared to your own cock. “Stop!”

“No.” Kallos replied resolutely, his hands both pinning your hands over your head. “I-it’s too big…” You stuttered weakly. “Don’t be silly, (Name). It’s not big.” Kallos peered down at you like a man possessed with hunger. “Y-you can’t-“

“I can. And I will.” The god rammed into you harshly, any of his former reservation and gentleness gone.

Throwing your head back, you soundlessly wheezed. You couldn’t breathe. It was too fast. You were too full. He pulled back his hips slightly before slamming his hips into you again. Kallos groaned, eyes shutting close. “So tight.” Your warm walls hugged his cock, squeezing and twitching as he continuously brushed against your prostrate. Keening, euphoria overtook you again as you stained your abdomen white. You sobbed, delirious as Kallos relentlessly delivered brutal thrusts with your cries echoing in the chamber. Your whole body rocked forward with the force of Kallos’ thrusts. Letting go of your arms, he gingerly shared a clumsy kiss with you, hot tongue entwining with yours. The kiss felt more like a bite consuming you, teeth knocking together as he ruthlessly bit at your lip. ‘Mhn..’ You whimpered, legs trembling when they were spread by Kallos’s muscular thighs.

The god seemed to be in a similarly pleasurable daze as he pointedly drilled into you, letting out a determined grunt as if his goal was fitting the entirety of his girth inside you.

Obscene squelches of his cock repeatedly driving into you was accompanied by the fervent slaps of skin against skin. Scrambling for anything to ground you, a pillow you tried to grab on was thrown randomly somewhere far in the room with a displeased tut. With nothing to ground you, you mewled as you found yourself limply holding on to the body that was pounding away at you. Any scratch or plea for him to stop only spurred Kallos on more, encouraging him further. The perpetual state of bliss had you growing taut, cum leaking out of your cock in pitiful drops. Your orgasm had him following after, Kallos plunging in so deep you swore you could feel him up in your stomach. Clamping up on the inhumane dick that was filling you up with hot seed, you stiffened as you were pulled into another filthy kiss that had you gasping for air.

“We’re not done, sweetheart.” Kallos exclaimed as he sat up, making sure his dick was buried in you as deep as possible, his hips opposite yours. Glancing down the obscene sight, your stomach which was slightly distended from the bulge that was his dick in you, waist littered with bruises from how hard he gripped onto you. You felt intense exhaustion wash over you as he began to rock his hips into yours again, despite the warmth of your bodies entangled together, cold despair doused your heart in cold water. Your breath caught in your throat, you knew that you were now trapped in a cold cage with this insane man, no. god. For the rest of eternity. Together.

note: so yeah, Kallos kinda saw you as a plaything at first that incited his desire because you’re something that is simply out of his control, something new but then it turns into a kinda sick “love” and obsession with you as he finds himself looking at you often than he notices.

Reblogs are appreciated!

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

book 7 part 12 thoughts! (dec 9th update)

***THIS POST CONTAINS MASSIVE SPOILERS FOR BOOK 7 PART 12 OF THE MAIN STORY!!*** This spans part 227 to part 244, focusing on Cater and Deuce.

We will get the other 3 Heartslabyul boys in 2 future updates. The second part is Ace, then Trey. Riddle is last!

Please note: this is NOT meant to be a summary or a translation; these are only my initial thoughts on the events that roughly unfold. There may be details overlooked or misunderstood in this post, so PLEASE do not use this as a translation.

We land in what seems to be a hallway at NRC. Unfortunately for me (who seeks vengeance against a certain lion for emotional damages), Leona provides no funny reaction to the bumpy travel while dream hopping. He even makes fun of those who had a hard time, calling them weak if something like that gets to them 💀 YOU'RE ALREADY ON FUCKING THIN ICE, KINGSCHOLAR

Grim gets distracted by the smell of lunchtime so he scampers off to the cafeteria to eat! But... um!??!?! Scarabia mobs in mohawks get aggressive with us.

Before they wail on us, who should appear but the owner of the dream, Deuce!! Our guy has blonde hair (it's a Japanese trope that delinquents bleach their hair). He intimidates the mobs away with some backup from dream!Trey and dream!Cater, who still appear to maintain their vice dorm leader and "#3 in Heartslabyul" positions, respectively. Sounds like Riddle is still the dorm leader as well.

Deuce, Trey, and Cater spot Leona and kind of start picking a fight with him???? They say that if Ramshackle has been taken over/absorbed by Savanaclaw, then there will be problems (or something to that effect). (SORRY, THE DIALOGUE IS SO WEIRD AND FULL OF TERMS I DON'T UNDERSTAND CUZ EVERYONE'S SOUNDING LIKE A DELINQUENTTO SOME CAPACITY)

Cute detail: it's stated that Yuu is typically seen with Ace and Deuce! So even in the world of Deuce's dream... he still thinks about their friendship!!

Leona (and Ortho), actually Being Smart, backs off and lets Deuce take Yuu + Grim over to the Heartslabyul table to eat (even though Sebek gets mad about it). Leona tells the others it's better to observe the enemy first, then demands that Idia find a way for him to listen into the conversation Yuu + Grim are having with Heartslabyul. Luckily, Idia is able to hook them up aaaaand...

We get sort of a reinactment of that part in book 1 where Trey explains the 7 dorms at NRC to us, except this time Deuce is dropping the lore in a really bombastic way.

ALRIGHT, SO. In Deuce's dream, the 7 dorms are still the same as they are irl but each dorm sort of functions like its own... gang????? And there are daily gang wars to use the facilities at school. Certain dorms rule over certain territories, and if you want to go there or do something specific then you have to beat a member of the respective dorm in a battle. Rach dorm has a suuuuper over-embellished title... THIS FEELS LIKE SOMETHING STRAIGHT OUT OF A DELINQUENT MANGA (I also want to add that the devs chose the most unhinged expressions in each character's repertoire for the following visuals:)

Heartslabyul is centered in the library; you need to pass them to borrow books.

Savanaclaw owns the botanical garden (LOL BECAUSE LEONA'S ALWAYS FUCKING NAPPING THERE *flashbacks to the time he almost kicked our shit in for stepping on his tail*). If you want any herbs or other items from the greenhouse, you need to go through Savanaclaw.

Octavinelle is in charge of the area bordering Ramshackle, around where the Mystery Shop is. Sam has apparently signed a deal with them to have his store there. You can avoid a fight with them if you pay a "toll".

Scarabia is considered moderate compared to the other dorms, but they're serious about food, as they reign over the cafeteria, as well as places on campus that produce food/ingredients, like the windmill and chicken coops. It'll be hard for you to take the Master Chef course if you aren't comfortable with constantly pummeling Scarabia kids.

Pomefiore handles the courtyard and the potionology/alchemy labs. If you have to do a makeup lesson in that department, be prepared to contend with them.

Ignihyde students usually don't come out of their territory, which is the auditorium and infirmary. hbfbyoadfadfpfas DEUCE SPECIFICALLY MENTIONS THAT ORTHO IS A NEW MEMBER AND THAT HE'S LIKE A FIERCE GUARD DOG 😭😭😭

Finally, Diasomnia has hold of the coliseum and stables. They are considered the toughest dorm and command respect, otherwise lightning will fly.

Ramshackle is basically Switzerland (ie neutral territory); the ownership is not determined by fighting but rather is determined by the headmaster. (We got no cool visual, lol)

Leona and co. try to think about ways to wake Deuce up... Since fighting seems like an everyday thing in this dream, maybe we have no choice but to go with a physical blow...? But if fighting is so normalized, maybe that wouldn't work... Plus, there are so many faces that the darkness has taken on, so it would be hard to overpower them all. They also discuss their own impressions of Deuce (ie how he looks/tries to present as an honors student versus his efforts and suspected "bad" background). In this dream, Deuce is apparently considered a top performer based on his contributions to the uh student gang wars 💀

A Heartslabyul mob rushes in and reports to Riddle that Octavinelle students are invading the library. Riddle sends Adeuce to clean up and they have this really shounen manga-esque battle where the Octa mobs call Ace and Deuce by long nicknames and Deuce even lets out an ORAORAORAORAOROARAOROAROA!!

A bunch of books are chucked around in the ensuing battle, which causes Sebek to literally FALL TO HIS KNEES and check on them. He laments that they've been damaged and is very upset by this. However, Sebek becomes truly ENRAGED when he actually opens a book and notices its contents are faulty. Like the spelling is screwed up, the pages are blank, or the writing that's there is hard to read. Sebek concludes that the contents of the books are fucked because the dreamer, Deuce, has not read these materials himself to understand them. AND DEUCE DARES TO CALL HIMSELF AN ASPIRING HONORS STUDENT???! SEBEK WON'T STAND FOR IT!!

... This fucking green haired fool shouts at Deuce and provokes a fight by shaming him 🤡 LMAO, Sebek calls the books just papers bound by a cover, IT CANNOT BE CALLED A BOOK!! He tells Adeuce to READ the damn books and then hit each other with the knowledge they gain from reading... OKAY NERD

They open up a book that should list the rules of the Queen of Hearts, but because so much of the book is blank, only like a handful of rules are written down. Deuce says that's not correct, there are WAY more rules--in fact, 810 of them! This starts to wake him up, but dream!Ace becomes darkness and tries to convince Deuce that, at NRC, only strength matters so he doesn't need to study to get to be an "honors student".

HJBAHJBAFSBHDSAHBAS HLAFHL DEUCE STARTS HAVING FLASHBACKS TO ALL THE TIMES ACE FUCKING BULLIED HIM AND DEUCE LEGITIMATELY GETS SO MAD HE FULLY WAKES UP

Wait, this is so sweet 😭😭😭 The image that Deuce has in his mind right before he wakes is his and Ace's reunion with Yuu and Grim at the end of book 6...

Deuce joins us to beat back dream!Ace. Of course Ace isn't this one, the real Ace is way more insensitive and annoying!!

Deuce starts to sort of talk down to himself. He says if his dream turned out like this, then there must have always been a part of him that "wants" to solve everything with his fists. Ortho comforts Deuce by saying that though Malleus's dream is created based on a person's desires, the output can be highly variable depending on the individual.

Sebek starts scolding Deuce again for not reading books in their entirety, and they discover one book that seems to have more information than the others. "The Story of the Trump Soldier" is a famous children's book in the Queendom of Roses, containing short stories about the Trump Card soldiers that serve the Queen of Hearts. Deuce says that he has always admired those soldiers and how cool they are, especially when they chase lawbreakers through the rose maze!

AWWWWW Deuce would beg his mom to read this book to him when he was little.. and when he finally learned how to read himself, he'd read and reread the book from front to cover. WDBHLYOIDFFIADIADF WAIT WHY IS THIS ACTUALLY SO CUTE... OTL

Deuce wants to continue reading where he left off and Sebek says the ideal way to read is in quiet so you can focus on the words. ASBHBLSAIHIDBASSD THEY CRACK A JOKE ABOUT HOW SEBEK ONLY EVER SHUTS UP WHEN HE'S READING...

Sebek seems to demonstrate genuine interest in what Deuce reads. I half anticipated him to follow up with an insult, but Sebek is actually very mindful about different reading levels. He even makes a comment that a simple children's book such as this is able to be the start of someone's love for literature, that it can still have the power to move someone as it does Deuce. That's honestly really powerful.

They then get into a conversation about picking books for each other; Sebek suggests that Deuce pick out an easy book for Yuu and Grim to read sometime. We also learn that Sebek would do this for Silver, but that Silver would get sleepy and never fully finish Sebek's recommendations. Deuce has this nice line where he goes "Even if these books are empty now, someday they will be filled", expressing his desire to become that honors student ideal for real and not just superficially.

Guys, I'm glad you like reading (I like reading too) but now is REALLY not the time for it... 🤡 The moment's cute and all (and it definitely feeds into Sebek's character arc about opening up to non-fae), yet it still feels weirdly placed to have so much casual banter when everyone knows what's at stake.

aiuaidbadab Sebek says that he will check out "The Story of the Trump Soldier" when he's out of the dream world... which is so sweet, right up until he transitions into mocking people who don't understand the emotional value of books. Silver apologizes to Deuce for Sebek's attitude and they prepare to hop into the next dream.

But wait! Where's Leona...?

... BRO WAS NAPPING ON SOME LIBRARY CHAIRS WHILE EVERYONE ELSE WAS TALKING ABOUT THE JOYS OF LITERATURE 🤡 ASJVUFEOVEOQIVib;WBIEQTOIPfwpib He finally wakes up with a stupid hot yawn and asks if they're done with their errands.

Okay, NOW we're ready for the next dream. Off we go!

We land in front of Heartslabyul dorm.

OH LORD Grim's gonna be fried up and eaten, I swear... Leona gets mad at him for clinging to his necklace while they fall out of the sky. Grim claims he didn't notice it was Leona because his hair was all over the place (Grim just grabbed what was close to him), and that leads to Leona filing a complaint to the manager (Idia). "Oi, daikon radish sprout! Make travel more convenient for me." Idia refuses, claiming he's too busy and that since travel only takes a moment, Leona can suck it up. He also has the BALLS to say Leona shouldn't pull a selfish second prince move ,adbilbiodsbiasdi AND THEN LEONA GOES HE HAS SOME CHOICE WORDS FOR HIM NEXT TIME THEY MEET FACE TO FACE, YANNO?????? Omg guys... the girlies are FIGHTING...

On the other hand, Deuce LOVED dream hopping. The wind in his face is even better than what he experiences when he rides a magical wheel. Even if he can't control where he's going while falling, he really liked the rush.

Up comes dream!Ace. He asks if Leona's over for tea or something, which makes me laugh a little because even though Leona knows how to act all proper, he LOATHES actually doing it. Anyway, Ace says that there was a Magicam notif about an urgent matter, so they're going to hold a trial. Deuce is confused that such an important announcement would be made via social media, then tells Ace off for not being in dorm uniform for the trial. Deuce also says that students from other dorms are NOT allowed to be present for trials since they're one of Heartslabyul's most sacred traditions. Riddle would behead you so fast! ... Which confuses Ace. SO YEAH FELLAS, I THINK DORM LEADER!CATER IS CONFIRMED...

Ace leaves for the trial, with Deuce chasing after him. The rest of us decide to go after them, since all the Heartslabyul students would be gathered at the trial and it will be easier to determine who the dreamer is.

But up comes... Deuce?! This must be the dream! or NPC Deuce. So we decide to deal with him early and get him out of the picture. He doesn't revert to darkness at any point, so we speculate that this is because we haven't run into the dreamer yet, or maybe because the darkness has yet to register us as a threat to the dream's stability. In any case, we tie up dream!Deuce so he doesn't interfere!

To the courtroom we go! I think it's the first time we've seen this asset...?

It's very lively inside, some students aren't in dorm uniform though.

OH MY GOOOOOD dream!Riddle is a regular ol' student now. Interestingly, he's got a little red heart as his card suit. It's a similar color and placement to Cater's diamond mark, but he shares the same suit as Ace. sdhlbabiyfaio AND HE'S NOT WARING HIS DORM UNIFORM, HE'S BREAKING A DARN RULE HIMSELF

(Trey is still vice dorm leader!)

The courtroom doors open and someone zooms in on a skateboard! It's Cater, the Heartslabyul dorm leader and our resident dreamer.

He is surprised to see students from other dorms present, especially Leona. ADBKHLADBILADBSI LEOAN LIES HIS ASS OFF ANS CLAIMS DEUCE INVITED HIM TO TEA AND CATER BELIEVES HIM

Cater takes a selfie with Leona and posts it on Magicam. Dream!Riddle interrupts to let him know the trial is starting 15 minutes late, so Cater apologizes and says they should begin for reals.

Leona and Idia have a brief exchange about dorm leadership. Most students probably want to be dorm leader more than not being dorm leader. They each express their own opinions about their title; Idia doesn't want to live under someone who is incompetent (he thinks highly of his own skills) and Leona just hates the idea of following someone else's lead. Spoken like the duo who don't have vice dorm leaders, eh...

Uuuuh so it looks like the trial is for a mob student that was too afraid of Cater to invite him to a croquet game. Cater decides to skip to the part where he gets mad and commands Riddle to behead the mob. Sebek complains about the lack of actual deliberation, but Cater dismisses it. All that he needs to render a judgment is his anger, right?

Mmm, that's interesting. Cater's being just as strict as Riddle is irl and continues to use Riddle's power as a means to punish others. His reputation is also just as scary as Riddle's is in book 1, and Cater mainly seems to be using his emotions to judge others. So in one way, yeah, Cater is laxer with the rules (he allows other students to join trials, lets people wear the wrong uniforms for important ceremonies, makes announcements via Magicam, etc.) but is still a force to be reckoned with.

Dream!Trey suggests hearing some witness testimony since there are special guests in the audience today. They have Deuce bring up witnesses, so Deuce picks Yuu and Grim. On the stand, we claim we don't know anything and the jury records our statement using their smartphones.

abhldbilasiyasoyfe THSI IS SO DUMB THAT LEONA GAVE UP TRIYNG TO UDNERSTAND THE SITUATION AND PROCEEDS TO NAP 💀

Deuce drags the still sleeping Leona up to testify. Despite being handled so roughly, he doesn't wake up one bit!! Leona mumbles something in his sleep, it's an order to Ruggie about how he wants a deluxe menchi katsu sandwich at noon. Cater announces that this is SUPER important testimony so the mobs hurry to write it down.

Last up is Silver! He's the only one that takes being questioned seriously and answers with sincerity. He is asked where he was and what he was doing at the time the grave offense was committed. Silver says probably enjoying tea in the dorm. Dream!Riddle asks why, is it his unbirthday? To which Silver says his birthday (May 15) is a little further away.

This makes dream!Trey realize it's an unbirthday, so Cater announces they MUST have a party! And... BOOM, the background goes dark with tons of neon light fixtures! Cater demands food (which I guess is the context for his new SSR's initial artwork) and has dream!Riddle DJ FOR HIM??????!?!??!?!???????? 😭OKAY, I did NOT want to side with Kingscholar but I'm afraid I have to this time... This has got to be the most nonsensical dream so far, which I guess is fitting seeing the source material www

Deuce wonders if Cater is dissatisfied with Heartslabyul irl, because the Heartslabyul in the dream seems so different. Leona drops it on us that this is actually the Heartslabyul of the PAST, when the previous dorm leader was in power. Deuce would not know about it because he's a first-year student.

BEFORE ANYONE SAYS "Omg, Cater former dorm leader theory real!!!", the game does NOT confirm this. Leona speaks about the previous dorm leader as if it was another student. He never once names Cater. (Oh, and we learn that Leona challenged his dorm leader for the seat when he was a second-year student.)

Deuce reflects and realizes he never really knew anything about the third years because he never bothered reaching out to them. YES, HERE'S A POWER OF FRIENDSHIP AFTER SCHOOL SPECIAL LESSON OTL He also thinks back to book 1 and how not enough strictness (like what they are seeing now) is its own vice, like how too much strictness can also be trouble.

asfuiadofadaefi WHAT THE FUCK

Leona proposes the idea that Trey and Cater are both "using" Riddle. He compares the scenario to how people will bring up a young leader, Riddle, as a pawn in order to overthrow the previous regime (ie the lawless Heartslabyul). Then Trey and Cater become advisors to the new ruler, manipulating him in order to create the kind of country THEY want. It's a tale as old as time. anfbiyoaafiyodgovyqefoiy I HATE HOW MUCH OF A BIG BRAIN MOVE THAT IS...AND OF COURSE FUCKIGN L*ONA OF ALL PEOPLE SAYS IT

The dream!Heartslabyul boys encourage us to eat and drink. Most of us are force fed or pressured into taking a bite/sip, but Leona won’t fall for it. Cater tries to get him to drink mysterious juice from a bottle (does Leona wanna be beheaded?), but bro’s not having it.

Ortho (the one guy who cannot eat) interrupts and reminds everyone that the darkness is trying to lull them back to sleep. We then get the reveal that Trey, Riddle, AND Cater are the darkness, meaning that this Cater is a clone and the real Cater is elsewhere.

Battle time~

Aaaah so Ortho couldn’t identify Cater as a clone because apparently it takes a really strong imagination to make convincing copies??? That, and he comments that Cater sees himself an objective way?? Something, something, because this is a dream, it is hard for Ortho to determine what the true composition of something is.

LOL???? The real Cater barges in, he saw the other Cater’s Magicam post about Leona coming over for tea and got excited about it??? He sees the black sludge everywhere and is sooo confused… It’s literally the meme of the guy walking in with pizza boxes only to find the room on fire 😭

Dream!Riddle is on a rampage and beheading everyone, and THAT triggers Cater to wake up. His own dream fucked up THAT hard.

Deuce is about to be collared but Cater uses Split Card to make a bunch of clones that catch the strays of Riddle’s UM and protect Deuce. This must be the context for his new SSR's groovy!

He and some new clones join us to beat up the darkness! As they’re melting away, dream!Trey and Riddle call out to Cater AND CATER SAYS THEY’RE DISGUSTING, THE REAL TREY AnD rIDDLE QoULD NEEEEVERRR… “Could you please disappear? Bye bye ⭐️”

OH MY GOD 😭 Cater Diamond is not beating the bi allegations… First it was him excitedly running into the courtroom when he saw that LEONA was there, now he’s all like “It’s thrilling to be woken up by the prince”. I THINK WE ALL KNOW WHO THE REAL LIONKISSER IS HERE FOLKS.

zbsnsbiska Cater compliments Idia’s video an says it’s sooo cute 😂 but Idia is not thrilled with that comment.

Cater says that he’s not unhappy with Heartslabyul irl (Deuce’s misunderstanding, ig??). He actually likes the dorm the way it currently is. So I guess Leona's theory about Cater trying to revolutionize Heartslabyul wasn't true after all?? ADFHJAFBUASDUO CATER ROASTS LEONA BY SAYING HE'S NOT THE TYPE TO BE SAYING THAT BECAUSE WASN'T LEONA TRYING TO DO THIS SHIT IN BOOK 2.

ADBILABIYOAOYOIB CATER MOM MODE?????? He scolds Leona and says the Heartslabyul underclassmen are cute because they're stupid and easy to deceive, he doesn't want them to become twisted and gross because of Leona's' poor guidance. THEN CATER CLAIMS HE HIMSELF IS A KIND RELIABLE AND COOL UPPERCLASSMAN THAT WOULD NEVER EVER TAKE ADVANTAGE OF DEUCE... Is this the same guy who fucking tricked us into painting the roses red for him??? THAT Cater??? *stares at him* Leona says no way will Deuce buy that bullshit BUT DEUCE DOES INDEED BUY CATER'S BULLSHIT OTL YOU POOR SWEET SUMMER CHILD...

ADFBHUFSYUOFSOYFEO CATER CALLS SEBEK "SEBEK-CHAN"... This throws him off, because "Sebek-chan" is something his older sister calls him, but when Cater says it, it sends a shiver down his spine!

The group agrees to head to Ace's dream next. Before they depart, Cater seizes this opportunity to take a group selfie~! aberiylaiyladasd Cater wanted to take a pic of his dorm leader outfit as a souvenir, but then he says he also wants to take tons of pics of Leona-kun! (Leona says this feels like harassment adshasd) adshuvoayafeyovifpbiVIYFWPF CATER DIAMOND YOU WON'T FOOL KME, I KNIOW A LIONKISSER EHWN I SEE ONE.

Aaaand we set off to the next leg of our journey! That's it for this update.

Man. I did NOT expect a Deuce and Cater-centric update to be THIS bulky but here we are, I guess 💀

The highlight of Deuce's dream was definitely the part at the end where he shares his favorite book with Sebek. Now, I still got HUGE gripes with the pacing and how the characters continue to waste valuable time chit chatting and hanging around but that aside, I really liked what this moment did for both Deuce and Sebek's characters. We get confirmation that Deuce truly does want to work and study hard to be an honors student--and as for Sebek, we get to see him actually opening up and sharing something he genuinely loves with others. You can tell just how much he values reading; he doesn't dismiss Deuce for reading an "easy" book and sees actual value in it being a jumping point for others to get into other books. He is constantly sharing books he loves with his friend Silver and encourages Deuce to do the same for Yuu and Grim. AND THIS IS FURTHER PROOF THAT SEBEK IS THE BEST B--*is bricked into silence*

Anyway, I'm glad they didn't stop Sebek's character development in Lilia's dream. I'm definitely now getting the sense that Lilia's dream was just the initial "rude awakening" for him when he's confronted with a dose of his own racism thrown back at him. He's not used to his loving grandfather being so vitriolic to him on the basis of his race. And now in more recent updates Sebek is being exposed to the good side of students from other dorms (such as Jack), as well as connecting with them via shared interests (like he is now with Deuce). It's so adorable how Sebek promises he will check out the book Deuce loves so much once he returns to the real world, AHAHHHHHHH H HHHH H H H H H HH H H H H H H H OTL SEBEK-CHAN LEMME SQUISH YOUR CHEEKS MYR PRECIOUS BABY BOI

Something else I appreciated about Deuce's dream is how his friendship with Ace, Yuu, and Grim is made relevant. When he first runs into Yuu and co., he worries that Ramshackle has been absorbed by Savanaclaw and doesn't want to fight his friends. Then when things are cleared up, Deuce still invites Yuu and Grim to come eat with Heartslabyul. He and Ace fight together very well in his own dream--so well, in fact, that it reminds me a lot of how Silver and Sebek are perfectly coordinated with one another when they fought the flowers in GloMasq. It's Deuce's own (loving) anger towards the real Ace that ultimately wakes him up. And you can tell that Deuce places value in his relationship with Ace, Yuu, and Grim by how he acts. AND THEN WHEN HE WAKES UP HE'S THINKING OF THAT TIME WHEN ALL OF US REUNITED... HOW IS THAT NOT SUPPOSED TO MAKE ME TEAR UP A LITTLE...

I thought I wouldn't enjoy Cater's dream, but I actually found it to be very fun! I loved how silly and nonsensical it was; it really tickled my Alice in Wonderland-loving bone. asdvhdvsoidsa I'M SHOCKED AT HOW MUCH WEIRDLY PLACED L*ONA CONTENT THERE WAS IN ACATER'S DREAM OTL I expected him falling asleep to be a gag at some point, and I was right (it happens in both Deuce and Cater's), BUT I WAS NOT EXPECTING CATER TO BE SUCH A LION SIMP, NOR WAS I EXPECTING L*ONA TO MAKE THAT REALLY SMART ANALOGY ABOUT A POTENTIAL HEARTSLABYUL REVOLUTION... **slams an angry fist on the ground** LITERALLY SHAKING SOBBING THROWING UP OVER HERE 🤡

The twist with the real Cater being somewhere else was really interesting, but it's a shame we never got to go deeper with this idea or get exposure to the "real" personality of his. I think there was another missed opportunity (although this would still prolong the pacing problems, lol) with dream!Deuce being taken out so early. I thought for sure that dream!Deuce would escape his binds and interrupt the trial, and then that would lead into a whole Ace Attorney style segment where they try to deduce which Deuce is "real". It would parallel how Cater's UM allows him to make clones, as well as how Cater keeps putting on an act and not showing his true self to others. At the climax of the trial, the OG Cater could make his grand appearance and the rest of his dream could still proceed like the version we really got. I DON'T KNOW, I THINK IT WOULD HAVE BEEN COOL TO SEE... (<- totally biased Ace Attorney fan)

That being said, Cater's dream felt... more geared toward comedy than being serious? And it's not like we haven't had dreams like that before, but it feels especially hollow because we've been waiting SO LONG for him to get more depth, be if exploring his dark side or explaining more of his general inner thoughts. It sucks we didn't get any of that.

Cater's not a character I care for a ton, but I think I saw a side of him today that's pretty funny! He was delivering banger roast after banger roast, especially when he called out Leona for trying to overthrow another regime while accusing him of doing the same. dbiabsiofobiapb Also love that we get a reminder of how underhanded Cater is (something I felt we didn't see outside of book 1 when he tricked Adeuce into doing his chores for him). He fr abuses his status as a "trustworthy" senior and accuses LEONA of corrupting the kids to gain Deuce's support 💀 That scene was so funny, it had me in stitches!

With every new dream, I think I become more and more confused about how these things even work. It feels like they offer a completely contradictory explanation or a new detail to overcomplicate the situation every update, and now I have like NO understanding of anything. What confuses me the most about this update is how BOTH Deuce and Cater claim what we saw in their dreams does not reflect what they actually want. Like... Isn't Deuce ASHAMED of his delinquent era? Doesn't he NOT want to go back to that? Isn't he trying hard to study and to be an honors student irl? That's the opposite of what the dream shows. Yeah, it would be more convenient for Deuce to understand and succeed if everything were decided with strength instead of smarts, but this is still actively NOT what he would want, especially given all the time and effort he sunk into reforming himself. Cater also very explicitly states the has ZERO interest in being dorm leader, so why is it that his dream manifested this way??? I suppose you could say he's lying (because he very much is a liar) and is hiding his true desires?? BUT EVEN THEN THIS DOESN'T MAKE TOTAL SENSE BECAUSE HOW DO YOU EXPLAIN DEUCE OVER THERE??????

So how are these supposed to be their "happiest" dreams????? THIS MAKES NO SENSE and all I'm getting from this (until the writing clarifies) is that the devs didn't actually make the dreams "happy", it's partly this way because they just wanted a convenient excuse to write scenarios that would be interesting for the players to see, such as Leona being king or delinquent Deuce or Savanaclaw Rook or whatever OTL I'm hoping this gets properly explained by the end instead of continuing to flounder and leaving the fans to come up with all the answers for themselves... (I also pray for us to stop wasting time doing nothing while the world is about to end, but given that this is an Important Part of the Pattern, I'm guessing there is no chance this is happening. A BIRD CAN ONLY DREAM.)

Alright, that's all from me. See you next main story update for Ace and Trey's dreams...!

[formulawolff]

fanboy behavior - t.w.

pairing: female driver!reader x toto wolff

word count: 1.3k

warnings: an older man having an insanely large crush on a woman thirty years his junior, ONE-SIDED PINING (LOTS OF IT OKAY), allusions to smut/sexual fantasies, toto is a mess, mentions of divorce, common fic tropes, yadayadayada

a/n: this is sort of a prequel to alkaline! this is set one year before the events of the 2024 bahrain grand prix. toto is super down bad in this already, so expect lots of pining and him being a flustered mess hehe! i figured this would provide some context/background for the first chapter of alkaline <3 (ALSO PLS LISTEN TO ALKALINE BY SLEEP TOKEN!!! IT REALLY ENCAPSULATES TOTO'S YEARNING!!)

his mind is other places.

he should be invested in the current conversation with his engineers and drivers, discussing the current status of the car and the potential modifications that needed to be made before sunday.

but he's not, his foot tapping against the concrete floor absentmindedly, body on autopilot.

it's almost as if his brain was short-circuiting, desperately trying to compute any sort of coherent thought in correlation with the task at hand. yet, if he tries, it just sputters, trailing off, veering towards something else.

well, someone else.

he's thinking about a driver, merely a few paddocks down.

a williams racing driver, actually.

the american girl. barely twenty-one, a rookie in the second williams seat, preparing to compete in her first formula one race in approximately twenty-four hours.

her eyes were like starlight, bursting with a torrent of emotions and complexity, pulling you into their depths, begging for you to get lost within them. her hair was absolutely gorgeous, complementing her features no matter its state.

and her physique?

fuck, the team principal felt like a teenage boy very time he stole a glance, his slacks feeling a little tighter than usual.

with a smile that lit up every room she was in, a radiant aura brimming with kindness and humility, as well as a fiery determination to compete, she was comparable to the sun.

the woman who was starting to become routinely embedded in his daily pondering.

ever since that fateful day in december, when his eyes first drank in that photo of her, hand interlocked with james in front of that williams car, she was the last thing on his mind before he dozed off. and well, the first thing his mind wandered to in the mornings.

she even made an appearance in his dreams, the sound of her voice almost haunting him, so tantalizingly sweet and angelic.

fuck, he was a goner.

this was the third month now where she consumed every crevice of his brain. a continuous loop of all of the sins he wanted to confess, the ways in which he wanted to touch her, and the burning desire to take her under his wing, teaching her all of the ins and outs of racing.

was he obsessed with her? surely not.

not that he memorized every single one of her f2 stats or anything. not that he spent a majority of his free time lately invested in interview clips with her, jotting down all of her favorite things. not that he doodled her during meetings or anything.

not that at least twelve times a day he fantasized about her in a mercedes suit, his fingers carefully tugging down the zipper.

this was normal behavior after a recent divorce. completely normal behavior, actually.

the team principal clears his throat, "i need to step away for a moment. i can barely think straight right now. please, continue. i will rejoin the conversation once i get my shit together."

he can't help but notice the way his drivers exchange a concerned glance, lewis coughing slightly.

"um, all right. toto, is everything okay?"

not quite.

he was going absolutely insane, his mind already reeling at the anticipation of potentially catching a glimpse of her. he wasn't even sure if he would or not, but that possibility sent a rush of adrenaline coursing through his veins.

those endless possibilities are what kept him up at night. what sent the blood rushing in the mornings, the stiffness in his boxers nearly pulling him out of his slumber. what had him pacing some days in his office, desperate beyond belief for some sort of way to break this spell.

as he strolls out of the garage, a warm breeze rolls through the track, strands of hair blowing all over. he curses slightly, running a quick hand through the tousled mess.

just to his left, a flurry of voice catches his attention, his head swiveling, searching for the source.

besides james is the object of his every desire, the apple of his eye.

as the sun dips below the horizon, he can barely make out her expression. she appears frustrated, her brows furrowed together, a deep frown etched across her lips.

"i just don't fucking understand why that dickhead felt the need to ask me if i was on my period!" she groans, shaking her head, "what the fuck was i supposed to do? let that slide?"

there's a sternness plastered across james' face, yet his voice is soft, laced with sympathy, "i know, but you have to realize that you're going to be asked questions like that because there are misogynists within the sport. no matter how much you prove to us that you deserve this seat, there are going to be pricks out there. we can do a little bit more media training, if you'd like. or, i can hire a publicist for you."

"a publicist? are you fucking kidding me?" her eyes widen, her tone growing more and more frustrated, "i'm not fifteen. i can speak for myself, james."

"it was just a suggestion," he shrugs, sticking out his hands, "look, i know you had a rough day, but let's focus on tomorrow. all right? you're tenth on the grid. that's monumental for your first race. you could win us points."

"we'll see," she scoffs, the toe of her shoe scuffing against the pavement, "i'm sorry for getting upset with you. i'm just really nervous. and well, scared."

scared of what? you have nothing to fear, sweet girl. you're one of the best drivers i have seen step foot on the grid.

toto narrows his eyes, lingering for just a moment longer.

"i just don't know if i deserve this seat," he can sense the falter in her voice, how it shakes, "i don't even know if i deserve a spot in formula one. i mean, look at me! i'm this upset over a dumb question. and i'm just scared everything is going to go to my head tomorrow and i'm going to overthink it."

james wraps his arms around the driver, pulling her in for a tight embrace as a sob wracks her body, "hey, when you're in doubt, you have alex and i. we will always be there for you. i know you're nervous, but you have to realize how special and talented you are to be in this position. you've deserved everything that has come your way, and you will continue to deserve this. i promise."

his biceps flex as he folds his arms against his chest, every fiber of his being resisting the urge to just walk over there and casually sweep her off her feet, squeezing her against his chest as he murmurs in her ear how fucking special she was.

james, she wasn't just special and talented.

she was a fucking star. a star that deserved to shine and hold every ounce of that spotlight.

just like the sun, she deserved to cast her rays of light all over the world.

the world deserved to know who she was. where she came from. how she got here. why she was a worthy competitor and excellent driver.

and by god, toto wolff was hellbent on making that happen.

one way or another.

he just had to be patient. play the long game.

every move from here was to be carefully calculated.

as toto harbored a plan. one that had been brewing the second that speculations swirled around the world of formula one that the first female american driver would be signing to a team.

he was going to have her by his side at mercedes.

fuck, he had been yearning for her this long already.

how much harm would a few more months do? a year?

he could wait a year. he was a patient man.

well, he could wait that long.

as long as that hunger gnawing away at him didn't kill him first.

[fanaticsnail]

Sooo if we’re doing yandere can we please get some yandere katakuri ?

It's been a little while since I've written for our dear Katakuri, and I wanted to see how this would play out. Thank you for your ask! 🖤🐌

Safety

Masterlist Here

Word Count: 1,700+

Synopsis: As housekeeper to Charlotte Linlin, Katakuri saw you as part of his family. He is obsessed with ensuring you are safe, being a human so much smaller than he was and around such a large family. He is doing all of this, just to ensure your safety. Sometimes that means following you home and watching you from outside your bed chambers.

Themes: yandere!Katakuri x gn!reader, yandere trope, hinted nudity, showers, obsessive tendencies, obsessive behaviours, almost kissing, confessions of love.

Notes: I have only written a few fics for Katakuri, but I adore the big guy. I hope you don't mind him with a little bit of obsession over his features.

Tag list: @gingernut1314 @since-im-already-here @writingmysanity @indydonuts @feral-artistry @sordidmusings @mfreedomstuff @daydreamer-in-training @i-am-vita

Amber lights illuminate and press over your skin the moment you enter into your living space within the servants quarters of his mother’s bed chambers. The soft crack of your fire popped and caused you to jump and giggle at the soft interruption. Slowly removing your apron and overcoat, you placed your uniform in your wicker basket for washing on your day off tomorrow.

As housekeeper and confidant to Charlotte Linlin, you were never far from the source of vengeance and wrath from the larger woman. Your body was pushed to the limits when preparing her pastries, fudges and cakes, and was also subject to aiding her in her daily routine: preparing her facial features with paints and powders, and dressing her in her garments for the day.

You were so small in comparison, so frail and meek when compared to the giants who lorded the land. So defenseless and helpless should Linlin express her disdain and wrath physically directed at you. You needed a loyal guard dog, a protector, a warrior to ensure your safety within the grounds and an escort to your suite.

At least, that's what Katakuri told himself you needed. And he was more than willing to provide such a service.

His ruby gaze trailed your body from his position sitting on the ground with his back pressed against the tree outside your window. His lips were partially parted, his eyelids falling to half-mast as his desire for you only grew and grew the longer you served his mother.

You were so small, he could wrap his fist around you in one hand. He wanted to keep you safe, to keep you secure, to ensure you would never go wanting for anything as his mother’s young confidant. He loved his family, and as such: you were an extension of such a title as someone residing in such close quarters.

This had become his nightly ritual: going about his day as earl of flour, writing to officials within his mother's vast nakama, ensuring her title as Yonko remained intact and secure, and following you home to ensure your safety from a distance to not alarm you at the end of your shift with his mother. You were so precious to him, so innocent and pure within Komugi Island.

As you rid yourself of your daily attire and readied yourself for your nightly bath, a warm tint of pink dampened Katakuri’s cheeks with the flood of blood pooling within. He told himself this was private, something you didn't mean to be seen by another individual, and he begged his eyes to pull away from gazing up at you. But the longer he looked, the more he longed.

His sharpened canines began to shake and chatter against one another as he consumed your form, telling himself he was truly ensuring you were safe from any who wished to do you harm. His gaze continued to hold over you as you stepped within the shroud of your bathroom walls. Steam exited the vents from the cement wall beside your quarters, the scents of citrus, flower petals and eucalyptus flooding his nostrils while picturing the lather of bubbled suds over your skin.

Shaking his head, he cast all impure thoughts away from him as he fixed his eyes on the ground in front of him. He was your knight for the night, not some pervert attempting to peek into your bed chambers in hopes of meeting with your bare flesh. He was here to keep you safe from those who lurked in the dark, not to have you fear him more for his actions.

A hum called him away from his thoughts, the familiar tune you would sing to yourself every night ringing out in perfect pitch. Closing his eyes, he allowed the moment to be shared with him as his own deep baritone hummed the counterpart along with you. His soul began to mourn your meeting, crave your contact, and yearn for a simple touch that his obsession with ensuring your safety was not to be misinterpreted as lust.

At the last thought, his eyes snapped open. His pupils narrowed, his brow furrowed, and his sharp teeth grimaced at such horror. He was not in love with you, this was truly about keeping you safe. He did not want to hold you, kiss you, consume you and ravish you with romantic intensity that could rival all others.

Did he?

As you stepped out of your bathing quarters in a fluffed robe and your hands drying your hair with a plush towel, it truly dawned on him. Watching your smile grow as you began to dress yourself in comfortable sleepwear and sat by the fire to heat your hair and dry your scalp with book in hand, he truly was struck in the chest like his trident in the thick of battle.

He did want all of those things with you. He was in love with you. Truly, deeply, and painfully in love with you. His love for you propelled him to do these things, to keep you safe, to shepherd you from harm, to check the future with his haki to ensure no slip ups resulted in your pain. He loved you with every chasm of his chest, and vein that coursed through him.

As his eyes drew up once he had dealt with this internally, you were gone. Panic coursed through him, his heart fluttering and immediately readying himself to prepare to fight whoever stole you from his sights. Standing to his full height of seventeen feet and hardening his stance, he was shocked once again at the opening of your front door and your form glaring at him with an unwavering gaze.

“Are you going to tell me why you are following me, lord Charlotte?” your chastising hum slashed into him with invisible blades, holding him both hostage and accountable for his nightly routine.

Taking several moments of being held beneath your scrutiny, Katakuri took a lengthy inhale before exhaling his woes.

“I swore to myself to keep you safe,” he confessed, lowering his eyes and buckling his knee to kneel before you and fall at eye height, “And safe is where you will be, with me ensuring it.” He continued to hang his head, his nose and lip remaining hidden beneath his furred shroud.

“Safe from what? The shower and my bedroom?” you press him, walking forward with your robe flowing at your knees and parting slightly with each step. “Lord Charlotte, I know you have been following me for several months now. I have never felt safer, but,” you finally reach him, his large head the size of your torso and hidden from you beneath his plum-colored hair, “I am lost for reason as to why you are doing this.”

He froze, feeling your body so much closer than he was accustomed to experiencing, inhaling the scents you had washed yourself with in the shower so close, and consumed with longing for you. He didn't want to lie, but he was growing wary of how you would interpret the truth from him. Biting back his nerves, he scrunched his eyes tightly shut and slowly whispered out his hushed confession.

“Because I am in love with you,” he waited with baited breath, making himself as small as possible by deepening his lunge and hanging his head lower.

Your soft hand cradled his cheek, lifting his eyes to meet with yours and revealing his sharpened teeth to you for the first time. He was overcome with panic as your eyes darted immediately to his lips, but his panic softened into confusion as all he was met with was a gentle smile and a warmness in your eyes.

“Forgive me,” he mouthed, his voice lost to him the longer you cradled his larger cheek, “I do not wish to frighten you. I just-... I just wanted nothing more than to keep you safe from all harm.” He darted his eyes between yours, his gaze somewhere between consumed with humility, and plagued with an underlying argument with himself, “You are so special to me.”

“There is nothing to forgive, lord Charlotte,” you lulled your head to the side, continuing to examine his features and darting over his stooped body, “And I can say I have grown a fondness for you too. I think it's due to the fact I always know where I go, you're only a few feet behind me. It's a comfort, truly.”

Stepping closer to him, you cup the other side of his face within your small hand and smile down at him in his low kneel. You raised his chin, prompting him to angle his face higher up to take in your form without filter or shroud of the fact that he truly loved you.

“All that remains is where we go from here,” you giggled down at him, the hum of your voice ringing like a soft, pleasant bell in his ears and raising a smile over his lips.

“In what way do you mean?” he asked, his ruby eyes half lidded and longing for more from you. Inching down closer to his lips, you hover yours over his and whisper in a smooth and sultry tone.

“Well, lord Charlotte, I am unsure if my living quarters are truly safe,” you smiled down at him, his lips parting as they shuddered forward in anticipation of meeting with yours. “Can you come inside and check them for me?” You pull away from his face and gaze down into his eyes, “That is what you were ensuring, correct? My safety?”

Charlotte Katakuri’s eyelashes fluttered with a soft stuttered blink, never truly widening them once reopening. He was consumed with pride at the notion you wanted to keep him with you, finally receiving permission to continue his nightly task of ensuring your protection from a closer vantage point.

“If that is what you so desire,” he whispered in response, slowly leaning into your touch with his chin before pulling away from your grip entirely, “I would never leave you fearing for your safety. Please, lead me on and show me where you feel the most frightened.”

Slowly raking your eyes over his features, your gaze turned hungry and possessive to mirror his own features.

“I can admit, I am plagued by nightmares of late, my lord,” slowly drawing your fingers down to tease at the chest-lining of your bathrobe. A slow, unintentional and protective growl rose up in Katakuri's chest as his lust now blackened his irises. Rising to his feet, he extended his right hand out to you and purred down from his impressive height.

“Then we shall start in your bedchambers.”

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Character Sheet Template

Basic Information

Name (aliases, nicknames etc.): Explain the significance or origin of their name. Do they have a story behind a nickname?

Age: How does their age affect their worldview and behavior?

Gender: How do they identify and how does that shape their experiences?

Place of birth: How has their birthplace influenced their personality and opportunities?

Residence(s): Where have they lived, and where do they live now? What does their living space look like? Describe their present accommodations.

Ethnicity: How does their ethnic background influence their interactions and experiences?

Culture: What cultural values do they uphold? Have they faced any cultural conflicts?

Occupation(s) or specialties: What are the specific duties or skills in their job? How do they feel about their work?

Socioeconomic status: Has their economic background influenced their opportunities and personality? Has their status changed over time?

Appearance

Defining facial features: What do these features say about their character? How would a friend describe them? An enemy?

Height, build, body type: How do they feel about their physical appearance?

Mannerisms and gestures: How do they express themselves physically? Are these mannerisms a result of their background, or personal quirks?

Style: How does their style reflect their personality or status?

Dress: Do they dress differently for different occasions? How do they choose their clothes?

Accessories: Are there any accessories they never leave home without?

Other visual features: Do they have scars, tattoos, or other unique markers?

Personality

Defining traits: List of traits and attributes. What are the origins of these traits? Have they changed over time?

Personality type: MBTI, Enneagram, astrological sign, etc.

Archetype: Which common tropes do they exhibit?

Strengths and weaknesses: How do their strengths help them achieve goals? How do their weaknesses hinder them?

Flaws: How do their flaws affect their relationships and decisions?

Beliefs and spirituality: Do they believe in a higher power?

Morals and values: What events shaped their outlook on life?

Hopes and dreams: What steps are they taking towards these dreams? What obstacles stand in their way?

Skills: Which skills are they most proud of? Are there any skills they wish they had?

Interests or hobbies: How did they encounter their interests? How do others react to them?

Powers (if any): What are the limits and costs of their powers? How do they balance them with “normal” life?

Intimacy: How do they feel about physical intimacy? Emotional intimacy? Have they ever been in love?

Tastes and preferences: How do their preferences shape their daily choices?

Fears, phobias, or prejudices: How do they cope with their fears? Have they tried to overcome them?

Contradictions: How do they reconcile these contradictions, if at all?

Pet peeves: How do they react when annoyed?

Habits and quirks: Are their quirks known to others, or are they hidden?

Focus and obsessions: When did they acquire this focus? Do their obsessions cause problems or provide solutions?

Possessions of value: What sentimental items do they keep and why?

Health: Do they have any illnesses or conditions?

What they like about themselves: How do these positive aspects help them in difficult situations?

What they dislike about themselves: How do these negative aspects create internal conflict?

What they admire in others: What traits or worldviews do they consider positive? What makes them notice somebody?

What they dislike in others: What traits or worldviews rubs them the wrong way, and why?

Relationships

Family or guardians: How has their relationship with family members/caregivers shaped their personality?

Found family (if applicable): What binds them together?

Pets: What are their pet's personalities?

Friends: How did they meet these friends? What are their strongest memories together?

Allies and enemies: How did they gain allies and make enemies?

Past and current partners/love interests: Have they ever been in love? Describe any partners through the character’s eyes.

Mentors and confidants: How have these figures influenced their decisions and growth?

Heroes: Do they have idols, or someone to look up to? Which behaviors or traits influenced them the most?

Trust: How did they come to trust or distrust these individuals?

Background

Upbringing or parenting style: How did their childhood experiences shape their current behavior?

Formative memories: Which memories are most vivid for them, and why?

Education: How do they view their educational experiences? What subjects did they find fascinating, and which did they hate?

Major life events: How have these events redirected their path?

External experiences: Have any world events, conflicts or changes affected them?

Accomplishments: What achievements are they most proud of?

Failures: How have their failures impacted their self-esteem and future decisions?

Disappointments: How do they cope with disappointment? Have they learned from it?

Motivations

Goals: What short-term and long-term goals drive them?

What do they want?: How do their desires align with their goals?

How do they try to get it?: What strategies do they use to achieve their goals?

What happens if they do/don't succeed?: How do they handle success or failure?

Internal conflicts: What are their inner struggles and how do they manifest?

External conflicts: Who or what stands in their way, and how do they deal with these obstacles?

What are they trying to hide?: Why are they hiding this aspect of themselves? How would they manage its exposure?

How do they wish to be perceived?: How do they work towards this perception?

What are they proud of?: How does this pride influence their actions?

What are they ashamed of?: How does this shame affect their decisions and relationships?

What do they regret?: How do their regrets shape their present actions?

What is their legacy?: What impact do they hope to leave behind?

Communication Style

Language(s) spoken: How proficient are they in each language? Do they switch languages in different contexts?

Literacy: Are they good with words, or do they struggle to get their point across?

Accent: How does their accent influence others' perceptions of them?

Vocabulary and cadence: What unique speech patterns do they have?

Common turns of phrase or catchphrases: Are they funny, morose, profane, etc.? How do others respond to them?

Emotional range: How does their communication style change with their emotions?

Body language: What are their most noticeable non-verbal cues?

Visual cues or “tells”: How do others read their true feelings?

Style of humor: What type of humor do they prefer, and how do they use it in various interactions?

Emotional range

How do they display and react to...

Affection:

Joy:

Sadness:

Fear:

Surprise:

Anger:

Disappointment:

Praise:

Criticism:

Irritation:

Antagonism:

Attacks:

Sources: 1 2 3 4 Writing References: Plot ⚜ Character ⚜ Worldbuilding

[lady-pug]

Written Between the Lines

Chapter I - In Between These Lines

Summary: Aemond had been avoiding you all day, and you were determined to get some answers, and maybe comfort him when he needed you to.

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Reader

Word count: 2,4k

Warnings: canon-typical incest (uncle-niece)

Notes: Hello hello! It's the day of the (official) release of the season 2 finale of HotD and I thought it was the perfect time to publish this. I have been meaning to write for this fandom for quite some time now, and this one had been on my mind for quite some time now and I decided to write it down and see where it went, and I’m quite proud of how it turned out.

Just to clear some things up: reader is Rhaenyra’s eldest child (yes, I went for that trope), being one or two years younger than Aemond and one or two years older than Jace (so she and Aemond are more or less the same age). This first chapter is set on the same day of the Pink Dread incident (season 1, episode 6), which means they are children. (Also, I don't understand anything of palm reading, but that's kinda the whole point)

I really hope you, dear reader, enjoy this and have fun while reading it. If you spot any mistakes, please feel free to warn me and I'll correct it right away, and feedback is always welcome and appreciated. I hope you truly enjoy this story.

Reader is female, but no physical descriptions provided

Next chapter | Masterlist | Read on AO3

He had been ignoring you all day. The only time you even managed to catch a glimpse of him was on the courtyard during his training lessons with Ser Criston, accompanied by both your brothers and his own. It was pretty boring, really, watching from afar as it would be considered ‘improper’ for you to join them, even though both your father and Ser Harwin had taken upon themselves to teach you the ways of the steel in secret (even though you had a strong suspicion your mother was well aware of it). At least you got some free entertainment for the day, watching Ser Harwin beat the absolute shit out of Cole.

Serves him right for being cunt to my brothers, you had thought.

You’d normally prefer to spend your afternoons with Helaena, truly enjoying the girl’s company, her fascination with bugs and beetles and her clever mind never failing to make you smile. However, you’d later have to apologize to your aunt for skipping on your daily meeting as you ventured around the keep in search of her brother. You were supposed to meet at the weirwood tree after he got back from going to the pit with the boys so you could work on your high valyrian lessons together, but as the minutes passed you began to worry and set out to find him. 

You thoroughly believed he wasn’t even going to show up at supper, his mother smiling softly albeit crookedly upon your questioning, claiming he was feeling indisposed, but to your surprise he did come in if only a little late. He wasn’t acting like himself, however, choosing to sit in the seat furthest away from you, where he would normally sit right by your side, leaving the seat vacant for Aegon to sit next to you, his abhorrent manners at the table almost making you physically recoil. He didn’t look at anyone, nor did he speak to anyone unless spoken to and he seemed way more interested in poking around his food than actually eating it. And once the meal was over and everyone was excused he practically vanished, rushing out of the hall before you could even rise to your feet.

Now, as night had fallen, you were determined to find him and get some answers. Goosebumps formed on your skin as you ventured deeper in the hidden passages of the Keep where your sword lessons were held, the chilly air of King’s Landing biting at your exposed arms. You walked with confidence, knowing for a fact both your chambers were connected through these halls. You just hoped to the Old Gods and the New that you did in fact know where you were going and that you didn’t accidentally walk in on Aegon doing something very morally questionable with one of the servants.

Please let it be this one, you prayed as your fingers pressed against a loose panel on the wall.

And it seemed you had to look no further. Aemond was half submerged in a bath arranged in the middle of the room (confirming these were, indeed, his chambers), the ends of his hair sticking to his skin as water clung to the strands. Upon hearing the wall moving he startled, his eyes widening as he desperately scrambled to try and cover some of his modesty, even though you could barely see anything below the waterline.

“B-by the Gods!” he squirmed, clearly not expecting visitors at this hour, and you felt an amused smirk building on your lips at his attempts at covering up.

“Worry not, uncle.” you jested walking closer to the tub after closing the secret door behind you “You seem to forget I have three younger brothers. It’s nothing I haven’t seen before.”

His cheeks tinged with a bright shade of pink.

“What in the Seven Hells are you doing here?!” he tried once again to cover up, trying to look anywhere but at you standing in the middle of his chambers in only your nightclothes.

“Why have you been avoiding me?” you asked, the smirk promptly slipping from your face.

He seemed momentarily taken aback by such a question, looking away almost… ashamed?

“I have done no such thing, I have just been busy?” he tried, though his words lacked any conviction and ended up sounding more like a question.

“You promised to meet me after going to the Dragonpit.” you spoke softly “But you never came.”

At this he didn’t have a rebuttal, not one that wouldn’t give too much away, so he simply shrugged, his gaze cast down into the water. But you could tell from the way he shrunk under your gaze that there was something more to it.

“Did something happen in the Dragonpit?” you asked, taking a couple of slow and careful steps closer to him. When he stayed silent, only scrunching his eyes as if it physically pained him to think about it, you tried again “Aemond… what happened at the Dragonpit?”

“Nothing happened!” he snapped, his eyes brimming with unshed tears, before his voice acquired a venomous tone “Now if you could excuse me, little niece, I find myself quite occupied at the moment and don’t have the time to entertain you right now. Go meddle on somebody else’s business.”

Had you been anybody else you’d have left by now, with your tail between your legs and tears dripping down your face over the lashing of his tongue. And although his words did sting and left you feeling slightly humiliated, you stood your ground. You’d like to think that after all these years, having grown up together in the Red Keep, you’d come to know your uncle, your friend, better than anyone by now. You knew he, very much like yourself, was more reserved in his feelings, keeping them to himself, but once they finally bubbled over they tended to burn everything in their path. Aemond, like you, was the blood of the dragon after all. And you had come to learn that when he was hurting he tended to lash out at anyone and everyone around him, intending to inflict the same hurt onto others so he wasn’t left alone in his misery.

So, taking a steadying breath, you closed the distance between the two of you, carefully climbing inside the tub with him. The water was lukewarm, and given the propensities of the members of the Targaryen family to enjoy their baths scalding hot, it told you that he’d probably been here for quite a while now, sulking alone.

As you lowered yourself into the water, he pressed himself further into the side of the wooden tub, trying to stay as further away from you as possible. 

“T-this is hardly appropriate, niece.” he stammered, trying not to let his eyes curiously wander down to your now soaked nightgown.

You stayed silent for a moment, contemplating the situation you found yourself in, but you’d gone too far now to back down without the answers you seek.

“So, are you going to tell me what the matter is?”

He didn’t answer, but even though he refused to look directly at you, you spotted a lone tear escaping down his cheek.

“Aemond-”

“They gave me a pig.” he whispered, his gaze once again cast down.

“What?”

He swallowed thickly, his eyes finally meeting yours, and you could see the weight of the anger and the shame he’d been caring throughout the entire day.

“After Jacaerys finished his training with Vermax, he, Aegon and Lucerys mentioned they had found a dragon for me.” his voice wavered slightly as he recounted the event “I should not have believed them, I was such a fool… they brought a pig, decorated with wings and all.” more tears escaped his eyes, your heart clenching in your chest at the sight “‘The Pink Dread’ they called it.”

“Oh, Aemond-”

“I don’t want your pity, niece!” he lashed out once again, and you had to remind yourself it wasn’t personal “If that is all you came here for you can see yourself out.”

You pursed your lips, a frown etched on your face. You knew how much it pained him to remain dragonless. He had shared his thoughts with you once in the library after your lessons in high valyrian, way past the time you should have retired to your respective chambers. How he thought himself a disgrace to the Targaryen name, ashamed at not having a dragon for himself when even your younger brother Luke already had Arrax. You tried to console him but he was having none of it, too caught up in his self-loathing to listen. So you knew nothing you said could comfort him how he deserved.

An idea struck you. It was a stupid one, and you didn’t even know if it would work, but you had to try even if it backfired spectacularly. So you scooted closer to him in the tub, fitting between his spread legs without touching him, and extended your palm out.

“What are you doing?” he asked, eyes wide and confused.

“Give me your hand.”

“What?”

“Just give me your hand.” you coaxed, making come-hither with your extended fingers.

Once he realized you weren’t going to give him any further explanation, he did as he was told, laying his hand over your own, his palm facing down, which you quickly turned around. You started tracing the lines on his palm gently with your other hand, so concentrated you barely noticed the goosebumps forming on his skin from your ministrations.

“What-?” he started but you were quick to cut him off with a gentle ‘shhh’, which promptly shut him up, only slightly offended.

“See here?” you pointed at one of the lines in his palm, tracing it with your finger “It is your line of life. See how long it is? It means you shall live a long and fulfilling life.”

He glanced at you, still not understanding a word you were saying, and you gave him a soft, encouraging smile. 

“And see this one?” you pointed to another line “This is your line of heart. It turns upwards, which means you will be wed to a nice lady one day, and that you will love eachother very deeply and rejoice in your happiness together.”

You don’t know why saying that made your heart ache only slightly, but the sight of a smile slowly but surely curling on his lips made it all worth it, as it meant your plan was working. 

“And here,” you curled your fingers, closing his hand inside your own, and pointing to the lines that formed on the outer side “two deep lines and one shallow, meaning you’ll have three children when you grow older, two daughters and a son. And from how deep these two lines are, the girls will be very beautiful, they will probably give you a headache from how many suitors they will have.”

To this he chuckled, his tears long forgotten, and you giggled along with him.

“And here…” you opened his hand once again, and pointed to a long vertical line that crossed almost the entirety of his palm “is your line of the dragon. Only those of Targaryen descent have this one on their palms, see?” you pointed to your own hand which showed a similar line, different only in length “It means you will have a dragon one day.”

At this his face fell and he tried to rip his hand from you, but you held onto it firmly.

“The lines don’t lie.” you rushed to explain, now focused on his eyes as they softened at your words “You can check for yourself. Your brother and sister both have it on their hands, my own brothers have it. Seven Hells, you can even check Princess Rhaenys hands, she has one as well.”

You searched his eyes for any trace of doubt and found none.

“You will have a dragon one day, Aemond.” you squeezed his hand to emphasize our point “I’m sure of it.”

His smile grew on his face, sheepish but sincere, only a flick of his lips away from becoming a smirk.

“You just came up with all that, didn’t you?” he asked, and you gasped in mock offense, pushing against his shoulder.

“You wound me, uncle!” you pressed your hand against your heart “Why would I do such a thing?”

A beat passed before both of you burst out laughing, not one bit concerned the guards stationed just outside his door could probably hear you. You were glad you could make him smile again and give him some comfort, knowing you had succeeded on your mission.

As you both calmed down you looked at him once again, truly looked at him. He was quite beautiful when he smiled, and oh, how you wished he would do it more often around you. In that moment only the two of you existed, together. When asked later you wouldn’t be able to tell what came over you in that very moment, but once you realized what you were doing you had surged forward, pressing your lips against his in the gentlest, softest of kisses.

No sooner had your lips come in contact with his own, you were pulling back, eyes widening in panic. His own were blown wide as well, surprised by your actions. You didn’t waste a second climbing out of the tub, almost toppling over the side in your rush, your drenched nightclothes making your task all the more difficult.

“Wait!” he tried to hold onto you but you were quicker “Please, don’t go, I-!”

But you were already making your way to the hidden passage on the wall and disappearing from his chambers. He would have thought he had fallen asleep in the bath and dreamed the whole thing had it not been for the dark trail left behind going from the tub all the way to the wall from where water had dripped from your body in your haste to get away. 

And if, come the next morrow, he forcefully grabbed his mother’s hand and flip it to look at her palms, much to her protests, and notice a line present on the exact place where you had pointed the so called ‘line of the dragon’ the night before, his smile gave away the gratitude he felt for you at that moment.

[gyorouis]

𐙚 YOU'LL BE SAFE HERE.

— "when nobody hears you scream, i'll scream with you. you'll be safe here."

genre: heavy angst, fluff in the end (?), strangers (not totally for yj) to potential lovers trope (?),

pairing: coworker/blockmate!yeonjun x afab!reader

warning: mentions of domestic abuse from parents, bullying, self-sabotage, mentions of blood and bruises, mentions of smoking (?), let me know if i forgot anything!

wordcount: 6.4k

now playing: rico blanco — you'll be safe here ୨ৎ

for the most part of your twenty-two years of existence on this very earth, you have learned to endure the bittersweet taste of your life. that includes the nonstop arguments with your parents that would either leave you crying to sleep or wiping the blood from your lips, blood drawn from the hands of your beloved parents, hands that were supposed to comfort you.

school wasn’t any better. the bullying began early, with taunts and whispers that followed you through the hallways. you remember the time in the third grade when a group of kids cornered you, laughing as they ripped your favorite book apart, the one place you found solace. the teachers did little to help, often turning a blind eye to the cruelty. you learned quickly that showing weakness only made things worse.

by high school, you had built walls so high around your heart that not even the most persistent could scale them. you stopped trying to make friends, opting instead to lose yourself in your studies and books. relationships, you told yourself, were for people who hadn’t seen the dark side of those they were supposed to trust. your classmates went on dates, talked about their crushes, and shared stories of first kisses, but you could never relate. love, you decided, was a fairytale for others.

even the few times someone showed interest in you, you found a way to push them away. there was that boy in sophomore year who left a note in your locker, asking you to the winter dance. you tore it up before even reading the whole thing, terrified of what might happen if you let someone in. the idea of being vulnerable, of giving someone the power to hurt you, was something you couldn’t bear.

college was a chance to escape, or so you hoped. moving to a new city for your studies, you thought distance might dull the pain of your past. yet, the ghosts followed you. you watched as your roommates fell in and out of love, experiencing the highs and lows that came with it. you remained on the sidelines, an observer in a world that felt alien to you.

your internships provided a distraction, the only place where you felt you could control your destiny. it was during one of these internships that you met choi yeonjun. he was a stranger, yet not totally. you worked in the same company, though you were sure you hadn’t seen him before. it was a rainy afternoon, during your lunch break, when you first met him. it was during a time when you were bawling your eyes out after yet another argument with your mom over the phone.

seeking peace, you found yourself on the rooftop. the gray sky hung heavy with clouds, and raindrops drummed a steady rhythm on the rooftop. the air was thick with the scent of wet concrete and the faint aroma of cigarette smoke. yeonjun was there, leaning against the railing, smoking and sipping coffee, not minding your wails. well, not totally. he just acted like he wasn't there because he knew that you didn't know someone was up there when you burst in. besides, this was the only time he had seen you having real human emotion. because he often saw you with a poker face. you would smile at your co-workers, but as he observed you daily, he knew those smiles were fake.

he stayed there for a good couple of minutes, watching you break down. your shoulders shook with sobs, and tears streamed down your face, mingling with the rain. he figured it was better to let you cry instead of ruining your moment.

it couldn’t be because you were scolded by your superiors, because yeonjun knew that you excelled in this internship. you were the top student of your batch, after all. he figured it was something deeper.

yeonjun’s mind drifted back to the first time he saw you during freshman year. it was a hectic morning, and he had been rushing to class when he nearly collided with you in the hallway. you were running, your expression one of focused determination as you clutched your books tightly against your chest. he remembered how you had apologized in a breathless rush before darting away. it was in that fleeting moment that he realized you were from the same class.

since then, he found himself intrigued by you. he started paying more attention during classes, watching you as you sat at your desk, absorbed in your work. he noticed how you were always the first to arrive and the last to leave, and how you would quietly, but confidently, engage with the material.

he sometimes hoped you’d glance his way, but you were always so wrapped up in your own world. even in the cafeteria or during coffee breaks, he found himself seeking you out, hoping for a glimpse of your smile or a chance to strike up a conversation.

thinking about what could be the reason why you are crying, he grabbed his handkerchief from his trouser pocket before tossing his cigarette on the ground and stepping on it. just then, he walked over to you.

you wiped the remaining tears from your eyes with your hands as you exhaled a deep breath. "my mom told me once, it's better to talk to strangers because it's less embarrassing." you jolted when you suddenly heard the voice of a man, probably a foot away from you.

you looked beside you to see who it was. you saw a man with a sharp, angular face, defined cheekbones, and a well-defined jawline. his hair was styled in a medium-length, slightly tousled manner, with dark strands framing his face. his straight eyebrows framed calm, contemplative eyes that held a hint of curiosity. dressed in a white shirt with rolled-up sleeves and a black tie, paired with black pants, he exuded a casual yet polished look. but you noticed one thing: he reeked of cigarette.

"who are you?" you asked, your voice shaky. he scoffed lightly. "at least accept my handkerchief first," he said. your eyes landed on his extended hand holding out a blue handkerchief. you looked at him one last time before taking the handkerchief and started wiping your tears.

"i'm yeonjun, choi yeonjun." that name rang a bell. you often heard that name when your colleagues talked about this hard-headed intern who was always late. though you heard he was skillful and passionate about his work, you always heard bad things about that guy named yeonjun.

"you're the stubborn intern," you said. he chuckled to himself, a soft, warm sound that contrasted with the cold rain. "hey, that's too much.." he said, sipping the last of his coffee before tossing the cup into the nearest trashcan.

"did you hear anything?" you asked. to be honest, you weren't afraid of showing your vulnerable side, it's just that you wanted to keep the problem to yourself. "no, i could only hear your wailing," he said with a straight face.

"have you been scolded?" he asked. "why do you ask?" you answered.

"just because..." he said, his voice trailing off as he gazed out over the city, shrouded in mist and rain.

a moment of silence stretched between you two, filled only by the sound of raindrops hitting the rooftop and the distant hum of the city below. yeonjun leaned against the railing, seemingly lost in thought. you couldn’t help but wonder why he was there, offering comfort to a stranger.

“you know,” he began, breaking the silence, “sometimes it helps to talk about what’s bothering you. even if it’s just to a stubborn intern.”

you let out a small laugh despite yourself. “i don’t know where to start,” you admitted, looking down at the handkerchief clutched in your hand, now damp from both your tears and the rain.

“start anywhere,” he encouraged. “i’ll listen.”

taking a deep breath, you started to speak. the words came haltingly at first, but soon they flowed out in a torrent. you told him about the constant arguments with your parents, the pressure to excel, the bullying you faced in school, and the loneliness that seemed to follow you everywhere. you spoke of your fear of letting people in, of being hurt again, and of the walls you had built around yourself.

as you spoke, yeonjun’s eyes never left your face. his gaze was steady and unwavering, offering a kind of silent support. the rain continued to fall, softening into a gentle drizzle, the droplets creating a soothing backdrop to your words.

when you finished, he didn’t offer empty reassurances or try to minimize your pain. instead, he simply said, “i’m sorry you had to go through all that. no one deserves to feel that way.”

“thank you,” you whispered, feeling a strange sense of relief. it wasn’t that your problems were solved, but sharing them with someone, even a stranger, made them feel a little less heavy.

“you’re stronger than you think,” yeonjun continued. “and it’s okay to let people in. not everyone will hurt you.”

you nodded, though a part of you still doubted his words. but there was something about yeonjun’s calm presence that made you want to believe him, to take a chance, even if it was just a small one.

as the rain began to lighten, yeonjun stood up. “i should get back to work,” he said, offering you a gentle smile. “but if you ever need someone to talk to, you know where to find me.”

“thank you, yeonjun,” you said sincerely, feeling a glimmer of hope. maybe, just maybe, things could be different.

the days that followed your encounter with yeonjun were filled with a strange mix of anticipation and apprehension. you found yourself looking for him during breaks, curious to see if he would approach you again. each time you spotted him in the office, a flicker of hope ignited within you, only to be quickly smothered by doubt.

one afternoon, while you were engrossed in your work, a shadow fell over your desk. you looked up to find yeonjun standing there, a tentative smile on his face. “fancy seeing you here,” he said, his tone light.

“this is my desk,” you replied, unable to suppress a smile of your own.

“right,” he said, chuckling. “i just wanted to see if you were okay.”

“i’m fine,” you said, feeling a warmth spread through you at his concern. “thank you for the other day.”

“anytime,” he said, his eyes twinkling. “how about grabbing a coffee later?”

the idea of spending time with yeonjun outside of work both excited and terrified you. but something in his gaze reassured you, made you want to take a chance. “okay,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

as you and yeonjun sat in a cozy corner of a nearby café, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee enveloped you. the atmosphere was warm and inviting, a stark contrast to the cold, rainy rooftop where you first met. you found yourself relaxing in his presence, the conversation flowing more easily than you had expected.

“so, tell me more about yourself,” yeonjun said, leaning forward with genuine interest. “what do you like to do outside of work?”

“i read a lot,” you admitted, feeling a bit shy. “books have always been my escape.”

“i can understand that,” he said, nodding. “i’m more into music. it’s my way of dealing with things.”

“do you play any instruments?” you asked, intrigued.

“guitar,” he said, a fond smile crossing his face. “it’s like therapy for me.”

as you continued to talk, you realized that yeonjun wasn’t just a stubborn intern. he was someone with depth, with his own struggles and passions. the more you learned about him, the more you felt your walls begin to crumble.

as the evening wore on, you and yeonjun decided to leave the place and take a walk through the nearby neighborhood. the streets were lined with small shops and cafes, their warm lights spilling onto the sidewalk, creating a cozy, inviting atmosphere. the soft glow of the lights, coupled with the gentle hum of conversation and the occasional laughter from patrons inside the cafes, made the whole scene feel almost magical.

“do you have a favorite book?” yeonjun asked, glancing at you as you strolled past a quaint bookstore. his voice was warm, genuinely curious, and it made you feel seen in a way you hadn’t in a long time.

“it’s hard to choose just one,” you said, smiling. this was the first time someone had asked something about you, the first time that someone made you think about what you really liked and what your interests are. “but if i had to pick, it would be ‘the little prince.’ it’s always been special to me.”

“i love that one too,” he replied, his eyes lighting up with recognition and shared appreciation. “it’s such a beautiful story about love and loss.”

you walked in comfortable silence for a while, enjoying the sights and sounds of the evening. the air was cool and refreshing, carrying with it the faint scent of blooming flowers and the distant aroma of coffee. eventually, you found yourselves outside a small ice cream parlor. yeonjun turned to you, his eyes playful and filled with a youthful excitement.

“how about some ice cream?” he suggested. “my treat.”

you laughed, feeling a lightness you hadn’t experienced in a long time. “sure, why not?”

inside the parlor, you both chose your favorite flavors and sat by the window, watching the world go by. the place was charming, with vintage decor and soft jazz playing in the background. yeonjun took a bite of his ice cream and grinned at you, his eyes twinkling with mischief and sincerity.

“so, what’s something you’ve always wanted to do but never had the chance?” he asked, genuinely curious, leaning forward slightly to hear your answer.

you thought for a moment, then replied, “i’ve always wanted to travel. see new places, experience different cultures. but i never really had the opportunity.”

“maybe someday you will,” he said softly, his voice filled with a quiet determination. “and when you do, i hope you’ll have someone to share those experiences with.”

you looked at him, your heart swelling with emotion. the more time you spent with yeonjun, the more you began to believe that maybe, just maybe, happiness was within reach. he had a way of making you feel understood and valued, something you had longed for but never thought you deserved.

as you finished your ice cream and continued talking, you realized that this simple evening was one of the best you’d had in a long time. the conversation flowed effortlessly, touching on dreams, fears, and little moments of joy. yeonjun’s presence was a soothing balm to your weary soul, and for the first time in years, you felt a flicker of hope.

as the night deepened, you walked side by side back towards your apartment. the city had taken on a different feel, its usual hustle and bustle replaced by a serene calm. you felt a connection to yeonjun that was undeniable, a bond that was growing stronger with each passing moment.

“thank you for tonight,” you said softly as you reached your building. “it meant a lot to me.”

“anytime,” he replied, his smile gentle and reassuring. 

with that, you parted ways, but the warmth of his words and the memory of the evening lingered. as you lay in bed that night, you couldn’t help but replay the moments in your mind. 

for the first time, that evening, you drifted off to sleep with a sense of peace you hadn’t felt in years.

over the next few weeks, your interactions with yeonjun became more frequent. you found yourself looking forward to your lunch breaks and coffee runs, each meeting chipping away at the barriers you had built around your heart. yeonjun had a way of making you feel seen, he made you feel like he could help you mend the damages that your life had put you through.

this was the first time you felt this kind of warmth, something you knew you wouldn't get from your parents. he was like a hot coffee on a cold, rainy night, the umbrella shielding you from the scorching summer sun, and the blooming flower tree offering shade on a humid afternoon.

as the days turned into weeks, you noticed a shift within yourself. the cold, hardened exterior you had carefully constructed began to thaw, bit by bit, under yeonjun’s gentle persistence. he never pushed too hard or demanded too much; he was simply there, a constant presence that brought comfort and solace.

one particularly rainy evening, you found yourself alone in the office, the steady patter of rain against the windows echoing the tumultuous emotions within you. you had stayed late to finish a project, but your mind kept drifting to yeonjun and the way he had slowly become a part of your life. just as you were about to pack up and leave, the elevator doors opened, and yeonjun stepped out, a familiar smile on his face.

“working late again?” he asked, walking over to your desk.

“yeah, just finishing up some things,” you replied, your heart lifting at the sight of him.

“want some company for the walk home?” he offered, holding up an umbrella.

you nodded, grateful for the offer. as you both made your way outside, the rain continued to fall in a soft, steady rhythm. yeonjun held the umbrella over both of you, his shoulder brushing against yours as you walked side by side. the city lights reflected off the wet pavement, casting a shimmering glow that made everything feel almost magical.

“you know,” yeonjun began, his voice cutting through the sound of the rain, “i’ve been thinking about what you said that day on the rooftop. about how you’re scared to let people in.”

you glanced at him, your heart racing. “yeah?”

“i just want you to know that it’s okay to be scared,” he continued, his gaze steady and reassuring. “but you don’t have to go through everything alone. you have people who care about you. i care about you.”

you wanted to say something, you really did, but you felt like it might be too rushed for both of you, especially for yourself. you knew you had a lot to fix within yourself, issues that you were afraid to confront now. so instead, you looked at him, stopping in your tracks. “thank you, yeonjun,” you said, your smile genuine and soft.

his eyes lit up at the sight of your smile. “it suits you,” he said, a warm smile tugging at his lips. “what?” you asked, a little taken aback.

“your smile,” he clarified, “it suits you. you look beautiful when you smile.”

you felt a blush creep up your cheeks at his compliment. the simple words seemed to light up the gray evening even more, making the rain feel less heavy and the world a little brighter.

you stand in front of the apartment complex, the rain now a mere drizzle. “i’m good here. i’ll see you tomorrow,” you say, giving yeonjun a small smile.

before you can enter, yeonjun tugs at your sleeve. “do you mind giving me your number?” he asks, holding out his phone with a hopeful expression.

you chuckle softly and type your number into his phone. “there,” you say, handing it back to him.

he lets go of your hand, a shy smile spreading across his face. “thanks,” he says, his voice warm. “i’ll see you tomorrow.”

you nod and wave him goodbye before turning to enter the building. but just as you’re about to step inside, you’re startled by the presence of a middle-aged woman standing in the dim hallway. her face is almost a mirror image of your own, and her eyebrows are furrowed in a disapproving scowl.

“who’s that?” she demands, her voice sharp and accusing.

you freeze, your heart sinking. it’s your mother, the very person you’ve been avoiding. she must have seen you with yeonjun and decided to confront you.

the atmosphere is thick with tension as you step into your apartment, your mother following close behind. the door clicks shut, sealing you both in the small, dimly lit space.

“why are you here? what do you need?” you ask bluntly, your frustration bubbling to the surface.

your mother’s eyes narrow, her expression hardening. “i came to see how you’re doing,” she says, her voice carrying a tone of anger and disappointment. “and I see you’ve been spending time with someone who doesn’t fit our expectations. who is he?”

you freeze, feeling the sting of her words. “he’s just a friend,” you reply, trying to keep your voice steady. “why does it matter to you?”

“it matters because you don’t need distractions,” she snaps. “you should be focusing on your responsibilities, not on... this.”

the heat of the argument builds, and you can’t help but feel a surge of anger. “i’m managing just fine,” you say, your voice rising. “i’m not a child anymore. i can make my own choices.”

“you think you know everything,” your mother retorts, her voice rising with each word. “you think you’re so mature, but you’re just a spoiled little girl who doesn’t understand anything about life.”

her words cut deep, but before you can respond, she takes a step closer, her face inches from yours. “you think you can just throw away everything we’ve done for you?” she hisses. “you’re ungrateful and selfish. you are just confused, you don’t need love, you don’t deserve it.”

“i’m not ungrateful,” you shoot back, tears of frustration pricking at the corners of your eyes. “i’m just trying to live my own life, make my own decisions. you can’t keep controlling everything!”

your mother’s face flushes with anger. in a sudden, sharp movement, she raises her hand and slaps you across the face. the force of the impact sends a stinging pain through your cheek, and you stagger back, stunned.

“you’re nothing but a disappointment!” she screams, her voice cracking with emotion. “you think you’re so grown up, but you’re still a child who doesn’t know what’s best for her!”

you touch your stinging cheek, your heart pounding. the pain of the slap is nothing compared to the ache of her harsh words. you struggle to hold back the tears, your vision blurring.

“i’m trying to be strong,” you say, your voice trembling as you collapse to your knees on the floor. “but you… you keep tearing me down. i just want to be heard and understood!”

you look up at her, your face wet with tears, raw with emotion. “i’ve endured everything you’ve put me through, and not once did I ask for your help. i just want my own life, i want to breathe in a place where i don’t have to feel anxious. i want to be with someone who gives me warmth, something i never once got from you, from either of my parents. so please,” you beg, your voice breaking, “i’m begging you to my knees, leave me alone. let me live.”

the room falls into a heavy silence, your mother’s anger momentarily frozen. her eyes widen as she takes in your crumpled form, the raw vulnerability laid bare. you clutch the floor, feeling the weight of your words and the burden of your past.

gathering all your courage, you stand up, your legs trembling slightly. you pick up your bag and run out of the apartment, your heart pounding with each step. you don’t know where your feet are taking you, but you need to escape the suffocating confines of that place.

you find yourself at a bus stop, the cold metal of the bench biting through your thin clothing. the city around you seems to blur, your thoughts swirling in a chaotic mess. where will you go now? what will you do next? the questions weigh heavily on your mind.

just as you’re lost in thought, your phone buzzes. you pull it out, squinting at the screen. the notification is from an unknown number.

["hey, i just got home. i hope you’re resting well. btw, this is yeonjun!"] the message reads.

right, you gave him your number. the reminder of his kindness sends a pang of guilt through you. you’re about to call him, to tell him what just happened, but something inside you holds back.

"are you really going to tell him about it?" your mind questions harshly. "that’s such a selfish thing to do. keep your problems to yourself. pathetic."

doubts and fears creep into your thoughts. are you really made for love? for living? will there ever be a time when you could truly be happy? as these questions swirl, the moments you’ve shared with yeonjun flash through your memory.

but do you deserve those memories? do you deserve happiness? do you deserve yeonjun? do you deserve the fleeting moments of joy he has brought into your life?

a sigh escapes your lips as you shut your phone off. the weight of your thoughts feels crushing, and you can’t help but feel that you’re not worthy of the happiness you’ve experienced. tears well up, streaming down your swollen cheeks. you smile through the pain, a sad, wistful expression that speaks of resignation.

"it was nice while it lasted," you whisper to yourself, the words barely audible over the hum of the city around you. the bus stop, the cold, and the distant murmur of passing cars all seem to blend into the background as you sit there, feeling the weight of your choices.

the morning after, you drag yourself to work, the weight of your heart making each step feel heavier. you have no recollection of how you got home or how you slept; you only woke up to your usual alarm, moving on autopilot. this isn’t something new to you—you’ve gone to school before with bruises on your lips, so this isn’t a big deal.

you enter the elevator, only to have the doors start to close when someone runs to catch it—yeonjun. he flashes you a bright smile, but it fades instantly when he notices your swollen eyes and the dried blood on your lips.

his frown deepens as he steps closer, his concern palpable. “who did this to you?” he asks, his voice gentle but firm. you turn away from his gaze, trying to hide your face. you had slathered on concealer, but it was clear that it wasn't enough to cover the damage.

“i just overslept,” you try to deflect, but his persistence is unwavering. he gently holds your chin, lifting it so he can see you better. “let me see it,” he demands softly, yet with an undeniable authority.

his touch is light, but it sends a shiver through you. his pinky grazes the bruise on your lip, and you flinch. yeonjun’s eyes widen, his face etched with concern. “fuck, i’m sorry. tell me where it hurts...” he asks, his voice dropping to a comforting whisper.

in another world, you might have let yourself crumble into his arms, crying out all your pain and fear, seeking the warmth he offers. but you remember your mother’s harsh words and the belief that love doesn’t suit you. you know better than to let yourself be vulnerable, even with someone who genuinely cares.

“i’m fine, really,” you manage to say, forcing a weak smile. “it’s nothing.”

yeonjun opens his mouth to respond, but before he can get a word out, the elevator reaches your floor. you step out quickly, almost stumbling as you make your way to the office. yeonjun stands there, watching you with a mix of confusion and concern.

as the elevator doors close behind you, you can feel yeonjun’s gaze lingering, his concern following you down the hallway. you walk with your head down, focusing on putting one foot in front of the other, the weight of your emotions almost too much to bear.

you hear the soft ding of the elevator doors opening behind you and glance back to see yeonjun stepping out, his face a mask of determination. he starts to walk toward you, but you quicken your pace, unwilling to face him any longer.

the office’s hum and the clatter of keyboards fade into the background as you try to shut out the thought of yeonjun’s worried expression. you sit at your desk, forcing yourself to focus on your work, but his concern lingers in your mind, a painful reminder of the warmth and understanding you’ve been trying to keep at arm’s length.

you’ve tried your best to avoid yeonjun every chance you get. you’ve mastered the art of slipping away from conversations and making yourself scarce during breaks, all while maintaining a façade of normalcy at work. it’s been two weeks since that day in the elevator, but despite your efforts, yeonjun’s persistence never wavers.

he seems to have an uncanny ability to find you, whether it’s at the coffee machine, in the break room, or even in passing as you hurry to your desk. his eyes always carry that same mix of concern and care, and he never lets an opportunity slip by without trying to reach out.

one afternoon, as you sit in the break room, nursing a cup of coffee, you hear the familiar sound of the door opening. yeonjun walks in, his gaze sweeping over the room until it settles on you. 

“mind if i join you?” he asks, his tone casual but his eyes betraying a deeper worry. 

you look up, trying to maintain your composure. “i’m just taking a quick break,” you say, shifting uncomfortably in your seat.

“that’s exactly what i’m here for,” he replies with a small smile. he takes a seat across from you, his eyes not leaving your face.

“you’ve been avoiding me,” he says, the lightness in his voice replaced by a more serious undertone. “i just want to make sure you’re okay.”

you take a sip of your coffee, searching for the right words. “it’s nothing,” you repeat, but the lie feels even more hollow now.

“please,” yeonjun says, leaning forward slightly, “let me help you. i know something’s wrong. you don’t have to go through this alone.”

his sincerity makes your resolve waver. you want to tell him everything, to collapse into his arms and let him take away your pain. but the walls you’ve built around yourself are so strong, it’s hard to let them crumble.

you sigh, looking down at your cup. “why do you care so much?”

“because,” yeonjun says softly, “i see something in you that’s worth fighting for. you don’t have to carry this burden by yourself.”

the words hang in the air, and for a moment, you’re silent. the warmth of his compassion and the strength of his presence make it harder to keep pushing him away.

“you don’t have to worry about me,” you say, your voice trembling. “i managed to be alone before.”

“but you’re not alone anymore,” yeonjun counters gently, his gaze steady and unwavering. “i’m here now.”

his words crack the armor you’ve carefully built around yourself. tears well up in your eyes, blurring your vision as you try to hold back the wave of emotions threatening to spill.

“i’m just a waste of your time,” you say, your voice breaking. “you won’t get anything from me.”

yeonjun's expression shifts, a mix of frustration and sadness crossing his face.before he could even speak, memories flashes in his mind. he recalls the first time he realized he had feelings for you. it was during the freshman year of college, on a day when the rain fell heavily, drumming against the pavement. he had sought refuge under a waiting shed, watching the raindrops splash on the ground, lost in his thoughts.

suddenly, he heard the rush of someone’s footsteps against the wet ground. looking up, his eyes met yours.

time seemed to slow down for yeonjun. “did i startle you?” you asked, your voice breaking through his reverie. it felt like a dream—your presence, your voice, everything.

he awkwardly shook his head, and as he did, you chuckled. it was a sound he hadn’t heard from you before, and it warmed his heart.

you both ended up sitting on the bench in the waiting shed. yeonjun stole glances at you as you smiled to yourself, wiping raindrops from your uniform. he reached into his pocket and pulled out his blue handkerchief, offering it to you. “here, you can use it,” he said.

you looked at him, and with a genuine smile, you said, “thank you.”

in that moment, yeonjun thought you were beautiful—not just because of your smile, but because you had managed to evoke such an intense feeling within him. it wasn’t long before he found himself drawn to you more than he cared to admit.

sophomore year brought new opportunities for yeonjun to observe you. he remembered a particularly rainy day when you both ended up taking shelter under the same awning, waiting for the rain to let up. you were both drenched, but he noticed how you didn’t seem to mind, your focus entirely on the book you were reading. he wanted to approach you, to strike up a conversation and maybe you would remember him from that one rainy day in freshman year, but he was too shy. instead, he settled for watching you from a distance, marveling at how engrossed you were in your own world, occasionally glancing at the raindrops cascading from the awning.

by junior year, yeonjun’s interest in you had only grown. he remembered the day he saw you in the library, surrounded by stacks of books and papers. you looked so determined, so driven, and he couldn’t help but admire you. he spent more time in the library after that, hoping for a chance encounter, but you were always so focused on your studies that you barely noticed him. he would find a spot where he could see you, pretending to be engrossed in his own work, but always keeping an eye on you.

senior year was a turning point. when yeonjun found out that you would be in the same team for the internship, he was beyond delighted. he saw it as his chance to finally get to know you better. during the internship, he tried everything to get your attention. he made sure to be at every meeting early, hoping to catch a moment with you before anyone else arrived. he even started being late on purpose once he noticed how punctual you always were, knowing it would irritate you just enough to make you notice him. he wanted you to see him, to recognize that he was there.

he remembered the little things he did to get closer to you. offering to help you with your projects, asking for your opinion on tasks, and trying to find common ground. he treasured every small interaction, every fleeting glance, and every shared smile. the more he learned about you, the more he wanted to be a part of your world.

and now, standing before you, he realized how much you had come to mean to him. “i don’t think you’re a waste of time,” he replied firmly. “not after spending the last four years of my life admiring you from afar.”

“i can’t give you what you need,” you whispered, pulling yeonjun back from his reverie.

he looked at you, his expression softening even further. “i don’t need anything from you,” he said gently. “i just want to be here for you. you don’t have to be perfect. you don’t have to have everything figured out.”

you shook your head, tears welling up once more. “but you deserve someone who can be everything you need. i’m not that person.”

yeonjun took a step closer, his hand reaching out to gently cup your cheek. “you don’t have to be everything,” he said, his voice unwavering. “you just need to be yourself. and that’s more than enough for me.”

his words, filled with sincerity, made your heart ache. you felt the walls you’d built around yourself starting to crumble, yet the fear of letting him in remained.

“please,” yeonjun continued, “let me be a part of your life. let me help you carry some of this burden. you don’t have to face everything alone.”

you looked into his eyes, seeing the depth of his feelings and the unwavering support he offered. the battle within you raged on, but his presence was a beacon of hope in the storm of your doubts.

“i don’t know if i can,” you whispered, the vulnerability in your voice clear. “i’m afraid of dragging you into my mess.”

yeonjun’s thumb gently brushed away a tear from your cheek. “i already am, when i decided to offer you my handkerchief” he whispered, recalling how the blue handkerchief that had once been drenched with rain from your uniform during freshman year had become soaked with your tears during senior year.

he took a deep breath, his eyes never leaving yours. “when i first saw you that rainy day, i felt something shift inside me. i knew then that i wanted to be there for you, no matter what. and i still do. so, let me be part of your life. let me help you find some peace in all this chaos.”

the sincerity in his words and the tenderness of his touch made it harder to resist. you took a shaky breath, feeling the walls around your heart beginning to crumble. “i’m scared,” you admitted softly.

“i know,” yeonjun said, his gaze steady and reassuring. “but you don’t have to be alone in that fear. let me stand by you.”

the weight of his promise hung in the air, and you found yourself slowly nodding. yeonjun came closer, his forehead resting gently against yours. “just put your heart in my hands,” he whispered. “i know you have doubts and fears, but you’re safe with me. if the world doesn’t understand you, then i will. let yourself be happy for once.” 

his words were soft and soothing, creeping from your nerves to your heart. his lips found their way to your forehead, placing tender butterfly kisses that spoke of his unwavering support and affection.

maybe you could be happy. maybe yeonjun was the one to help you through your misery. after all, he was the only person who had ever given you warmth. perhaps love wasn’t just a fantasy after all; it required more than just hope—it required sharing your deepest scars with the person you love. and in your case, that person was yeonjun.

gyo's note: yeonjun have become my unspoken angst muse, i love him sm pls and i hope you will love this too! i was contemplating whether to write this in the first place because of the theme and backstory of reader, but i guess i still did it hehe, i found comfort writing this and i'm hoping you will as well,,, nonetheless, if you made it to this part, thank you so much! you will be loved. xoxo!

✮ 2024 gyozies, all rights reserved.

[kotoku]

senshi teaching dwarf! reader how to cook dungeon food

content - father figure senshi / found family trope / reader is senshi’s apprentice and adopted child fr / platonic relationships / pre-storyline 

pairings - senshi & dwarf! reader

warnings - teeny angst with comfort towards the end / there are a bit of spoilers for senshi’s past

note - thinking about senshi taking care of the reader just as he was by his old party leader makes me so sad

word count - 570

✢ When you first met Senshi, you were heavily injured in one of the dungeon’s floors 

✢ It seems that your party members had abandoned you, leaving you to fend for yourself against the ruthless nature of the dungeon

✢ However, when Senshi stumbles upon your injured form during his search for ingredients, he immediately assesses them and brings you somewhere safe

✢ He’s no healer but he may try to find someone who could help with your injuries— if his search proves unsuccessful, he’ll use his own knowledge to bandage you up and help you recover

✢ Of course, food is a must for recovery!

✢ Senshi makes sure to use the right ingredients that will help provide you the necessary nutrients for healing

✢ Considering the lack of meat in his stockpile, he’ll go hunting for some monsters that he knows will prove nutritious 

✢ Coming back to your passed-out form worries him, but with time and care, you’re mostly back to your regular self

✢ You were surprised that it wasn’t a corpse retriever that came for you, but a local in the dungeon

✢ When you were told of the ingredients he used in his dishes, you were a little hesitant but couldn’t deny the rumbling in your stomach

✢ To your surprise, the food proved delicious and you couldn’t get enough!

✢ When the time came for your departure, you weren’t really keen on returning back to the surface, offering Senshi your company in exchange for lessons on dungeon cooking

✢ Senshi is surprised by your unwavering dedication to hunting and cooking monsters within the dungeon, but he can’t say no to a motivated youngin’ 

✢ He feels a little hesitant, to be honest, as he doesn’t want to risk you getting hurt since there were no healers around (unless you knew some healing magic, he’s a little less worried)

✢ But with your persistence, you eventually land a spot as Senshi’s apprentice, hunting monsters, foraging herbs, and cooking nutritious meals

✢ In the beginning lessons, Senshi had nailed it into your head that nutrition comes before taste (although taste would make it much more appealing to eat…) 

✢ He emphasizes the need for food and water, rest, and daily exercise 

✢ His stern behavior and caring attitude remind you of a father figure, teaching their child how to take care of themselves 

✢ Honestly, Senshi sees you as a child, and as you slowly get to know each other, he sees you as his child

✢ He’s very protective of you, making sure you aren’t risking your life out on the floors

✢ You always tag along with him to wherever he goes, whether it’s to his little post where he leaves his vegetables, or the first floor to find some seasonings

✢ Senshi feels a certain emotion when it comes to you like he found a family (the fact that you’re a dwarf intensifies the feeling)

✢ He can’t help but reminisce about his past, finding himself staring off into space during some of your meals 

✢ When you notice and inquire about it, you’re able to sympathize with him, giving him the comfort and reassurance that he needed

✢ In Senshi’s heart, he promises himself to take care of you, just as his old party leader did with him

[imagineinside]

Eternal Claws (Logan Howlett x Fem!Reader) Chapter 2

Chapter 1: https://www.tumblr.com/imagineinside/760089693618618368/eternal-claws-logan-howlett-x-femreader-chapter?source=share

A/N: First of all, thank you guys for all the love on the first chapter! I was very worried about if people would actually enjoy the story I have planned for you and Logan ;). This next chapter focuses now on the grown reader, who is more mature and confident in herself. Please let me know if you want to see any specific tropes or moments in the future chapters, I am keeping the storyline rather broad as I continue building this world. :D

Summary: At a young age of 16, you find yourself saved from a group of hunters by no other mutant than The Wolverine, who reluctantly becomes your protector during your first heat. As weeks pass and you recover, a complex bond forms between yourself and the powerful mutant who had saved you.

Seven years later, now a confident young woman with refined mutant abilities, you encounter Wolverine again. Despite your growth and newfound strength, old feelings resurface as Wolverine returns from a secretive mission. As you navigate the challenges of your powers and your unspoken connection with him, you must come to terms with your past and the burgeoning feelings that might redefine your future.

Current Applicable Warnings: 18+ (semi-explicit story), canon-typical violence, age gap (like 200+ with a 25 yr old), Alpha!Logan, Omega!Reader, a/o/b universe, sexual tension cause I live for that sh*t, pining, past (complicated) relationships, angst, fluff, more to come.

Word Count: 3,102 the hair flick makes me feral

Seven Years Later

Jumping out of bed, you completed your daily routine: rinsed off in the shower, brushed your teeth, and took your inhibitors before going to meet Cyclops and Jean in the cafeteria. You had met the two other mutants pretty early into your career at the school, and trained with them since then. They were rather taken aback by your mutation at first, with stealing life to provide it to something else and all, but they had grown to see the benefits.

You don’t see the Wolverine very much anymore, though he did teach your History courses up until you turned 18. Once that point hit, after your 18th birthday, you two developed a rather… complex friendship. If anyone had asked you if you were friends, both of you would have denied it. 

But those late night sparring sessions, where Logan would push you to the point of burnout, where he would inevitably carry you back to your room once your legs gave out… those moments told a different story. Or the morning after where he would wake you up with a knock on your door and hand you a stack of pancakes with chocolate chips, just the way you liked it. And you would ask him to stay to keep you company while you read. And even though he would never admit it to you or anyone else, he loved the calming sound of your voice reading to him in the early morning.

And perhaps he was there for entirely selfish reasons.

You lived in that blissful existence until Professor X sent Logan overseas for a confidential mission. He had been gone for nearly three years without a word to you or anyone else. Though who was counting, right?

You had noticed a while back, before he left the school, that Logan liked to hang around Jean a lot… but you didn’t let it bother you at all. 

Not at all.

Not.

At.

All. 

Your dear friend, Jean, had grown breathtaking over the years, her powers right alongside her. Any Alpha would be attracted to such a powerful Omega, it just makes sense. Still, you can’t help but feel a tad sorry for Scott. The Beta has done everything to keep up with Jean and Logan.

Of course, you have grown into yourself as well over time. The past three years especially. Your face lost its childish features, your curves becoming more defined every year. The rigorous training you had put your body through over the last seven years had filled you out nicely, though that was only a positive side effect. You just never wanted to be as weak as you were before. Ever again.

Walking into the cafeteria, you surveyed the crowd of fellow students and teachers alike, but you were surprised to see a second set of shoulders sitting beside your redheaded friend. Clad in a leather jacket with spiked hair. Logan wasn’t supposed to be back for another couple of months, at least according to the Professor.

“Logan,” His name left your mouth in a puff of air. It felt as if you were seeing a ghost after such a long time. Part of you thought he may have just up and vanished when he had left for that mission. Seeing him again felt… surreal.

The Wolverine turned in his chair, brow raised in that way it always was, though it fell when his piercing gaze landed on you from across the room. For a moment that lasted no longer than a heartbeat, you were afraid he would somehow not recognize you. But it was like the Professor had frozen everyone around you for an instant, everything else simply fell away. You could feel that stupid childhood crush come creeping back to the surface. 

He spent your first heat protecting you, so what? That was his job. You were too immature for him then, he probably still thinks about you the same damn way.

“Vitalia,” Logan called out your codename in a way of greeting, that look in his eyes making you feel invincible for a brief moment. Then the powerful mutant was rising from his chair and moving through the busy cafeteria to get to you. His shoulders moved in that same powerful way they always had, with a confidence that made your knees feel weak. When he finally stopped before you, you were toe-to-toe with each other. Jeez you had forgotten how tall this man was. “I wasn’t sure if I’d ever see you again,” he whispered before reaching down and wrapping his large arms around you in a bear hug you had forgotten always felt so good.

You didn’t fight as your eyes fluttered closed and you took a long, deep breath of his pinewood and leather scent. A scent that reminded you of comfort and home. A scent that you haven’t smelled since the day he left.

The Professor had locked Logan’s room upon him leaving the campus. At the time, it felt like just another nail in the coffin to you that the Wolverine was gone. But over time, you just wanted to smell him again, and cursed the fact that you couldn’t walk into his room to see and smell all he had left behind.

It was rare for you two to hug, though not unheard of. Despite your childish hope of having Logan as an–ahem–intimate partner, in your mind hugging was a line you rarely crossed with each other.

For the Wolverine, though, he just needed to make sure you were kept safe. You meant too much to him to let you go. But you didn’t know that… yet.

“Where did they send you?” You gently asked him as you rubbed at his back. 

It was a common occurrence for him to come back from missions, or–hell–even come to your room after a night terror looking for comfort. The first time it had happened, you think you were almost 20 at the time, he had just returned from a failed rescue mission for a young mutant boy. You were just getting ready for bed when a hard knock sounded at your door. Thinking that it was Jean returning your Math textbook, you opened the door, only to find a towering, battered looking Wolverine on the other side.

“Can I come in?” He had asked, his voice dark and hoarse.

You nodded for him to enter, closing the door behind him.

“What’s the matter?” You asked him as you pulled out your desk chair, not sure if it was the right time to take a seat next to him on the bed.

Logan swallowed, the sound echoing in the quiet room. “He didn’t make it.”

“The boy you were sent to find?”

All he could do was nod his head.

“Lo, I am so sorry,” you replied, tears pricking at your eyes. “Whatever happened it wasn’t your fault.”

Logan gritted his teeth together, his forearm flexing as he clenched and unclenched his hand over and over. Though you weren’t afraid of him, you never could be. “The townspeople… Not only was he a mutant but he presented as Omega.” A sob ripped from his throat, a sound you had never heard him produce before. “He never stood a chance.”

“Oh God,” you couldn’t say anything else… do anything else. You didn’t want to know what– “Do you need to stay here? I can sleep on the floor.”

He gave a solemn nod and ran a hand through his mussed hair. “Thank you,” came his response. You gave him a sad smile before rising to gather a blanket and pillow for the floor. Before you could get very far, Logan’s large hand was holding your cheek and his thumb rubbed away a tear streaking down your face. His hazel eyes felt like they were piercing through you, as if they were trying to capture you a million times over. Like he was afraid you would be gone the second he blinked. “I’m so glad that it wasn’t you… It wasn’t you.” He repeated, as if needing to prove it to himself.

You laid awake that night, listening to his heavy breathing as he cradled one of your shirts that he had asked for close to his face. By the time you fell asleep, you woke again to your door being shut closed, the shadow of Logan disappearing down the hallway.

You tried to ignore the fact that after leaving your room at night, he would move down the hall and knock on Jean’s door. You never told him or Jean that you knew what they were doing. It wasn’t worth the heartache for you. You just wanted to be there for a close companion, a friend… of sorts.

“They sent me to Russia,” he grumbled into your shoulder before straightening up and untangling his arms from around you, “I went in to infiltrate an illegal mutant testing program. And to free Professor X’s old friend…” As his voice trailed off, you got the hint he wasn’t in the mood to discuss it further. 

Instead, you gave him a watery smile and, before you could truly think about what you were doing, you rose onto your toes and planted a kiss on his cheek. “Welcome back, old man,” you whispered, only pausing enough to watch his nose twitch and his pupils expand to the rim, an animalistic look hidden in his eyes. You quickly turned away to try to hide the fact that your cheeks were quickly turning a shade of red.

But he caught it, he always did. And he would keep that look of yours ingrained in his mind, somewhere deep inside for him to peek at when he needed it the most.

You cleared your throat and strode towards the table, “It must be nice to catch up with everyone.”

“I came here to find you first,” his response had your steps faltering and mind reeling. You would have thought he wanted to see Jean or Professor X first, not… you.

You had to come to a complete stop when you saw the plate that was waiting for you at your normal eating spot. A stack of… warm chocolate chip pancakes.

You never stood a chance against the current of waterworks that came pouring out of you. Turning and sobbing into Logan’s chest, your heart so full of joy and relief that he was here.

* * *

“God I wish you never came back,” you spat at Logan from across the ring, spitting blood from your mouth onto the gray floor. The tooth he had knocked free hurt like a bitch as it regrew into place.

Over the years, especially these last three, you’ve been growing more and more with your mutant abilities. And apparently, with the ability to control life and all that, you can heal yourself at speeds that rival the Wolverine.

“Since Professor X told me you can heal now, I don’t have to hold back.” Logan laughed as he lunged forward, this time with two claws out on either fist. You made a mistake to block your upper body as he jammed both sharp ass knives into your legs, making you yell out in pain.

You solidified your place on the ground behind swinging you right arm upwards, hitting him in the jaw hard enough to knock him backwards and to get those damn, stupid fucking adamantium cat claws out of you. 

“Hey, sweetheart, you’re talking out loud again.” Logan called as he rose from the ground, both his claws retracting into his arms.

“Good, I hope you know how much I hate those things.” You seethed back at him as you walked from the ring to grab a drink of water. “Those fuckers have pierced holes in my mattress and sheets far too many times.”

Logan’s hearty laugh followed you to the bench, making it impossible to hide your own smile spreading across your face. “Hey, at least you’re strong enough to walk out of here on your own two feet now.”

Your smile falls faster than it started. “Yeah,” you sighed, “at least that.”

“You have gotten a lot stronger since the last time I was here.” Logan said, his voice coming from close behind you. For a brief moment, you thought you felt the ghost of a touch around your waist, but when you turned around there was nothing there. “Listen, um…” he let out a harsh laugh, almost like a scoff,  “I’m not very good at this kind of stuff which you know, but… I am sorry I left for so long.”

Maybe two years ago you would have relished those words. An apology coming from the big, angry Wolverine. But now, it just made you feel like a child. It made you feel like you were just a kid he felt like he was in charge of still. “I can take care of myself, Logan.”

“I know that,” he rushed to say, “I didn’t mean to imply you–”

“Scott, Jean and I are being sent on a mission.” You let the words tumble out of your mouth into the space between you. It felt like acid pouring out of you, leaving steaming piles on the floor that you could no longer cross.

“What?” Logan asked, shaking his head.

“Professor X wants us to go on our first mission.”

“No, I heard that. It’s just… you’re too young still.” Logan growled, his hands balling into fists at his sides. “I’m going to talk to the Profess–”

“Please, don’t!” You begged as you grabbed onto his arm when he turned to leave. Thankfully, it stopped him in his tracks. You looked down at where your hand was clasped around his wrist and released with a hiss, as if the touch had burned you. “I need this, Logan. Jean and Scott do too. I mean, it’s not their first mission but they need more experience out there.”

“When’s your next heat due?”

You felt yourself bristle at him, a growl crawling up your throat, “What the fuck does that have to do with anything?”

“There’s no way I’m letting you go out there on a mission if your heat is coming soon.” He growled and snapped his teeth at you. The look in his eyes made you recoil back into yourself, you hated when your secondary gender bowed to his. You weren’t any less powerful than him, so why did you feel like you had to listen to him? You didn’t even feel this way with the Professor.

“You don’t get to decide that for me!” You yelled back, despite your Omega reeling back from yelling at an Alpha. God, you hated those words. “You let Jean go out there even though she’s an Omega.” You hated throwing your friend's name out there just to prove a point.

Logan scoffed and tossed his head back, “That’s completely different, Vitalia.”

“What, because you’re just sleeping with her?”

A deadly silence fell over the otherwise empty training room.

Logan breathed heavily and took a step towards you, making your knees bend against the bench behind you and you fell to the wooden surface. “You don’t know shit about that,” he said, his voice eerily calm.

“And you don’t know shit about what I’m capable of.” You said, your voice losing its vigor as tears pricked your eyes. “You were gone for three years, Logan. Do you have any idea how much I needed you?”

“I know,” he replied, his voice retreating back to its calm, bassy tone.

“But I’m not the same little girl anymore, alright?” You begged to be recognized, your voice becoming watery with the tears in your eyes. “I need this mission.”

You watched Logan’s Adam's apple bob in his throat as he stepped back from you. “I know.” He reached forward and offered a hand to help pull you up. Hesitantly, you laced your hands together and tugged upwards, rising from the seat. “Just make sure to be safe. And come back to m–to us.”

You rolled your eyes and shoved at his shoulder in an attempt to lighten the mood. “I will, dad.”

“Hey,” he snapped at you as a smile played on his lips, “we talked about that.”

“I know, I know… it reminds you how old you are, old man.”

“Wow, you’re really asking for it aren’t you?”

You giggled to yourself and swayed your hips as you walked towards the exit (completely missing the way Logan watched every sway of your hips like his life depended on it). “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” you said with a wink.

A quick growl behind you was the only warning you received before you were tackled to the ground, an assault of tickles roaming across your ribs and under your armpits. Your laughter was contagious as it bounced around the room, Logan’s own baritone laughter mixing with yours. He hadn’t felt joy like this in so long. “I yield, I yield!” You yelled out.

His fingers stopped roaming as your laughter died out, and you realized how compromising of a position you were in during your attempt to escape. Logan was nestled between your legs, his torso keeping you spread open beneath him. And it just became inappropriate for your friend to have his shirt off, a heat forming in the bottom of your stomach as your eyes grazed along his happy trail that disappeared beneath his gray sweatpants. The need to peel down the band on his pants to see what that trail led to was overwhelming. You watched his pecs twitch as he leaned backwards, his large hands coming to rest on your hips. You wished he would reach around you and pull you closer to him, let you grind against him until you found a release that would have you screaming his name…

Fuck, you forgot he can sense your arousal and heartbeat.

You watched his pupils dilate for the second time that day, his eyes darkening as his grip tightened on your hips…

Clearing your throat you pushed away from him, and he let you go with little resistance as you slipped through his hands. “I’m gonna take a shower and meet Jean and Scott to go over mission details.” You weren’t sure why you felt the need to tell him that, but watching as he sat there looking wrecked because of you made your heart do something very strange.

Giving him one quick nod, you walked out of the room, running away from the man who had the power to destroy your heart.

Taglist (omg I can't believe I have one of these, love y'all): @kingdomhate , @sadslasher13 , @bontensbabygirl , @ferkillia , @coocoocachoogotscrewed , @craftycaptain.

[luimagines]

I dare you to do one with your favorite trope to write (unless you've already done it)

Oh my goodness, this might be longer that usual. XD

And I really had to think about what I wanted to write. I think I'll make this a one-shot. (unless you guys want more anyway) Prepare for this to be as self indulgent as hell. :D

And I'll make it Time while I'm at it.

Masterlist

Content under the cut!

This was the third time this week that you found something like this. You didn't know who was doing this.

A basket, filled to the brim with goodies and trinkets alike, sat properly outside of your window sill. It would be charming if you weren't on the third floor. Someone was climbing up to your balcony and leaving the baskets for you to find.

It was creepy- to a degree. There was never anything malicious about it though. The baskets typically held a flower, a warm meal (or groceries) and some little thing for you to put around your apartment.

You see, you moved to the Kingdom of Kokiri with nothing but a backpack and small child's wagon. Your apartment wasn't even on a nicer side of town. But it hard to be worried about robbers when you're home is bare and empty.

Slowly, that's been changing though. The baskets always had a poem attached, but no name. You secret admirer would give little things from time to time. The baskets are getting more frequent too.

What used to be a small monthly thing, turned weekly then bi weekly- and you're beginning to suspect that they're turning into a daily thing.

Part of you worries that whoever this is, is spending too much on you.

But seeing that the last basket had a new set of dining wear with plates and cups and a some nice utensils to match- you're not inclined to have them stop anytime soon when they're improve your very living conditions as it is. Even if you feel a little guilty.

That being said, this basket had a warm meal already prepared, still steaming in the glass tupperware. There was a small bouquet of roses near the top and a small little box that you opened to see a single slice of chocolate cake.

The card was attached on the inside but it lacked the typical poem. It simple read: "Rest well, Love. You've worked hard today. Dinner's on me. I just want to see you smile in the morning."

You smiles and tucked the card back into its place, bringing the basket back into your apartment.

You have to figure out who this secret admirer of yours is. It has to be someone with access to your floor but it can't be a neighbor. Right? You're on the corner so it can't be anyone to your left. But maybe your neighbor to the right? That's a creepy thought. You hardy ever see him and you don't think he showers throughout the week.

It can't be him. Or at least you're going to deny it.

Maybe it's someone from above? That's more likely. There is this cute guy that you know lives on the floor above you, but you don't know which apartment. It wouldn't be hard to drop the basket secretively onto your balcony from above if that was the case.

The thought rotates in your head as you eat the food. It's delicious. Decadent, even.

Gratitude fills your heart and soul. you have to return the favor somehow after everything this person has provided for you. But how?

You head to bed with a smile on your face and a full stomach. You'll have to start small but you can think of something.

The next morning you head to the castle and walk straight to the throne room.

It was a deal that the king had proposed personally to you. You get to work concern free in his kingdom but you have to report to him every other Tuesday. Seeing as you had nowhere else to go, you didn't think it wise to refuse.

You've grown somewhat close, but with his power and status by his side, you couldn't help but slightly intimidated by him even now.

The king- like most Royals of Kingdoms of Hyrule- was a dragon. Sure, he could take the form of a typical man, but he stayed in his half form more often than not. His age and strength add to his credentials. As the current senior amongst dragons, all you've gathered is that he's lived longer than he appears. The older the dragon, the stronger they are.

King Link is a force to be reckoned with.

However, he's kind and patient with you. He's not all that bad.

You nod and grin at the Captain, who's affectionately called Warrior. Another dragon hidden among the people. You don't know his story, but he's a hard working fellow. He also came to the king in a time of need, looking for asylum and has been working under his employ ever since. He is the king's right hand man.

Warrior smiles back and salutes you softly as you enter. You'll never understand why you've more or less been given free reign of the castle, but with his approval, you feel better to head on in.

You meet the king and curtsy clumsily, still feeling rushed. He's asked you call him Time and he stands from the throne. His face is kind, amused even. A chuckle tumbles out of him as he walks toward you, his marble like tail swinging behind him. "I thought we were passed the formalities, my dear."

You clear your throat. "Were we? I don't recall."

He laughs again. "Come. We have much to discuss."

You nod and follow. He leads you to the back room with a gentle touch the small of your back. It's a familiar routine that you've grown comfortable with.

There's a small rounded table with a pale blue laced table cloth. There's a delicate tea set and it's covered to the brim with snacks and treats alike. You think you see a few of your favorites and your eyes light up at the sight.

King Time notices and he smiles, pleased. "Sit."

You nod and take your usual spot. Time sits across from you and serves you the pieces that you eyes earlier. You almost feel bad. You're still full from the night before.

Time notices. "Something wrong, dear?"

"No." You shake your head, afraid of insulting him. "Someone gave me dinner last night and I'm still a bit full from it."

Time seemed to be shocked by the tidbit. "Really?... Was it good?"

"It was delicious!" You can't help but gush. "I would normally cook for myself but they send food from time to time and it was still warm so I couldn't resist."

His smile turns a little tight. "Is that so? I'm glad that you were fed adequately then.... May I ask who?"

You falter, the smile on your face turning more soft and shy. "Um... I think it was my neighbor..."

"...You don't know who it is?"

You blush and look down onto the table, playing with the treats on your plate. "I know that I should be more cautious. But they've only ever left it on my balcony... It's a secret admirer so to speak. They've given me trinkets and flowers and food. It seems as if they've slowly been furnishing my house for me. I don't know... I've been trying to think about who it may be, but I'm coming up short. Regardless, enough about my lack of love life-"

Time abruptly puts his hand under the table but you catch the reason why before he can hide it.

He's bent the fork in half with his hand, seemingly without realizing it. He smiles brightly, as if nothing happened and the thought gets put on the back burner for now. "Right... Well, you can always ask for my assistance, Darling."

You shake your head with a small smile. "Thank you, but I'm here to report my work. Let's get to business then."

Time clenches his jaw slightly but nods in agreement. "Right. I believe last time you mentioned that you were following a trail of some suspicious individuals on the property of the farm lands for relief efforts. Did that bloom into anything substantial?"

You pull out a manila folder with a smirk and hand it to the king. "Did it ever."

The time passes before you know it. Little by little, as you give your report, if drifts away and you're talking about your lives as much as you can before you leave.

Warrior comes in, informing Time of another meeting has to attend. He looks apologetic.

The king winces but you're quick to stand up, mid panic. "I'm sorry. I've overstayed my welcome."

"Impossible." Time blurts, standing abruptly as well. He reach out as if to stop you and moves around the table as if to block your path. His tail curls around your ankle, stopping your in your tracks. It's gentle but firm. Even if his grip is painless, you can already tell that you wouldn't be able to escape on your own.

You freeze and after a beat he lets you go. Time gulps and stands, seemingly more aware of what he was doing. His grip falls away and he takes a step back. "R-right... I won't keep you from your work much longer then."

You can't help but blush. He's always been fine with putting a hand on your shoulder or your back... but the tail is one of the most sensitive parts of a dragon. And he just grabbed you with it. For some reason, you find yourself blushing.

You nod dumbly, as if your schedule is jammed packed like his. Your heart is pounding. You follow Warrior out of the room as he leads you back to the main gate of the castle.

"Sorry." Warrior says quietly. "I didn't mean to interrupt."

"Nonono-" You're still shaken by the phantom feelings of the scales around you. Even if it was just a brush, there was a power there. You don't know why you're so out of whack suddenly. The act was more intimate than you were able to admit. "If you didn't say anything, I would have kept going. Honestly, I swear he's just humoring most of the time."

"This is the only time we get him to actually take a break." Warrior tells you. "He'd work himself t the bone if it weren't for you. It's not like he can't afford it. He's two years ahead of his work. By all means, keep him there longer."

You flush and look away, walking out of the gate. "Oh please, he'll get sick of me before we'd know it."

Warrior is quick to bite his tongue, biting back the instant retort that no doubt sat on his tongue. He takes a breath and shakes his head.

"...He likes you." Warrior looks pained. Like there's something there that he wants to say but can't. You don't see it. "Would you like me to walk you home? If I recall you live far enough away-"

"Not enough to cause concern, Captain." You smile and pat his shoulder. "But thank you."

"His Majesty wouldn't like it if anything happened to you." Warrior tries to push it a little bit.

You shake you head. "And take more of your time away? You work just as hard, if not harder, than the entirety of the castle staff. I think only the King works harder than you."

He presses his lips into a thin line. His own scales poke from under his skin. Something is riling him up but you don't know what. You've never seen his dragon form or even his half. He seems to hide it more often than not. You would never know he was a dragon if the King hadn't said anything earlier.

Warrior sighs and runs his hands through his hair. "Very well... Just... be safe, yeah? I don't think the goddesses themselves would be able to calm the king should things go wrong."

"Like what?" You snort. "I end up in the hospital? I'll be fine. No worries."

You wink for good measure and head home, happy, fulfilled and ready to take on the rest of the week.

You miss the next three visits.

Part 2

[mariacallous]

Over the past decade, China has invested hundreds of millions of dollars in its international media network. The Xinhua News Agency, China Global Television Network, China Radio International, and the China Daily web portal produce material in multiple languages and use multiple social-media accounts to amplify it. This huge investment produces plenty of positive coverage of China and benign depictions of the authoritarian world more broadly. Nevertheless, Beijing is also aware that news marked “made in China” doesn’t have anything like the influence that local people, using local media, would have if they were uttering the same messages.

That, in the regime’s thinking, is the ultimate form of propaganda: Get the natives to say it for you. Train them, persuade them, pay them—it doesn’t matter; whatever their motives, they’ll be more convincing. Chinese leaders call this tactic “borrowing boats to reach the sea.”

When a handful of employees at RT, the Russian state television network formerly known as Russia Today, allegedly offered to provide lucrative payments to the talking heads of Tenet Media, a Tennessee-based far-right influencer team, borrowing boats to reach the sea was exactly what they had in mind. According to a federal indictment released last week, RT employees spent nearly $10 million over the course of a year—money “laundered through a network of foreign shell entities,” including companies in Turkey, the United Arab Emirates, the Czech Republic, and Hungary—with the aim of supporting Tenet Media’s work and shaping the messages in its videos.

The indictment makes clear that the influencers—propagandists, in fact—must have had a pretty good idea where the money was coming from. They were told that their benefactor was “Eduard Grigoriann,” a vaguely Euro-Armenian “investor.” They tried to Google him and found nothing; they asked for information and were shown a résumé that included a photograph of a man gazing through the window of a private jet. Sometimes, the messages from Grigoriann’s team were time-stamped in a way that indicated they were written in Moscow. Sometimes the alleged employees of Grigoriann’s alleged company misspelled Grigoriann’s name. Unsurprisingly, in their private conversations, the Tenet Media team occasionally referred to its mysterious backers as “the Russians.”

But the real question is not whether the talking heads of Tenet Media—the founders, Lauren Chen and Liam Donovan, who were the main interlocutors with the Russians, but also Tim Pool, Lauren Southern, Dave Rubin, and Benny Johnson—had guessed the true identity of their “investor.” Nor does it matter whether they knew who was really paying them to make videos that backed up absurd pro-Moscow narratives (that a terrorist attack at a Moscow shopping mall, loudly claimed by the Islamic State, was really carried out by Ukrainians, for example). More important is whether the audience knew, and I think we can safely say that it did not. And now that Tenet Media fans do know who funds their favorite influencers, it’s entirely possible that they won’t care.

This is because the messages formed part of a larger stream of authoritarian ideas that are now ubiquitous on the far right, and that make coherent sense as a package. They denounce U.S. institutions as broken, irreparable: If Donald Trump doesn’t win, it’s because the election is rigged. They imply American society is degenerate: White people are discriminated against in America. They suggest immigrants are part of a coordinated invasion, designed to destroy what remains of the culture: Illegal immigrants are eating household pets, a trope featured during this week’s presidential debate. For the Russians, the amplification of this narrative matters more than specific arguments about Ukraine. As the indictment delicately explains, many of the Russian-sponsored videos produced by Tenet Media were more relevant to American politics than to the Ukraine war: “While the views expressed in the videos are not uniform, the subject matter and content of the videos are often consistent with the Government of Russia’s interest in amplifying U.S. domestic divisions.”

But these themes are also consistent with the Trump campaign’s interest in amplifying U.S. domestic divisions. People who have come to distrust the basic institutions of American democracy, who feel aggrieved and rejected, who believe that immigrants are invaders who have been deliberately sent to replace them—these are not people who will necessarily be bothered that their favorite YouTubers, according to prosecutors, were being sponsored by a violent, lawless foreign dictator who repeatedly threatens the U.S. and its allies with nuclear armageddon. On the contrary, many of them now despise their own country so much that they might be pleased to hear there are foreigners who, like the ex-president, want to burn it all down. If you truly hate modern America—its diversity, its immense energy, its raucous debate—then you won’t mind hearing it denounced by other people who hate it and wish it ill. On X earlier this year, Chen referred to the U.S. as a “tyranny,” for example, a phrase that could easily have been produced by one of the Russian propagandists who regularly decry the U.S. on the evening news.

These pundits and their audience are not manipulated by Russian, Chinese, and other autocrats who sometimes fill their social-media feeds. The relationship goes the other way around; Russian, Chinese, and other influence operations are designed to spread the views of Americans who actively and enthusiastically support the autocratic narrative. You may have laughed at Trump’s rant on Tuesday night: “The people that came in. They’re eating the cats. They’re eating—they’re eating the pets of the people that live there. And this is what’s happening in our country. And it’s a shame.” But that language is meant to reach an audience already primed to believe that Kamala Harris, as Trump himself said, is “destroying this country. And if she becomes president, this country doesn’t have a chance of success. Not only success. We’ll end up being Venezuela on steroids.”

Plenty of other people are trying to reach that audience too. Indeed, the Grigoriann scheme was not the only one revealed in the past few days. In a separate case that has received less attention, the FBI last week filed an affidavit in a Pennsylvania courthouse supporting the seizure of 32 internet domains. The document describes another team of Russian operatives who have engaged in typosquatting—setting up fake news websites whose URLs resemble real ones. The affidavit mentions, for example, washingtonpost.pm, washingtonpost.ltd, fox-news.in, fox-news.top, and forward.pw, but we know there are others. This same propaganda group, known to European investigators as Doppelganger, has also set up similar sites in multiple European languages. Typosquatters do not necessarily seek to drive people to the fake sites. Instead, the fake URLs they provide make posts on Facebook, X, and other social media appear credible. When someone is quickly scrolling, they might not check whether a sensational headline purporting to be from The Washington Post is in fact linked to washingtonpost.pm, the fake site, as opposed to washingtonpost.com, the real one.

But this deception, too, would not work without people who are prepared to believe it. Just as the Grigoriann scam assumed the existence of pundits and viewers who don’t really care who is paying for the videos that make them angry, typosquatting—like all information laundering—assumes the existence of a credulous audience that is already willing to accept outrageous headlines and not ask too many questions. Again, although Russian teams seek to cultivate, influence, and amplify this audience—especially in Pennsylvania, apparently, because in Moscow, they know which swing states matter too—the Russians didn’t create it. Rather, it was created by Trump and the pundits who support him, and merely amplified by foreigners who want our democracy to fail.

These influencers and audiences are cynical, even nihilistic. They have deep distrust in American institutions, especially those connected to elections. We talk a lot about how authoritarianism might arrive in America someday, but in this sense, it’s already here: The United States has a very large population of people who look for, absorb, and believe anti-American messages wherever they are found, whether on the real Fox News or the fake fox-news.in. Trump was speaking directly to them on Tuesday. What happens next is up to other Americans, the ones who don’t believe that their country is cratering into chaos and don’t want a leader who will burn it all down. In the meantime, there are plenty of boats available to borrow for Russians who want to reach the sea.

[writers-potion]

Any tips on how to make it clear a character is trans in a fantasy setting without a huge moment about how trans people exist and also without relying on transphobic tropes? I want it to feel natural, but I feel like I'm not being clear about it.

Introducing Trans Characters in a Fantasy Setting

Hi! Thank you for the question 🙂

In a fantasy setting, I can imagine two ways trans people exist in it: (1) Trans people (or trans creatures, whatever) are a natural part of the world that no one is bothered about (2) Trans people are unheard of, perhaps even illegal, and everyone would be horrified/shocked when your character is introduced. 

Fantasy World - Trans Friendly

In a fantasy world that sees trans people as nothing special, it would be something like:

This fantasy world has enough trans people that is rather quite common

Trans people are a rarity, but they are considered holy/blessed/special in some way, so they actually kind get more status/respect

Trans people are a necessity (for some reason), so even though there are haters, they need to shut up because trans people play an important role in their society. 

Here is what you can do:

Have your character meet another character who is openly trans and is not afraid to talk about it. Other side characters would also just treat the trans character as a part of their daily life, nothing more nothing less. 

When your character “enters” the fantasy world, provide a description of how trans people are a part of it. This can be a trans person walking along the street or being aired on TV, etc. 

If your character is new to this fantasy world and they have someone explaining/introducing it to them, just drop hints when you’re doing the rest of worldbuilding. 

If your trans character has someone close who knows their backstory, try dropping hints in their conversation, letting the readers catch on. 

Fantasy World - Trans Unfriendly 

Generally, a society that hasn’t encountered trans people will be transphobic towards it, since those who are marked as “different” are often seen as a threat. Rather than depicting straightforward hate towards trans character, you can try to direct it differently:

Have characters who are genuinely curious. Think back to the time when you didn’t know what the concept of trans was - these characters just haven’t seen someone who’s trans and due to that, will be insensitive but not rude/hateful. 

Other characters can have the “We don’t really care and you can be whatever you want but you’re still a weirdo” kind of attitude. This can work better if the gender roles in your fantasy setting aren’t divisive/stringent and the other characters don’t care if a trans person wants to be in roles not generally assigned for their sex at birth - but it would still be something that draws the eye. 

You can also have a world where being trans is an established social taboo, but the present day people don't vibe with the ban that's been in place for so long. You can have the immediate side characters wanting to be supportive despite the general societal discomfort with trans people. (The "hate" here would be more vague/ kinda in the background)

When it comes to introducing queer characters, I suggest you treat them as you would any other character. When you introduce them, you would provide a description of their outer appearance and personality - the fact that they’re trans might or might not be clear from how they look or act. As you layer more characterization & the trans character starts interacting more with other characters, the fact that they’re trans can be a piece of backstory.

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[kampfhundin]

REALISTIC RELATIONSHIP WITH CANON SIMON "GHOST" RILEY

part two.

Okay, the second part is because I see fit and no one is going to tell me not to.

Let me say right away - this is not the only correct opinion, but I find it useful to share this with people (Since I grew up in a military environment, since my godfather is a military man who has been through several hot spots, since I am one of the managers of a military-related club, and since my ex is a military man, I am quite immersed in the daily life of such families, so heck yes, I will use my experience.)

Again, this is not a one-size-fits-all mechanism that works for every soldier, but nonetheless. I also don't take into account the different traits of different people, the human factor and other variables. I just give you the basic structure.

Here we go.

The Army is not the "Green Pines" children's camp with cheerful starts and fun contests. It's not a place where people chill out and enjoy a vacation, and it's certainly not the best place to spend your youth. The army is discipline, and often discipline that breaks you down. There's a good joke in Russia "In the army we roll cubes and carry spheres." And when you are bent and broken for a very long time, you yourself begin to bend and break those who surround you outside the barracks. It's not uncommon for soldiers to bring their Army experiences into their daily lives, even if it's just in small ways. Like, making their bed a certain way, getting up at 6 a.m. sharp, cooking something according to the recipe from the army canteen, getting ready quickly and efficiently, and so on.

The army is not a section in the biography, but a real lifestyle, which few people can change from the outside, no matter if it's your beloved one or not.

Being in a relationship with Simon Riley means rarely seeing each other.

Being in a relationship with Simon Riley means he can't just run to you simply because he wants to, or because you want him to.

Being in a relationship with Simon Riley means spending most holidays and important events apart.

Being in a relationship with Simon Riley means settling for rare weekends of 1-2 days at best, and as few vacations as possible (if you're in a relationship before marriage).

Being in a relationship with Simon Riley means visiting him on the bases that military spouses are allowed to visit (if you're post-marital).

This is probably the favorite trope of all fanfics, where Simon is an insatiable hero-lover. And the only truly feasible scenario where such a storyline might play out.

Being in a relationship with Simon Riley means getting used to his military quirks.

Being in a relationship with Simon Riley means he knows everything better.

Being in a relationship with Simon Riley means accepting the role of housekeeper.

Being in a relationship with Simon Riley means you are the beauty and comfort of his home, while he is the provider.

In my experience, no matter how progressive a soldier might be, the military structure itself is rife with sexism. It tends to follow a patriarchal, classic family dynamic (or relationship) where the Military person is the male archetype — the provider, protector, father — and the Civilian is the female archetype — taking care of the household, children/pets, cooking, mother, and simply accompanying the Military person as a beautiful appendage. This is the military, baby, an organization built by men for men, and they are taught this approach (perhaps not directly taught, but it logically follows as a conclusion).

Being in a relationship with Simon Riley means getting used to his detached behavior, because emotions aren’t needed in the military.

Being in a relationship with Simon Riley means still experiencing jealousy and possessiveness firsthand.

Being in a relationship with Simon Riley means always being in the position of someone he protects (which means a lot of control, reporting to him about your actions and your friends; it means cutting back on night outings with your friends, and it means overprotectiveness).

Here’s an interesting fact for you: when you are constantly surrounded by men who, due to their profession, are inherently sexist, you hear a lot of comments about how each of them would conquer the person they’re interested in, in what positions, and without giving a damn about consent or anything else; when you are constantly surrounded by men who, due to their profession, are inherently sexist, you know firsthand how much of a piggish and animalistic attitude soldiers can often have. In this context, jealousy is less about mistrust of the partner and more about mistrust of the world around you.

And even if you finally manage to live together (he’s no longer on active duty/retired due to injury/contract ended/just retired), don’t expect a miraculous change in lifestyle!

Being in a relationship with Simon Riley means he’s emotionally detached because he has endured enough trauma to fill three textbooks for medical students.

Being in a relationship with Simon Riley means he doesn’t know how to show love. Not in the way you would like, anyway.

Being in a relationship with Simon Riley means he’s a man of action, not words. Flowers? Candy? Gifts? Rare and a waste of money.

Being in a relationship with Simon Riley means he will show his love through concern for your health, 'are you cold? are you hungry?', and by runing you a bath before you come home after work or walk.

Being in a relationship with Simon Riley means his love will be shown by fixing your favorite headphones or lowering a shelf you can’t reach.

Being in a relationship with Simon Riley means he has seen the horrors of life inside out, tasted grief and suffering, and will never allow even a hint of those horrors to touch you.

Being in a relationship with Simon Riley means he will build (literally or metaphorically) a home for you where you will live like in paradise. A place where you will always be safe, content with life, and have everything you need. A true family nest with an eye on the future for your children.

Damn, this post is getting too long, so there will be a third part with more juicy details. Stay tuned!

dividers by @cyberangel-graphics and by me

part one | part three

[blindbeta]

Hello.

I am writing a superhero series and I have a blind superhero character. I am currently trying to research how to portray this character in a respectful and accurate way.

For context, this hero is part of the supporting cast, and is a character the MC meets later on in the story. Every character in this world has some sort of superpower. His is the ability to control sound waves. While he can use them in an echolocation sort of way to detect enemy attacks, he can't use them in his everyday life as using your power is just the same as doing any physical activity, it's tiring.

Though, some blogs I've seen seem to discourage giving blind characters superpowers. I don't think this character's powers necessarily "cancel out his disability" I just want to make sure I'm writing this character respectfully.

I guess what I'm asking is, do you have any tips for writing blind superhero characters?

Blind Characters, Echolocation, and General Tips for Writing Super-powered Blind Characters

I answered a similar question that might be helpful. It explored some problems with the echolocation trope. You can read it here.

Limiting the Use of Echolocation

I like the fact that he can’t use it for very long and that it is draining, much like eye strain or using echolocation in real life. Echolocation is also challenging to learn and is not a replacement for a cane or other mobility aid. It would be unhelpful with most day-to-day activities. I’m glad you are considering the possibility of a superpower erasing his blindness and avoiding it in daily life.

Although, I still wonder about his superhero life.

Can he be an active superhero without echolocation? If it is something he relies on to be a superhero, maybe that would be something to consider. If he is an active superhero without it, you’re on a good course.

Furthermore, does he only use his powers for echolocation? I would assume not, although I could not tell from your question, as your main concern is the echolocation aspect.

Addressing Common Concerns With the Powers Often Given to Blind Characters

1. Negating blindness

Controlling sound waves doesn’t necessarily negate blindness outside of echolocation possibilities, as far as I can imagine. Aside from the overly common trope of giving a blind character a sensory-based power, that is. My concern is less about superpowers in general and more about powers that negate blindness, such as those that provide sight. An example would be a character who uses visions of the future to be able to see the way a sighted person would.

Does he still navigate in a way that might be familiar to blind readers? Does he use orientation and mobility techniques? Does he use Braille or large print or brave regular text with headaches so frequent his pockets are full of medication? Does his blindness impact his life?

Blindness need not only limit a character. Is he better able to orient himself? Can he pick up on sounds and landmarks and changes in light with more ease than his teammates? Is he used to getting hurt while playing blind football and thus able to withstand typical scrapes and bruises without being slowed by them? These are only a few ideas and they will change depending on his level of vision, exposure to the blind community, and how long he has been blind.

2. The Power to See is Boring

Additionally, these powers usually focus on addressing blindness, rather than being powers in their own right. This is the difference between a superhero with the power to see and a superhero who can manipulate emotions with a brush of their hand.

Could you consider other uses for this power that aren’t echolocation? For example, could he use his powers to facilitate or conceal communication? To amplify sound? Think of applications for the power that don’t involve echolocation or creating a way to see. Create other uses for echolocation. From your question, it seems you are already considering this.

The way you described use of the power doesn’t seem to negate blindness to me. I also think that considering other uses of this power outside of echolocation (which is often written to negate or reduce the impact of blindness) would be helpful.

Also, as I was reading your question again, I wondered if there are any other blind characters in the story. Since everyone has powers, that could be interesting to explore even if they don’t decide to be superheroes.

I hope this gives you some ideas to explore. Feel free to send a follow-up ask if needed.

[sitp-recs]

15 fics with Harry pursuing unusual careers

I love the adrenaline and potential angst within the Auror partners trope as much as the next guy, but we can all agree that our mental health improves 10 times when we see Harry leaving the Ministry, embracing other possibilities and making his own destiny. This rec list hopes to celebrate those creative, disruptive, feel-good fics that are not afraid to come up with the most absurd positions and original job titles. They can be fun, smutty, depressing, hopeful or cathartic; there’s a little bit of everything in here and I’m hoping to bring some hidden gems into everyone’s radar, too. Happy readings!

Twisted Wizards by Enchanted_Jae (T, 3k)

Draco is just putting his life back together when Potter comes along and mucks it all up again. Job: storm chaser

The R. Correspondence by noeon (T, 7.5k)

While working on the Bagshot papers, Draco makes an important discovery for British Wizarding History. Now if only Harry can keep him alive long enough to enjoy it. Job: private security consultant

Per my last letter (I hope you choke on it) by @fluxweeed and @lastontheboat (T, 10k)

Or: the one where Harry has writer’s block and Malfoy isn’t helping. Job: writer

Home County, orphaned (G, 10k)

Harry is an architect and the reluctant part-owner of his own firm. Malfoy works at The Ministry but doesn’t actually have a proper job title even though what he does sounds as though it’s pretty important. Job: architect

A Working Title by mindabbles (E, 12k)

Another in the long line of absurd biographies finally drives Harry to a desperate act. How desperate he doesn't know until his ghost writer shows up at his door. Job: Daily Prophet columnist

An Improbable Bout of Summer Madness by acari (E, 16k)

Draco had planned a quiet, peaceful summer holiday with his son. The last thing he expected was to find Potter here, in Draco's little Cornish retreat. Making fudge in a shop? The idea was too ludicrous for words. Job: fudge shop owner

The Strongest Affinity by @eidheann (T, 17k)

Trouble finding a wand for Scorpius leads Harry and Draco to something they never imagined. Job: wandmaker

Phoenix Repair Services by carpemermaid (E, 20k)

Draco hires a suspiciously private wizarding handyman to fix his kitchen when he returns home to find it destroyed. He expects a middle-aged wizard with greying hair and a pudgy gut to show up. Instead, he gets Harry Potter—with a utility belt and a charming smile—who is more attractive than he has any right to be. Job: Handyman

The Snitch-Maker by Omi_Ohmy (T, 21k)

Draco is content with his Snitches, with the tap tap tap of his hammer, and the tiny gears and sharp scent of metal in his workshop - until one day Harry Potter appears, asking for help to solve a rash of Snitch-tampering in the Quidditch world. Job: QUABBLE official (Quidditch representative)

Silhouettes in Sunsets by Pie (T, 22k)

Draco Malfoy was a Gringotts accountant by day and a luthier by night, making musical instruments that sang the language of the player’s heart, language audible only to the ears of his soul mate. Harry Potter was a struggling quill pal to the children of war and the owner of Hedwig’s Owl Emporium on Diagon—haven for future pets, owls retired from services and orphaned chicks. Job: Owl Emporium owner

Better To Burn Than To Fade Away by Ren (E, 23k)

Harry Potter is a legend in the world of broomstick racing. He's won almost every cup, trophy, and bowl – except for the historical London-Nome which has been on hiatus for the past several years. Now the London-Nome is starting again, and Harry will do anything to pull off one last big win. Job: broomstick racer

Doing the Lambeth Walk by @blamebrampton (T, 26k)

There are only three traditional choices for the cashed-up hero after victory. Harry Potter is too young to settle down and provide the wizarding world with a happy ending, and has too acute a sense of humour to spiral downwards into a spectacular flame-out. That leaves a life of good works. Job: Owner of a Social Housing and Care Centre

All Roads by @korlaena (M, 36k)

Draco hates his job at the Prophet. He hates it even more when he’s assigned to write an article on Harry Potter, who left the country three years ago after their falling out. Draco doesn’t want to face the truth about himself, but he’s stuck between Harry and his duty, and he’s out of options. Job: Magizoologist

Whimsical by strawberryrose (T, 42k)

In which Draco is completely out of his depth (until he isn’t), Harry builds something improbable with the help of his friends, and everyone bonds over food. Job: amusement park owner

What Shall Not Be Unearthed by @iero0 (E, 49k)

At the northernmost point of Shetland, surrounded by pointed cliffs, towers the Ootsta Lighthouse on a small isle in the middle of the open sea. Little does Harry know that he's not the only new lighthouse keeper. Draco Malfoy is as obnoxious as he always was, with his posh tone of voice and his luxury yacht jumpers. Job: lighthouse keeper

[howtofightwrite]

this scenario happened on Twenty-Four and they didnt really account for the long term damage -evelynmlewis

"No long term consequences" could have been the tagline for 24. I mean, we are talking about the show where terrorists detonated a nuclear weapon in Los Angeles, and a few hours later people were going about their daily lives like nothing had happened. But, I think I remember what you're talking about, and it was a small symptom of a much larger problem.

Two important caveats: I haven't watched season 3 in roughly 20 years, so I might be slightly misremembering when things happen. Second, IMDB's trivia page doesn't have any mentions of what I'm about to say, so it's entirely possible this was a fiction cooked up by someone on TV Tropes.

The short version was that Chase (James Badge Dale) was captured and was being tortured by a Mexican cartel. (Because no synopsis of 24 is complete without gratuitous torture sequences.) And, at one point, one of the cartel members shoots him through the hand. The problem is that Chase was originally planned to be killed off right at the beginning of the next episode.

However, going into season 3, the show runners had, supposedly, gotten into a bad habit of watching fansites, and started tweaking things on the fly, when fans accurately predicted the outcomes of upcoming plot twists. This included keeping Chase alive, when the original plan was to kill him off, and also killing off Chappelle (Paul Schulze), later in the season.

So, I mentioned that the plans for Chase's execution being changed are a bit dubious, that's not true with Chappelle, and there's a couple major things to pick up on here. First is that we have confirmation from Paul Schulze that the original plan was to fake his character's death. (This came out of an interview Schulze did, though I'm not sure with whom.) The second is a production cue from the way the show was produced. By season 3, the show was being shot in two episode blocks, (so, for example, Day 3: 1:00 p.m. – Day 3: 2:00 p.m., and Day 3: 2:00 p.m. – Day 3: 3:00 p.m. were shot at the same time. Also, yeah, the official episode titles are a bit unwieldy.) In the case of Chappelle's death, it came at right before 7am (which would have been part of the shooting block for 5am to 7am.) However, Chase's death would have been right after 9pm. (Which would have been part of the 9pm to 11pm block.) This would mean that the production would have needed to bring James Badge Dale back in for what would have amounted to a glorified cameo, if they were originally planning to kill off his character. Once you're aware of the way that episodes were shot, the pacing of the series gets a lot more predictable. Significant characters (even short term ones) tend to get introduced in the front half of a block, and killed off in the back half. Not necessarily the same block, but the structure tends to hold up. Especially when the show plays with the idea of someone dying during the episode cliffhanger.)

So, where am I going with this? Don't mess with your story to keep your audience off-balance. Your first concern is keeping your story coherent, if members of your audience manage to accurately predict what you're doing, good. They're invested enough in the story that you're telling to care about what you're going to do next. These are the last people you want to mess with. And if their prediction is correct, when it does play out, that's a reward for them.

Don't follow the example of 24(especially in season 3), where the overarching plot degenerates into an incoherent mess, because it keeps getting revised, on the fly, to keep things surprising. A well written thriller shouldn't be predictable, but it should have internal consistency so when the unexpected happens, it makes sense. A second viewing (or reading) of a thriller, should provide more satisfaction, as you can now see all the pieces getting dropped into place, long before they pay off. But, again, when you're writing in a serial format, if you start flipping things around to keep ahead of what your audience is predicting, that will ruin the cohesion of your story. (And, it's why I haven't watched Season 3 since shortly after it released on DVD. When I did go back and rewatch the first two years of the show.) While it's a bit uneven, it is something the first season of 24handled remarkably well, especially in comparison to what came later.

There's a couple advantages to writing in a serialized format. If you're unfamiliar with the term, serialized fiction refers when a piece of fiction is released in multiple parts over time. This is somewhat distinct from episodic series and metaplots. Episodic series tell multiple self contained stories, while metaplots refer to an overarching storyline that hooks into episodic stories granting them a larger context. Serials are smaller parts of a larger whole. The individual pieces (or, in the case of television, the episodes) are segmented portions of a larger story. Now, I said there are advantages to serialized writing, but almost all of those come with some significant perils, that if you're wanting to

The first advantage is you don't have to have the work completed before you start putting it out there. If you have a completed chapter, you can simply post it out there for the world to see. The peril is that you can't (really) go back and change it. You're committed to the previously released material. Even if you go back and revise the earlier work, you'll have a significant portion of your audience who don't want to go back and reread chapter 3, because you cleaned up the dialog, and also closed a plot hole that would emerge years later.

The second advantage is that serials can easily deliver much larger stories than you could offer in another format. For example, each season of 24 tells a single twenty-four hour story (actually, about 18 hours, once you account for commercial breaks.) Just putting that scope in front of someone is kind of wild. The peril is that serialized stories can easily spiral out of control. For example, nearly every webcomic ever, with an ongoing plot. This can result in some insane bloat. So you can either accept the content in medias res, or you can be looking at an unpleasant amount of homework. Whatever praise 24 deserves, the show asks you for an entire day of your life to watch a single story. When put in those terms, frankly, it's not that good.

The third advantage is that you can adjust your later work to better fit what your audience responds well to. If your fans like something you're doing, you can expand that part of your story. This time, there's multiple perils. First, you can easily lose track of how your original plan fit together. This is less of an issue if you're running with a fairly loose outline, but the better scripted your original plan, the more this can inadvertently screw you over. And, as I mentioned above, with the first peril, you can easily trap yourself. For an example I'm not completely conversant in, this might be what's delayed the final Game of Thrones book, as Martin may have accidentally killed off a character he needed, and now he's spent years working out a Plan B. The second peril is a little simpler, sometimes fans are reacting to what you didn't say, rather than what you did. Peripheral characters or concepts can prove to be fan favorites because the hints you provided along the way were more enticing than the full background you had in mind. This is a very subjective risk, because ultimately, it is more about accurately gauging what your audience reacted to rather than what they said they reacted to. That's a tricky one to split.

The fourth advantage to serialized writing is, almost, more a peril disguised as an advantage: You don't have to know how this will end, when you start. You can go on the same journey as your reader. The real advantage is that it can make the story more approachable. If you look at the idea of writing an entire novel, and the scope of that scares you, then smaller serialized novellas are a lot less threatening. However, this also means you don't have a plan to finish this. Much your characters, you're going to need to figure it out on your feet. If that sounds like a fun challenge, then that's absolutely something to drop into the “Pros” column. The downside is, I've seen professionals screw this up, and worse, get it past their editor. (In this case, I'm thinking specifically of Transmetropolitan. If you know, you know; if you don't, it's a massive spoiler for the end of the series.)

I will say, on this last peril, having good documentation, and a good project bible can save your ass. Don't trust your memory to keep all the (figurative) plates spinning. Take notes on what you're doing in another document, so that in the future you'll have easy reference to try to avoid accidentally creating temporal paradoxes as you try to sketch out your conclusion.

Also, yeah, if you're going to shoot someone in the hand, even if it's with a .22, don't change your mind about killing them 20 minutes later. James Badge Dale was cool, but, dude had nothing to do but chew scenery for fifteen hours.

-Starke

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