#even if it sucks all it needs to be is understood

[atangledfate]

Lanolin's eyes were locked on the floor as everyone spoke there minds, among them perhaps only Blaze fully understood there situation. For what it was worth there world had rarely relied on the Federation, but it had always been a ruling body. They made the laws, they controlled the military, they had all the capital. If there was one organization that held all the cards in this world it was them. Trying to bully there way to victory felt like a sure fire way to piss them off. Sure they could threaten them with Sol's military, but then what? They come some kind of new military power? Who then do they answer to? As much as she HATED it! and she did, she didn't see a path to victory.

" It doesn't matter if they knew about Clutch or, Surge and Kitsunami, or even Belle and did nothing. The fact is when presented to the public how do you think it would reflect on us? Harboring Criminals who destroyed half a city. Hiding a Badnik within the base, and consorting with a knowing crime boss... GUN doesn't even need to fabricate a story--- They could tell the truth and it would still look bad for us. "

She spoke in a softer tone as she tensed up and seemed to feel the weight of her position for the first time. This was what it meant to be a leader--- saying what no one wanted to hear.

" Having leverage is good, But we can't just throw it in there face either. One miss step, one wrong sentence, and they declare restoration went rogue... cease our assets, cut off our fending, and declare its members criminals... They don't need to attack us today, to win tomorrow, and expecting Sol to step in with military force--- that looks like Blaze is planning an invasion... "

Her eyes went to Belle as she looked tired all of a sudden, like the day was wearing on her. The weight of what they faced had already dawned on her and she could not find a victory condition. No She had a feeling that the Federation had them dead to rights.

" I don't disagree belle but how do you think GUN would spin that? We both know Omega is like a dog to them, they send him in to clean house, and keep him under constant observation. "

Miles had been listening for awhile now without speaking a word to anyone. He just looked to have been thinking long and hard. It was a complicated mess, and Lanolin was right that going at this with a club was going to be messy. Confronting them with what little information they had, was going to backfire and it would make it all worse he figured.

Yet there was another option and Lanolin had already hinted at it.

" If we confront them now we lose, its just that simple. Showing our cards at this juncture... We'd tip our hand to early. As much as i hate to admit it... I think here today we have ot concede... let them have there little investigation really no other course that doesn't lead to conflict between us and the federation... "

" However, what we need is evidence that this was a big plot on there end. If we can prove that then in court we might have a chance... with enough capital and the right lawyers we can argue our case. But trying to argue it with this president here and now? it's like yelling at cop because he's gonna give you a ticket... or worse trying to bribe the cop. "

" that's my play, we let them think they've won and act behind the scenes--- Convert operations. It's our best play...we can use mimic as a bargaining chip to show our good will. Once we know more we can make a plan to counter GUN and the Federation but right now... if we act rashly we end up terrorists on a watch list... that's my idea, and i think our best shot of saving restoration "

Sonic didn't respond as he was staring at the wall grinding his teeth. He didn't get angry often but, this was one of those moments he felt like he was being dicked over. Yea Tails might be right but, he didn't have to like it! He knew the kid was smart, and maybe a conflict would be bad! but letting these guys use shitty political tactics on them sucked!

" So that's it? Just roll over and play dead? I'm still for butt kickin' let them call me a terrorist if they want... they can do it while choking on there teeth--- But what ever the plan i'll do my part. But this kinda stuff ain't my style... "

"I can't say we don't have any options. After all, I'm sure even GUN wouldn't wish to make an enemy of me or the Sol Empire. It may not be much of an advantage given I'm in their world, though it's at least something to push back with." Blaze was never one to use her status for threats or warnings, and today was the first time she's done it so much. Though the feline wouldn't sit by and let her friends be pushed around or threatened.

"Not to mention the fact they never even attempted to reach out to anyone about the fact Clutch is a criminal, or how they also knew Mimic was here in the base. I'm can only guess you guys had Mimic as a high priority of catching, so they should've known too. Easy to send a message if they have a spy in. Gives off the impression they set you guys up to fail. I only wish I had more solid proof on the rumors about the commander." Rowan was sure having solid intel on that guy would make them clear out in an instant.

"We also got Mimic in the Shadow Void to turn over. Can't say I trust GUN with someone like Mimic, if only because I wouldn't put it past them to put him to work, though it's something." Rowan wanted to just throw him in a hole and leave it at that, though he'd never hear the end of it from Tangle.

"If Surge is staying then so am I. They can try to take me, though they'll regret it in the end. All it takes is four to six minutes for someone to drown, and I can speed that up much faster with how smart I am." Kitsunami wasn't going to let anyone take Surge, or let anyone take him away from Surge. If GUN wanted to see how dangerous the fennec was then that was the fastest way to do it.

"It's okay Kitsunami. I doubt they'll try anything that'll tick you and Surge off." Belle wasn't surprised Kitsunami would go through such lengths, though gears and starters she didn't need to see him start racking up a body count of GUN soldiers. The tinkerer herself was thinking about what she should do. Tails and Lanolin had a point, yet so did Vector. Not to mention she was sure they'd only be interested in dismantling her. She was sure they could consider her as safe eggtech to copy.

"I won't go with GUN because I don't trust them. And if they want to take me just because of who my creator is then I'd be more than happy to bring up how they let Omega work for them." Belle knew Eggman created Omega, though as far as she knew they never tried to punish or arrest him. Hopefully that'd be of help to get them to leave her alone.

"So, we got Blaze backing us up, the fact they withheld the fact Clutch was a criminal, also not telling use Mimic was here, my unconfirmed dirt on the commander, and the fact they let Omega work for them. I guess we could also count them coming off as overly hostile." Rowan found all this excessive, at least without any warning.

"Is this a bad time to mention I also stole Clean Sweep's money? Maybe we should had that over, since I'm sure a lot of it must have been earned illegally." Belle could easily find out what was Restoration donations and what was Clean Sweep profit.

[queenburd]

I write this post with the caveat that I was into TSP and TSPUD before discovering Cl0ck 0ut and I never joined any servers around it, so the impact to me is extremely minimal compared to many others who were heavily inspired by it. I recognize that while it's sickening to me, it's even harder for the people who joined the TSP fandom because of Cl0ck 0ut.

I'm also extremely on the fringes of the fandom in general, I've never gone out of my way to interact with people who are more well-known for their narrator designs. I don't know that this post is going to reach its intended audience that much.

With all that aside, I really want to tell the people who are extremely hurt and reeling and sick to their stomach something that I think is pretty important:

You may have been introduced to TSP from watching Cl0ck 0ut, and it may have inspired you, but it is not the thing that kept you here interested in the game. You're in this fandom because you found like-minded people, maybe through the animation sure, and continued to make connections beyond that surface-level one.

Look, I've been here before. I'm not old, but I'm in my late twenties now and I've been in fandom circles for nearly 2 decades. There were inevitably times where the fanbase learned bad things about the creator, or a specific "big time" fan whose works they liked. It does suck, it does hurt, you're more than allowed to feel betrayed and sick and stressed.

A lot of what got me through it was having other people to talk to, who understood because they were also going through it. They understood because they were in that same fandom with me, we had met through it. The thing that mattered was that I had friends I had made beyond a superficial initial connection.

You made bonds. You created things (headcanons, art, stories, theories) with other people, and you still enjoyed the initial thing, yeah, but you enjoy it more because of the extra layers of connection that it led you to! But remember, please remember, that while it was a jumping off point, and you might attach a lot of value to it for that, it didn't do the work. You and other people did that. And that's the real valuable thing. That doesn't have to be stained with the bad feelings, I promise. It can and has evolved past the initial connection.

It's gonna sting for a while. That's understandable. If you need to take a break from creating, no one can blame you. But keep your connections with other people. Keep your friends.

(And if you made things that were directly inspired by Cl0ck 0ut designs or initial story, I can understand if you're feeling extremely uncomfortable with making more of it. I have a couple fanfics I was reading that were based off it.

At the end of the day, do what makes you most comfortable, even if that includes putting it down and never picaking it up again; but know that people liked what you were making, again, not because it was Cl0ck 0ut based, but because you were doing interesting and unique things with the premise. That's what fandom does with any media, and the story you were crafting does not, I think, need to be wholly discarded despite its premise having...'issues'.)

[hobgoblinsandpeachfuzz]

Love is learned over time 'Til you're an expert in a dying field

Fic below the cut:

He was much too old to be as flummoxed as he was, but Emmrich and Alas’s flirtation was so new, so fresh, that he was not certain what to do at all. He hardly had realized that it had begun until Alas even said anything after their walk through the Memorial Gardens. It felt like being struck by lightning, a thrill to his senses, permission granted to indulge in thoughts he had attempted to keep quiet until now. 

Then, all too quickly, it seemed to vanish, after their battle in the Crossroads with the Revenant Dragon. He reached out, called to Alas, and Alas turned away, and did not speak to anyone as they returned to the Lighthouse. 

Affection, flirtation, infatuation, he was no expert in. But grief. Emmrich understood grief. And as a Mourn Watcher and a spirit caller, it was his solemn duty to aid those in their time of grief, more than anything. So when he heard the tinkling of piano keys in the middle of the night (or as close as he could tell, with the Fade and its ever inconsistent and shifting notions of light and dark), he sought out its source, and found Alas, bent over the piano, toiling away, alone.

He was already in the doorway, but he did not wish to startle, so he knocked all the same. Alas barely moved, though his head turned lightly, only to stare back at the keys. Emmrich’s heart sank. This was not how he had come to know Rook. Rook was jubilant, energetic, bouncing from here to there despite his age, always smiling, always ready with a quip and a laugh, racing to and fro, and never really stopping. To see them so still was–Emmrich sucked in a breath, and pressed the fear away at once. It would not do. He would simply have to assess the gripping and icy chill that threatened to effuse him at the thought of Alas’s lifeless body another time. For now, the living and breathing Alas was here and present and in need.

“May I sit?” he asked, thinking of taking a seat by the piano, across from him. But Alas scooted over on the bench, a wordless invitation. That was a positive sign, and Emmrich could not hide the small smile it brought to his face as he sat beside Rook.

It was best to be conversational in these matters. Slowly build to the topic at hand. To press too quickly would have the subject retreat. Wisps and people were oh so more alike than either considered, in that regard. “I didn’t know you played.”

He could not see his eyes from behind the curtain of his gray hair, but he saw Rook’s lips press together before answering. A gesture of shyness, perhaps. He could not imagine Alas as shy. “That’s what I was for. Back then. I served in June’s court, and I was his musician.”

Emmrich nodded. He had known that Alas was, much like Solas himself, an ancient elf, though the particulars were different with Alas than the Dread Wolf. Bellara had informed him as much, and he had been present for at least one of the Dread Wolf’s memories in the crossroads, where Alas had stopped, dead in their tracks, to stare at the face of the General who gave commands in those visions of the past. But speculation was not helpful. He would wait for Rook to tell him exactly. Even if he was curious for reasons beyond those of a Mourn Watcher.

“Do you play other instruments as well?”

They nodded, a wry little smile returning just faintly to their face, finally turning to look the whole music room over, and Emmrich could see how bone tired the poor elf looked. He had not been sleeping. Emmrich knew that. Alas brushed the concerns off whenever the rest of them tried to discuss it, that he had had plenty of sleep in the elven state of Uthenara, but from what Emmrich knew, that was not the same, and could not help. 

“I was made to be an expert in them all,” Alas sighed. “I sang, I danced, all the fancy little tricks to entertain. Came to a point that I hated doing any of it.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to be,” they were looking at him now, finally, their golden eyes soft and piercing. Oh, but he’d been a fool to not realize that he was already far too deep with this infatuation, but he pressed a fist to his chest, and willed his heart to stop with its fluttering. Alas finally looked back at the keys, and their smile was gone. “Fel… Fel helped me love music again.”

“The General?” Emmrich had never been a jealous sort. It was a pathetic and silly emotion, and envy never featured in his ventures through the fade. There were other spirits and demons that sought him out. But now, he focused decidedly on Rook’s long fingers, dancing across the keys, playing a soft, quiet, and slow melody, something that sounded like the wish from one long ago, and tried not to think about the clear intensity of Alas’s devotion. “I would love to hear more about him.”

That brought the smile back to Alas’s face, a gentle thing this time. The melody picked up, no less soft, but firmer in its dedication, in its proud major notes. 

“He was my General. I was his lieutenant. That’s who we were in the war, yeah. But there was so much more to him. He was my first friend. The first person who saw me for who I really wanted to be. When the war was over, and the veil went up, he put us both in uthenara, and awoke us years later. He’d do that, over and over, desperate to see but also not wanting to harm. He was dedicated to discovering this new world Solas left behind, and helping where he could. I followed him to the ends of Thedas and back.”

“He was funny, you know. He loved to tease and make riddles of even the simplest ideas. I think he liked the thought that people viewed him as mysterious, when really he was the most forthright and honest person you could find. I think it was his own little joke against Solas really. And I think he went back into uthenara all those times to… To try to make Solas see the beauty that we were finding.” Alas’s voice shook, and his eyes shone. 

Envy was clearly not only infecting Emmrich. A dark look flashed in Alas’s eyes, before they closed them tight. “Fel never gave up on Solas. Not once. No matter… What I said.”

They stopped playing now, and wrapped their hands into fists, placing them on their knees, like the piano had burnt them.

“Then, sometime, I don’t know, in the age before this one at least… I got injured, fairly badly,” he gestured to his face, and the bit of his chest that Emmrich could see. Their scars, proudly worn, dancing around the scars that he must have chosen. “Protecting him,” he laughed. “I don’t… I don’t think he ever loved me the way I loved him, but he was broken up about it. Said he didn’t want to lose me, that he couldn’t bear the thought that I’d sacrifice myself for him. So he put me into Uthenara alone. Promised he’d wake me up when I was better.”

“I woke up when he died. When Solas killed him.”

“How… How did you find out?” he couldn’t help but wonder. 

Alas shrugged. “Part of me just knew, but I did ask. There was some girl Felassan had been helping. Hear she’s a big deal in Orlais now. And then I confirmed with Solas as soon as the bastard got stuck in my head.” He held himself now, and swallowed hard, mouth opening and closing a few times, as if the next sentence would slip out against their will. 

Alas’s whole body shuddered, and as he choked out a sob, Emmrich, though uncharacteristically nervous to do so, reached out, and stroked their back. Electricity shot through him when Alas leaned into his touch, clutching him. “And he’s everywhere here! I keep finding pieces of him, letters, notes, the way he arranged his books, the plants that grow, I can’t–I can’t stop seeing him! But he’s not here, Emmrich! I have looked and looked and I can’t even find the spirit of him! It’s like I lose him again and again every time I go into the crossroads!”

A wellspring of feeling had been unleashed, and Alas, nestled in Emmrich’s arms, simply cried for some time. He suspected that they had needed this for a very long time indeed. Millenia, perhaps. Something within him held Alas tighter than he might any other mourner, closer to his chest, stroking his hair. A fire was lit within him, and all he wanted was not simply to comfort this strange, beautiful person he was coming to know, but to take this pain far, far away, so that it may never reach Alas again. He knew, of course, that was not the proper way of things, that grief was a valuable gift–the memory that love happened, and it was there. But now, all he wished for was that it did not have to touch Alas, and take away the joyous, brash, bright spirit he knew. 

Alas’s tears started to slow, and the two of them just sat there, on the piano bench, Emmrich whispering soft things, as Alas took deep, shaky breaths. 

“I’m sorry, Em,” he coughed, and Emmrich held him tighter. “I shouldn’t. I shouldn’t have…”

“Hush, my dear. What else do you think a Mourn Watcher is for?” 

“I’m sorry I… I shook you away. After the dragon.” 

“That’s quite alright, Rook. I understand,” and he did. He’d been hurt and confused and fearful before, and even now, part of him still was frightened, that this tenuous, small thing that had just started was simply a beginning meant to go nowhere, that Alas’s heart was spoken for and could never be reached again. But he also knew that was not fair, and that was not how the Mourn Watchers taught him. He just had to remember. “I overstepped perhaps. I will refrain from terms of endearment from now on, if that is beneficial.”

Alas shot up, and looked him dead in the eye, his eyes wide and worried. “Don’t.”

“Don’t?” his heart had begun hammering again. He couldn’t remember the last time someone made him this flustered. But Alas was remarkably efficient at throwing off every bit of balance Emmrich had. 

“I,” Rook started, and while their body language betrayed that perhaps they wanted to shrink away again, they did not stop looking right into Emmrich’s eyes. “I like it. I like you.”

His face felt hot. It was his turn to look away, to give ground, flushed and unused to this kind of attention. 

And while he understood, yes, of course, he understood, his heart… did sink a little at Rook’s next words. “It’s just… Fel.”

This Felassan would always be there, deep within Alas’s soul, a fire that would never go out, a part of him, intrinsically. The things that Emmrich was coming to greatly admire in Alas were also parts of Felassan. That was how life worked. That was how love worked.

And he was a Mourn Watcher. He understood. And perhaps, in the grand scheme of things, it was better. He’d gotten his hopes perhaps a bit too high, knowing he had secrets of his own. Emmrich looked back at Alas, clasped his shoulders good-naturedly, and smiled. 

“I completely understand, my dear. By the by, are you still injured?” Changing topics was a good plan. He wasn’t sure how much more of Alas’s soft amber eyes he could take, looking at him like he was a puzzle, an anchor, a star. 

Their nose twitched, and they looked askance, shrugging. “Nothing a potion couldn’t handle.”

“Potions have their work cut out for them if those who imbibe them do not rest. Come, my dear,” he took Alas’s hands in his, and lifted the both of them gently from the piano bench. “You should sleep.”

Rook looked ready to protest, but finally, nodded, allowing Emmrich to help lead them to their room. He deposited his charge onto their small, narrow chaise, and moved to leave, before Alas caught his hand. 

Their hands were rough, callused and strong. The long fingers of a musician, and the sturdiness of a warrior. Emmrich felt like his whole arm would light, getting to hold Alas’s hand. 

“I do. Like you. Quite a bit, actually,” Rook smiled, and there was a hint of blush under that ruddy tan of his cheeks. Emmrich’s heart skipped a beat, like a school boy. “Thank you. I hope you know that.”

His throat felt tight, his own secrets threatening to spill out. But he wanted very much to just live in this lovely little infatuation, just a bit longer. It felt light and dizzying and just a bit like being alive. 

Instead, he just smiled, and laid a gentle kiss on Rook’s hand. “Get some sleep, my dear.” 

It was all he trusted himself to do.

[lightgirlification]

I know I'm 10 days late but IT'S STILL NOVEMBER SO IT COUNTS!!!! (It's a bit rushed so the anatomy is off BUT I WANTED TO MAKE SOMETHING SO SHHHHH)

I wanna start by saying Happy (Belated) Anniversary In Stars And Time!! You are genuinely a gem that has given me so much this year.

For context, 2023 in short was, no exaggeration, the worst year of my life. I had lost my job at the beginning of the year, I was given medicine that made me decline mentally and physically, and I was feeling more and more like there was no place for me anywhere. I still had good friends, a loving family, and great support, but I only wanted to be in bed every day, I wanted nothing more than to disappear.

Come the beginning of this year and things slowly began getting a bit better. I got a form of an income in, but I still was struggling to push forward. Then im April, I saw In Stars and Time recommended to me on Steam. Keep in mind I was playing games less and less these days, but something drew me to this game. I loved the art style, the plot sounded interesting, and the characters looked neat and I felt they would suck me into the game even more.

So I bought it, and it was the best decision I could have ever made. Not only did I end up loving the story, but every character spoke to me in some way, the strongest being Mirabelle, Isabeau, and ESPECIALLY Siffrin. When I saw Siffrin and what he went through, I realized that I was looking in a mirror, I saw his spiral and understood exactly how he felt, because I felt the same. I know people say "Oh you need therapy if you relate to Siffrin" which I understand but I have never felt so SEEN by a video game.

When all was said and done, when Siffrin got the ending he finally wished for, and the final confrontation with Loop where Siffrin says how thankful he was, I was in tears. It showed me that there was hope for me in a time where I believed all that was left for me were horrible outcomes.

I have made so many good friends because of this game and made me cherish the current friendships I had. I finally learned that I'm Pangender and have a major project in ISAT After Story. This game gave me my creativity back, gave me hope when I needed it. And while I still had plenty of downs this year, I can safely say I'm getting better and finally progressing. I was diagnosed with ADHD, going to have medicine, and am in amazing therapy, all of which I thought weren't possible. My relationship with my family is getting back to how it used to be, it's slow but I'm taking steps to make it happen when back then I left it up to chance and gave into my hate and self doubt.

In Stars and Time is more then just a game to me, it's something that will always be a part of my life and I'll never forget it.

Thank you InsertDisc for making this wonderful game. You gave me my life back, and I will forever be thankful for that. 💙

[crazylittlejester]

I’m curious to know what background you’ve created for Wild in your modern au (if you have)

I’ve seen him mentioned in a bunch of your other posts about the main three so I thought you might have some things to share with us about him 🤷

The au definitely centers around Wars, Twilight and Sky, but of the six others, Wild is someone who pops up most frequently because the main three all know him and also he is Wars’s closest and oldest friend (Time and Legend are the other two who pop up a lot, Time being Twi’s adoptive father/uncle and Legend being Sky’s coworker and also he lives directly below the main three). I talked a bit about Wild’s background here when I was saying how he met the others, but I can talk more about him :)

(my bad for spelling errors or weird grammar mistakes)

- Wild and Wars have known each other close to 15 years because they skated together. they’re about a year and a half-ish apart and separated by 2 school grades (though they definitely shouldn’t be because Wars is very young for the like. year of school he’s in (?)). They were close when they were little, like 5 and 7 to 12 and 13/14, but once they were competing (and competing against each OTHER) their coaches kinda pit em against each other and they grew apart though they were never MEAN to each other

- Wild was basically raised just to become a world champion. He grew up thinking that was the only way he could earn worth, and it really sucked because his entire childhood was hearing everyone talk about WARS and how WARS was going to become a top skater and someone who’d be remembered in history and Wild started to hate him a bit when they were like 14 and 15/16 because he just could not beat Wars

- Throughout grade school he became very close with Mipha because as a swimmer she too understood what it was like to have to wake up before school and go to practice and they bonded over that. They’re still very good friends even though she goes to college on the other side of hyrule

- The year Wars qualified to compete as an adult he did, and Wild was so excited that entire year because he felt like he actually had a chance and even the coaches and people online were saying he was likely to win gold, and he spent an entire year pushing himself to his limit and training so so so hard because he finally had his chance, and then at the comp he didn’t land a jump properly and he fell and just destroyed his hip. He tried to keep going and he just couldn’t and he wasn’t able to finish and ended up needing surgery. Wars was one of if not THE first one to visit him, and realizing that Wars never hated him at all and that he’d literally dropped everything to check on him meant an awful lot to Wild

- It was very hard for him to retire from skating because his self worth and how he viewed himself was so connected to how he preformed, but his doctors and physical therapists told him it would likely be impossible for him to ever get to a point where he could perform the same and they didn’t tell him to quit COMPLETELY but Wild viewed it as an all or nothing situation so he did

- Things were rough for him for a while, relearning how to move and manage his pain and then on top of that having to figure out what to do with his LIFE, but eventually he found fashion and photography. Wars was there for him through all of it (as much as he could be because he was very busy, but he texted Wild multiple times a day and they would call like 4 times a week), and Wild was there for Wars when HE retired too

- Some days he can get around alright, other days he uses a cane or crutch to help him walk and reduce pain. On good days he’ll sometimes go mess around at the rink with Wars, not doing anything too crazy

- Wild’s a fashion/art major in college now, he goes to the same school as the others, and he and Wars meet up at LEAST 2-3 times a week. Wars was his first real friend and the person in his life he’s the closest to, they understand each other and the shit they both went through in a way no one else can. Wild helps Wars film tiktoks of him skating, Wars models for anything Wild needs him to, if Wars needs professional photos for anything Wild will take them, if Wild ever needs someone to go shopping for fabrics with he’ll grab Wars. Twilight also gets dragged along sometimes but his eyes start to glaze over looking at the different fabrics and yarns because its all just shapes and colors to him almddkkd

- He loves sewing, knitting, crocheting, and quilting. All his close friends have been gifted blankets and a handmade little guy at some point. He also makes jewelry

- He LOVES to do fun things with his hair. He hasn’t cut it since he stopped skating (aside from trims to keep it healthy) so thats nearly four years of hair growth and its decently long

[vivirtualangel]

Boyfriends

genre: smut

pairing: Draco Malfoy x m!reader

warnings: top!reader, bottom!draco, size difference, romantic

summary: you and your boyfriend, Draco, sneak into the DADA room and have a steamy time together

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

"Alohomora!" Draco says, the door opening with a loud creak. "Hurry, and be quiet!"

The two of you rush into the empty Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, swiftly closing the door behind you. You rush behind the furthest table in the back of the classroom and squat behind it, giggling softly as you do so.

The smaller, Draco, impatiently pulls you in to a passionate kiss, tasting the soft, tender fibers of his lips. The two of you continue the kiss, tongues meeting one another passionately, hands moving up and down eachothers backs, eager to spend time with one another.

You break the kiss and tenderly, move down to the blonde's neck, lightly sucking on it to leave a pink mark. "Babe, I told you about this-" he says, pushing you away with big, wet eyes.

It's true, he had. And you understood, leaving hickeys on his neck would lead to the pair of you getting caught, as he couldn't cover them up. And with his status and ego, that could never happen. As disappointed as you felt, you understood.

"Aw, you called me babe." You say, which makes him giggle. He slowly takes off his shirt, revealing his pale skin, plastered with blemishes. The kiss resumes as he peels your shirt off of you, messily.

You move down, holding him in a loose hug, skipping his neck, and begin sucking long and tenderly at his sternum. The blonde tilts his head back, letting out soft moans, making you smirk.

The tension becomes too much, and the two of you begin to slowly grind on eachother through your trousers. Draco places his hand on your waist as you move yours down his pants and grasp his ass, all the while you continue leaving hickeys on his chest. Your lips move back up to his lips, making wet, sloppy contact, as you slowly attempt to take his trousers completely off without moving your hand that is now caressing and squeezing his left buttock.

After you successfully removed the rest of the boy's clothes, he pushes you backwards, so you lean on your back and he lays on you. He holds your face as he kisses you, roughly.

You break away for a moment, searching in his eyes for a sign. He nods, and you slowly slip one finger inside of him, and soon another. He arches his back, lifting his head up and letting out a long, soft moan. "Oh, fuck," he groans, as you feel his entrance relax and widen. "I need you to fuck me," he whispers. "Please."

You, carefully, pick him up and place him on the table, and he sits up and undoes your belt, your pants seemingly flying off of your waist, revealing your hard cock poking through your underwear. You drop them, and Draco smiles, leaning backwards. You join him on the table and place your bigger, harder cock next to his smaller cock. For some reason, the size difference between the two of you, you being both taller, stronger, and bigger, made him love you even more, and vice versa. You look down at him, making eye contact with his glossy, green eyes. "Are you ready, babe?"

"Yes."

You place yourself at his hole, and slowly push yourself deep into him. His back arches and he lets out a loud, echoing moan. Quickly, you cover his mouth with your hand, shouting: "Shush! You don't want to get caught, do you?"

Suddenly, you're rushed with the idea of being caught, and it makes you smile. The thought of finally being able to be open about your relationship, proudly showing Draco off as your boyfriend, makes you smile. You desperately wish that it would come true, but are understanding of how Draco feels. About who he is, and who his family is, and how they would never accept him.

You lean forward, on top of him now, as you push your entire length in and out of him, kissing his sternum sloppily. You feel his body adjust to the length and shape of your cock. He puts his hands on your back, digging his nails in when you hit his pleasure spot, the both of you letting our hushed, quiet grunts and moans.

You feel his smaller cock harden beneath you, leaking and oozing precum all over his abdomen. It's clear that your boyfriend is desperate to get off. You pull out of him and drag him to the edge of the table, you standing on the floor, reentering him with ease. He reaches down, grabbing his cock, desperate to stroke it and reach his climax. You grab his wrists and hold them over his head. "Nuh-uh," you say "you come when I tell you to." "Babe, please" he moans in reply, but the thought of being dominated by you turns him on even more, his cock twitches and hardens.

The room fills with the odor of the both of your sweat mixing, as you begin to fuck him rougher and rougher. Draco's back arches, with him letting out a loud "ahh!" You could get caught, but you don't care, the both of you are too close, and the sight of seeing your boyfriend desperate for you is incomparable to anything else. You collide your hips with his ass, harder, harder, rougher, rougher, watching his pretty cock point up and spurt out thick ropes of cum. "Holy fuck" Draco moans, with his hole tightening as he reaches his orgasm. This causes your balls to twitch, unleashing your hot load into your blonde boyfriend, collapsing on top of him.

"Holy fuck," you say, gasping for air. "You're so hot, I love you" you say before you can even realize it's the first time you've said the words.

"I- I love you too" Draco says, as you bring him into a cuddle.

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

author's note: hi! i hope you enjoyed this! my first fic (like ever low-key wow)! pls follow if you enjoy as i plan to write more (not just smut, but also fluff, angst, and other genres!) please let me know what you think + if you have any recommendations! thank you :3

[mxtxfanatic]

I’m making a PSA for all my English-as-second-language followers/engagers: stop apologizing to me for your English. Stop apologizing to me for your English. I promise you that you type in English a lot more legibly than I do in any other language. I promise you that you type in English a lot more legibly than some people who have only ever known to speak, read, and write in English. And if they have the confidence to communicate in English regardless of and unapologetic about the quality of it, then so should you!

Also, all of y’all sound great. I have never interacted with a single person in this fandom yet who used English as a non-native language who I couldn’t understand. Y’all are already doing great!

[randomnameless]

Localization discourse has cropped up again on Twitter, and someone posted a few before and after screenshots of an Echoes mod that retranslates the game to be more faithful to the original JP script, with that same person claiming that all the mod does is remove all the personality and charm 8-4 added to the dialogue; for reference, here's the lines they're referring to:

Lukas (EN): But just once, i should like to be red with rage, green with envy... Something!

Lukas (JP): But still, i've never been caught up enough to lose control of myself...

Clair (EN): Do i not deserve better than these trite gambits of yours?

Clair (JP): That kind of behavior is very hurtful towards the one it is directed at.

Clair (EN): If that crass phrase means you wish to speak with me, then please proceed.

Clair (JP): Oh, Dyute. What is it?

I can somewhat get why people could see the first change as just being a less interesting way of getting across Lukas' lines about struggling with not feeling enough emotions (though even then i'd argue that changing the lines from him being dejected and resigned at his emotional struggles to him being actively angry about them is a decently big change to his character and not just "oh they worded it in a more interesting way"), but i really don't get how people can argue that Clair's localized lines aren't blatantly rewriting her character; her criticism of Gray being changed from "your behavior hurts people and you should stop because of that" to "your behavior hurts me and you should stop because i'm your superior and deserve better than to be toyed with by the likes of you", along with her greeting to Delthea being changed from "oh hi, what's the matter?" to "if that gross phrase means you want to talk to me, then i suppose i can grant you the privilege of a conversation" doesn't make the dialogue any wittier, it's just making Clair into more of a spoiled brat than she was intended to be originally.

You ruined my day with this :(

(i know this is an old ask, but I forgot it in my drafts!)

I thought FE15's localisation was nice, but granted, I didn't have access to the JP script (nor JP audio!), but now I wonder if the schtick "nobles vs commoners" wasn't overplayed in the lolcalised version, which in turn, would kind of explain why some people felt cheated by Alm's reveal -

Even if I always took it as "being a noble has nothing to do with birth" didn't meant Tobin as a peasant could become a noble and have a noble heart, but meant that even if you are born a noble with super special powers or not, being a noble character only falls on you, and the actions you take : Alm rescues random women (FE15 for you!) around at the cost of his mission/safety/etc, when Berkut, who is noble-born just like Alm, hunts peasants and burns his fiancée.

8-4 adding more "Nobles BaD" feels in touch with what ultimately happened with Fodlan, even if while the FE series already tried to dip its toes in this water with Ike, his "nobles BaD" ultimately amounted to childish tantrum and refusal to deal with "complicated things" when you realise and learn what kind of people he's working with, and their responsabilities.

In a way, I can understand the people being annoyed that the mod removed the "additions" brought by 8-4 if they really made the characters more memorable - but my stance will always be to be able to choose if you want to put parmesan on your pasta or not.

8-4!Clair is a spoiled and snob brat - but can't we get the choice to get a Clair without parmesan?

You know what, I'm thinking FEH's decision (in 2017!) to, uh, not include dual audio was due to the supposed limitations of the app, but imo, was also amde with the dubbing/US!VA industry in mind because, imagine the players from FE14-FE15 having characters who, by tone alone, are different from the ones they're used to, what kind of message would that send to players? You've played the parmesan!version of those games?

And to be clear, I like my pasta carbonara with heavy cream because I'm french and cream is life.

And yet, IDK, maybe that's just me, but I think I'd feel a bit out of the loop if I was thrown in game that celebrates a franchise I never played, since the games I played were... heavily "localised" to catter to my tastes and overplayed issues that weren't there because I'd maybe like this theme more than what was initially presented.

Cultural differences are a thing, but Crayon Shin-Chan is meant to be watched, in japan, by children in primary school.

OD's Crayon Shin Chan is basically japanese!Family Guy.

We had the "same" heavily lolcalisation back in the days here, with French!City Hunter ("Nicky Larson") and French!Hokuto no Ken ("Ken le Survivant"), and while in the 80s-90s some people still harped that those were the "real deal", with time it became more and more widely accepted that Nicky Larson and Ken le Survivant were... products that were lolcalised to fit with the regulations of that time (no blood for children! no swear words - when the regular french person says "merde" at least 10 times per day) - but if you were to go and interview the authors of those mangas, they wouldn't have a clue about what you're talking about with your french "dessins animés".

(granted, I've heard that recently, during a convention, both the author of City Hunter and Hokuto no Ken were surprised but pleased that even if it was lolcalised to oblivion, their work was so appreciated here!)

With modern FE though, I feel like FEH has to pretend that Nicky Larson and Ryo Saeba from City Hunter are the same person - so they will put Ryo in a fridge and call Nicky Larson "Ryo Saeba".

I mean, that's what we got with Halloween!Rhage - who roars using her special, and yet winks in her artwork because the artwork was commissioned by the people who designed/came up with Rhea, not with Rhage - and here, with your examples, with Clair.

Clair is a young noble lady, who as you pointed out with those lines, is a well mannered noble who doesn't hurt nor is looking down on people from lower birth, eons away from the "oujou who only means well" trope we ended up with with 8-4.

At the end of the day, people are free to enjoy whatever they want, let it be 8-4!Clair of Jp!Clair - but I'll have the same opinion as I always did regarding localisation : was it really up to 8-4 to change her characterisation this way? Are they still localising or swapping Jp!Clair with a brand new character of their creation?

If so, can this still be called localisation?

[rearranging-deck-chairs]

trick to fun dialogue is just to make it a little hard to understand. maybe thats a cheap trick but i dont care

[symphorine]

.

[nomaishuttle]

uninstalled all the dating apps which ws like 8nof them . in the morning ill tell the guys i was talking to that i overestimared how ready i was and hopefully theyll understand andnjust drop it

[sludgeguzzler]

Reaaally missed the ball with studying this semester, I'm probably failing multiple classes. Worst part is I can't find it in me to give a shit. Like I know it's bad and I know if I put in a little work id be doing fine but I don't want to put the work bc I don't see a point in learning any of this anymore which is not helping my case at all

[bastardlybonkers]

i feel like not enough ppl are factoring in the cultural clash between laios and shuro and the many micro agressions shuro faced while being in their group. literally the name 'shuro' in itself is one

his name is toshiro 😭 lets also not forget that he has his own communication issues, in the opposite way that laios does- thats literally a factor in their argument, that his envy for laios's ability to express himself sincerely manifested as part of his distaste for him.

ig all this to say like, was their fight heart wrenching, especially when reading laios as autistic? absolutely. anybody whos ever been in laios's position knows how much it hurts to realize someone you thought was your friend doesnt actually like having you around, especially when they didnt tell you and you had no way of knowing due to not understanding their cues. but im begging yall to step back and see the nuance of this situation cause im gonna be real a lot of you are kinda just brushing over it acting like everything is toshiros fault and that hes a terrible person when in reality hes an average guy who really, really clashed with laios and it led to a very long misunderstanding due to their supremely opposite methods of communication. even laios and toshiro, after letting everything out in their fight, were able to come to an understanding and start a foundation for an actual friendship built on better communication

ok yknow what Edit: i shouldve made it even more explicit at the end of this post, i hadnt thought i would need to since i started the post with this, but i think a few too many people are missing my point so i just wanna clarify. i shouldnt have said 'really clashed' and left it at that because yeah they did, but it wasnt just their opposite methods of communication, it is also very much that toshiro was experiencing microaggressions via laios. it may have been unintentional on laios's part, but it still happened and wore him down, made it harder for him to communicate on top of both the more subtle social cues that he was raised with and his own communication difficulties. i also want to say that the fandom reaction to toshiro and the complete ignorance of this point is also racist tbh or at the very least ignorant. i understand that the anime did not cover this panel, and neither did the manga, as this was an omake, but im gonna be real with you guys. there are enough context clues within the story to clue you into this. if you didnt pick up on it thats ok, but i think this is a good lesson in picking up subtext in the stories that youre watching and/or reading. kui shouldnt have to explicitly say 'by the way laios was racist to toshiro' for this point to be understood, and at the very least, when the author portrays a character in a sympathetic light (as kui clearly does) it should make you question Why they are doing so and what makes them sympathetic, rather than youre immediate and only reaction to be 'well i hated what this guy did/said so i hate them and they suck'. idk exactly how to finish this, just. idk. question your biases and gut reactions to things you see in media and stories, and think about whether or not theres subtext that youre missing.

[merge-conflict]

outlining my powerpoint presentation for my own internal cyberpunk lore RFP like:

Nobody Enjoys Working in VR:

This meeting could have been an email

Flash vs Utility

Customization and Extension

AI force multiplier (Let's Talk Useful Abstraction)

Hardening 101

ACL

Turn off your damn wifi

What is an 0day anyway

Blue Teaming

Computers Do Not Kill Your Humanity

Project management is the soul killer

P2 tickets

Meetings, metrics, and after-hours on-call

The Hacker's Temperament

Puzzle-solving and yak shaving

Documence and Proof-of-Concept (KILLCHAINZ)

I will kill you on this hill (editor wars)

People Who Use Arch Linux

Software Was A Mistake But I Am A Beautiful Genius (whoops. FUCK)

[monstersholygrail]

There were moments you could be paranoid. Who isn't sometimes? But when you swear there's a monster under your bed, everyone simply laughs and brushes off your concerns.

If only they knew, if only they understood. The way strange things kept happening in your bedroom. Your underwear you flicked off that was suddenly nowhere to be seen when you went to pick it up. The way your towel always seemed to fall off your body as soon as you pranced back into your room after a shower.

But every time you looked under your bed, you got no real proof. You narrow your eyes into the particularly dark corner of your bed, even swearing you see a few eyes peeking out. That wouldn't be enough. You needed undeniable proof and you wouldn't stop until you got it.

Your retaliation is swift and brutal. Teasing them mercilessly as you refuse to wear panties in your bedroom. Adorning new skimpy outfits, that way the monster can easily look up and see your glistening pussy. Can smell your arousal and know there’s nothing for your essence to catch onto. Yet they’re immobilized, not being able to steal your panties or reveal themselves to get to you.

You no longer bother putting on a towel after your showers. Leaving your wet body on full display. Taunting the monster under your bed and putting on a show for them as you slowly get dressed.

Making sure to find any excuse you can to bend over, letting the monster watch from afar as you present your body to them.

You can always feel its gaze on you. The way it’s many eyes lock onto your form, their focus unyielding as soon as you open the door to your room. The longer this goes on, the thicker the air in the bedroom grows. Tensions rising and sexual need growing. The frustration and restraint pushing and pulling to create an alluring atmosphere that slowly becomes irresistible.

Affecting not only the monster under your bed but you as well. Sensing such a strong desire from the monster has arousal coursing through you, your pussy getting wetter with each passing day. If their attentions rile you up this much, you start to wonder just how fucked you’ll be when they finally snap and take you like you’ve been waiting for them to.

It’s that same night when the monster under your bed can’t take it anymore. Your bare body squirming on the bed, blanket pushed aside. Their form rages with need, cock already dripping with pre-cum. Their tentacles snap out, not holding back as they spread your body for them and pin you down into the bed.

Tiny groans leave you as you wake up. Eyelashes fluttering open before a gasp rips from your throat at the sight of the monster at the end of the bed. Finally showing themself. Their slick yet soft tentacles tighten their grip in fear of an attempted escape and you moan softly.

“Finally…” you say breathlessly. The monster doesn’t wait a moment longer.

Their cock slides in with ease, which wasn’t surprising given has you had tortured the poor thing by touching yourself right before you slept. Hearing your moans but not being able to see was agony. But now that was all over. The monster growls and instantly starts pounding into your wet hole.

You remain practically still, no matter how much you try to writhe and twitch. So firmly enveloped in their tentacles that all you can do is take it and fall deeper into sensation as their cock savagely snaps into you, wrecking you and molding your body to fit their mindblowing girth.

They fuck into you like a beast, eyes roaming over your jolting form, ears picking up on the way your bodies clap together. All of this being so much better than either of you imagined. They can’t get enough of you, tentacles slipping into your mouth to which you immediately start sucking on them. Only heightening the pleasure for you both.

When your orgasm suddenly crashes into you without warning, you scream around their tentacles, pussy clenching down on their thick cock to milk it for all it’s worth. The monster from under your bed lets out a chilling roar that sends goosebumps down your spine before it shoots his seed deep inside your cunt.

You continue to soothingly suck on their tentacles, giggling as you feel it twitch in your mouth. Wondering how sensitive they are…Thinking you may need more forms of proof to really convince people they’re real.

The monster from under your bed growls once more at the sultry look in your eye. Their tentacles possessively clinging to every inch of you before they start rolling their hips back inside your needy cunt. Ready to fuck you all throughout the long night until they have to return back under your bed when the morning comes.

[acid-ixx]

ch.1: again &. again (platonic! yandere batfam x neglected! gn reader)

directory: preq, chapter one, chapter two, chapter three, chapter four

read until the end for an author's note.

if there was one thing you hated more than the crime-filled streets of gotham, it would be empty promises.

when was the last time they attended your birthday? or your school ceremonies? or any special event that meant for you to be the center of attention?

plot twist, there was no last time, or a time before that or any day that they were there for you.

not your eldest brother, dick, not your dead brother, jason, of course tim wouldn't be there for you, damian's absence is a given, not even your sisters would come, and most especially not your father, bruce wayne.

you never wrote wayne as your last name. in every test, it would always be your mother's last name. in every document that you had to fill, you would violently scratch in the name of your father, wishing it wasn't required at all so you wouldn't have to hang your head in shame everytime someone looks at you incredulously for having the bruce wayne as your father but never once appearing to be with you.

you can't recall a time you had called him your dad, or even considered him as one.

if you could count the times you have seen him in person, it wouldn't even fill ten fingers. even interviewers and paparazzi have more luck in coming across him than you would, his child.

it sucks, really, how despite having nearly sharing the same age as tim, you never once saw him outside of his room. you thought you would've been the closest to him, but the most you have seen him was when you were watching the news with the "new" robin popping up, or worse; when bruce would be seen guiding tim through the paparazzi and not you. alfred had to drag you away from the tv that day because you were already suffering through a panic attack just seeing those two act so close; ripping your hair out just from watching the news wasn't a good way to cope.

you remember being so jealous of him, of how bruce would always spend time with him and not you. it made you wonder, were you special enough? tim is so brilliant, you could admit. and you were, too, having enough comprehensibility as a child to find out they were vigilantes a year or two after living in the manor— but you weren't good enough like tim. you weren't cut out to be like a detective or a fighter.

it was no wonder why bruce chose them over you.

it came to you in the form of talking to tim that had you discovering that no one ever mentions your name inside the house, proving it to be true when tim had hesitated calling your name and even stuttered through pronouncing it. and then he left after finding you were of no use to help him. alfred had to stifle your sobbing after tim left the room, allowing you to cry on his chest whilst you sat beside him.

(name) wayne was so, so lonely.

you would've accepted their absence long ago, but you were a stupid child who needed care and reassurance because your mother left you for good at the age of five. you were too naive into thinking you would receive the same love from your family just like the other kids in elementary would. you were a child who expected too highly of your father, thinking that he would pick you up from school with that picture perfect photographed smile of his and kiss your forehead and tell you that you did a great job at school today.

it was your teachers who would be the one having to walk you up the stage whenever you achieved an award. alfred would be too busy sometimes to attend your school ceremonies because he had to assist bruce with missions. of course, you understood his priorities. after all, he tried his hardest to make you feel less lonely inside the mansion, it wasn't enough but he was there at least.

it was long ago that you stopped praying for your family to attend at least one of your birthdays.

it's ironic, really, for a child to prep and plan for their own celebration just to hope that a single member of their family to even walk by the kitchen and join them in on their already lonesome celebration.

too bad everybody only goes to the kitchen when alfred cooks for them. who would want to taste sadness in a sloppily made birthday cake, right? nobody, not even you would have the appetite to eat your cake with the knowledge that it was you who had to put all the effort to bake it because you didn't want alfred to feel obligated to. knowing nobody would celebrate birthdays with you, save for alfred, it was expected that you started to prefer cupcakes.

because then you wouldn't be scolded for making such a mess.

you never cooked family meals after the incident where nobody came and to not waste food, you had to bring in large containers to bring to school so you could celebrate your birthday there.

it was there that you find more solace in your small group of friends compared to the desolate rooms of the mansion. your family celebrates holidays together as a whole, but you never once attended after that one time where everybody had forgotten to get you a gift for christmas, save for alfred who gave you a bracelet (one that you cherished deeply). you only smiled weakly and hopelessly, sneaking into your room before the family dinner.

it was alfred again who bought you leftovers and sat on your bed for an hour to encourage you that there's still more christmas's to go.

you never believed what he said. not anymore.

there was a period of time where you hated them more than anything, blamed them for everything and became more rebellious, purposely failing tests, fighting your classmates and disrespecting teachers in hopes that for once your father would bat an eye on you. that only resulted in you being taken out of the school and being transferred into another, for a behavioral reform is what alfred stated to you when you annoyed him for answers.

damian started to bully you a bit more harder after that incident, calling you immature and childish, a weakling, an attention seeker. how someone at your age should've known better. you were convinced that he was relishing in the heartbroken glare you gave him, ignoring the way his eyes widened momentarily at your reaction before sneering and walking away.

alfred gently scolded you, but you were too choked up and instead you almost tripped running inside your bedroom, locking yourself in for what seems like hours.

you don't want to remember the immense breakdown you had that evening too, screaming on your blankets and destroying your things and hurting yourself because... because you had lost your old friends for nothing! your caring teachers, your academic progress, everything! every single thing for an ounce of attention! because he didn't have enough energy to come with you to the guidance counselor and he only had you transfer out so you wouldn't ruin the wayne's reputation!

you hate him, you hate bruce fucking wayne so much and you hate clinging onto their empty promises and sorry's to make it up for you. you hate how their promises were never even said directly to you, you hate how alfred was your only source of hope for a medium of communication.

you hate them all.

and worst of all, you hate yourself for drowning in hope. for wishing you were physically stronger so you could at least bond with them through training. for dreaming about a day where they could surprise you and told you they were just testing you and that you actually had worth inside this manor. for praying nightly that they'll smile at you like the heroes you see in tv rather than that of pity.

you wished there was a universe where gotham was safer, more protected with no criminals littering the streets. maybe then they would have more time to notice you crying every night, writing self destructive entries in your diary, sketching what would've been a happy family. they wouldn't have to wear their silly costumes to fight crime and instead would save you from your own demons.

if...

if you were brutally tortured and killed by the joker, or forced to choke on the fear toxin by the scarecrow— hell, even beaten to near death by some random goons; would they have given you a sliver of their love? would they finally look at you and save you from yourself?

because despite your resentment, you would never lie and say you didn't feel blessed that you were thrown to a family of talented individuals.

your drawings of a complete and happy family holding hands together and a diary filled with rants and fantasies of spending time with them proved just that.

you were blessed with them yet cursed at the same time to never reach the same level to be even considered part of their lives.

you were hopeless. you never amounted to anything. you were just, you.

thirteen years have passed by then, and in those years you were proud to say your development as a person, albeit slow, transformed you from a child that succumbed to neglect to an independent person who managed to maintain a comfortable circle of friends, a scholarship for a college far away from gotham, and an apartment of your own (you were a bit in debt due to having to pay for your own because no way in hell would you ask for your father for financial support).

allowance was scarce, your food supplies weren't infinite compared to back when you were living at the wayne manor, and you weren't greeted to michelin star restaurant meals cooked by alfred— but you were content, and that was enough.

though content translated to nightly breakdowns whilst finishing projects or writing essays, the point still stands! at least you had celebrated your eighteenth birthday with drunk smiles and your friends spoiling you to death when you had opened up about your first lonely years of life. everything was going well for you, truly.

you were so, so happy for the nice turn of events. and you wouldn't have made it so far if you hadn't slapped yourself out of the delusion that they actually cared for you.

look at you now! independent and with a life of your own! you'd give yourself a pat in the back.

you hadn't blocked them at all, but their contacts were empty (save for a few desperate messages that date back years ago) and you were fine with that. it's not like tim or bruce or barbara considered you important enough to be stalked. hah, as if!

alfred communicates with you time to time, reminding you to eat a complete meal rather than those one dollar priced noodles that tasted like pure salt. he told you he misses you a lot, you and your annoying, daily rants about life and school. he misses your awkward smile and when you would help him cook whenever the others aren't around. he misses it when you imitate his posh accent when you taste test his food and give commentary about it.

you miss him, too. growing up, you realized just how much effort alfred would exert just to spend a lot of his time on you.

now, he told you that you are still welcome to the manor whenever, and how he cleans your room weekly in case you'll visit him.

whenever you audio call with him, you'd tear up just a bit at the realization that alfred was more of a father figure than your own biological father. because he at least attended your graduation to make up for the other times he was unable to join you.

what's even better was that he gifted you something you had always wanted for your birthday. despite it being delivered to your door rather than him giving it to you face to face (since you had refused to give him your location and him respecting that decision at least), the heartfelt letter he left you was more than enough to let you cling onto pieces of your past. after all, it was him who greeted you by the door when you were first introduced into the family, bruce being too busy with paperwork that day when you were a measly five year old.

you had started to teasingly call him 'alfie' and a few more nickname after that, which results with a chuckle over the phone every time you had come up with a cheesy name for him whenever you get a wee bit irritated at his own way of making fun of you.

if only this was your life years ago, then maybe you wouldn't have been jealous of all your other friends and pushed them away that day, maybe you would learn that sometimes, family comes in the form of the people outside of your house rather than inside.

that reminds you, maybe you should reconnect with your old friends back in elementary and apologized for your sudden explosive behavior.

you were laying on your bed, phone in hand and opened your inst*gram app to stalk through the names you could remember. well... that was what you should've done, if not for the fact that a notification popped up the very moment you pressed on the search bar and you had accidentally opened a chat with your oldest brother, dick.

you would've ignored the desperate messages you have sent him from the past which all varied from inviting him to eat dinner with you or to at least join you to play in an arcade or anything to convince him to talk to you, all of which were unseen, if not for the fact that it was him who sent you a sudden "hey baby bird!!! <333 long time no see! how are you?!" message, alongside a few more replies that spammed through your phone...

oh!

... that was enough to make you sit up and want to hurl.

dick grayson was a man of many talents. the mature eldest child, the ideal good leader despite his anger issues from time to time, and the same guy who set the standards high for the future robins. he is bruce's greatest achievement.

it was safe to say that if not for the support of many, then he would've suffered so many falls and would've never been strong enough to stand up despite the pain and continue his fights. nightwing was what many superheroes strive to be, an image of light in a grove of darkness such as gotham.

so why was it that he felt like he has failed so deeply right now?

inside your room, dick stands with furrowed brows. it felt too clean to look used. your furniture was polished and look untouched, the lights were too bright and the windows were bolted shut. there were no signs of life other than the notebooks and sketchbooks that were neatly tucked on the middle of the bed and the trinkets that scatter through your desk.

dick stalks through the room, careful to not make a noise as he walks over to the closet, opening it and finding nothing.

he bites his lips at the implication that this was probably the second time he visited your room and how it was also the longest time he remained here. compared to his other siblings, you were the one he noticed the least and... now he feels bad for dismissing you.

didn't he promise to take you out for dinner months ago?

damn it, he was way too focused on his mission that night and ended up ditching and forgetting you! oh god, dick facepalmed and clenched his teeth, seething in some air because no fucking way did he actually remember to feed damian's dog, titus, the same day but forgot to take you out for an important event...

it occurred to him that that was the same day you scored a perfect on "the hardest test of my life!" you had bragged to him awkwardly when he wasn't listening nor looking and you, wanting to celebrate what was a small achievement for dick, chose him to spend time with you!

dick had to carefully breath through his mouth then gulp down the shame he feels right now. he- he has no time to focus on the past but rather the present. he has to find out why the hell is your room so lifeless, yeah... then he'll make it up to you today, definitely.

huh?

is it just him, but why does the room seem so small? it looked like it was meant to be for a kid. clearly, there wasn't enough space for a growing individual like you... did bruce not provide you with a bigger bedroom? ah, dick would definitely tell bruce to relocate you to a bigger room, the current one is too small for even a dog in a manor to sleep in.

dick doesn't want to admit it at all, but... he hasn't seen you for the past few months, or not all, really. sure, he had only recently visited the manor since he's bludhaven's vigilante now, but even through his time in gotham he had never seen you other than the times you pulled his sleeves from back when you were a child.

back when you were a child.

how old are you now? you were so small back then, innocent too. he can recall your curious eyes, your chubby cheeks and the way you stutter through your words as you try to talk to him.

you were significantly younger than jason, and was adopted a week before tim was introduced to the family. he remembers you peeking through alfred's back, gleaming with curiousity and whispering to the butler if it was really the dick grayson. he smiled fondly at your dumbfounded expression, the way your mouth shaped into an "ohh," when he was the one who answered that, yes, it was him. then you whispered again if you can take have an autograph from him, to which he chuckled and told alfred that he'll help accompany you to your room.

when your five year old body tried to waddle closer to his body for an ounce of warmth when he had been guiding you up the stairs, that was also the first time he called you baby bird, with the way you coddled him so closely. his hands find itself patting your head, ruffling your hair and grinning as you both make your path through the halls.

he comes to immediately regret leaving you alone after he had introduced you to your room, remembering his duties as a vigilante than that of a brother.

but despite his early memories of you, he wants to see his baby sibling all grown up now.

had it really been years?

when was the last time you ever had a full-on conversation with him?

was there even a time that he had approached you by himself?

he had always called you baby bird after the first time you meet because of the age gap you two shared. the rare times he acknowledges you, you gave him that look filled with such adoration, like you were proud of him for being your older brother. why did he not notice you?

oh, his baby bird...

dick gulped, trying to ease his shivering by sitting on your neatly folded blankets and taking a worn diary in his hand, one at the bottom stack of books. well, if it was a personal diary then maybe you would've hidden it better, right? he figures since it was all placed on the center of the bed like a piece of treasure that... it would be alright to take just a glimpse.

to confirm if you still see him as your favorite brother.

dick's heartbeat spiked, hoping your entries would be filled with, he doesn't know, anything that didn't implicate some sort of hatred for the family, for him. hoping that despite his lack of attention towards you, that there would still be a spark of love for him. if what he thinks was actually true then... he doesn't know what to do with himself.

he flips through the first page, noting how it was bulkier than the others. the paper was filled with glittery decorations, sequence beads and cheap stickers sparkling at every angle the light hits. it was meant to be a design for the 'front cover' of the notebook, colors blended in a cacophony of rainbows and butterflies and flowers beyond the messy calligraphy that merely states "(name)'s diary!"

dick stifles a grin just from skimming through at the amount of mistakes and erasures, clearly written by the the younger version of you; naive to the world and its cruelty. he commends your creativity, his eyes softening at the few doodles that were written on the corners of the pages.

you're just too adorable for your own good, so much so that the thumping in dick's heart beats louder and louder, ears wringing uncomfortable inside your unventilated bedroom. but he just couldn't rip his eyes away from the diary, daydreaming about how proud you must've been when designing your own diary. he could picture your wide eyes, shy and harmless, and your feet kicking back and forth whilst you decorate your stuff.

everything was what he expected it to be on the first few pages of the diary. all your little rants about your daily life, your eargerness to meet your entire family from your father's side, and the hurt you experienced from your mother's sudden abandonment.

he would've skipped through another diary, one that lacked design and color, save for the name plastered on the front, if not for the grim undertones at every end of your entries despite the child-like manner it was written in.

it all started with "i wish to see my father soon and my big brother dick again!", "alfred told me my father can't come to the parent-teacher conference, he says he's in a veryyy important meeting :( but alfred would come!", "dick told me he can't help me with my science project but he promise he'll help me with something else later!" which halfway through the diary, your style fluctuates and lesser effort was exhausted on the writing.

one entry in particular, written on the last page of your diary, shattered a sliver of hope within dick, his breathing momentarily ceased from reading through your sentences; uncharacteristic of you, too mature for someone at the age of ten to write.

"XX/XX/XXXX.

dear diary, it's my tenth birthday today. i celebrated with my friends at school. they told me i always look down whenever it's my birthday. they think that bruce would throw a fancy celebration for me. i tried to hide my laughter from them. it's a really funny joke. i haven't seen him for months. i told dick that he was invited but i don't think he remembers it's my birthday today. alfred told me to come out of my room, he said he cooked my favorite dinner, that he's sorry he got my present late, but i don't want get out of my room. i heard dick is gonna watch a movie with tim later. i don't feel so good, my chest hurts, but i don't want to get out right now.

i'll eat the cupcake tomorrow."

it had been nearly two hours since dick had sat on your bed, eyes dilating whilst reading through your first diary. the cold season had already pricked his skin, but his entire body felt so unnaturally warm, a warmth that scorches him, searing deep into flesh. a lump had form in his throat, accompanying the hellish throbbing of his heart.

"fuck..." he brought his fingers to his head, carefully massaging his forehead but it relieves nothing. he wants to see you right now— he needs to talk to you. god, he has to apologize, he needs to see what you look like right now, needs to know if you're alright.

you're clearly not.

he has to oppress the urge to punch the walls, reminding himself that it's your room he's in and if he damages your already delicate property, then he's proving himself worse than he already is.

he rushes to grab another diary, the one at the top of the pile, skipping to the end of the page.

nothing. all the entries were months ago, all written in vague detail like you were starting to hide secrets. his teeth grinds against each other, frustration seeping through his veins.

he needs to— shit, he needs to find you right now. he needs to find his baby bird and make up for the all bullshit him and his family had done. if you were gone for months, even years; he doesn't even want to think about it.

but how?!

there were no signs of you. anything written your diary, your drawings, the trinkets on your bedside table— they signal no clues whatsoever, all dating back to months, even years. it's not possible at all, for nobody to notice your disappearance. dick would've noticed sooner. he should've noticed sooner. oh, he doesn't even want to think about the dangers that await you outside the mansion. with how naive you were about the outside world, you wouldn't last at all.

his baby bird wouldn't survive gotham's streets, especially not when winter was nearing.

think, grayson, think...

his phone!

he immediately reaches into his pockets to grab his phone, clammy fingers swifly encoding his password and opening his contacts.

your number was the quickest to find, it was the only one without an icon of you and an endearing nickname. he makes a mental note to change that soon and replaced your default name to your nickname.

then, without hesitation, he typed, "hey baby bird!!! <333 long time no see! how are you?!" sending the message without rereading, foot tapping impatiently against the floor as he scrolls through all your previous messages.

messages that he should've replied to with the same level of enthusiasm as you. skimming through the past, unseen texts as your motivation began to dwindle the further he refused to reply back. he promises he'll never make you feel invisible again.

seconds feel like hours for him, as he blows raspberries to pass the time, too concentrated an ounce of a reply to even notice the entirely new presence inside the room.

it's alright to call you, yes? after all, dick just wanted to check in with his baby bird and see if you're doing swell and dandy and... safe without him...!

his thumbs pressed on the call button before he could think through his actions, his other hand runs through his hair, sweat running down his forehead as if he had ran a marathon.

he waited, and waited, and waited until the call beeped and provided its automated response. he calls you again but the line immediately cuts off, he tries to spam you with more messages but they weren't delivered.

you blocked him.

fuck, he messed up big time. he needs to get to the batcave. he needs to find your fucking location before it's too late. dick needs to see you again before he loses it.

but before he could carefully place your sketchbooks back to its rightful place, he sees a silhouette at the corner of his eyes; short figure, arms crossed, and a sneer on his eyes already tells him who it was.

damian wayne.

he forgot to train with damian today.

but it doesn't matter, damian has to see it for himself— what made dick so disheveled, so delirious. damian has to finally see just how much of a wonderful sibling you are.

reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated.

a/n: this was 4,600+ words and it drained the energy out of me. it was supposed to be posted tomorrow but i was too motivated !! i'm also quite proud of this chapter. it was a pain characterizing dick grayson and the reader. i really hope this is as good as the prequel because it's 3am right now and writing dick's part was a pain in the ass ^^' as always, please do comment or send asks if you like it for quicker updates!!!

taglist: @lilyalone, @secretomelettetroops, @earlqurl, @simpingfor-wakasa, @amber-content, @alishii, @ruiroku, @okaybutfullhomo, @trasshy-artist, @obsessedwithromance, @deadinside-09, @jjsmeowthie, @fairy-lenaa (shoutout to her specifically because i got motivated from their comment!)