#every time they find something new wrong with me
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yanmuffins · 2 days ago
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waiter! waiter! more phineas and ferb reader pls!
I wonder how the batfam would react once they catch reader inventions on a random tuesday, like, "hm, what a nice day to look out on the window and HOLY SHIT WHY IS THERE A GIANT ROBOT SPITING FIRE WHILE RIDING A ROLLERCOASTER IN MY BACKYARD???"
the events that would follow this incident would be funny and exasperating, me thinks
also, wouldn't it be funnier if Perry the Platypus was part of the JL? and like, no one knows his identity but Superman, and neither of them are willing to talk about it-
I know it would be very unlikely, since everyone there would have enough neurons to recognize a platypus with and without a hat, but for the sake of shit and giggles, just think of how funny that would be
welp, I needed to get that outta ma chest, I hope I at least made you laugh a little, because seriously this is one of the best ideas I've seen in this tag and I can't stop thinking and giggling about it
Stay well!
context.
first: i was not expecting this concept to be so popular!! the responses i've gotten from everyone are so amazing!!  ( ⸝⸝´꒳`⸝⸝) thank you for the ask, anon!! it always makes my day.
i am formally announcing that i will be turning phineas and ferb reader into a fic now. it's too good a concept to pass up. something more light-hearted to work between the other fics i'm writing.
batfamily finding out about reader's whacky inventions would be an event. it so wholeheartedly shatters the image they had of reader to the point they just have to sit with what the hell just happened for a while before they even consider what to do about you next. still so many things that don't make sense. their newest case is how the fuck did we go this long without finding out (Y/N) has been building mechas in our backyard and why are those things always gone when it's convenient.
then the realizations just start dropping on them like an anvil on a looney tunes character. and they kinda feel like shit, cause how did they not notice? really puts into perspective how they've neglected you all this time. so many stunts you pulled right under their nose, on their backyard, their garage, throughout gotham and metropolis. ok, were out there being creative and amazing and you sure know how to spend the wayne family money, they'll give you that, but it was so irresponsible of you! who knows what could've gone wrong. you're not like them! you're a civilian with no training, the only regular teenager in the family, you're the last person who should be exposing themselves doing all that.
bruce goes off on you, screaming about how could you be so reckless, you did all of this behind his back– what? what do you mean he gave his permission? and he is floored, devastated, blood pressure up, when you remind him of every instance you dropped by his office with a document for him to sign or to ask for permission, with proof as you pull out every paper he put his signature without a second look.
and that, ladies and gentlemen, is when reader's dynamic with the batfam does a complete 180 and their little yandere antennae start going off. no more whacky cartoonish shenanigans. at least not without proper supervision. they know you're not a fan of this new arrangement, but you gotta understand they let you go unchecked for way too long! they'll drown you in family activities so you don't even have to worry about it. who wants to build a teleportation machine, anyway? just join them for family movie night.
as for perry, that is going to take them a while longer to figure out. bruce just can't stand another insane discovery, so when batman sees an intelligent platypus wearing a fedora and walking on two feet on justice league headquarters (if we're going by the idea that he's a part of JL), he's just going to think "my kid has a pet platypus. huh."
oh, consider:
dick: "damian, you knew all this time?! our sibling could've gotten into serious trouble! why didn't you tell us about this?"
damian: stares into the camera like he's in the office.
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bitchlessdino · 2 days ago
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mind your business (m)
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Pairing: Frenemy!fem!reader x minder reader!chan
Genre: supernatural comedy, smut
Word count: 12.4k
tags: mean!reader, mean!chan, mentions needing to puke or die (both overdramtic af), implied consent (mind reading about desire and wants without audible consent), names (good girl or dirty girl), claustrophilia, stocking ripping, fingering, cunniligus, rough sex, brief spanking, unprotected sex.
Summary: If Chan had to read anyone’s mind, it had to be yours—the one person who seemed to loathe him with every ounce of your being. But before Halloween day, when that wish is suddenly granted, he begins to realize he’s opened a can of worms far bigger than he ever imagined—one that can’t be sealed shut again.
author note: hello, this bitch late but at least she's here thank you for @diamonddaze01 and @haologram for betareading for me i love yall and eveyone else enjoy!
Tag: @shiningstar-byulxx @misssugarlips @tommolex @hoeforhao @dkakapizzaboy @junhui-recs @svtup @buffhoshi @meowmeowminnie @caratochan @lovebot4han @camisun93 @emmmui @toruro @jeonride @novalpha @nvmrljk @feat-sun @tinkerbell460 @aaniag @tacosandbitch @kyeomiis @wonwooz1-blog @horanghaezone @stagefrjghts @pantumin @aaniag @mochisdayone @gyuguys
“I don’t know what to be for Halloween.”
“Well, right now what you’re wearing is pretty scary.”
Lee Chan had never met anyone he couldn’t knock down a peg—not that he ever had to try. Everyone adored him, from classmates to coworkers, even Seungkwan, who followed his playful jabs with free lunches instead of a comeback. He was easygoing, always getting along with everyone. That is until you infiltrated his friend group. You weren’t like the others, and for the first time, Chan wasn’t sure if his effortless charm would be enough to dissolve your natural snark.
Chan shot you an unamused smile, his eyes narrowing as you answered his question. The two costumes he held drooped at his sides, a patient frustration written all over his features. “What are you even doing here if you won’t help me?”
You lifted your half-filled glass, the chill of the drink seeping through your fingers. “The free drinks, of course.”
“Of course,” he echoed dryly, his tone laced with sarcasm. “Well, maybe leave the opinions to those who actually care, like Soonyoung here?”
Soonyoung beamed up at Chan, his excitement bubbling over as he playfully tugged at his friend’s hand like an overly enthusiastic toddler. “Aww, always here for you, buddy!”
You couldn’t resist a jab. “Well, if you did something interesting for once in your life, maybe I wouldn’t have to entertain myself.”
Chan groaned, his shoulders slumping in defeat. “Never mind. I’m just going to pick something else. Make yourself useful and try to stay quiet, okay?”
You scoffed, getting up from the sofa seat. “Whatever. I’m gonna find something to eat.”
Chan tried his best to stay positive around you, but it was difficult when every social encounter turned into a game of mental chess. But instead of being an actual opponent, you acted like the master, playing with his temperament as if he were merely a pawn. It was exhausting—trying to keep things cordial while knowing you were always pushing his buttons, testing tolerance, and working against him as if your sarcastic replies and eyerolls carried a vindictive purpose.
Chan collapsed onto his bed the moment you left the room, feeling completely defeated. Now, it was just him and Soonyoung left to figure out what he should wear for Halloween, mere days away from now.
“Why is she always like that?” he muttered, focused on the wrong thing,
Soonyoung shrugged, scooting beside you with his legs crossed on the bed. “I’m sure she means well; she just has…her own way of showing it.”
Chan sat up, looking at him in disbelief. “She’s hated me since the moment we met at the New Year’s party, and I still don’t get why.”
“That’s not true.” Soonyoung reassured, gently patting his friend on the head. “Maybe your personalities just clash a bit. She gets along with everyone else in the building.”
“Yeah, but why?” Chan sighed. “What did I even do?”
Soonyoung gave him a reassuring pat. “Chan, it’s not your fault. I’m sure she’ll come around eventually.”
The more people like Soonyoung, or Seokmin, or Jeonghan reassured him that you’d come around, the less Chan believed it. It seemed like there would be nothing that could change your mind about him. Yet he couldn’t just accept that you disliked him for no reason. There had to be something behind the mean exterior, the jabs directed at either his character or even looks. Like he’s some kind of pushover. He would spend entire days wracking his brain, trying to understand why, and nothing would make sense. 
What made it worse was how much it bothered him—maybe because you saw each other almost daily, living in the same neighborhood. You’d grown close to everyone else like you were a permanent fixture here, but when it came to him, it felt like you went out of your way to get under his skin. Your cold glances, your sharp remarks, all seemed to gnaw at him, twisting him up inside like a steel knife in an already gashing wound (okay, maybe he was being dramatic). He just couldn’t stand it.
If he could, he’d look right into your mind, figure out what you were thinking, make sense of your actions, and—just maybe—finally understand why you behave the way you do.
But he didn’t have time to dwell on it; there was a Halloween party to plan. Every year, the local gaming café downstairs—where he’d ironically ended up working at—hosted a Halloween bash with exclusive promotions. And every year, it was followed by a more exclusive all-out rager at his apartment, which he shared with a bunch of his friends above the cafe. It was something nearly everyone on the block looked forward to each year, and this time, Chan was in charge of the activities. The activities coordinator, Seungcheol had proclaimed.
That’s why Chan has been asking for all kinds of opinions lately, even yours. Being the natural people-pleaser he is, he felt as if he’d been running around everywhere to get everyone’s stamp of approval. He would go up and down, left and right, and even hold surveys at the cash register for strangers' opinions. He had a habit of making things perfect, and he wasn’t going to let your cynicism ruin it for him.
“Come on, help me figure out what to wear, bro. My night depends on it.”
Soonyoung had been helpful—thank goodness for that—and now that was one less problem to worry about, Chan felt a bit of relief. If he could just get through his shift at the cafe without losing his mind and manage to sneak in some few minutes of party planning, he would have a good day.
“You figure out what costume makes you look less of a loser, yet? Trick question, it really doesn’t matter what you pick. You’ll still look like a loser.”
Chan tilted his head, unfazed by your rude comments as he poured his tenth cup of ramen for the night—three of them for the same customer. “Why do you care? Don’t you have some puppies to kick?”
Your smile remained unfaltering, conniving as ever. “I cleared my schedule to help Seokmin and Soonyoung rank up. Wonwoo is playing with them this round. Just here to grab some Kickstart.”
“Ah, so another puppy is safe for a day from the wicked Witch of the West. Congratulations on your fleeting moment of decency.” He turned, striding over to the customers waiting for their ramen, while you annoyingly trailed closely behind. You grabbed your favorite blackberry Kickstart from the fridge, the bright can a stark contrast to the dim lighting of the café, and tossed a couple of crumpled bills in the direction of the cash register as if you’d done it before.
“You’re helping plan the Halloween party, right? Seungcheol mentioned it when I asked what I should bring,” you said, your tone almost too casual, as if you were friends.
Chan scoffed, carefully setting the steaming bowls of ramen down in front of the waiting customers before heading back to his station. “You, being courteous? That’s new. What do you want?”
With a sly smile, you leaned against the counter, arms crossed. “I just wanted to let you know that if you really want to make the party fun, you can ask me. My ideas will probably be better than whatever you come up with.” The confidence in your voice made it clear you expected him to take you seriously, but how could he when every little word you managed to muster was belittling?
Chan grit his teeth, frustration simmering just beneath the surface. He unscrewed the cap of a water bottle from the fridge and downed it in one swift gulp, the cool liquid barely offering any relief from his irritation. As he crushed the empty bottle in his hands, he aimed for the trash can but missed, the bottle clattering to the floor with a dull thud. Sounding exasperated, he bent down to pick it up, tossing it into the can with a bit more force than necessary.
Straightening up, he shot you a sharp glare. “I can handle it myself, thanks,” he muttered, his voice tight with annoyance.
“Really? Because I’m offering my help here,” you replied, your tone dripping with an offensive amount of condescending sincerity. “I’m being generous with my time and giving you the chance to create something…well, palatable from this party.” You exaggeratedly pretended to choose your words carefully, a teasing smile playing on your lips, poking at his alleged incompetence.
“You want to help?” Chan challenged, his tone cutting. “How about just enjoying the party instead of making it all about yourself? Some of us actually have work to do.”
He fixed you with a glare that held the slightest hint of malice before finally turning away and returning to his tasks.
“Defensive much?” you shot back, a glimpse of interest on your face as you raised an eyebrow.
“No,” he replied, his voice firm. “Just self-respecting.”
“Fine,” you said, turning back to your friends as you walked away. “Just don’t come begging for my help when your party goes to shit.”
Chan found himself screaming into his pillows that night, the fabric muffling his frustrated cries as he banged his head against them in sheer exasperation.
“What the heck is her deal?” he murmured to himself, his voice muffled and thick with irritation. He buried his face deeper into the pillows, desperate to escape the relentless thoughts fogging in his mind. The familiar scent of cotton and fabric softener offered very little comfort as he replayed the interaction over and over, making him as puzzled as ever.
He hadn’t experienced bullying like this since high school, a time when everyone was preoccupied with either being popular or getting into the best colleges. He was neither; instead, he was a secret third option: just trying to survive.
“Always making fun of me. Always belittling me. Always making me feel like crap.” He pulled the covers over his eyes, seeking refuge from his loud thoughts. ��Why can’t she just tell me what I did to make her hate me? I’m not a mind reader.”
Unable to sleep, Chan gazed up at the night sky through his bedroom window, seeing it enveloped in the vast pitch-blackness pressing down like a weight. He took a steadying breath, hoping to clear his mind. Not a single star graced him with its presence—only the lone moon, barely there but still noticeable—how relatable—hanging in the sky like a quiet witness to his restless thoughts.
“I’m going insane here, so if there’s a god out there, could he—or she—make my life easier for the next few days? Just a little?” he murmured, voice barely above a whisper. “I’m not asking for superpowers like telepathy or anything. Just…let me pull off a party that everyone actually enjoys. Even her. Maybe then she won’t be so…her all the time.”
It was wishful thinking, but worth a shot, and if Chan was known for anything, it was taking chances—no matter how slim the odds.
Chan was somehow able to sleep that night finally, hair straying all over his face, until he sat up at the realization of a lack of a blaring alarm, “Oh, shit.”
His phone battery had died, and his charger defective and rendered useless. He scrambled to Seungcheol’s room next door, avoiding the obstacles of his shirts strewn across the floor, and plugged the bead phone to his housemate’s charger, impatiently tapping until the phone lit up to greet him.
9:48. Just about 18 minutes before his morning shift starts and almost no time to get ready. “Shit, shit.”
‘What’s that noise?’
Chan glanced over at Seungcheol, who was sprawled out across his bed, a half-conscious casualty of the previous night’s escapades. It seemed he’d had company, judging by the tangled mess of clothes scattered on the floor, and apparently, they'd had more than just a “decent” time.
“Sorry, Cheol. Gotta borrow your charger. I’ll bring it back later.”
Seungcheol’s response was a muffled groan, his arm barely twitching in acknowledgment. Within the incoherent noise, Chan could just make out the unspoken message: ‘Just go away.’
“Got it, see you at work, buddy,” Chan muttered, plugging in his phone with a quick tap to check the time before heading for the door.
Another groan drifted from the bed, thick with irritation. ‘So loud.’
Chan got himself ready in a hurry, forgoing a shower and compensating with an extra-long brush of his teeth and a thick layer of deodorant. Fresh breath and a quick spritz of cologne would have to do for today. The cafe would be filled with people who wouldn’t care anyway.
He rushed downstairs to clock in, throwing on an apron over his lackluster clothes and prepping the makeshift kitchen in the back.
‘Ugh, my back is killing me.’
Chan turned at the faint sound of a familiar voice, spotting Minghao slouched in one of the worn chairs in the employees-only room, head leaned back, eyes half-closed in what looked like exhaustion.
“Hey, Hao. You okay?”
Minghao glanced up, his face breaking into a grin that seemed a bit forced, but reassuring nonetheless. “Morning, Chan. Yeah, I’m good. What’s up?”
“Just checking in—I thought I heard you say something about your back?”
Minghao’s grin faded into a puzzled expression, brow furrowing as if he were rewinding through his own memory. “Hmm? I didn’t say anything. But… Now that you mention it, my back has been sore lately. All the competitions piling up, you know? Guess martial arts are starting to weigh down on this old, elderly body of mine.” He chuckled at his own self-deprecating joke.
Chan gave a sympathetic nod. “Well, if you need a break, just take one, alright? I’m sure Seungcheol or Jeonghan wouldn’t mind.”
Minghao’s smile softened. “Thanks, little buddy. I’ll keep that in mind.”
Chan smiled back. “Anytime.”
As Chan turned to leave, he heard a voice, faint but unmistakable, despite the owner of the voice being in the same room: ‘Chan’s a good kid.’ 
He paused mid-step, his eyes widening as he processed the thought, lingering in the air like a distant echo. He looked back at Minghao, eyebrows knit in confusion. “Did…did you just say something?”
Minghao chuckled, giving him a casual wave as if everything were normal. “No? I’ll be out in a sec. How about you go warm up the coffee pot for me, hmm?”
“Got it…” Chan said, hesitating as he walked out, still glancing over his shoulder, his mind racing with questions. Had he really heard that voice? Or was exhaustion playing tricks on him? 
He flipped the cash register on, the familiar hum filling the quiet of the early morning. Chan meticulously counted the bills, making sure he had the right amount of change and neatly stacked cash, each dollar lined up perfectly. Once satisfied, he moved to the glass door, flicking the open sign to life with a soft click. The neon light flickered, casting a bright and loud, welcoming invitation to anyone passing by. Chan took a deep breath, feeling the calm before the inevitable rush.
‘I hope they have the good ramen and not that crappy store brand shit. You can totally tell the difference.’
The voice drifted into Chan’s mind, oddly clear and distinct as if someone were speaking right beside him—except no one was there. The words had a casual, almost lazy tone, echoing in his head like the distant buzz of a radio left on in another room. His gaze darted around the empty shop, his pulse quickening as he scanned the quiet space, lit only by the harsh glow of the neon open sign.
He shook his head, trying to dismiss it, but the words still lingered, as if they were waiting for him to acknowledge them. This voice, like Minghao’s earlier, felt close yet completely detached, belonging to someone…elsewhere.
The chimes on the door jingled, pulling Chan from his thoughts as he glanced up to see a familiar figure. Finally, he could match the voice he’d been hearing to a face.
“Hey, Chan. The usual, please,” Beomgyu greeted, his tone dry, with the same dark circles under his eyes from late-night gaming marathons.
‘Is it me, or does he look shittier than usual?’ The words echoed in Chan’s mind, clear as if spoken aloud, though Beomgyu’s lips never moved. Chan froze, the unexpected comment hitting him square in the chest—both offending and unnerving him.
“Excuse me?” Chan retorted, defensively narrowing his eyes.
Beomgyu blinked, looking slightly taken aback. “Uh… the usual? Kimchi ramen with cheese and a Cherry slush?”
‘Man, hasn’t he worked here for, like, a year? Doesn’t he have this down by now?’
“What? Of course, I do!” Chan shot back, his voice sharp with irritation.
Beomgyu raised an eyebrow, now clearly baffled. “Dude, what are you talking about? Just give me my stuff.”
Chan swallowed, feeling a strange tension creeping over him. He forced himself to look down, suddenly unsure whether he was hearing Beomgyu–or actually going insane.
“Right. Sorry. It'll be out in a second,” Chan mumbled, suddenly sheepish as he accepted the cash, his usual confidence thrown off-kilter.
Beomgyu gave him a lingering, puzzled look before shrugging it off and drifting over to his usual seat in the corner. As he walked away, Chan felt an odd prickling sensation in the back of his mind—the familiar voice filtering through, more unsettling this time.
‘Has he gone psycho or something?’
Chan’s heart skipped, his eyes widening slightly as he processed the words that had somehow entered his mind, clear as day, despite Beomgyu’s silent, closed lips. His fingers clenched the counter as he steadied himself, wondering if he was finally cracking under the stress or if something far stranger was at play.
‘Another day, another W!’
Another voice then grew louder, closer, and was growing more anxious, sweat beading down his forehead out of bewilderment. What in the fuck was happening?
Seokmin emerged from the doors, seeing Chan with a bright smile as he leaned up against the counter. “Hi Chan, a couple of sprites and two orders of rose spicy rice cakes please.”
‘I’ma burn through iron into silver today. I just know it!’
Chan’s hands hovered over the register, a sense of déjà vu creeping over him as he felt the words echo in his mind. His fingers shook slightly as he pressed the buttons. “Y-you trying to rank up in Overwatch again today?” he asked, his voice a little unsteady.
Seokmin laughed, nodding enthusiastically. “Yeah! Wonwoo and Jeonghan are coming by to play on their day off.”
‘Ooh, I should check if they have that series in stock again. I missed it last time.’
“What series were you looking for again?” Chan asked, trying to keep his tone casual as he glanced up from the register.
Seokmin blinked, a little startled, clearly wondering how Chan had guessed. “Oh yeah, I was gonna ask about it. What was it called again?” ‘Kindergarden wars–’
“Kindergarten Wars, right? The Kindergarten Cop of Manga? That one?” Chan asked, his voice coming out a bit too smooth for his own comfort.
Seokmin’s eyes widened in surprise, a laugh escaping him. “Whoa, I just barely remembered the title! You’re on a roll, buddy. But yeah, that’s the one! Do you have it in stock?”
“Yeah, we should have a few copies in. I’ll grab one for you when your order’s ready,” Chan replied, managing a grin, though stark comparison to the panic festering in his body.
"Aw, you’re the best, Chan. Thanks!” Seokmin flashed a wide grin as he swiped his card, practically bouncing toward his usual corner. He arranged a couple of chairs, setting up a cozy little space for his friends, buzzing around like a busy bee as he prepped the area, clearly itching to dive into his day.
Meanwhile, Chan’s nerves were going through it. He kept glancing at the entrance, anxiety creeping up his spine as he wondered if the next person through the door would, once again, broadcast their every thought straight into his head. Just thinking about it made him want to puke, the effects of the bizarre events not dissipating in the slightest.
The rest of Chan’s day became a relentless cascade of intrusive thoughts, each one amplifying the disquiet simmering inside him. Every new customer brought a fresh wave of private musings, some harmless, others startlingly personal, or worse yet, straight creepy. The sheer volume of it all began to blur together into an overwhelming hum.
‘Fuck not again.’
‘Hell yeah, a new skin!’
‘He’s so annoying I wish he would just die already.’
‘I swear, they said ‘one more game’ like an hour ago.’
‘They’re all trash. Worthless. I’m surrounded by idiots who can’t play for shit.’
‘They won’t last. She’ll cheat on him, or he’ll leave her. It’s inevitable.’
The familiar buzz of the cafe felt unusually oppressive, almost suffocating, as Chan struggled to tune out the voices around him. He found himself straining to differentiate between what was actually spoken and what slipped uninvited into his mind, the line between reality and thought as thin as it was maddening.
"Hey, Hao, I’m gonna take five."
Chan didn’t wait for a reply. He bolted out of the business and up the narrow staircase to his residence, his pulse hammering in his ears. The familiar murmur of echoing voices trailed him, each step feeling heavier than the last, the whispers chasing him even as he tried to leave them behind. It wasn't until he closed the door with a soft but resolute click that they faded, now hushed but still there. Haunting him.
“What the hell is happening to me?” he whispered, his voice barely audible over the echo of voices still faintly buzzing in his mind. His hands tightened in his hair, fingers digging in as if grounding himself might silence the flood.
He shut his eyes, breathing in uneven breaths as he clamped his hands over his ears and somehow soothing the thoughts determined to run rampant. But every time he let his guard down, snippets of thought would slip through—fragmented phrases, stray judgments, random anxieties—taking up headspace like ghosts he couldn’t shake. 
‘Why does he get everything? It should be me.’
‘The world would be better off without most of them, if not all.’
‘Where the hell is my ramen?’
‘I hope I didn’t get stood up. I sent her Uber money.’
Nothing about this made sense. It was impossible—just yesterday, his life had been normal, and now he was hearing voices that sounded exactly like his friends’ private thoughts, whether he wanted to or not. This wasn’t some supernatural CW drama, no Halloween special with a secret message all along for the protagonist. This was real life, and if he didn’t know any better, he’d swear he was somehow…reading minds.
The thought sparked a fresh jolt of panic, twisting his insides into knots. It was a fear he hadn’t known lurked within him, clawing its way to the surface and leaving his stomach churning. Squeezing his eyes shut, he tried to force it away, to dismiss it as some ridiculous, passing delusion. But the voices only grew louder, like an insistent, rising tide that wouldn’t let him brush this off as a mere joke or a temporary glitch in the simulation. No, they clung to him, refusing to fade—unyielding, pressing against his mind as if daring him to question his own sanity.
Then there was a knock. Soft at first, followed by the hesitant creak of the door easing open. Chan barely registered it, too consumed by the relentless flood of thoughts racing through his head, repeating to himself, “You’re not real, you’re not real…”
“Chan?”
His eyes flew open, finally taking in the figure silhouetted in the doorway—you. Your expression was a blend of concern and hesitation as you stepped cautiously into his room. A pang of surprise coursed through him, igniting a spark of defensiveness that flared to life within him, seeing you making the weight on his head worse. He forced himself to hold your gaze, feeling exposed under the weight of your possible scrutiny. “W-what do you want?” he stammered, the words escaping him in apprehension.
You raised an eyebrow, though your usual edge seemed softened. “Minghao asked me to come get you. He’s worried. Looks like he was right—finally lost your mind, or something?”
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” he hissed, barely keeping his voice steady.
You raised an eyebrow. “Chan—”
“Save it.” He cut you off, his tone sharp, eyes narrowing as he took a half-step back, almost as if he expected you to throw something back his way. Just as you always have. “I’m not gonna take whatever crap you’re planning, so if that’s your game, just forget it.”
You blinked, caught off guard, a flash of irritation tightening your expression. “Wow,” you muttered, crossing your arms with a look that was half offense, half amusement. “Who the hell pissed in your cereal?”
“I’m not feeling well, alright? And you don’t make it any easier. If you think I’m going to keep letting you walk all over me, forget it. Go pick on someone else.”
“Wow, look at you finally picking up your backbone from the floor,” you taunted, slowly closing the distance between you. Your voice dripped with mockery as you studied him, taking in the tense lines of his posture and the way his jaw clenched in irritation. “If this is about the party, the offer still stands. I know what I said, but—”
“But nothing. I didn’t need your help then, and I don’t need it now. Just piss off.” His voice cut through the air, sharp and defensive, as if he was trying to shield himself from your probing.
“Ooh, look at you using big words,” you snickered tilting your head as you leaned in slightly, your eyes narrowing in challenge. “Is all the stress of pleasing everyone finally catching up to you? Or are you just realizing you’re not capable of doing something that requires responsibility?”
Chan stepped closer, piercing through you with a sharp glare as your smile broadened, infused with a stubborn determination that only irritated him further. No matter what he said, you remained resolute, and he could sense his resolve beginning to crack under the weight of your taunts, struggling to maintain his composure.
“Or,” he began, feeling the voice in his head finally recede as a surge of courage washed over him. “I have so much of my own shit going on. Ever thought about that? Now, why don't you turn around and mind your goddamn business before  I should teach you how to shut up while I’m at it.” The dominance in his tone surprised even him, and for the first time, he felt like he was finally in control of himself and his newfound ability.
You hesitated, caught off guard by the intensity in his eyes, the way it deepened the timbre of his voice, radiating uncontainable energy you’d never seen from Chan before. The confidence that once danced in your gaze faltered, giving way to a glint of surprise as you struggled to hold onto your composure. Your lips parted slightly, words caught in your throat as you processed his unexpected boldness—and the effect it was having on you.
‘Holy shit.’
Your voice echoed in his mind, sending a thrill through him as his lips stretched from ear to ear menacingly. Finally—finally—he was the one with the upper hand.
“What? Nothing to say now?” he challenged, relishing the moment.
‘Holy shit, he’s so hot when he’s mad.’
Confusion softened his features for a brief moment, and he couldn’t help but let out a, “What?”
“I…I didn’t say anything.”
‘Oh god, am I sweating? Can he smell me? Holy shit, he’s so close to me right now.’
Chan wasn’t sure what he was hearing right now. Especially whatever this was. His mind was already spinning from the obnoxiously loud and relentless voices echoing in his head from earlier—this was something else. The anxiety of your voice in his head, laced with something vulnerable he’s never seen in you before, threw him off-kilter. He felt heat creep into his cheeks as he processed the stray thoughts that weren’t his own, thoughts that broke through the background noise with an unexpected force.
He drew in a breath, barely steady, as he took in every flicker of your expression—the way your lips quivered as if on the edge of saying something, then closed again, and how your gaze dropped just briefly, as if to gather strength, before lifting to meet his, defiant but with a hint of uncertainty in your gaze. That simmering frustration from earlier dissolved, replaced by a charged curiosity that spread through him.
“Are you okay?” he asked, letting his words roll out slowly, teasingly, testing the waters of this sudden change in power.
You glanced up, eyes widening slightly as if caught off guard, your shoulders tensing as though bracing against an invisible force. He could practically feel the hurried, jumbled thoughts in your head racing, flickering across your face—hesitation, curiosity, that rare glint of resolve that never seemed to completely fade. It was almost…endearing.
The moment felt charged, like standing on the brink of something electrifying and forbidden. Chan found himself leaning into it, savoring the way his voice dropped, roughened, responding instinctively to this unguarded version of you.
“What?” he murmured, his smile laced with challenge. “Cat got your tongue?”
You drew in a slow breath, fingers clutching the doorframe behind you as if anchoring yourself, your gaze flickering from his face to his hands and then back again, as though the very air around you had thinned. 
"Just…” Your voice faltered, lingering in the air, yet you held his gaze, a reluctant tension in your eyes, as if resisting an urge falling deep down a pit you’ve already managed to avoid for so long.
“Just what?” he pressed, amusement saturating his tone, relishing in your timid silence.
You hesitated, pressing your lips together before looking away. “Just… get back to work,” you muttered, fingers clenching the door frame for a moment before finally releasing it as you turned to go.
‘That…was crazy.’
Chan watched you leave, barely holding back a grin as a strange, exhilarating sense of control lingered. For the first time, he felt like he had turned the tables. This bizarre predicament suddenly had its perks.
As the thought settled, another realization dawned: maybe these powers—or whatever they were—could be harnessed. And you, of all people, might just be the key. Finally, it seemed you had some use after all.
The rest of the day passed with surprising ease, a sense of control settling over Chan as he slowly came to terms with this new ability. Whatever this was, if it meant you kept your distance and stayed in check, now it was about time you tasted a bit of your own medicine.
Meanwhile, you kept to the far side of the room, throwing him occasional glances that were equal parts wary and curious, as if still processing the shift that had unfolded between you. The quiet in your demeanor was foreign—almost like a subtle retreat—but Chan could still hear every single thought racing through your mind, echoing around him, feeding his ego.
‘Fuck, why is he looking at me like that?’
The echo of your uncertainties only made Chan’s grin widen. Each new thought layered itself over the rest, but somehow, yours always came through with striking clarity, as if your mind was the loudest voice in the room. He wasn’t sure if he was honing in on it by instinct or if his newfound ability had a mind of its own, drawn to you by sheer force of will—or intrigue.
‘It’s like he’s seeing right through me…oh my god, can you see my underwear or something? I’m gonna kill myself.’
You visibly clenched your thighs, turning away from Chan to avoid his gaze but he was the only thing on his mind. You couldn’t even enjoy the game you were playing anymore. 
‘God, he looks really good…makes me wanna take him in the back and tie my hair up–shit, how long is gonna stare at me?’
As each thought drifted by, Chan skillfully sifted through the chaos, honing in on the captivating essence of your unguarded musings. A swell of pride blossomed within him as he recognized that this ability to read minds might not be a curse after all; it was a remarkable gift, one potent enough to give him control over someone as difficult as you
"Leaving so soon, dearest customer?” Chan drawled, leaning against the wall by the exit, his eyes tracking every movement as you gathered your things, your grip tightening around the strap of your backpack.
‘Was he…waiting for me?’
He scoffed, removing his name tag as he did at the end of every shift, a knowing glint in his eyes as he held your gaze, refusing to look away. “You just seem…distant. Thought I’d check in.”
‘He was thinking about me?’ The thought sparked something in you, and you cleared your throat, trying to regain your composure. “Maybe you should focus on yourself for once, and I don’t mean…” Your gaze flickered downward before snapping back up, warmth spreading up your neck.
‘Not that I’d be entirely against it,’ you thought with a quiet chuckle.
With a step forward, his confidence seemed to fill the space between you, his eyes sweeping over you with a boldness that made you catch your breath. He regarded you with a half-lidded gaze, as though he could see through you, a look that sent a prickle of goosebumps over your skin. “Only you would make my concern for you about my genitals,” he murmured, his voice dipping lower. “Think about them often, do you?”
You nearly stumbled, his words unraveling your composure as he turned your teasing back on you with a mastery that left you momentarily speechless. “You…”
“Was I on the money? It’s showing on your face.”
You shook your head lightly, brushing past him without a word, pretending the encounter hadn’t rattled you. But as you moved, he followed, a faint smirk lingering as he kept pace just behind you, relishing in the control he held. Chan tuned into the steady stream of thoughts he could almost feel buzzing around your mind—every second of fluster, every trace of hesitation.
With each step, he could sense your resolve slipping, see the barely concealed tension in your hurried stride as you exited the café, almost like you were running but with no clear destination in mind. And he kept watching, unhurried, savoring every moment as he let his presence linger just enough to keep himself quietly literally in the back of your mind, conflicted with the current predicament.
“Where are you going? You never did answer my question,” he called after you, his tone deceptively casual.
You scoffed, refusing to let your stride falter. “You’re being weird today.”
‘Need to stop myself from jumping him with the way he’s looking at me,’ your thoughts betrayed you, louder than you’d like.
He raised an eyebrow, matching your pace with ease. “Speak for yourself. It’s like you can’t help but avoid me. Almost like you’re hiding something.”
With a quick glance over your shoulder, you forced yourself to meet his eyes, though the effort was as shaky as it was bold. “Wow, nosy much? If I didn’t know better, Chan, I’d think you’re obsessed with me or something.” ‘If that’s the case, God smite me right now.’
“Sounds like you’re projecting.” Chan closed the gap between you, stepping so close only a half-arm’s length separated you. His eyes swept over you, catching the subtle quiver you tried to hide. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think your obsession is the reason you can barely look me in the eyes right now. Or maybe you’re undressing me with them. Is that it?”
‘Please, for Christ’s sake, I am two seconds away from tearing the clothes off your back and making you shut up with my mouth,’ the thought flashed hot and unfiltered, betraying you in every glance.
Chan’s grin widened, reveling in the crackling tension radiating from you. "Careful with where your eyes are going," he murmured, voice low and teasing. “You don’t know what I might have to do about it if you don’t.”
With that, he turned on his heel and strode off, leaving you rooted in place, your final unguarded thoughts echoing in his head as he went back home.
‘Maybe that's all I want to do now.’
In the days leading up to Halloween, you’d been keeping your distance, and Chan’s telepathic abilities showed no signs of fading. Every day, you kept to the same routine—avoiding his gaze, interacting with your shared friends, and hiding those unspeakably dirty thoughts behind a prissy, composed facade. At first, Chan found it amusing, this secret insight into your mind, but as the days wore on, he became more curious, more intrigued. How much of what you showed the world actually aligned with those hidden, guilty desires?
His gaze drifted to the costume hanging in his closet like an eyesore—a dinosaur suit that, though comical, would probably have him sweating profusely all night. Then there was Soonyoung’s “thirst trap” suggestion, an outfit that showed way more skin, something Chan had immediately rejected and returned but still left in the back of his mind. However, an idea began to take shape, a clever compromise that might just keep your attention exactly where he wanted it. For experimental reasons, of course.
You didn’t come into work that day, likely dodging him on purpose, which only left Chan to navigate the usual mundane thoughts of the café’s patrons—mostly comments about costumes or Halloween plans. Without your thoughts slipping into his mind, the day seemed flat, dull even.
“Hey, Chan.” ‘Hello body-ody-ody.’
Chan caught Jeonghan’s stare as he stood there in a rabbit costume, the moment stretching out just a beat too long. Chan’s confidence wavered just a bit, a warm flush creeping up his neck as he glanced down, lightly fiddling with the arms of his dinosaur onesie, which were tied loosely around his waist. He was half-bare beneath the café lights, with only a simple chain dangling around his neck, and suddenly the whole look felt a little bolder than he’d intended.
He let out a nervous chuckle, his voice softening as he managed, “Uh…am I doing too much?” He could feel his cheeks warm as he looked up again, almost as if he expected Jeonghan to burst out laughing any second. But instead, Jeonghan’s expression softened, a crooked smile forming, clearly more amused than anything.
“...Huh? Oh, sorry, I was looking at your body.”
Chan’s cheeks flushed as he instinctively crossed his arms over his chest. “Bro,” he muttered, clearly flustered.
“Chan, you’re fine. It’s Halloween, dressing like a slut is normal in this time of year.” Jeonghan clapped him on the shoulder.
“Jeonghan…”Chan murmured, half-scolding but feeling even more self-conscious under Jeonghan’s praise.
“In fact, I’m happy you’re finally putting yourself out here. I would think the eye candy I hired would sell himself off a little more,” Jeonghan chuckled to himself, thinking, ‘And man, did I nail that hire.’
Chan blinked, stunned. “You’re joking.”
‘I’m not,’ Jeonghan thought proudly, then said aloud, “I’m not.” Jeonghan’s devilish smile widened as he subtly nodded toward the crowd filling the café. Among the usual patrons were a few fresh faces, particularly a growing group of college-aged girls who seemed unable to keep their eyes off Chan.
Chan’s thoughts drifted back to that morning. He’d been in the stockroom, reorganizing supplies while Minghao ran the front, completely unaware of the number of glances that had slipped through the cracked door, trailing over him as he worked. Now, seeing the lingering stares, he realized his costume had sparked more than just Halloween spirit—it had created quite a stir, evening out it’s usually male dominated atmosphere.
Now he was starting to wonder if he’d been filtering out the roaming thoughts a little too well, considering what he’d missed:
‘What is that costume even…? Actually, I don’t even care. He’s so yummy…’
‘I’m literally drooling. Oh my god, he just looked at me—I’m shaking.’
‘Did guys this hot always work here? Guess I’ll have to come by more often now.’
‘I kind of want to get his number…maybe then he’d let me ride his—’
Chan's eyes widened as the wave of unabashed admiration washed over him. He hadn’t expected this much attention, and a shy grin crept onto his face. “I-I get it now. Um… wow.”
He threw a timid glance toward their corner, and the response was immediate: the girls erupted in muffled squeals, giggling and whispering as if sharing secrets too wild to be spoken aloud. Their eyes gleamed with a mix of awe and infatuation, lingering on him even as they leaned into each other, cheeks flushed, exchanging looks that made Chan feel both flattered and exposed.
“See? You’re a staple here, and you’re doing great,” Jeonghan said with a grin. “Rack up those tips, and when you clock out, fill me in on any last-minute details about the party tonight. Just in case I missed anything.”
“Sure, Jeonghan.”
Now that Chan had come to terms with the fact that his costume was effective for a similar demographic, a swell of confidence bubbled within him that you would react the same. All he needed now was a chance to show it off to the right person. But as he glanced around the café, scanning for you amidst the crowd, a tinge of disappointment set in. Despite the lively atmosphere filled with laughter and chatter of the spooky festivities, you were nowhere to be found, and he couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that maybe he was the reason.
As the hour drew nearer, Chan felt a growing sense of frustration. Maybe he had been misreading your thoughts all along, or perhaps his powers were glitching today. The very idea of having such abilities was absurd, yet here he was, confused as to why he couldn’t detect your voice. He needed to make sense of it all. How could you swing from hating him one moment to lusting after him the next, only to ghost him entirely? Each possibility twisted in his mind, leaving him feeling more lost than ever. The anticipation that had once excited him now felt heavy with uncertainty, gnawing at his confidence just as he was getting used to it.
Seungcheol’s voice rang out with a mix of authority and enthusiasm, echoing through the bustling café. His energy was infectious, as he gestured animatedly, urging everyone to transition from the work grind to the festive spirit. With his usual flair, he rallied the team, his eyes sparkling with excitement for whatever chaos awaited them upstairs. The air buzzed with anticipation as he clapped his hands together, urging the staff to shake off the day’s fatigue and dive into the night’s festivities.
Meanwhile, Chan busied himself with the final preparations for the party, glancing at the door every few moments, hoping to see you walk through it finally. He didn’t have much of a plan but he had the spirit of one, bouncing off in the corners of his mind like the vibrant colors of the haunted jungle punch sloshing around in his red Solo cup. The punch was fruity and something strong, but it did little to calm his growing anticipation. 
Despite the cheerful atmosphere around him, he fought to maintain a carefree demeanor, all while tuning out the cacophony of voices in his head. Racy thoughts and flirtations from other partygoers echoed through his mind, but none of it held the same thrill as the prospect of hearing your voice. Each thought was a distraction, a reminder of the palpable heat that he felt on his skin when he heard your thoughts for the first time and how it made his heart clench for a reason other than annoyance.
He could almost visualize the energy you brought with you, the way your laughter lit up the room, and how your teasing remarks made his pulse pick up pace. Chan found himself nursing the drink, hoping the sugar and alcohol would somehow bridge the gap between him and you not being here like he hoped you’d be. The raucous fun around him only intensified his longing, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that tonight wouldn’t be complete without you by his side.
‘Oh, fuck.’
It hit him like the chime of a clock striking the hour, electrifying and undeniable. Your voice echoed in his mind, pulling his attention as if drawn by an invisible force. He turned to see you entering through the doors, your presence instantly commanding the room.
Your gaze locked onto his, and for a moment, time seemed to freeze. You were enveloped in a dress of the deepest black, hugging your form from chest to waist before flaring out dramatically and hitting just above your knees. Sheer green tights adorned your legs, glimmering under the soft lights, and a pointed hat crowned your head. You were a vision of the Wicked Witch of the West and Chan could see that never had he thought that vision could be so alluring.
In that moment, everything around him dissolved—the laughter, the music, the chatter of partygoers—as his entire focus narrowed in on you. You were breathtaking, igniting something primal within him that he thought he could shut off. But—
‘I could eat you up, Lee Chan.’
A smile tugged at his lips as he followed after you, sharing the same sentiment as your unspoken hunger. “Took you long enough.”
‘Mmh, so he was waiting for me. Again.’
“Didn’t realize you were waiting for me.” Your chuckle was laced with arrogance. ‘Where the hell is his shirt? And why couldn’t he have given me the pleasure of taking it off?’
“You’ve been avoiding me, which is unusual for you,” Chan remarked sarcastically, watching intently as you poured yourself a drink, bending his arm in a way that not-so-effortlessly flexed his upper arms. “And you didn’t come by the café at all today.” He leaned in slightly, narrowing his gaze. “I thought it might have something to do with me.”
“You?” Your incredulity echoed in your mind. ‘Lee Chan? You were worried about me?’
You stepped closer, invading his space with a confidence that sent a thrill through him. Your gaze traced a deliberate path from his eyes, down the strong line of his jaw, pausing to appreciate the way the light danced across his bare skin. It dipped lower, gliding over the defined contours of his chest, each muscle accentuated by the flickering glow of the party lights. You lingered at his waistband, taking in the way the fabric clung to him seductively.
As your eyes returned to his, there was a spark of mischief in them that didn’t need mind reading to understand, leaving the recipient breathless. The air between you seemed to thrum with unspoken words but clear dialogue, thick with a tension that wrapped around you both. He could feel the heat radiating off your body, drawing him closer to you. The world around you faded into a blur, leaving only the two of you suspended in this charged moment, as if the very atmosphere crackled with anticipation.
“Yeah. Me.” Chan confirmed, his grin widening.
“Well, look who took the time to finally make it.” You both felt a weight on your shoulders as someone drove in between you both, becoming the deli meat in this strange sandwich. 
Soonyoung hugged his cheeks between your faces and grinned, oblivious as always to his surroundings. “Hey, guys.”
‘Good, I stopped the fight before they decked it out in front of everyone.’ 
“Hey, Soonyoung,” you said, wrapping an arm around his waist and forcing a smile. “I see you’re recycling your costume from last year.”
“Uh, it’s not a reuse! This is clearly a brand-new bodysuit, complete with paws!” He lifted his tiger mitts dramatically, waving them in front of your face as if trying to convince you of their novelty. “Very new and totally fierce!”
“Oh, of course, you look good.” You chuckled, genuinely appreciating his energy.
Soonyoung then turned his attention to Chan, eyes wide with excitement. “Whoa, Chan! Look at you, buddy! I told you showing off a little skin would do you good, and wow, look at all this!”
He let out an exaggerated whistle, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Our sexy little dinosaur! You’re making all the other costumes look bad!”
“Okay, okay, thanks, Soon.” Chan let out a hearty laugh, a flush of embarrassment creeping across his cheeks as he playfully patted his friend’s shoulder. He quickly shrugged him off, attempting to create a buffer to ward off Soonyoung’s inevitable groping.
“Oh, so that’s what you’re supposed to be,” You teased, “Couldn’t tell from the lack of clothes.”
Chan snorted, his amusement bubbling to the surface. “I’m clearly showcasing my costume from the waist down—tail included,” he said, gesturing dramatically. “But just remember, even if my costume is down there…” He raised his fingers and motioned to his eyes, an impish glint in his gaze “…my eyes are definitely up here.”
‘What if I want to look at what’s underneath the costume?’
‘What’s going on here...?”
Chan can’t help but grin at the challenge in your eyes while blatantly ignoring the confusion in Soonyoung’s.
“Showing off the merchandise but not letting people browse? You’re not exactly running a lucrative business here, Lee Chan.” 
“Who says I’m running a business?” Chan shot back with a playful smirk dancing on his lips. “I’m simply looking for..exclusive clientele.” His eyes sparkled with mischief, an invitation wrapped in flirtation.
‘I might have to sample a bit of that to see if it’s to my taste, which I’m sure it will be,’ you thought, wishing you could say it out loud. Instead, a soft giggle escaped your lips, though Chan caught the thought loud and clear. A playful grin spread across his face, the corner of his mouth twitching upward as he leaned in just a little closer, seeing the playfulness dance in your eyes.
“You guys are speaking weird,” Soonyoung chimed in, his words slightly slurred as the effects of the alcohol began to show. He swayed a little, a goofy grin plastered across his face.
Chan patted his striped friend on the back with a friendly nudge. “Why don���t you check if Jihoon needs help with the music, buddy? You’d be a real asset.” 
“Oh, I would be so good at that!” Soonyoung declared, practically bouncing on his heels before darting off with uncontainable enthusiasm.
Chan turned back to you, arching an eyebrow with a playful glint in his eye, eager to stretch out the moment. “So, did you bring anything special to offer?”
“Just some wine that Minghao practically wrestled away from me when I walked through the front door,” you replied, rolling your eyes with a feigned exasperation. “Have you sorted out those party games you were so excited about?”
“Should be starting in a couple of minutes,” he assured, his gaze flicking around the party setup, but the warmth of his attention remained fixed on you. “In the meantime, feel free to indulge in the snacks or candy. They’re just as sweet as you.”
‘Oh?’
“How thoughtful of you,” you compliment, pleasantly surprised.
“Forgot to mention the warheads, but still considerably sweet.”
The night unfolded like a game of push and pull, with Chan pulling you in more than he ever had before. The playful tension crackled between you, and he could tell that the idea of playing hard to get was on your mind tonight. Even with all the distractions around you, your thoughts were surprisingly coherent—you wanted Chan, and he knew it. Yet you refused to give him the satisfaction of admitting it. That was when he realized that the party games he had planned would serve as the perfect tool to tilt the odds in his favor.
“Alright, everyone, gather around! On behalf of our activities coordinator, Chan, I’ll be hosting the game he selected for us tonight. Why don’t you tell us what it is, Chan?” Seungcheol announced, his tone playful as he gestured for Chan to take the spotlight.
Chan stepped forward, his gaze lingering on you for a moment before he cleared his throat. “Tonight, we’ll be playing manhunt—a twist on hide and seek with major stakes. The last person standing will win a grand prize, and the seeker who finds the most players will earn a reward just as significant. There will be three seekers.” He paused for effect, relishing the eager anticipation in the room. “The rules are simple: (1) no running, (2) you must reveal yourself once your name is called, and (3) most importantly, have fun. The prizes will be unveiled after the game ends.”
Vernon raised his hand eagerly. “Is the prize money?”
“Vernon, what did I just say?” Chan replied, suppressing a grin as he earned a solemn nod in response.
“Is there a time limit?” Mingyu chimed in, curiosity sparkling in his eyes.
“Forty minutes.”
Wonwoo started to raise his hand. “What about—”
“Enough questions!” Seungcheol interrupted, chuckling as he saw the anticipation on everyone’s faces. “Chan, pick your seekers.”
Chan rubbed his hands together, a cocky smile spreading across his face as he surveyed the crowd, already knowing who he wanted. “I choose Joshua, Seokmin, and myself. While Seungcheol counts to twenty, the rest of you will scatter and hide.” His grin widened, mischief dancing in his eyes. “And remember, don’t get caught. Losers will face punishment, too,” he added, eliciting a collective groan from the group.
Seungcheol stood in the middle of the room, gesturing for the helpers to shut off all the lights, leaving the entire floor of the building pitch black and ready for the taking. “Starting now. Twenty… nineteen… eighteen…”
The harmonious sound of footsteps retreated from the room, the darkness perfectly concealing any shadows that might betray anyone’s position. Chan needed no light to do what he had to do but turned on his phone camera the moment the counting ended. He met the eyes of his fellow seekers, barely visible in the glow of their phone lights, anticipation clear on their faces. “We’ll cover our own ground until we run out of places to search, then it’s a free-for-all,” Joshua suggested.
“Got it. I’ll head out first,” Chan insisted, earning a collective nod and finding his own path.
He navigated through the stream of thoughts, weaving between them like a radio dial tuning into a specific frequency, determined to hone a singular voice. 
‘Ugh, why did I have to choose this one to hide in? This is such a bad idea.’
Chan smiled recognizing the familiar pitch, beelining straight for the sound, passing the other voices that may interrupt his route.
In a singular room, his in particular, you were the only one loud enough to break through.
‘Oh, shit, someone’s here. Please go away, please go away.’
No matter how carefully you tried to muffle your presence, it radiated from the closet, an open invitation to Chan’s mind-reading senses. He crept closer, footsteps soft as whispers, his hand hovering over the knob. With a slow, deliberate movement, he eased it open, revealing your figure barely concealed behind the racks of his half-filled closet. Your eyes darted to his, and a quiet “Fuck…” slipped out as he stepped inside, claiming the cramped space beside you.
The closet was shadowed in near-darkness, the room's lights off, but a sliver of moonlight streamed through the window, illuminating through the slits of the closet in faint, wispy beams. As your eyes adjusted, you could just make out the silhouette of Chan, his figure close, a playfully smug smile catching the dim light as he settled in front of you.
‘What is he–’
Chan lifted a finger to his lips, signaling for silence before you could utter a protest. His eyes held yours with an intensity that had your pulse racing, each beat a rapid tattoo under the thin skin of your neck. Footsteps echoed faintly from the hallway outside, the other seekers passing by Chan’s room without a second thought, oblivious to the two of you hidden mere inches apart.
‘He’s so close. He smells so good,’ you thought, the hint of his cologne making your breath hitch. Chan couldn’t help the tiny grin tugging at his lips—props to him for choosing the good cologne today.
‘He’s practically pressed against me. Is this what dying and going to heaven feels like?’
Chan stifled a laugh, stepping even closer, until the heat radiating from his skin was undeniable. In a whisper, he teased, “Try not to get caught.”
“But you—” you started, barely finding your voice to remind him that he was in fact one of the people you’re not supposed to get caught from, only to have it die on your lips as his hand pressed lightly on the wall beside you, leaving little room to breathe, let alone escape.
“Shh,” he murmured, eyes glinting as he held you captive against the panel, a hair’s breadth away. 
“Chan…” you murmured, half-breathless, gazing up at him with a mixture of confusion and exhilaration as the closeness left you dizzy, the space between you charged and impossibly small.
His eyes drifted down, seeing your lips pursed slightly in direction, calling to his attention, begging to be claimed.
‘He’s staring again.’ your thighs clenched against each other, hiding the pool of your heat as you could feel it seep through your panties. ‘He looks at me like this any longer I might just fuck him right here.’
Chan shifted closer, his nose grazing yours, so close he could catch the faint sweetness lingering on your breath. "You have to be quiet…real quiet," he whispered, his voice barely more than a murmur.
“W-why?” you stammered, the question coming out in a whisper as his hands found your hips, drawing you against him with a gentle but possessive pull.
He paused, his eyes flicking between yours, a soft smile teasing at the corner of his lips. “Because,” he breathed, his voice sending a delicious warmth down your spine, before he leaned in, closing the miniscule gap and bridging you together in the sweetest of symphonies.
‘Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god–’
His hand clasped against your cheek, hips digging against yours and pinning you to the wall as his tongue traced in the inside of your mouth, exploring you until he could familiarize himself. He felt bound to you, having taste what’s been distant thought now a full blown movie, a movie that he'd rewatch until the day he dies. 
Your hand caressed the back of his neck, tenderly kneading his skin and pushing yourself closer to his body. The hands that ached to touch him found their peace, gliding on his skin and feeling the outline of his body, through every contour and crevice, so hot it’s sweltering, simply melting underneath him.
‘This is so awesome…don’t ever make this stop…’
He held you by your thigh, brought it to his exposed side, and lifted you from the ground, crushing his weight against you to keep you in place. His eagerness poked against your stomach, taunting you with its size, and parting your mind for thoughts of its sensation plunging inside you, wrecking havoc.
‘Oh god, I’m gonna cum thinking about want I’d do when I fuck him.’
Chan softly chuckled, pulling away and looking at the glisten in your eyes, feeling your skin flushed against him, hearing how your mind screamed for him in ache. “Are you—“
“Yes,” you gingerly nodded, not giving him a second to finish his sentence, “Whatever it is. Yes. Or no. Or whatever.”
‘Good god, get a grip. Desperate much?’
Chan’s hand crept under the fabric of your skirt, sliding down beneath the layer of green pantyhose and underwear, your vicious slickness immediately coating his fingers. “I like you a little desperate,” he confessed in staggered whispers before slotting his lips between yours again. 
Your throbbing cunt thrummed beneath his digits, pulsing around him as he pushed on inside, already coating his knuckles. You seized around him, clenching your stomach, as a clear moan escaped you.
‘What was that?’ Chan sensed Seokmin’s thoughts a mere meters away, franticness in his eyes and the voice of his fellow seeker followed after. “Hello?”
“Hey Seok, Just me!” Chan covered for you, fingers thrusting as they curled up inside you. “I hit my foot on something, so I’m taking a minute breather in my room. No one's here!”
“Mmh, okay, Buddy. Be more careful!”
As soon as the coast was clear, his attention averted back to you. “I said be quiet, didn’t I?”
His hand clamped over your mouth and blocking sounds from leaving as he entered another finger, feeling your muffles hummed satisfyingly against his palm. His smile stretched to the corner of his face. “I told you I’d make you shut up wouldn’t I?”
You rocked into the merciless paces of Chan’s fingers, feeling them massage you in and out, as his palm ground itself against your clit. You head knocked back against the wall behind you, joined by Chan at your hip, letting his fingerss fuck you the way you wish his cock finally would. ‘Oh Lee Chan, Lee Chan, Lee Chan…’
You steadied your arms around his shoulders, eyes fluttering in and out of focus, while your hips snapped back him. It was second nature at this point, responding to him with nothing but open arms.
‘His fingers…my god, his fucking fingers…’
“Faster? Deeper?” Chan offered, sweat dampening tendrils hitting at his eyes. 
You nodded, giving no coherent answer as he took away your ability to breathe. ‘Yes, both, please.’
He’d give it to you, watching as tears swelled up in eyes from ecstasy, ramming his digits until he didn’t care who could hear the delicious squelching, the manhunt game so far back in subconscious, it was practically nonexistent. 
‘Needed him so bad, need him to fuck me so stupid I could feel him in my throat…Lee Chan…’
Even without mind reading, the look in your eyes told him everything. Your gaze was intense, charged with an incredible sense of longing, as if it held secrets that could start wars or shatter worlds. There was something almost dangerous in it, introducing him to a hunger he couldn’t ignore. How had he never noticed this before? It practically screamed at him to cross these invisible lines. And for a heartbeat, the world felt as if it teetered on the edge, making him realize his touch unleashed something neither of you could hold back from.
When you contracted around his fingers, there was no better word than heaven, the thick release in his enveloping grasp, collecting at the cup of his hands.
Chan showed a hint of mercy, letting your feet settle back on the ground. You pried your tired eyes open, letting the faint moonlight help you take in the dreamy sight before you as you slowly recovered from the waves of your climax. Chan, clearly intrigued by the quiet of your mind, ran his tongue along the underside of his palm, jolting you back to life as you watched, breath hitching at the sight.
‘Oh my…’
Chan grinned, his tongue dragging against every curve, every wrinkle, following even the drip running down his forearm, his eyes not breaking a beat from you as he ate your cum off his fingers. He pressed against you, sweaty and flushed, ensuring every bit of you laid flat on his tongue, swallowing every sweet drop of that golden nectar, softly moaning about its flavor. “Better than my favorite candy.”
‘Oh, this man needs to get me pregnant.’
“A couple more to go! Watch out!” Joshua shouted from down the hall.
There was a brief moment of trepidation Chan felt, cursing his friend mentally for getting their tasks done so quickly, stunned that you and him were able to keep hidden for so long. Chan knew he had to make a move, and quickly. 
Shoving up the skirt of your dress, he tore the delicate seams of your green stockings, and a gasp escaped your lips before you had the chance to hush yourself. As soon as you were exposed, Chan sank to his knees, wasting no time. He gripped the ruched hem of your dress, gathering the fabric in his hands in rushed anticipation, pushing aside your panties with his teeth and burying his face inside your warm pussy.
‘This little whore, oh my..’
His tongue pushed flat against you, taking you in at long stripes as his eyes bordered on impatience and deliberate, savoring at how you squirmed against him when his pink muscle curled and licked circles at your entrance. You pushed your weight on him, cried at the thought of him eating you alive when any moment you could get caught.
‘He’s going to kill me, he’s going to kill me. Fuck, those pretty eyes looking back at me. He looks so good eating me out. God, fuck.’
He took your free hand, guiding it to the back of his head, gesturing you to hold on, and like magic, the lower half of his face vanished between your wet folds. 
“Oh gah–” You’re the one to shut yourself off this time with the sharp bite of your lip, focused on the passionate exploration of Chan’s tongue–fucking you with intent, and you fought off the urge to scream. He held you up by your thighs, the darkness in his eyes zoning in on you, drunk in thought of witnessing another orgasm, and amplified your senses with the presence of his fingers. You gripped his hair for dear life–further encouraging him to go deeper–worshiping how the soft strands felt against the pads of your fingers as Chan worshipped every inch inside of you.
“Don’t stop,” you managed to whisper, combing through his hair. “Hmm, that’s so nice…god, you’re so hot eating me out like that…”
Chan was starting to confuse your words for thoughts, or maybe was it your thought for words, whatever it was, he couldn’t stop himself from wanting to hear them, your delightful praises directed towards him, or see that beautiful face contort with pleasure.
Your hips began to do that familiar jerk, your pelvis hitting his nose as you sensed something explosive near. Your sounds of ache muffled under your hands, and you twisted your hips, gasp breaking out of you helplessly, and Chan got that familiar fresh flavor of you on his tongue as it dripped out of you. 
He helped himself up to pin you back on the wall, the taste of yourself in his mouth, startling addictive, and you reciprocated, getting everything that he’s worked for.
As he pulled away, staring back at you with an unspoken intensity in his eyes. “Let’s get you going.”
Chan led you out of the closet, cum still dripping down your legs,  joining the rest of the group to announce your victory: a month-long coupon for free snacks at the gaming café. The triumphant smile on your face as you timidly crossed your legs, only hinting at the far more thrilling victory you’d just shared in Chan’s closet.
The other seekers playfully elbowed him, teasing him for being a terrible seeker. "I’m shocked you found anyone with how long you took!" they laughed. But the mischievous glint in his eyes was hidden under a veil of innocuous feigned confusion. “Guess, I really suck at this,” he shrugged, “Glad you guys had fun.”
And everyone did have fun—so much so that nearly the whole crowd insisted on another round. A round that you and Chan would find just as—if not even more—entertaining than the first.
As soon as Chan locked the door for the PC Cafe, he reclaimed your lips, feeling for your heat underneath your dress and its familiar throb. “Finally, some privacy.”
As fellow hiders this round, you slipped away to a more secluded spot, somewhere private enough to pick up right where you’d left off. Here, with no one else to interrupt, the two of you could finally delve into that spark that you both have only begun starting to understand, the excitement between you simmering just beneath the surface, waiting to be explored in the quiet privacy you’d carved out.
‘Lee Chan, the man you are.’
He slipped you out of your dress and let it hit the ground, leading you to behind the counter and pressing you against it. You looped your arms around him, tugging his dinosaur onesie off with your foot and kicking it to the ground along with your dress, caressing his cock protected under a layer of his briefs. “Chan, please I want you.”
‘More than you’d ever know.’
“I know,” He chuckled, tearing off the final obstacle of your underwear. And stuffing it in the abandoned skin of his Halloween costume. “And I’ll show just the kind of treatment you get when you ask nicely.”
He flipped you around, tearing your pantyhose higher on your ass, and bent you over in front of him. He slowly, and deliberately, fished out his cock, letting it slap against the curve of your ass, hearing the pleads inside your head.
‘God, he so knows what he’s doing. What a tease.’
His lips connected to the back of your neck, with a free hand squeezed around the flesh of your breast. “Say it.”
“Chan…” you whined. ‘Don’t make me beg.’
“I want to hear how much you want me inside of you. I need some transparency from you.”
“Of course, I want it, Chan.” You back yourself against him, leading the head of his cock towards your puffy slit. “Please.”
“Use your words, dirty girl,” He harshly whispered, invoking a feeling not only rare but foreign inside of you as you clenched around nothing.
“I-I want you inside me, Chan.”
“Doing what?”
You whined, “Fucking me.” ‘Using me.’
He scoffed, brimming with pride, readjusting your position as he saw fit, and slowly pushed himself inside you. When you adjust to his size, you had only begun to realize the impact it’s have on you, how it’s be hard to forget such a sensation, until he’s dragging his cock in and out of you. You clawed on wooden counter, bracing yourself, and echoing a low, long groan as he covered every inch of him in your slick walls. 
The first thrust was methodical, calculated, determined to show you the whole range of what he’d give you and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t intimidated, but as he found his pace, you began to find your balance. “Oh, fuck…”
You were glued to him, his hips pounding himself against you as his hands collected your breasts in his hands, lips kissing up your neck and behind your ear. “Gonna make you fucking wish your only regret was not fucking me sooner.”
How he easily found your spot was mystery – one that you didn’t think too long and hard on – until he just kept doing it, pulling you back against him as he released his inhibitions. Your sweat pilled against each other, unsure where yours started and where his ends, your bodies intertwined into one sickening display of what almost a year of unspoken lust looked like.
‘Oh, I could get used to this. If he fucked me like this everyday, I wouldn’t complain for a single second.’
And Chan was almost counting on that.
He turned you around again, missing your face and admiring how your disheveled hair only framed its intoxicating aura as he lifted you against the counter and pushed his cock inside you as he towered over you.
The single chain around his neck brushed against your face repeatedly, and calling to your attention loud enough for only Chan to hear.
‘Omg his chain…this is like one of those Twitter memes where fanatics dream of their faves’ chain hanging above their face during sex…and it’s actually happening to me with Chan.’
Suddenly, he had an idea. “Bite on it.”
You blinked at him, registering his words as he suddenly stopped his thrusts. “…What?”
“Bite on my chain while I fuck the living shit out of you.” 
You took your time processing the thought, before slowly leaning in, the chain barely meeting your lips before you took it between your teeth and pulled him down with you.
Chan’s once kind smile warped into something more sinister, more primal, and he granted you what he had promised.
His cock slammed against you, reverberating your walls, and you clung on the counter under you, while your vision flickered to the back of your skull. Gritting against the chain on your enamel, your head could not form words clear in any sense, just the echo of yours skin clashing and Chan reveled in that. “Good fucking girl.”
He hand struck your side, squishing you against the counter, feeding you his raw power course through you until he’s fill you up, over and over again. You feed his ego in a way he never expected from someone and wasn’t sure he’d be willing to let it go with whatever happened next, so he was gonna savor the moment he had.
As his arousal coursed through him, squeezed every ounce of energy out of you, ensuring he’d hear his name on your brain and out your lips. He held your tired body, stroking your sides, panting against your skin, and felt the final release ebb out of him like a stream, coating you in perfect white before settling down a stool nearby, sitting you on his lap as you rested against the security of his strong, broad frame.
Wherever this left the two of you, Chan just knew he needed to have you. And considering the emptiness in his head, he needed you for more than he realized.
412 notes · View notes
di-42 · 11 hours ago
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Adding what have recently become my go-to comfort fics:
The Bookseller And The Garden, rated T, 13k
Fluff, fluff, fluff! Canon divergent fiction where Crowley is a demon stationed on earth, Aziraphale is an angel stationed on earth, but they have never met until present day. There's no end of the world in sight, only an angel and a demon falling in love and not knowing how to break it to the other that they're not human. I laughed all the way through.
The Anon Before Christmas, rated E, 66k
Ah. Where to begin. Every now and then, you read a fiction that just makes you feel at home. Makes you feel like you’re in safe hands. Like you’re in for a real treat. This absolute gem has very quickly become my favourite human AU. For several reasons.  The characterisation of the two main characters is absolutely spot on. I could hear Crowley talking in DT’s Crowley voice and see him moving in DT’s Crowley way, and I could hear Aziraphale talking in MS’s Aziraphale voice and see him moving in MS’s Aziraphale way. The pace of the development of their relationship from enemies to lovers is just perfect. It’s told from Crowley’s POV and you can see how his perspective changes as the story progresses, but the writer is so good that Aziraphale’s change of perspective shows perfectly through Crowley’s POV too. The array of side characters is so good that it actually pains me to call them side characters. I wrote in one of my comments to the fiction that I will forever adore this story’s Bee, and I meant it, but Newt and Ana are equally fantastic (and I loved the other cameos too!). Also, and this is especially important to me, this story is as much a love story between Crowley and Aziraphale as it is a story of true friendship among all the characters. They look after each other, they have each other’s back, they support each other. I am so lucky and privileged to be able to see myself represented in that aspect of the story. Last but not least, this fiction doesn't overstay its welcome one bit. You are happy about how everyone ended up, but still could read more. It’s like you are part of the gang and want to know what your friends are up to. Everything in this story was perfect. I realise I haven’t mentioned what the plot is about, but hopefully by now you might want to find out for yourself!
Wrong Turn, rated T, 37k
Honestly, I don't know why this fiction touched me so much. I just couldn't stop thinking about it for days after I finished it. It's a post season 1 fiction where Crowley suddenly finds himself in a parallel universe at the time the apocalypse is just about to happen. The Crowley and Aziraphale in that universe have a different history to our Crowley and Aziraphale. All our Crowley wants to do is to go back to his universe and his very own angel, but how? As you follow the main plot and focus on Crowley's thoughts and actions, you'll start slowly feeling the other story get hold of you, and it won't let go until the very end and beyond.
Happiness, More Or Less, rated M, 21k
If you read only one story out of this list, make it this one. This human AU moved me so very much I cried. Crowley moves into his new flat in Soho, only to discover the flat in haunted by the ghost of the owner of the bookshop downstairs. I won't tell anything else about the plot other than it does have a very sweet happy ending, and it gets there via a rollercoaster of emotions. This is really one of those fictions that leave me in awe of the fandom's talent and creativity. Read it, read it, read it!
Wavelengths & Frequencies, WIP, rated E, chapters 14/?
If you feel like you're going through one of those phases where you need to curl up on a sofa with a cup of hot chocolate and something good to read, something safe and reassuring, then this fantastic fiction is for you. It's a human AU enemies-to-lovers fiction where Aziraphale and Crowley can't stand each other, but work for the same media corporation as radio DJs and have to attend charity events together. The characterisation is spot on and the humour great. And what an incredible soundtrack! I honestly can't tell you how happy each notification of a new chapter of this story makes me!
Plus my own one shots:
Angel! Angel! They're At It Again! Rated M, 5k
It's the year 2030. The world never ended. Aziraphale and Crowley are living happily and safely together as a married couple. Everything would be well, if it wasn't that lately Aziraphale has been a bit busy. A bit distracted. Now, Crowley can't have that, can he? He seeks the advice of his girlfriends, who unwittingly give him an idea on how to liven up his marriage.
A fluffy story about how we get to a certain cottage.
In Vino Ludus, rated E, 3k
It's the year 2030. Crowley comes to the bookshop drunk, and Aziraphale can finally put all those years of eye-rolling practice to good use.
An as of yet canon divergent fluffy night in the life of an angel and a demon.
Do you have any go to Good Omens comfort fics?
i got u ❤️
stockholm’s other syndrome (T, 5k): aziraphale lets himself get ‘kidnapped’ by a demon. very cute and romcommy
sit tight take hold (E, 150k): formula 1 au that got me totally into f1 while i am not even a car person. the type of au that becomes its own thing and you love escaping to it again
where a canvas blooms (T, 3k): cuddle arrangement au with SUCH gorgeous art too it’ll make you feel so warm inside
manual handling (E, 8k): massage fic. ummm can an e rated fic be a comfort fic? sure why not. definite rereading material so
let me care for you (M, 1.7k) literal comfort — crowley gets cared for
big name feelings (E, 103k): fandom au and SO well done including the art. i followed this while it posted and it was so exciting
the gift (T, 3k): short & sweet they talk about the elephant in the room
my mind holds the key (T, 3k): aziraphale wants to know who the ‘best friend’ was that crowley supposedly lost. superbly written
one night in bangor (E, 17k): a classic and great on every reread. there’s a heaven-hell mixer and omg…. the careful, exciting, fluttering flirtation
slow show (E, 95k): i know i know it’s such an obvious one to rec bc it’s so famous but genuinely one of thee best fics and a lovely reread each time. actors au
empirical study on the principles of snake care (T, 2k): sorry to be that guy but sometimes i reread my own fics and i laugh with the little jokes bc i’ve forgotten them. aziraphale tries out some snake care tips on crowley
as always: begging people to add (self) recs to this post because i’d love to know what people’s comfort fics are. please share the joy
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kityana · 2 days ago
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i guess my somewhat controvertial take of the day is that i don't think cash was regularly physically abusive to blitzo.
don't get me wrong, cash was an abusive pos in many ways. he certainly seemed to not care a lot about blitzo's safety, considering what he made him do. and he was manipulative, neglectful, and didn't bother hiding how little he thinks of his son from said son.
but i do think the introductions of paimon and cash in 'the circus' was set up to show us the type of abuse blitzo and stolas went through as kids, and if they wanted to establish cash as physically abusive on top of all of that, they'd have put it there. but they didn't.
in contrast, paimon was established as physically abusive.
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look at blitzo's reaction to paimon hitting stolas. he looks startled and disturbed. it doesn't look like something he's familiar with.
on top of that, blitzo never seems afraid of cash when he talks to him, even as a kid. when cash gets up in his face, blitzo only looks more defiant.
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blizo only looks fearful at the prospect of being caught by the goetia. cash tried to dismiss those fears, and while he's not comforting blitzo in the slightest, it doesn't seem like cash himself is the source of the fear.
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this is the complete opposite to stolas, who, while seemingly happy to get a visit from his dad, actually flinches back and raises his arms in defense every time paimon gets closer to him.
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yes, there is no one right way to react to abuse. but i still think it's clear that it's a handy, short visual way to establish a pattern of physical abuse, and it wasn't established in cash & blitzo's case.
so what about this?
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i think this incident of physical violence is probably all the more memorable and painful for blitzo because it wasn't typical. the memory of cash slapping a freshly-burnt blitzo is intentionally placed after the memory of blitzo finding his mom's pendant.
realizing his mother is dead. feeling the crushing grief and guilt. having to break the news to his father. seeing him this angry and violent for the first time in his life. more grief and guilt. his mother is truly dead, he's truly alone, and it feels like it's all his own fault. like he deserved that.
no wonder he makes that face.
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sulumuns-dootah · 17 hours ago
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WHB characters meeting their Obey Me! counterparts pt.2
⟡ Masterlist ⟡
A/N: Asmodeus is finally back in Hell and I'm finally able to make the second part to THIS post! I also included some more characters so it's not just the two leftover kings ^^
The scenario is still the same with OM!Solomon's spell going wrong and interconnecting the universes together
      ༺☆༻
Asmodeus
Okay, OM!Asmodeus has two reactions:
"Ooh? Such a brave outfit! And those thorns are so pretty!"
but then after a few seconds after he catches a whiff of the smell, he's about ready to die
If he manages to overcome this difficulty, they'd get along pretty well
WHB!Asmodeus doesn't really react... He does recognise OM!Asmodeus as another version of him and that's about it
Oh, but once they get to talking, you can rest assured that WHB!Asmodeus is pulling out the baby pics like the proud father of his little halfling army that he is
OM!Asmodeus' followers can also expect getting their timeline spammed with photos of these two because he just wants to commemorate this meeting as much as he can
      ༺☆༻
Belphegor
Depending on the time of day, both Belphies wouldn't even notice bc they're snoozin' the day away
But let's say they both happen to be awake at the same time
The first thing OM!Belphegor notices is the amount of piercings on WHB!Belphegor
Those must've been a pain to sleep with while they're healing
Also, once he finds out that WHB!Belphegor doesn't have to do anything and has people do everything for him, he's kinda jealous
WHB!Belphegor is kinda surprised to find out that another him is twins with Beelzebub
They're almost exact opposites, or not?
If their talk steers to the whole OM!Belphegor locked up in an attic thing, WHB!Belphegor will be kinda mad on his behalf, but secretly wish he was there so nobody'll bother him
A cute concept though: OM!Lucifer finally finds these two after dealing with the rest of brothers and sees them sleeping curled up together
OM!Belphegor curled up to WHB!Belphegor who's holding him like the bigger spoon
      ༺☆༻
Raphael
At a first glance, you'd think these couldn't be any further from each other, but don't let the look of OM!Raphael fool you
WHB!Raphael was quick to see through OM!Raphael's facade of cool and calm demeanor
OM!Raphael's critical eye immediately notices all the bandages on WHB!Raphael, but he chooses not to comment on it for now
...Somehow, he did not notice the blood splatters on WHB!Raphael's clothes, though?
Out of all the rooms with our guys seeing their counterparts, this is the one I'd like to be the least in
WHB!Raphael is a bit cuckoo and doesn't mind challenging his other self
And OM!Lucifer can't stop this from happening so, honestly, R.I.P.
There are no winners or losers
They fight until the whole thing is resolved and after that, the room is filled with OM!Raphael's spears and dead angels WHB!Raphael spawned in
      ༺☆༻
Michael
WHB!Michael at first thought he's just in a room with some other angel he didn't recognise
Until OM!Michael didn't speak up, that is
"I see, so this is me..."
"Wait, what tf do you mean me being you? You dare to think you're my equal?!"
WHB!Michael's short fuse is something that does surprise OM!Michael, but who doesn't have their quirks, right?
If OM!Michael manages to avoid triggering WHB!Michael, they could get along for the time being
Still, WHB!Michael doesn't want to believe there could be other version of him, so he suspects every action and word OM!Michael says
Afterwards, OM!Michael might even write a poem about their meeting
      ༺☆༻
Ppyong & Little D.
New besties for life alert!
These two little blob-demons instantly click and start sharing stories of their respective version of Hell
Don't tell Minhyeok, but Ppyong even forgets about him for a second
I'm not sure if Little D.s eat actual food, but I imagine that if Ppyong mentions how good sweets are, Little D. would tell other D.s about it and OM!Barbatos would get a heart-attack thinking rats got into his kitchen
But nope
Just a few curious mini demons, who heard that chocolate and other food is actually delicious
Oh, and if Ppyong is able to transform into Juno, I'm sure he'd do it just to flex on Little D.
Yes, Little D. gets jealous and once he's back, he's begging anyone and everyone to be able to do the same thing
Overall, these two are super adorable, and Ppyong is kinda like the older, cooler brother of Little D.
      ༺☆༻
Solomon
Two idiots trying to come up with a fix to the whole situation
(That was my initial note for how these two seeing each other would go and I'm keeping it :D)
Picture this: The room and everything is on fire, OM!Solomon's running around, trying to take the flames out and finish the spell that will undo his mesed up spell
WHB!Solomon is just louging on a sofa, unbothered by the whole commotion
Occasionally flirting with OM!Solomon
"Is it just me, or is it getting hot in here?"
"There's fire everywhere."
"I've noticed"
"Are you gonna help me do something about this?"
"No~"
OM!Solomon knows OM!Lucifer will now hold this little mistake over his head for the next few centuries
There goes his chance to get a contract with him :/
      ༺☆༻
I also had an idea about writing the other demons meeting someone they have stuff in common with(Simeon&Gabriel, Cerberus&Naberius, Diavolo&All kings,...) but decided to not add it to this post, though if anyone wants that too, lmk ^^
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merrybloomwrites · 3 days ago
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Good Girl
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Summary: You love how sweet and kind and soft your boyfriend his. But every now and then, you love to bring out his rough side, which always leaves you more than satisfied.
Word Count: 1.7K
Content Warning: cockwarming, p-in-v sex, daddy kink, spanking (just 1 tho)
AN: I was going to do a Louis smut and a Niall comfort fic and then said, nah, I gotta switch that. So enjoy this pure Niall smut!
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Waking up in your plush king bed, you stretch before rolling over to cuddle up to your boyfriend. 
So you’re most upset when you find that Niall is not there. 
Last night had been perfect. He’d gotten home early, the two of you cooked a delicious meal together before falling into bed for a night of slow and gentle lovemaking.
So it’s no surprise that you wake up wanting more. Maybe a little something less slow and gentle. Like being pounded into the bed. That sounds like a wonderful time. You’d love some passionate and rough sex right about now. 
The only thing missing? Your boyfriend.
Huffing out a breath you throw the sheets aside and stand up. You’re just in one of Niall’s large t-shirts and a pair of his boxers, but you don’t change before going downstairs. Maybe appearing like this will help you get what you want.
But Niall isn’t in the kitchen, or the living room, or anywhere on the first or second floors. Which leaves the basement. More specifically, the studio/office that’s down there. 
And that, well that could throw a wrench in your plans. Because if Niall is in work mode, you don’t have much of a chance breaking him out of it. But you don’t let that deter you.
Heading back to the kitchen you start to make a plan. You grab some breakfast then go to the bathroom to freshen up before finally heading down to the basement. 
Peaking your head into the office, you’re not surprised to see Niall at the desk. He seems to be answering emails, which works in your favor. If he’d been working on new music you’d probably be out of luck. He just gets too focused, and truthfully, the guitar would be quite in the way.
But sitting at the desk writing replies? That you can work with. 
“Good morning,” you say as you enter, letting Niall know you’re there.
Immediately he turns, a large smile on his face as he says, “Morning, baby. Sleep okay?”
“I did. Could’ve woken up better, though.” You pout, giving Niall your best puppy eyes to really catch his attention.
“Aw, what’s wrong?” he asks, now sporting a pout of his own.
“I woke up and you weren't there.”
His joking pout now turns into a gentle smile as he reaches out to you. “C’mere,” he says and pulls you to sit in his lap sideways. His arms wrap around your waist and you rest your head on his shoulder, your face tucked into his neck.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t there. I ignored these emails last night to get home to you but I can’t put them off any longer. I promise to come cuddle you as soon as I’m done,” he explains. 
When you don’t reply right away Niall grows worried, unsure what’s going on in your mind. After some silence you finally say, “What if I didn’t want to cuddle?”
“Oh? Then what did you have in mind?”
Without hesitating you press a kiss to his neck and roll your hips down.
“Oh!” He says, now picking up on what you want. “Naughty girl, coming in here to distract me.”
“What are you gonna do about it? Punish me?” You lean back as you say this, your eyes meeting his, your eyebrows raised, challenging him. 
“Yea, maybe I will. Bad girls deserve a punishment. But what should I do with you?” He pretends to think about it, already knowing what he wants. But he likes making you squirm, just a bit. 
“You’ve caused me a bit of a problem,” he finally says. You look at him confused but then his hands go to your waist and he presses you down. You gasp as you feel his hard length press against your bum. “This will be quite distracting. I’d like you to keep me warm while I finish my work. How does that sound?”
A wave of desire rolls through you at that. He knows how much you love cockwarming, but it’s rare that the two of you do it. Normally once he’s inside of you, neither of you can hold back. But this is the perfect opportunity. 
“That sounds like exactly what I need to learn my lesson,” you manage to reply. 
“Good. Get me out and take off those pants,” he says. You stand up and remove the boxers you’re wearing and then your hands go to his waistband. You look at him for a second, waiting for a nod before lowering his sweats and underwear just enough for his cock to spring out. Just the sight of his dick, the perfect length and girth, has you dripping.
“Go on. Keep me warm,” he commands, and you move to straddle his lap. His hands stay on the armrests as you line yourself up and slowly sink down. His expression remains stoic, not giving away if he’s enjoying this at all. It drives you crazy, this uninterested act. It’s so unlike Niall, the man who normally praises you at all times. But it’s so perfect for this moment. 
The shuddering breath he lets out once you’re completely seated on him is the only give away that he’s affected at all. He slides his chair forward and reaches around you to get back to his work. The only sound in the room is the tapping of keys.
You do your best to stay still, but the longer he works, the harder it is. You fidget, then clench around him, causing him to groan. He then lands a smack to your asscheek and says, “Be good and don’t move.”
Not wanting another reprimand you put all your focus on listening to him. But it’s so hard! He just feels so wonderful, filling you up so perfectly. 
After what feels like forever, he stops typing and pushes the chair back from the desk. 
“Look at me,” he says, and you move from where you’ve been hiding against his neck in order to meet his eyes once more. “Think you’ve learned your lesson?”
“Yes, daddy,” you reply. Niall takes a deep breath, that name affecting him deeply. It’s not one you use much, but he knows what it means. It means you want him to take charge, to take what he wants. You just want to give yourself to him. 
“Hold on tight,” he says and you wrap your arms and legs around him. He places his hands under your bare bottom and, in an impressive show of strength, stands up with you still attached to him. He walks a few steps to the couch and lays you both down. 
“Ready for a reward?” he asks, his blue eyes shining with excitement.
“I’m ready,” you reply. He quickly leans down, attaching his lips to yours in a bruising kiss. When he pulls back his eyes are soft, and he says, “If it’s too much just tell me, okay?”
“Okay,” you say. After this moment of softness, you watch his switch back to the rough persona he’s using right now. And it has another wave of arousal run through you. Niall's eyes close in pleasure, and you know he’s just felt a gush of wetness escape around his cock. That’s all he needs to start moving, setting a brutal pace from the first thrust.
He pounds in and out of you, hitting just the right spot and sending shocks through your body. Your mouth goes slack, your mind unable to form any words as pleasure continues to grow. 
You’re both getting close, and Niall moves a hand to rub circles on your clit. He knows when you’re just about to come, and he leans down to say, “Be a good girl and come for me. Come for daddy.”
That’s all it takes to send you over the edge. You shout and arch your back, your toes curling as intense pleasure overtakes you. 
“What a good girl, that’s it, ride it out, baby,” Niall says as she continues his thrusts inside you. It’s just when you start to come down that Niall picks up his pace even more, chasing his own high. The rough thrusts send you into a second orgasm before you’ve even recovered from the first, and this time, Niall is coming with you. 
He bits down gently on your shoulder as he releases inside of you, his hips finally slowing. The two of you lay there a moment, breathing in each other's air as you try to catch your breath.
“I’m gonna pull out now, okay?” Niall asks, back to his sweet personality. 
“Okay,” you reply quietly. You hiss as he pulls out, extra sensitive after everything that just happened.
“I know, baby, it hurts a bit, doesn’t it? I’m sorry lovie,” he says, and somehow just those words help ease the pain.
You finally come back to reality and look at the state of the two of you. Niall is still basically dressed and he tucks his now soft cock back into his sweats. He helps you pull down the shirt you’re wearing so that you’re covered as well, knowing how shy you get after. 
“You alright?” he asks.
You give him a dazed smile and say, “So good. That was exactly what I needed. Did you like it?”
“Like it? Honey, I loved it. Absolutely amazing, you are.” You giggle and he leans in for a sweet kiss. 
“C’mon. Let’s get cleaned up and then we can watch a movie together. It’s time for those cuddles I mentioned.” 
Niall helps you stand and walk upstairs. He dotes on you, carefully helping you clean up in the shower and then keeps his promise of cuddles. You’re back in his arms, now resting together on a different couch while one of your favorite movies plays. 
“I love you,” you say, needing him to know what you’re thinking right now.
“I love you too,” he replies.He holds you tighter and presses a kiss to the top of your head, and you melt into the embrace. You truly love him, love every side of him, especially the sides that are reserved only for you. His girlfriend, his love, his good girl.
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AN: Thank you for reading! I have a request for virgin reader & fratboy Niall so I am working on that but if you have any Niall requests feel free to reach out!
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janeeyrewannabe · 3 days ago
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are we rockin with simon paired up with a reader who cries a lot 🤥
big cryer big sobber
oh we are
not proofread sorry 😕
wc: <1000
as a crybaby myself this is very close to my heart. Maybe you’re crying about something insignificant or maybe something just feels off. It honestly doesn't take much to set you off. I don’t think simon has a problem with you expressing emotion, i think that he just doesn’t know how to react. The way your shoulders shake as you sob with your head in your hands doesn’t exactly bring out a pleasant feeling in him.
I think that as time goes on he handles it with more grace. He knows what makes you feel better and what will make things worse (he’s learned that one the hard way). Simon says shit just to say shit and it does not help anyone 99 percent of the time. You’ve never witnessed someone screw something up so badly and find all the right words in the same sentence.
This time you’re crying about some asshole at work. Simon’s well versed in the mechanics of your emotional turmoil at this point. He’ll cradle you in his arms and whisper saccharine words of support in your ear. The pressure of his strong hold around your body and your heart calm you down better than any substance ever could. With your head on his chest, the smooth thump of his heartbeat is interrupted by Simon's voice, “I’ll take care of it for you baby.”
You take it as a joke with a breathy laugh and snort following his statement, but the stern look on his face shows he’s dead serious. You won't be surprised if you see him tomorrow with bruised knuckles and a busted lip. It’s not the first time and it won't be the last.
The only time simon likes to see you cry is when you’re having sex. Lithe body beneath him, face contorted in pleasure. Mouth wide open with loud obscene moans tumbling out that would make a pornstar blush, eyes glossed over with exhaustion. You’re on round whatever at this point. The friction of the coarse hair above his cock against your clit makes it all even more painful. He sees your pained expression, red eyes and mascara covered cheeks. “what’s wrong baby, hmm?” condescending tone dripping with honey.
“Please simon” your words are barely audible but the way his name rolls off your tongue makes him drop his head and groan into your neck. He’s taking his sweet time tonight, languid strokes in a painstakingly constant rhythm, tip of his cock kissing your cervix. “come inside me please, I need you” you say with furrowed brows and desperation creeping in your voice as hot tears stream down your face. He won't admit the effect that this has on him though, not explicitly. You can see it anyways, the way his grunts become more frequent and his white knuckle grip on the sheets beside your head.
You’re so far gone you can't even form words anymore, only gasps and incoherent jumbles of vowels. Simon slips one of his hands between the two of you, thumbing your clit with the conviction of a madman. The new sensation of his firm touch is the final straw that “Oh, god, oh my god, im gonna-” You reach your peak convulsing under his body with your slick running down between the two of you and onto the bed sheets. The atmosphere in your shared space hot and heavy with lust.
“Please,” you whine as you angle your hips towards him and the new position sends him over the edge. His orgasm has him seeing white. He collapses on top of you and his body weight crushed you only a little bit. The feeling of your fingers playing with the hair at the base of his neck combined with a sniffle pulls Simon out of his delirious state.
“Feeling better?” he says with a familiar condescending tone.
sorry for not posting for like a month, every time I sit down to write I hate everything about it 😊 I have some more things cooking up don't worry 😈😈 u guys know the drill, please comment and like and reblog!!!!! 🤍🤍🤍
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lucedilunax · 14 hours ago
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Thank you, I love you - C. Keller
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pairing: Clayton Keller x girlfriend!reader
summary: Three times when she helped Clayton and one time when Clayton helped her
warning: NSFW, graphic sex (+18), swear words
words: 2.4k
note: ahh my first ever request work! i was so excited to write about clayton, enjoy it💕
masterlist
---
When Arizona’s franchise was suspended
In April, the big news hit that Coyotes won’t be in NHL. This was a shock for Clayton. He knew about the problems, but he was pushing away the thought that club, who drafted him and gave him a chance to play won’t be existing. His head was spiraling, he was uncertain about his future.
When Clayton got back home after coach told them about this, he hasn’t acknowledged his girlfriend sitting on a kitchen chair, waiting for him. Like always, she asked him questions about the training, but he haven’t heard anything. It was uncommon for him to ignore her. She started wondering if she has done something to piss him off.
She felt like the right call is to give Clayton space. When he went straight to the living room and turned on a movie, she went to their bedroom. As much as she wanted to confront him and ask him what’s going on, she preferred to stay out of it and wait for him to talk.
The evening came and she decided to leave the room and go to the kitchen to cook for both. She knew that Clayton can’t prepare any meals and probably haven't ate anything since he returned. She stepped into the kitchen, and he saw her. He immediately stood up and rushed to her.
“Hi love”. Clayton said and kissed her. “Sorry for earlier but I’ve got weird news and couldn’t place my mind in the right spot”. He hugged her and placed his head on her shoulder.
“Talk to me baby”. That’s all she said while running her hand down his back.
“Our franchise is suspended which means we’re not existing since next season”. He admitted to her. She felt the wet spot on her arm, but she didn't care about it. “I don’t even know if I’m gonna play hockey next season. Every club has good players on my position. I don’t want to retire in the age of 26, there’s still so many things I want to achieve”. She pushed herself from him to look at him. She grabbed Clayton’s face in her hand and kissed his lips.
“Baby, you’ll be playing next season. Stop doing this to yourself. You are great player, and you’ll find a new club. You won’t be in Arizona anymore, but you’ll stay in NHL. Trust me. This is all new and that’s why you feel this way but there’s gonna be club to take you under their wing”.
Clayton looked at her with love in his eyes. He knew she’s right. He’s good player and he’ll find a new club. He grabbed her waist and pulled her to another hug.
“Thank you. I needed this pep talk. I guess I just started overreacting after hearing the news”.
“That’s why I’m always here for you. Just try not to shut me off. I genuinely thought I did something to piss you off and that’s why you haven’t spoke to me since you got back home”. She laughed. He kissed her passionately.
“You, my love, could never do anything wrong”. He kissed her again. “Now, where are we going on dinner?” He asked.
“I planned to cook something. Why would you want to go out?” She asked confused.
“You deserve to be treated like a princess so we’re going out”. When they were going to the car, to lighten the mood, she joked.
“Besides, without Arizona there’s gonna be 31 clubs which is unpaired. They have to create a new team to make it even”. Clayton laughed when he heard that.
“You’re impossible”.
“Maybe, but you love me for that”. Before he opened her door, he grabbed her cheek and kissed her.
“You don’t even have a clue how much I love you”.
When they’ve moved to Utah (NSFW)
Whole summer, Clayton and his girlfriend spent on moving out from Arizona to Utah. It was stressful time for them because they needed to pack all their years of life into boxes. Both had fun finding out old things and getting all retrospections while looking at them. When the house was empty, they felt sad. All their relationship was moving on from the place where they fall in love.
Despite it, she and Clayton were excited for their new chapter. They started new adventure together in Utah. When they bought new house and stepped in, they sheer a tear. This was the place where they’re gonna be a family. She was the first one to look around. Clayton was going after her like a puppy. He saw how she’s gonna be taking care of her their kids in this place. He could already imagine that.
“So, what do you think?” He asked her.
“I love it. It’s beautiful. Can’t wait to start our new life here”. She said and placed her hands behind his neck. “What do you think?”
“It’s great. I’m so happy that you moved here with me”. He leans down and kissed her. “We need to celebrate this”. He kissed her again.
“Mhm, and what do you have in mind?” She asked knowing exactly what he has in mind.
“Let me show you”. Clayton grabbed her under her knees and took her in bridal style to the bedroom. He placed her on their new bed and started to kiss her.
“Wait”. She pulled out from him, and he looked confused. “We’re celebrating new life thanks to your transfer here so let me do the work”. He smiled at her words.
“And how are you gonna do it?”
“Let me ride you”. She blushed at her words. No matter how many times they had sex or even conversations about it, she was shy.
“Undressed love and I’ll do the same. Later, I’m all yours”. She obeyed his words. He undressed immediately. She took off her shirt and pants. but when she wanted to unclip her bra, he stopped her. He was standing naked in front on her when he reached for the bra clip to take if off. Later, he kneeled in front of her and took off her panties. He placed kisses on her lower stomach.
“Stop teasing babe, I really need your dick in me”. Clayton laughed at her words.
“Someone’s eager”. He kissed her lips and sat on the bed. “Then ride me like you wanted”.
She sat on his thighs and spit on her hand to run it over his dick.
“Now, you stop teasing me or I’ll get my way with you”. He said in serious tone. She grabbed his cock and placed her entry on his. Clayton grabbed her waist and helped her to fully sat on him.
“Fuck, you’re huge Clayton”. He smiled at her words. He hasn’t done anything. Just kept his hands on her waist and let her adjust to his length. When she was ready, she started jumping on him. He took off his hands from her waist and played with her tits. She was moaning his name. When she got little tired, he pulled her to his chest and grabbed her ass to helped her in the movements. She started to kiss his jawline until she moaned again from the new angle.
“Clayton… I’m close”. She said while making hickeys on his collarbone.
“Hold on, I’m almost there love”. He speeds up and soon after he could feel her coming all over his cock. He thrusted couple more times and cum in her pussy.
She fell on his chest tired. Clayton stayed in her and kissed her temple.
“I guess we just christened our new house”. She laughed at his words. He felt that she’s shivering from the cold. “C’mon, let’s take a bath and order some takeaway. The boxes can wait until tomorrow. I love you”. He picked her up and kissed her cheek.
When Clayton had been named a captain
Everything was going smoothly in Utah. Most of Clayton’s teammates were transferred there and he’d been hanging out with them. With his teammates, their partners also came here so she had friends here too. They started new life in new state, but they stayed in the same circle.
When Clayton started trainings with new team, there was still big unknown; who’s gonna be a captain in Utah Hockey Club. Everyone was wondering about it but all their focus was on preparation for upcoming season. Almost every preseason game, Utah played without captain. It changed a week before start of the season.
Day after game against Anaheim, the coach named a first-ever Utah captain. He decided that Clayton is the best option with his knowledge, help and understanding. He was over the moon, grateful for the trust and opportunity. In Arizona, he had been alternate captain but now, he was the leader of this ship.
When Clayton returned to their house, he saw her laying on the couch, watching a tv show. He dropped his luggage and laid on top of her.
“Get off me”. She said giggling at his affection. “What’s with you babe? Had a good trip?” She asked curious about what he’s gonna say to her.
 “Two wins and two lost games but that’s not important”. He gets off her and stand up next to his girlfriend.
“Okay, now you’re scaring me”.
“I’ve been named a captain”. Clayton announced proudly to her. When she heard that, she screamed from joy and throw herself into his arms. He caught her trying not to fall at the coffee table behind them.
“I’m so fucking proud of you babe. Oh my gosh, this is huge. I… I don’t know what to say”. She looked into his eyes. He saw the tears coming down her cheeks, so he dried them off with his thumb.
“Thanks love but…” He looked at her with serious expression. “What if I fail them?”
“Stop. You’re the right person on the right place. You’ve already been a captain in Arizona, and you did great”.
“Alternate captain”. Clayton corrected her.
“Still a captain. Look, I get it that you’re scared that you might fail them, but you have coaches and team behind your back. You’re not alone in this. You’ve proved yourself in the past 8 years. You’re great player but most importantly you’re intelligent and you know what you’re doing. You know those guys very well and they trust you. You’re not gonna fail. Not on my watch”. She kissed him.
“Thank you. I needed those words. I don’t know what I would done without you”.
“That’s why I’m here, to help you and support you”.
“Oh, I love you”. He kissed her and hugged her like his life depended on it.
“I love you too captain”.
When she found out that she’s pregnant
She had been feeling sick when Clayton left on a roadie, but she didn’t wanted to bother him. She was certain that it was just food poisoning. When Utah was playing against New York Rangers, she invited other girlfriends to her and Clayton’s house to watch the game. Soon after, game was forgotten, and they had a girl’s night.
She refused to drink wine with them, and questions started floating about pregnancy. She explained that she feels sick and that’s why she doesn’t want to drink but other girls tried to convince her to take the test. At first, she was skeptical, but she knew she has nothing to waste. The next day, she went to the pharmacy to buy pregnancy test.
Sitting in the bathroom and looking at it, she got scared. She knew it’s a bad timing for them to have a kid. They just moved to their new house. She was searching for a new job and Clayton just became a captain. She took a deep breath and took the test.
The next three minutes went super slow. Her mind was floating around. When she grabbed the test, she saw that it’s positive. She started to cry but didn’t know if it’s from happiness or sadness.
She and Clayton always dreamt about having kids, but they wanted to wait until they’re married. They haven’t even been engaged. Will Clayton be happy? What if he leaves her? She started to have all the dark scenarios in her head. She didn’t want to break the news to him on the phone. She hasn’t even said to him that she’s sick because she was confident that he’s gonna freak out.
When Clayton returned from roadie, he immediately knew that something is off with his girlfriend. She haven't came to welcome him, and the house was dead silent. His steps lead him to their bedroom. When he opened the door, he saw her sitting in the middle of their bed biting her nails, habit she had, when she was nervous.
“Hey, hey, hey. It’s okay”. Clayton approached her, grabbing her hands and placing them down.
“No, it’s not okay”. By her voice, he knew she was crying.
“Tell me what’s wrong”. She took a deep breath.
“I’m pregnant”. She whispered. Her head was looking down, she hasn’t had the bravery to look into his eyes.
“Love, that’s a great news”. He grabbed her under the chin, so she was looking at him. “We wanted to have kids. Why are you sad about it?”
“It’s the timing. I don’t have a job; you are a captain. We just moved here. It’s all happening too fast”.
“Maybe fact that you don’t have a job is a good thing. You can stay at home and rest while you are growing new life. You know that money is not a problem. I know that this might look like a bad timing, but we can do it. Together. I’m not leaving you alone in this. We can handle it”. He said and hugged her. He was over the moon by the news, but her reaction scared him. “But if you don’t want to have a kid now, I’ll be fine with that. It’s your body so you’ll decide. Although, I’m willing to be part of this adventure with you”.
“I want this kid but… I don’t know. I guess I freaked out”.
“We’re a team love. I’m here for you”. He kissed her.
“We’re gonna be parents. This sounds insane”.
“True, but I’m excited for the new journey, especially with you by my side”.
“I love you Clayton”. She kissed him deeply.
“I love you too future mommy”. He joked and kissed her back.
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Thanks for reading❤️
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lettuceonthecourt · 18 hours ago
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Yandere! Prince who you have known your whole life, serving under him as his childhood play mate and personal servant
When you both grow up, you get closer and closer, and if you asked anybody else, they would disapprove of a member of the royal family to be as close as he was with a peasant like you
You and the prince start having a secret relationship behind the backs of everybody else, even as he nears his coming of age
His dad, the king, wants to marry off yandere!prince to a nearby kingdom so that they can reaffirm political relations and of course! Produce a heir (he's the only son after all).
Yandere! Prince who hears of this news after his coming of age ceremony, and he is shocked. And angry. He insists that he wants to wait a few more years and his dad didn't have to rush this whole marriage.
"Oh.. also, you've been getting way too close to that little servant of yours. Perhaps this marriage will help ease that up a bit"
Yandere! Prince who rages upon hearing this. He wants to act on his impulses and just off his dad but he decides that he should not. He has to think carefully now...
So, he comes out with his "grand" plan, and he decides not to tell you about his arranged marriage.
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"Hey did you know-" The maid stops abruptly as her friend slaps her lightly on the arm. Both of them eye you wearily as you walk past them, something akin to pity in their eyes as they look at you. It's been like this the whole day, anywhere in the castle you go, you see the maids whispering to each other and side eyeing you. You would find it annoying if it weren't making you slightly nervous and self conscious
"Hey dove, how's your day been?" The prince asks you as you arrive at his study. He had been unusually busy the whole day about something he especially requested you not to help with, but you shift any suspicions to the back of your mind. He was your beloved, he wouldn't deceive you, right?
Gently, you melt into his open arms and tell him about what's bothering you, what with all the maids gossiping about you. After a few silent moments after your rant, you look up at him from your place on his chest. For the first time in a while, you cannot read the expression on his face. Nervous? Hurt? Angry? You cant really place it and it unnerves you
"Hey, are you alright?" Your soft voice breaks him out of his trance, and he finally looks down at you with a familiar warmth in his eyes. "It's nothing. Just ignore what they say okay..." His voice soothes you and, although still slightly suspicious, you feel yourself relax into his embrace. You really love him so much....
On the day of the marriage, the whole castle is in chaos, and everyone is busy. Everyone other than you, that is. Confused, you grab an unsuspecting butler who was briskly walking to his destination and you quickly ask him what is going on. The butler scowls at you, "How do you not know? Today is the day of the prince's wedding! Now let go of me I need to go check on the kitchen" and just like that, he shrugs you off, leaving you in shambles, and in doubt
Walking as fast as you could to the royal church, you try to prove your doubts wrong. This can't be true, he said he would marry ME one day, he said he loved me...
However, as you walk into the exquisitely decorated church, with roses strewed across the aisle, you understand what all the maids had been gossiping about.
Only the wedding of a member of royalty would need such grand decorations, and you feel so stupid now.... ALL the signs were there, but you chose to turn a blind eye to each and every single one of them, instead trusting your sweetheart, your prince.
Before you knew it, the wedding ceremony was about to commence. You could only linger about in the corner of the church as you watch guests fleet in, talking excitedly among themselves about how oh--they were a match made in heaven, they looked so good together--
You slowly drown out the voices as you wallow in your misery, and you can feel tears forming in your eyes as you try to blink them away-- to no avail
It doesn't get better as you see the prince say the words of welcome. This time his voice doesn't soothe you, and the few reassuring looks he tries to throw your way once he locates you, only quells the rage inside you
The rest of the ceremony flies over your head, and you come back to your senses as you hear the crowd cheering and clapping. The groom and his bride, who is- unsurprisingly, beautiful, just as everyone said, kiss, and the look the prince gives is nothing short of adoration and love. You can feel bile up your throat as reality claws at you, your heart breaking just as your tears break free from it's dam. Was I not good enough? Was I too ugly? Why did he not tell me? Unable to watch on, you discreetly leave the church as jealousy, rage, self consciousness and everything else races across your mind
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Yandere! Prince can't lie to himself---while he does love your soft and sweet side, he loves your jealousy and your rage even more. Revels in it, even. He can feel a slight blush on his cheeks as he breaks the kiss with his bride. All the more convincing to look at. He does regret not telling you about the arranged marriage, but he didn't want you to distance yourself away from him so early. he would not be able to stand being apart from you for that long. Don't worry little dove, you'll be right back in my arms really soon... I'll show you even more love when you're back~
The next day, yandere! prince tries to seek you out. He wants to explain himself, reaffirm that you ARE the one that he loved and desired, and that he didn't do anything with his wife. He couldn't imagine giving himself to anybody but you, he would claw his skin off if he ever found himself doing it with anybody else but you..
To his shock, he doesn't find you in your room. Instead, it felt exceptionally empty, the bedsheets stripped off the bed, the pictures you would hang around your table, all gone.
He feels his chest tighten up, he eyes rapidly skimming across the room, trying to find any other signs that you were still here. Did you leave him? Did you hate him now? Where were you? Desperately, he hopes and prays that perhaps, you were just cleaning out your room.. yea definitely. He searches through the castle, demanding answers from the maids he comes across, but only met with the reply "Your highness, y/n has been gone since last night. Nobody knows where she went..."
Frustrated, he calls the guards to find you. No matter where you were, he would take you back to him. You couldn't leave him, not now, not then, not ever. He has to have you beside him, don't you know how badly he suffocates without you around?
I can't breathe without you by my side...how could you mercilessly leave me like this? I know Im at fault but- you didn't give me time to explain myself! Once I find you, dove, I'll make sure you won't fly away again.. I'll reaffirm my love to you however much you want me to...just- come back to me..Please..?
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A/n: guys I'm crashing out rn ik the English sucks and there are so many gaps in this story but. Forgive me y'all 😔😔
ANYWAY I finally finished a major exam (I messed up so badly) but urm... Maybe I'll post a p2? Ps. Did anyone notice the Lana del ray quote :b
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notmeowse · 14 hours ago
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Curious to know why you wanted the veil to come down? I personally would’ve liked the option because it sets the world to how it was meant to be, BUT came to the understanding (idk if understanding is the right word but that’s what I’m using here lol) that because it would bunk up everything for everyone in the world currently, it was kinder/safer for everyone currently alive to leave it in place. After all it’s all anyone has known and not knowing the result of tearing it down was too big a risk. To let people keep living their lives instead of essentially turning back the clock was the safer option which is why I’m actually not super upset about not having “tear it down” as an option. It would’ve been nice to have it. In fact that’s probably the route I would’ve taken had it been available, but I can understand why the team and Rook don’t see it that way.
I think if we look at it from a developer standpoint it does look like them wanting to keep the status quo, but if you look at it from an in-world standpoint of “the world as it is now had been in place for thousands of years and it’s all anyone knows. It’s too risky/scary to tear it down just because you (Solas) can’t move on from your regrets that led to its creation in the first place” makes sense to me. Like a “you made your bed, it’s time to finally lie in it” kind of way. If they do make a DA5 (doubtful since it seemed like this game was meant to tie up or throw out loose ends) maybe it will be about finding ways to tear it down that wouldn’t idk…risk also messing up the world people currently reside in
Also question, because I mighta missed it, but if the veil is torn down completely would that not release the blight in its entirety? I thought that was also why they couldn’t take it down. I know Solas said he “had a plan” but was that a plan to not let the blight out if he took the veil down? I think that because that was my understanding of the blight that’s also why I wasn’t as pressed about not getting a tear down option, but now I just can’t seem to remember if that was the case with the blight or not
Hello and thank you for this ask! I so appreciate you leaving this for me so I can iron out my thoughts, because in many ways, the ending really did not go the way I thought it would. Spoilers/novel-length response under the cut!
After all, it was foreshadowed multiple times in the previous games. The biggest foreshadowing was Sandal's prophecy back in DA2, which was clearly the first draft of the events of this game:
One day the magic will come back - all of it. Everyone will be just like they were.
The "everyone" in this scenario could very well have meant the dwarves, but it also could have meant everyone. Elves, spirits, dwarves, everyone that lost something from the Veil going up. That was supposed to be what was coming. Every tear in the veil, every claim that it was weakening or failing in any way, served as (I thought) foreshadowing to it coming down.
And the series gives us very valid reasons for it to do so.
The main reason the Veil should have come down, for me, was to save the spirits. They're essentially trapped in the Fade, pressing against the Veil and constantly twisting themselves into the wrong shapes to be able to get to the waking world because they do not understand why they aren't part of it. Yes, it is kinder and safer for everyone in the waking world to not disrupt it by letting the world bring itself back together -- but what about the spirits? The ending, in its current state, disregards them completely. As if we haven't spent the last 3 games building them up as people. Not just that, but as the other people (besides elves) that Solas wronged by throwing up the Veil.
The games have had multiple instances of (for lack of a better word) humanizing spirits for us, by giving us characters like Justice and Cole, the All New, Faded For Her spirit, and now the demon Spite. They're naturally drawn to the waking world, to people, to strong emotion. The Veil acts as a barrier for them to truly experience the world, and when forced through it, they tend to become demons. But we are very much meant to see those characters as people, and Solas's entire argument in Inquisition was that they suffered from the Veil, too -- and no one else alive in Thedas seemed to care. Now that he's gone, that's actually the case.
In Trespasser, he was originally tearing down the veil for the spirits, not just the elves, and ended up killing Mythal to be able to have the power to do so. Veilguard wants to pretend it was for her, all along, despite the fact that he quite literally snuffed out one of the last shreds of her existence in the previous game in the name of helping the spirits and the elvhen.
But of course, we learn that the Veil doesn't just contain the Evanuris in this game, right? It also contains the rest of the blight! And shortly after we reach this revelation (depending on when you watched all of the memories) we discover that the very first Tranquil beings in Thedas were the titans (sundered from their spirit + achievement for the memory is quite literally called Tranquility), and that the blight comes from their madness. It is essentially the titans' nightmares!
Now, when we learned that in-game, I absolutely thought the next course of action would be to help them. Not just because it would stop the blight in its tracks and remove one reason for the Veil being up, but it would also snatch away the main weapon of the Evanuris, AND ALSO heal them for the sake of the dwarves. To help them reclaim that part of themselves long-since sundered. Veilguard actually gives us no explanation as to why we DON'T do this. Reversing the damage is briefly considered by Emmrich as a possibility, and never brought up again -- why didn't the team immediately pivot to that, given Harding's presence and connection to the stone? She alone (being the only dwarf currently in Thedas who had that connection) could have led us right to the remaining titans, and we could have used the dagger (the same one used to sunder their spirits in the first place) to heal them, much like the Inquisitor used the anchor to heal.
I had thought this was foreshadowed heavily in Inquisition, given that Solas learns (and is deeply intrigued by) the Inquisitor using the anchor not to rip open the Veil, but to heal it instead -- there's even a codex entry on it in this game. We also learned in Inquisition (Nope, actually DA: Asunder) that Tranquility can be reversed, but very little is done with that revelation in that game's plot -- surely it was meant to set up reversal of the titans' Tranquility in this game? For us to go fix it? Apparently not.
Regardless, that solution (helping the titans) would also have rendered the Evanuris blight-less, defanging them and taking away their favorite toy thus truly evening out the playing field and making the final fight of the game far more believable. Like, in its current state, my little Antivan Crow Rogue Rook kills Elgar'nan. The first of the firstborn. The oldest and strongest of the evanuris. At full power. Something Solas could not do. And Rook did it without even a single power boost -- and yes, I do think that Rook should have taken on the essence of Mythal, leading to Solas having an oh my god there's two of them moment. But that's not really my point in this absolute essay I'm writing you (I'm so sorry if it's more than what you bargained for lol)
My POINT! Is that we finished out Trespasser with Solas treasuring the possibility of being wrong about his plans. We are led to believe that the Inquisitor (or, you know, the protagonist of the next game) is going to find an alternative route, or a reason for him to leave the Veil up -- something that would prove him wrong. Ultimately, my point is that the revelations about the titans should have been that reason. Fixing them, rejoining them with their spirits and curing their tranquility, should have been the alternative that Rook/the Inquisitor presented him. And frankly, that should have been his fucking atonement. None of this bullshit at the end of the game with him binding himself to the Veil, he's quite literally reinforcing the band-aid he slapped over the world instead of getting to the root of the problem. Which is the titans. He should have helped them. He alone probably knows fucking how, since he broke them in the first place. It doesn't make any sense that he didn't... consider that avenue in the first place?
So by the end of the game, it's like oh, great! The Veil is now reinforced so the spirits will continue to suffer. And there's also a very real possibility that the one dwarf in Thedas with stone sense just died, jeopardizing any chances the dwarves had of reconnecting with or helping the titans. So now the titans will continue to suffer too! Yay! All of this buildup was completely pointless!
Given that they're doing a hard reboot of the series (the south was destroyed anyway, any future games likely won't take place there and Thedas as we know it pretty much went through an apocalypse/had way more death than the original ritual would have created), it would have made perfect fucking sense to boardwipe the world and change everything in it by BRINGING DOWN THE VEIL. It would quite literally have accomplished the exact same thing the superblight did, but with added benefits of spirits being free to roam about the cabin, and we could potentially have gotten the freaking titans back. Holy hell. The worst part is that they're still alive. Like, they're more scattered and disparate, clearly, but we're just leaving them in the past? Oh my god, they're still alive! What are we doing! Why aren't we helping them, why aren't we giving the dwarves back their dreams and their magic! Are we seriously supposed to accept that these are just the way things are now, despite the fact that we have a dwarven success story in the party with us? The new postergirl for dwarves getting their magic and their dreams back with very little negative side effects?
Like, the game doesn't do anything to try to convince us it would be a bad thing to save the titans, doesn't do anything to suggest that we should leave this any of this stuff (which, apparently now includes the Dalish, because Arlathan was given to the Veil Jumpers) in the past. It also doesn't put up a great argument for keeping the Veil up, either -- Rook repeatedly says Solas will drown the world in demons, and he doesn't correct them simply because he doesn't respect them -- but we, the players, know that would not be the case. He would have quite literally reunited the world with itself, on multiple levels.
I'm sorry. I'm so irritated about it all, if that wasn't clear by the novel. Thank you again for asking, it was good to get this out. Veil should have come down.
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mythalism · 2 days ago
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ok im going to try and parse through my feelings on the entire game in the hopes that expelling these thoughts from my brain will allow me to actually sleep because i am running on about 3 hours right now
i will start positive with the things i absolutely loved:
solas. whos suprised
just kidding i will elaborate further of course. genuinely, from a (mostly) objective writing perspective, he is the best part of this game. like hands down. his writing is bonkers insane. he has the best lines and the most complexity out of any character in the game (besides mythal perhaps). i was so so so afraid they were going to completely woobify him into someone who was right all along and never did anything wrong in his life blah blah to make him sympathetic to a new audience. they did not give a fuck however and i could not be more glad. he is exactly the dread wolf and bringer of nightmares of legend. he is so wonderfully in character, even if that character is not someone we saw in inquisition (we saw solas, not the dread wolf!). there are moments that solas shines through, like in his mentions of varric in the very beginning, when he mentions his love for the inquisitor, his convo with a rook he respects (which i do believe was genuine, even if he betrays them anyway. we know that he regularly betrays people that he likes and respects lol), the way he helps the shadow dragons and saves the dalish, and of course in his final scene with the inquisitor. he manages to retain that perfect back and forth, mask on and mask off, solas vs. fen'harel dichotomy with a different balance than the one we saw in inquisition. in inquisition, we saw solas with hints of the dread wolf peeking through. in veilguard, we see the dread wolf with hints of solas peeking through. ok i need to move on or i will talk about him forever. but they nailed the moral ambiguity with him. they nailed the theme of forgiveness being hard. i loved when harding said something along the lines of "there is no one who doesnt deserve forgiveness" this is one of the few consistent themes that this game was successful in exploring. ok ok moving on now i promise
i also loved mythal (fragment mythal, not morrigan mythal who was a flop). admittedly i am a mythal stan, but her integration into this story was a highlight for me. she haunted the narrative in such a great way. it added so much complexity to solas. hearing him GROWL at elgar'nan in rage "you have lost the right to say her name" made me scream in glee. i loved talking to her and having to prove my worth to her. i love that it was hard and she would kill you without hesitation if she found you unworthy. i love that if she does find you worthy she is instrumental in changing solas's mind. i loved her dragon appearance even if she was useless in the damn fight lol. morrigan mythal sucked tho but thats for later
similar vein but the main quests were fantastic, with a few caveats. but overall every main quest had me hooked, having so much fun, at the edge of my seat and screaming and flailing in my chair. weisshaupt was incredible, BLOOD OF ARLATHAN WAS INSANE (the solas elgarnan bitch fight will go down in history as a moment of all time for me) and of course the finale was some of the best writing ive seen from bioware. the way suspense was built was well done, the stakes felt high, and the twists were interesting.
choice and consequence was absolutely banger. i gasped when i went back to dock town after leaving minrathous to fend for itself and saw a gallows with bodies hanging from nooses and piles of bodies in the streets. i gasped when harding died. i gasped when bellara got blighted. definitely the best choice and consequence in the entire franchise and it was very satisfying. i feel motivated to play again to see different options play out.
the environments are fucking insane. genuinely insane giga brained genius. i have never been so gagged by a video game like this. not only were they beautiful but they were well-designed, interesting and diverse. i rarely got bored anywhere (except treviso lol) and i was regularly picking my jaw up off the floor. some highlights for me were the anderfels area where you first meet davrin with that amazing vista, kal sharok, the docktown catacombs, pretty much anything in arlathan, the deep roads, and honestly so much. absolutely beautiful.
this game felt incredibly cinematic and the direction was fantastic. the cutscenes were so well done and they transitioned so smoothly into gameplay. the animation was fantastic, and everything was so engaging to watch. my favorite cutscene has to be when solas is about to switch places with rook and you see him in the background out of the corner of your eye twice, though rook doesnt know. i was literally screaming it was so fucking cool. it genuinely felt like watching a movie a lot of the time
i genuinely enjoyed the gameplay loop of exploration. i had a lot of fun just exploring around docktown and arlathan, there was always something new to find, i loved the puzzles, and i loved finding codex entries. this is a crazy thing to say but it actually reminded me a lot of genshin impact LMFAO. which i know a lot of people would probably consider to be a negative but i thought it was engaging and fun.
combat fucks. it got a little repetitive by the end, mostly because i think i just wanted to find out the end of the story and fucking darkspawn were in my way, but it was a huge step up from previous games and i think action combat was a good choice.
this game has an incredible amount of genuine heart and soul put into it and you can feel it in every facet of the game. i can tell that the devs were passionate and their creativity was genuine. i could feel their love for the characters and the world. this game is unflinchingly sincere and not afraid of being cringe (though it definitely is cringe at times, i respect the commitment to it so i dont mind it). it genuinely does not feel like an EA cash grab, which is a huge win considering how likely it was for years that a cash grab was exactly what we were going to get.
i enjoyed the varric ghost twist. i knew something was up with him but i didnt fully call him being dead until right before the reveal. i get why people are going to be upset about it, its a pretty fucking crazy decision, but i think what saves it is the quote he gives rook in the fade about his choices being his own and still encouraging rook to try to get through to solas despite being KILLED BY HIM.... fucking crazy. it ties in enough to the overall theme of regret and forgiveness that i think it works.
ok time for the negatives
its hard to pick my biggest issue but i definitely have a top 3: the lore flopped majorly, much of the writing felt juvenile, and there was an overall lack of nuance to everything about the game except for solas's storyline that did feel very not-dragon age to me
i actually dont give a fuck about lore retcons, especially if they are explained well. i think they are often necessary and can be pulled off. but this game literally just pretended to answer decades long questions about the lore and then does not. which would be fine if we didnt have someone who knows all the answers to those questions hanging out in our brains and willing to answer them. we did not learn what exactly a titan was. we did not learn what they were like when they were alive and before they were blighted. mythal called them monsters. harding suggests they might have been violent like the elves. we literally dont know anything about them except for what solas and mythal did to them. i dont think anyone even actually gave a clear answer on what the blight is. ok it was the titan's severed dreams but what the fuck does that mean? it was their rage and pain? then why does harding say the red lyrium manifested by her rage and pain was not blighted, just red? if blight equals titan nightmares then that lyrium should have been blighted? so what the fuck is the blight that ghilan'nain cooked with? red lyrium? how did the original darkspawn get made? did she start injecting people with red lyrium? but we know what that does to people because we saw it in inquisition. it makes them red lyrium freaks but it doesnt make them darskpawn. WHAT ARE DARKSPAWN? WHAT IS THE BLIGHT? did i miss this in a codex entry or something guys im so serious. how did we play this whole game and not actually learn what the blight is. we also learned almost nothing about the forgotten ones, which is fine except we literally met one and all they really had to say about it was "evil spirit" ? ok. also um. where are the rest of the evanuris. ok they are gone but where did they go. we know where their archdemons went, but where did they go? ghilan'nain exists separate from her archdemon so its not like killing an archdemon kills the evanuris, it just makes them vulnerable. should they not all be still alive in that prison together, just mortal and archdemon-less? they literally just say "they're gone" and expect us to be like ok! WHAT THE FUCK??? WHERE ARE THEY?? WHERE ARE THEIR BODIES??? WHAT??????? also the explanation for archdemons was boring. it felt like the team literally did not know the answers themselves (and didnt feel like calling up david gaider) so they just gave us vague non-answers hoping we wouldnt notice. I NOTICED.
similar vein; we learned nearly nothing about elgar'nan and ghilan'nain, and they overall felt cartoonishly evil and one-dimensional. and this is a greater problem that ill talk about next, but they were afforded none of the nuance that solas and mythal were given, and it feels glaring in comparison. why was elgarn'nan evil? was he just born fucking evil? we know thats not true. he originated as a spirit, what kind of spirit? what was his relationship with mythal like? what was his relationship to the other evanuris like? he calls ghilan'nain "sister", were they always close? did they become close in their prison? what are his goals beyond tyranny? or do you actually want me to believe he is just full stop evil? if he was one of the original spirit born elvhen what virtue did he embody and what polluted him into something so terrible? why does ghilan'nain love the blight? why is she obsessed with creation? we only get a single codex about she and andruil (that i found). what was her and solas's relationship like before she ascended to godhood? he calls her "the best of them" but we never see anything about their relationship. neither of them has any nuance. they are just pure evil, corrupted by ???? something ??? power??? i guess. and we are supposed to just be fine with it lol. what are even their motivations? why do they want to cover the world in blight? what is their emotional connection to this pursuit??????? we get such an exploration of this for solas and just NOTHING for them. they feel so one-dimensional in comparison, literal comic book cartoon character villains.
similarly, this game lacks nuance overall. bioware is known for its exploration of grey morality on both personal and sociopolitical levels. this game has that only for solas and literally no one else. qunari antaam? evil (super fucking racist depiction as well). venatori? evil minions. elven gods? evil. forgotten ones? evil. meanwhile, crows? suddenly good. its okay. just forget the MURDER, child slavery and abuse. seriously its fine. caterina dellamorte is a sweet old lady :) dont worry about it :). every faction is good and every antagonist is bad. its genuinely insane coming from the studio who gave us dragon age 2 to now give us something so fucking boring and black and white. they got SO CLOSE with the wardens and isseya and in the end davrin still kills her. why does solas get a chance at redemption and no one else does? here we are with an entire story centered around this morally grey character, interrogating whether or not his actions are justified, whether his intentions matter, whether his abuse informed his atrocities, asking ourselves if he deserves forgiveness asking if he deserves to be saved, where do we draw the line? what is the point of no return? why do people do the things they do? its fantastic. and then you go and do a faction or companion quest and its just like, these are the good guys and these are the bad guys. dont ask questions. have fun! WHAT???? FROM BIOWARE??????????
this issue bleeds over into the companions as well. i genuinely liked all of them. they are likable. but holy shit they have no flaws. all of them are genuinely good people and their problems center around others rather than themselves. there is little to no complexity, to the point where honestly they did not feel like real people to me. harding is sweet and perfect and her worst trait is being *checks notes* TOO AGREEABLE? davrin's worst flaw is raising his voice at his pet too much. emmrich's only flaw is FEARING DEATH LIKE A NORMAL HUMAN BEING? neve is kind of cold. thats it. bellara never does anything wrong. lucanis doesnt sleep enough? taash is the closes they come to any sort of complexity and i did genuinely enjoy their identity struggle and i loved seeing their complex relationship with their mother. but none of those are flaws. like these characters are cookie-cutter perfect. we used to have companions who committed acts of terror and blood mages and mean jealous little brothers and did horrible things and said horrible things to each other and struggled with things like internalized racism and complacency in violent corrupt institutions and addiction and facing your fucking war crimes and they are some of the most beloved of the franchise because they feel SO REAL. like genuinely going from characters like anders and blackwall to these companions was so jarring and disappointng. i LIKE them all, dont get me wrong. but they do not act like real, complex fully fleshed out people, and the writing overall suffers greatly for it.
again connected, the writing in terms of literal dialogue but also what i mentioned above comes together to feel incredibly juvenile. i know some big reviewers beforehand said that the game feels like a pixar movie at times, and unfortunately i dont think thats inaccurate. a little harsh maybe, but there are moments that are truly written in such a way that it feels like the audience is children. and that doesnt mean its bad, because i am a lover of childrens media and most of my favorite media of all time is actually for kids (avatar the last airbender, fullmetal alchemist, etc), but this game oscillates back and forth so violently it will give you literal whiplash. it reminded me a lot of the way young adult fiction is written. GOOD young adult fiction, where its well-done, but its deliberately written to be simpler in both diction and theme and focuses on concepts that young people can identify with. this is how i felt during much of the companion quests during this game. again, it was GOOD young adult fiction, but it had the narrative styling and lack of nuance and complexity that is characteristic of such things, and that is just literally not what the game is supposed to be like. and there are great writing moments that do feel appropriately mature and complex, but they are mostly in the main quest and their presence makes the lack of maturity in the rest of the writing feel even more jarring. i have no idea why they wrote it this way.
morrigan's mythal flopped and was out of character. i missed flemeth's crazy ass. they literally nerfed her. i think this is connected to everyone being nice and good and perfect (no abusive mothers allowed!) which is crazy because the other mythal fragment got to be a crazy bitch. so what the hell
the lack of world states is still a major L. it felt like things were missing that should have been present and had no reason not to be other than just no worldstates. well of sorrows needed to be there ESPECIALLY considering the solas/mythal/lavellan dynamic.
this one is self-indulgence but solavellan could have benefited from better pacing. packing so much into act 3 made it feel rushed. i loved the scenes themselves, but there could have easily been more build-up with a few codex entries.
no fenris. i will never forgive
ok im running out of steam and actually feeling more able to sleep now (thank god). i know i said a lot of negatives but i actually believe this game is very, very good, especially within the context of its development. i think a lot of the issues likely do stem from their fraught development cycle, and overall they did a great job of identifying their priorities and pursuing them to the fullest. i dont necessarily agree with what they prioritized or what their vision was at all points, but i respect the clear direction that this game had. i do not believe it will stick with me the way the previous games did, and while playing i often found myself just missing the characters from 2 and inquisition that i love, and the writing that so often had me screaming crying throwing up and/or giggling and twirling my hair. however, this game gave me the #1 thing i wanted which was a satisfying solavellan conclusion, and though yes it could have been done a bit more... artfully, i think its incredible considering where we were just a few years ago with this game. i will play it again a few times, and the fact that it has sold well enough to guarantee bioware gets to stick around and make new games is a major win. 7.5/10 thank u for listening
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fifthnailinstevesbat · 6 hours ago
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thinking of a new steddie fic/au hmmm.
It’s just the classic, Steve buys weed from Eddie in season 1 era, he and Tommy meet him at the bench in the woods behind school. Steve and Eddie have some playful banter and clearly get along, but it’s dismissed as just a drug deal and they go on about their lives.
Next time they meet is when a frantic Steve comes and finds Eddie after he’s just fought off the demogorgon for the first time. He’s rattled, and skittish, wearing a nasty black bruise on his eye, and just overall not acting like himself. He snaps at Eddie multiple times to just ‘hurry up’ and ‘get him his stuff’, and sure he’s being an asshole, but more than anything Eddie is just concerned. He has never seen The King Steve Harrington lose his cool like this. So Eddie cautiously gives him the weed, making sure not to give too much, and lets him go about his day, but not before asking if he’s alright. Steve clearly wasn’t expecting this and brushes it off defensively, but that doesn’t mean he’s not thinking about it for the rest of his week. How the hell did Eddie Munson notice something was wrong, when his own parents didn’t? Nor his “friends”?
They cross paths again a year later, the beginning of season two. Steve is still with Nancy and has freshly dumped his old douchebag crew of superficial friends. He is still sitting quite comfortably on the higher ranks of popularity, but there is no denying his status is not what it used to be. He comes to buy weed from Eddie in the first week back at school, and it’s a casual interaction. He’s still as charmingly stuck up as he ever was, but now without Tommy there to judge his every move, he seems a little more at ease when making casual conversation with Eddie. Eddie doesn’t mention the year before and Steve is so glad for it, secretly very embarrassed that he went to Eddie for some refuge after arguably his most traumatic experience to date. He gets his stuff, giving Eddie a smirk when he notices he’s dropped the price significantly for Steve when it’s just him alone. Eddie gives him a challenging smile back, almost daring him to call it out, but he doesn’t. They both just laugh and part ways.
The next run in is tina’s halloween party. They notice eachother when Steve first arrives, making eye contact and giving a polite nod. Maybe Eddie lifts his drink up to Steve in a silly salute. They don’t speak at all or make any effort to hang around eachother. That is, until Steve storms down the stairs in a rage after he’d gone up there with Nancy Wheeler. But then are those- tears? Eddie was standing on the front porch smoking a cigarette, trying to discreetly hide from one Billy Hargrove to avoid having to sell him anything, but staying visible enough that he won’t lose all chances of making any money tonight. Steve storms right past him and hits his shoulder. Eddie whips around and is about to call him a dick before he sees who it is.
Steve tries to quickly wipe his face, he won’t make eye contact with Eddie, and he’s clearly trying to get out as fast as he can. Eddie doesn’t let him, though, since he’s obviously not thinking very clearly and is most likely about to do something emotional and stupid. He asks if Steve’s alright, and his answers are all short and rushed, so he’s definitely not. They’re not really friends, but Eddie’s not an asshole.
— “Did you drive?” Eddie asks
“Yeah”
“Well, you’re drunk, Steve. You can’t get behind a wheel right now. And if I knowingly let you, then that makes me an accomplice. I’ll take you home.”
Steve tries to protest, attempting to push past him, but Eddie interjects. “Yeah, yeah, alright! Don’t thank me yet, Steve’o. This is not for you, see, I’m not trying to get a criminal record, here. I cant go to prison, Steve. Do you know what they’d do to a pretty guy like me in prison? Nope, let’s go hot stuff.” —
Eddie takes Steve home. They don’t talk much. By the time they reach Steve’s drive way and Eddie has put his van in park, Steve is making no attempt to exit the vehicle just yet. Eddie doesn’t know what to do, he didn’t really plan this far, so he’s just tapping away awkwardly at his steering wheel while Harrington stares down the dashboard so clearly lost in thought Eddie fears his head might explode. Steve tells Eddie what happened, says it’s ‘relationship troubles’, and he’s not quite sure what compelled him into being so honest with Eddie Munson, but he’s blaming the alcohol. Eddie wasn’t expecting that. They chat for a bit, Eddie makes Steve laugh and considers the whole night a success after that. Then they start cracking jokes about their shared hatred for Hargrove, and Steve looks and sounds a bit more ok to go inside. He thanks Eddie, quite sincerely actually, and it throws him a bit. He stutters a ‘yeah, for sure. It’s no problem.’ And Steve goes home.
After that, it’s a little different. Steve, doesn’t actually really have anyone, anymore. When they go back to school he’s now greeting Eddie here and there in the hallways, making conversation when they find themselves alone together, in the lunch line or at the bathroom sink. He doesn’t approach Eddie when there’s too many people around, though. As much as he’s grown, Steve Harrington still carry’s some prejudice in him about how certain things may make him look. But it doesn’t bother Eddie too much. It’s not like they are really friends, they’re just like, strange acquaintances. And Steve would never deny that they get along, that really Eddie’s ‘not so bad’. So that’s a win.
Steve finds Eddie again not long after the party to buy some more weed, a plan that sparked purely out of boredom. Eddie says yes, of course, but tells him if he wants it today he will need to wait till after school and meet Eddie at his place, since he was busy. So Steve takes a trip to the Munson trailer to make his deal. Eddie invites him inside and they sit together on the couch as he gets Steve’s bag ready. They end up making quite pleasant conversation, joking around and ultimately finding they are really enjoying each other’s company. They enjoy it so much so, that Steve ends up smoking there, with Eddie. So now they are kind of like, hanging out? And it’s fun, so they do it again. Still they’re not, friends friends, they just get along. Eddie just sells Steve weed sometimes and they keep it civil.
He doesn’t hear from Steve for a while, and the next time he sees him it’s from a distance, in passing. The man has the most roughed up face Eddie has ever seen, bruised and swollen in multiple areas, stitches and bandages all over. It’s really, concerning? completely metal, but alarming. This is the second time Eddie has seen the guy all beaten up like that. He knew that boys fight, but surely not that bad? As worried as he was, Eddie doesn’t approach him to ask questions, because they don’t know eachother like that. So he goes on about his day, and he doesn’t see Steve again after that for quite some time.
Then it’s summer, Eddie isn’t graduating again, and he’s not really sure what to do with himself over the break. The new mall has just opened up, and there’s a cool music store up on the second floor that he likes to visit sometimes with his band friends. And wouldn’t you know, working at the Scoops Ahoy located directly across from his favourite store, is Steve Harrington. The guy hasn’t come to Eddie for any weed since last year, and then there was that sighting where he looked like he’d just fallen face first into a flying fist or two, so it’s been a minute since Eddie’s seen him. And he’d be lying if he said it wasn’t a nice surprise. He only goes into scoops once. He’s curious, okay? Sue him. And, he knows the girl who works with him, Robin. So he plays it off like he had no idea he’d see Steve there. And to his surprise, Steve actually acknowledges him. He doesn’t act like Eddie is a total stranger just because they’re not in school anymore. The interaction is quick, they make very casual conversation, Eddie says hi to Robin, grabs his milkshake and goes home. That’s all. He doesn’t go back, and he doesn’t really plan to. Steve’s nice, and he knows Eddie’s around if he needs to buy from him again, and that’s really as far as their relationship goes. That’s all it ever was. It’s been fun getting to know Steve Harrington a little bit better, even if it was just for a short time. Eddie liked having the chance to see in past the quaffed hair and pressed polo shirts to learn that Steve was really just a person under it all. He never thought he’d say it, but Harrington wasn’t so bad. It was a nice little eye opening experience for Eddie.
Eddie was ready to write off his little blips of interaction with Steve Harrington as a thing of the past, no hard feelings, and move on with his life. That is, until he gets a knock at his front door in the middle of the night afew days after the big mall fire. And it’s Steve on the other side. And he looks awful, his face is the worst Eddie’s ever seen it. And he wasn’t really knocking, more like pounding. He says he needs Eddie’s help.
What the fuck?
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i-messed-up-big-time · 1 day ago
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Broken Trust
Xavier x fem!Reader
Hey guys this is my first ever little drabble for the LADS boys, feel free to send in requests about what you would like to see next!
I will be coming up with a list of rules and a masterlist soon to make finding these short fics easier!
Tags: hurt/comfort, angst, reader is not MC, reader is female, swearing, fighting wanderers, violence, blood, reader gets really hurt, slight OOC Xavier (I'm trying my best to make it as accurate as possible 😭), mentions of death
Word count: 3088
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Xavier
Countless days and nights passed by slowly, the walk home is too quiet without your little rambles about your missions or the things you and Tara got up to when you were supposed to be working.
By habit, Xavier presses the floor that leads to your apartment. Shaking his head he presses the number to his floor and silently watches the door slowly open to your floor, missing the time he would spend at your apartment.
He regrets leaving you alone that day to go see MC instead. He doesn't know what came over him but it doesn't excuse him leaving you when you needed him the most.
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It hurt, not seeing him knowing he was just a floor away from me, but what hurt even more was knowing she was on the same floor as me.
Seeing her when I'm leaving or going, the guilty look in her eyes every time she looked my way. It was all so overbearing and annoying.
I hate the way she keeps looking at me every time she sees me. It makes me feel like I'm being rude when I ignore her greetings or when I turn away every time she looks my way.
Every day feels worse without him by my side, but it hurts knowing I wasn't his first priority ever since she came into the picture, the lovable hunter with determination in her eyes that shine brighter than Xavier's evol.
What does she have that I don't? Why was she more important than me, his girlfriend?
"It pisses me off that he hasn't even tried to apologize since that day." I said to myself.
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One week ago
Ever since that new hunter joined the Hunter Association a couple months back I've notice Xavier is barely around anymore, always off somewhere with her under the pretext of Jenna asking him to train her.
"He's supposed to be my partner and helping me out with my missions. Couldn't Jenna assign a different hunter to train MC? Why did it have to be Xavier?" I spoke to myself as I walked down the streets of Linkon in search of something to eat.
I found a nice place with some yummy looking pastries that looked to die for, but before I could even look at the menu my hunter watch beeped with notifications of a mission.
With a heavy sigh I left the little shop and headed to where my mission was located. Luckily Xavier would be joining me on this mission.
It's been a while since we've been on a mission together. I think to myself as I smile.
Who knew I'd would be so wrong.
"It's been two hours why isn't Xavier here yet?!" I say to myself as slash another wanderer. It was getting increasingly harder to keep up with the hoard of wanderers that just kept spawning out of nowhere.
"Fuck! Xavier when I get my hands on you I swear to god!" I yelled out.
I tried contacting him again and it just kept ringing until it went to voicemail again, and in that fleeting moment of distraction I failed to notice the wanderer behind me until it was too late.
The pain was paralyzing, I felt the wanderer remove its weapon from and go in for another attack. Only this time it never connected.
I heard a sharp ringing in my ear as my vision started to go blurry from the blood loss. I heard voices and the sound of footsteps before I collided with ground which sent a searing pain through my head as I passed out.
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At the hospital
Beep..... beep..... beep.....
I flinched at the noise as I started to regain my senses, and that's when the pain hit me tenfold. I groaned while clutching my head,
"Ugh it hurts so much." I cried out.
"I would assume as much considering you were very gravely injured." A familiar calm and cool voice spoke up. I looked to the side to see Zayne standing next to me with a clipboard in hand.
"You woke up right on time, let me ask you a few questions about how you're feeling." He looked down at his clipboard and started asking his questions one by one, diligently noting down everything I said.
"Unfortunately the wound will take a few weeks to heal up completely, I've written a note for your superiors requesting that you be put on leave until you are fully recovered, and I won't take no as an answer." He said as he narrowed his gaze at me noticing my mouth open to refute.
I slouched back into the hospital bed. "Ok I get it" I spoke in a voice that sounded like a toddler who just got scolded for eating dessert before dinner.
"Good, I'm glad we came to this agreement. Do you have anyone to come pick you up or do you need a ride back home?" Zayne asked. I silently shook my head no.
"Wait for me to finish your discharge papers and then I'll take you home." He spoke in that calm and comforting voice he has when he notices something is wrong with me.
I guess nothing can get past this childhood friend of mine, he knows me too well.
"Thank you Zayne, I really appreciate it." He hummed out a response and then left.
That's when everything that happened came crashing down on me.
Xavier left me alone, how could he?
The thought caused my eyes to start welling up with tears, the reality of the situation making my heart feel heavy.
Zayne came by and helped me get into his car and drove me home. The ride to my place was silent, I could tell Zayne wanted to ask me questions but seeing my face he kept it to himself knowing that the questions would only cause more pain.
"Thank you again Zayne, I know I can always trust you." I smiled at him as I got out of his car.
"I'll always be there for you, I'm only a call away if you need anything." Zayne said with a ghost of a smile. He helped me to my apartment and stood next to me as I tried to unlock the door.
I hope I don't see Xavier or MC anytime soon. I don't want to deal with either of them.
Speak of the devil and he appears, the elevators open to reveal MC and Xavier with smiles on their faces and what looked like plushies in their hands. Xavier noticed me and his face dropped in concern over my condition.
Luck was on my side as the door opened and I quickly got inside bidding Zayne farewell and expressing my gratitude for his help once again.
I locked the door and quickly made my way to my bedroom, locking the door behind me.
Not even a minute later I heard my phone going off with calls from Xavier. I ignored them and moved to the bathroom to wash up before getting into bed.
Under the warm water of the shower I let my tears flow and sobbed my heart out, the pain from the wounds, the pain from Xavier leaving me to go to a claw machine arcade with MC.
I risked my life to fight those wanderers and he was out having fun? I can't do this anymore, I can't keep trying to act like everything is fine.
Today was my last straw, as I got out of the shower I sent Xavier a quick message,
Me: Xavier, I can't do this anymore. I don't want to be a second option and I don't want to be left in a situation where my partner can't do their job.
You left me to deal with the mission myself, I don't want to hear from you again.
We're done.
I shut my phone off and slid into bed.
It's gonna be a long few weeks of recovery.
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Xavier
I messed up.
That's all Xavier could think of when he saw the condition you were in. He doesn't know what came over him, but whenever he's with MC it feels like something has taken over him.
"Do you want me to leave Xavier?" He came to his senses when he heard MC's voice next to him.
"Yes I think that would be for the best." Xavier gave her a curt reply and turned towards your door, unlocking the door and getting inside. He made his way to your bedroom only to find the door unlocked, he was about to knock when he heard your sobs.
They were full of pain and it hurt him to know he was the reason for those painful sounds coming from you.
He silently turned away and decided it was best to let you have your space and come to you later.
As he made his way upstairs he decided to check his phone.
10 missed calls from you
3 missed calls from the Hunter Association
Shit
He cursed at himself for missing all of these calls.
What am I gonna do to make it up to her?
He thought to himself.
Its as if the gods above heard him and decided to send him his punishment right away.
He heard the familiar ping of a text message, knowing that tone was the one he set for you.
Y/N: Xavier, I can't do this anymore. I don't want to be a second option and I don't want to be left in a situation where my partner can't do their job.
You left me to deal with the mission myself, I don't want to hear from you again.
We're done.
The silence in the house was deafening, you could almost hear his heart shatter.
Please no. Please don't let this be true.
Xavier started to panic, the weight of everything crashing down on him like a ton of bricks. He went back down to your apartment, letting himself in and knocking on the door of your bedroom, unaware of the fact that you were fast asleep due to the pain.
"Please Y/N, I'm sorry. I don't know what came over me and I know that's not an excuse. Please just let me explain myself." Xavier begged.
His back slid against the door as he sat on the floor, "I'm so sorry." Tears welled up in his eyes but he refused to let them drop. Time passed by and soon Xavier fell asleep in front of your door, waiting in hopes that you would open the door and talk to him.
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The next morning you noticed him sprawled out on the floor in front of your bedroom door. Not having any energy to deal with him, I stepped over him and slowly made my way to the kitchen to get something to eat so that I could take my medication.
"Y/N?" I heard Xavier's worried voice behind
I ignored him and continued to look for some food in my fridge. I ended up making the wrong move and let out a loud shriek of pain. groaning I held my stomach feeling the bandages get a little wet.
Xavier took a step forward to try and help but I held up a hand to stop him. "I don't need your help, you had your chance and made your choice. Please just leave me alone."
I saw his face drop in guilt, it hurt me to see him like that but not as much as the pain in my abdomen and heart.
"I'm sorry, please just let me take care of you." Xavier spoke in that soft tone, the one that I loved to hear the most when he would take care of me whenever I was injured.
"No. Leave, right now." I spat out through gritted teeth, the pain becoming a little more unbearable.
He resigned himself to listen and made his way to the front door, but before leaving he said, "I'll make it up to you, please just give me some time to make things right." With that he left me to ponder over his words in the silent apartment.
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Present
This past week has been nothing but exhausting pain and constant crying.
I took a look at myself in the mirror on my way to my steaming bath.
Oh god, I look horrendous!
The bags under my eyes were dark, my skin looked so dull and my eyes looked puffy and red.
Determined to give myself a well deserved self-care day I started on getting washed up before applying some skin care before relaxing in the bath.
After some time I got out and dried myself down, wearing the fresh pair of PJ's that I had set out earlier on my bed, but before I could get back into bed the doorbell went off.
Groaning, I sluggishly made my way to the front door. When I opened it I was greeted with a face full of my favourite flowers.
What the hell?
Just as I was about to say something I saw the familiar mop of grey-brown hair pop up from behind the flowers. Sad and guilty filled blue eyes staring back at me.
Irritated I moved to close the door when his hand reached out to hold it in place.
"Please wait!" Xavier exclaimed, I don't think I have it in me to face him. This past week I've been fighting myself about dating Xavier again.
He was my best friend before he was my boyfriend, I miss my best friend.
With a small sigh I moved away from the entrance, giving him some space to come in.
I'll hear him out. I know deep down I want to make it work, but I'm not gonna tell him that.
I close the door and made my way to the couch, my movement being a little less restricted than before but there's still that constant dull ache of pain.
Xavier set the flowers down on a nearby table and was on his knees in front of me taking a hold of my hands. He gently ran his thumbs over my knuckles before speaking up.
"I don't want to give you excuses, but I mean it when I say I don't know what came over me and why I ignored all those calls or why I have been pushing you away and spending more time with MC."
Upon closer look I could see the bags under his eyes and the tiredness that he tried to hide but failed to do so.
It looks like he hasn't been sleeping at all.
He dropped his head down and I noticed the slight shake in his shoulders,
"I don't know what I would have done if I lost you because of my foolishness."
It was then I felt the tear drops on my lap, my resolve breaking as my heart couldn't bear to see him so broken.
I cupped his face and turned his face to look at me, the tears running down his face and the guilt in his eyes even more apparent than before.
"You really hurt me Xav."
His eyes widened a bit at the use of the name I had for him, he tried to look away in shame but I kept my grip firm.
"I thought I was going to die. I trusted you with my life the day you became my partner, and you broke that all for another girl."
I could see how my words affected him, and a part of me is glad that they hurt him.
Even if it's only a fraction of the pain I had to endure, I want him to understand my pain.
"I'm not going to ask you to tell me about whatever is going on between you because I don't want to get hurt."
I could feel the sting of tears in my eyes, and soon enough the tears started to drop.
"Please Y/N, I promise there's nothing between MC and I." Xavier says in a hushed voice as he reaches out to wipe away my tears.
"In this life and every other life after, my heart only belongs to you." His declaration made my heart flutter.
"I know you don't want to hear about whatever is going on with MC, but I can promise you that it was merely a distant connection from a past life, nothing more than that."
If there was one thing that I could trust, it was that the eyes are truly the window to the soul and Xavier's eyes told no lies.
I sighed and leaned back onto the couch, letting go of Xavier's face. I closed my eyes to let my brain and emotions process.
I know I shouldn't but just this time, I'll give him another chance.
I opened my eyes and looked at Xavier, patting my lap to signal him to come and lay his head in my lap.
He quickly obliged and made himself comfortable with his arms wrapped carefully around my waist, holding me as if I was just an illusion that would disappear.
I ran my fingers through his hair, the action causing his body to relax and lean into the touch.
"It'll take some time for us to get back to where we used to be. I trust you when you say that there's nothing going on between you two, but my trust in you as my partner is broken."
I spoke softly, feeling myself relax for the first time since the incident.
Xavier got up from his position and knelt beside me on the couch, gingerly taking my face into his hands.
"I promise you, I will spend every moment working on rebuilding that trust and more. You are the only light I need in this life and every life after it."
He whispered before placing a soft kiss on my lips. He then pulled back and got off the couch, lifting me up in his arms.
Surprised, I let out a squeal wrapping my arms around his neck.
"Xavier! Be careful!"
He let out a small laugh and kissed my forehead.
"Let me take care of you, to make up for the week that you've been by yourself. You deserve nothing less than the best."
I smiled up at him, reaching up give him a small peck on the cheek.
"You better be ready to be at my beck and call." I joked,
"I'd do anything for you, even if you want this world to be in ruins."
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rhiannonsknife · 1 day ago
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oh i am OBSESSED with that detective!r and rhiannon fic... if you don't mind i have Thoughts about it
it's a little different from what you proposed but detective!r who doesn't know rhiannon but rhiannon knows you... she always comes back to the scene of the crime and lately she's been noticing this pesky little detective sticking your nose where you don't belong
so, she does some research. and by god, she's obsessed with you
she's stopped killing people for her own personal reasons - she's completely consumed with killing to see your reaction, the way you curse out the killer under your breath every time you see a new body
when she starts writing your name in blood at the scene, you know that you're in far too deep to go back
to make it even better, you've tried interrogating her. she was one of your most pleasant witnesses and she even offered to take you out to get coffee. the whole time you were there with her, she was so sweet and so kind, offering to pay for both of your orders. she couldn't have anything to do with it; she was just an innocent girl who was caught in the crosshairs of this gruesome serial killer. right? right?
need her so effing bad UGHHH -🪐
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— warnings: canon typical violence/dark content. obsessive!rhiannon & possessive!rhiannon. gn!reader. some suggestive content. didn’t beta read (as always).
— a/n: this ask had me thinking omfg.
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rhiannon who gets obsessed with you the moment she first sees you.
it all starts the moment she first sees you at the scene of her latest kill. she tends to linger, to watch from afar to see how the investigation is coming along. it’s not like people tend to pay attention to rhiannon’s presence anyway, so she’s comfortable to stay and see what’ll happen. you’re different from the other detectives, she instantly senses that. and, oh, how she hates it -at first. you’re clearly underestimated by your colleagues, despite the fact that you’re much better and smarter than all of them combined. you catch details others are unaware of until you point them out with an intensity rhiannon hadn’t expected. for the first time ever, she feels a thrill from something other than killing.
that night, she spends hours researching all that she can find out about you.
sprawled out on her couch, rhiannon spends hours combing through your social media, any public records, and every small mention of your life she can find online. by the end of it, she knows your favorite coffee shop, the route you take to work, and even the way you laugh, thanks to an obscure interview clip she found buried online. she imagines what it would be like to meet you in a “normal” setting. just two strangers talking over coffee. she imagines all sorts of scenarios, picturing countless ways of how she could get you to notice her. but that’s not enough. she needs more.
rhiannon who starts killing for you.
before she 'met' you, she'd been killing for her own satisfaction the most of all: murdering people who wronged her, people who continue to underestimate her, who pretend like she's not there at all 90% of the time. that is until she meets you. once she has gathered enough information about you and has learned that you are the one who's taking over the investigation of her murder case, she makes it her mission for you to see her. she's consumed by the idea of murdering for you.
obviously, you can't figure out that it's her. but she can still very much get your attention:
when you start to find your name scrawled in blood at multiple crime scenes, your stomach twists. you don’t know if it’s taunting or a bizarre kind of flirtation, but you can’t shake the feeling that this killer has an extremely personal fixation on you. rhiannon finds a sick satisfaction in knowing that she’s the only one who truly understands you. and that soon, you’ll understand her, too.
rhiannon, whose obsession only gets worse.
she starts following you around, whether it's by walking after you at a safe distance or by driving her dad's truck. only being in your presence thrills her. she can't think of anything that's not the next kill and what she can leave behind for you at the crime scene this time. after a while, you start to receive anonymous letters at your home. they’re handwritten, sweet, and yet filled with hints that leave a chill down your spine: each one contains personal details only someone very close (or very obsessed) would know. you start to dread going home alone each night, wondering if the killer is watching even then.
and, still, you're determined to catch this killer.
it's almost like you're just as obsessed with solving this case: you work relentlessly and stay in for much longer than anyone would ever know, sometimes running on no sleep at all just to try and connect the dots that are scattered all across your hometown in from of bloody crime scenes. once, while working late, you glance up from your desk to find somebody outside the station, watching through the window. it's just a silhouette that waves and, before you can react, turns and disappears into the shadows.
she makes watching you from afar a habit she can't seem to shake off:
hidden in plain sight, she watches you work a scene, observing your expressions as you piece together clues she’s laid just for you. the way you curse under your breath or tense at a particularly dark detail excites her; it’s like she’s guiding you through a personal maze, she’s drawing you closer with every carefully crafted move.
rhiannon, who even goes as far as to leave gifts for you right at your doorstep.
they’re seemingly innocent items: flowers, trinkets, chocolates...always with notes like “you looked tired today” or “thought you’d like this.” but you know better. there’s nothing innocent about these gestures; they’re reminders that she’s closer than you think. in one of her letters, she writes: “every kill is for you.” the revelation is twisted, sick even, but the obsessive way she describes her admiration for you leaves you feeling trapped in her gaze. you start to wonder if this chase will end only when she’s taken everything from you. or if you’ll end up her final victim.
at this rate, she catches feelings for you before she even knows what's happening to her:
she follows you on a night out, intrigued by how you relax away from work. when you laugh with friends, she feels a strange jealousy toward anyone who’s close to you. to rhiannon, this outing feels like an unofficial date, watching you from a corner as if she’s already a part of your life. later, she imagines herself sitting beside you, whispering her secrets in your ear, knowing she could charm you if given the chance.
rhiannon, whose obsession which was originally supposed to be a cat-and-mouse game that she was in control over, turns into a sense of possessiveness.
alone in her room, she whispers your name just to hear the sound of it aloud. she fantasizes about how you’d react if you knew she’d been studying you so closely if you knew that every kill from here on out was a twisted attempt to draw you closer. rhiannon, who somehow steals something from you, whether it is by sneaking into your home whilst you're out or by reaching into your purse in passing. either way, she uses it, later that same night, when she's home alone and dares to touch herself to the thought of you. she finds herself almost longing for you to figure it out, to see her completely. she’s begun to view each kill as a love letter, a message only you can fully understand, and in some dark corner of her mind, she starts to believe you might actually feel the same way.
but even that is not enough for her. she wants you to know her. to look at her, without the slightest clue who's really in front of you.
so, rhiannon plays the role of the clueless witness: after a particularly grisly scene, she shows up at the station, pretending to have seen something, and strikes up a surprisingly casual conversation with you. she even convinces you to take a break for coffee: she offers to buy, her voice light and friendly, as if she’s not the very person keeping you up at night.
rhiannon, who starts accidentally running into you.
she begins appearing in unexpected places: your favorite bookstore, the cafe near your precinct, and even outside the gym. she plays it off like coincidence, but you can’t shake the feeling she’s watching you. every “chance” encounter leaves you more on edge, especially as her excuses get flimsier, her curiosity too intense for a stranger. her gaze lingers just a bit too long, and she throws out casual details she should never know about you. but then again, there's no way this innocent woman could ever be responsible for all these gruesome crimes, right...?
you brush off these suspicions, not really believing that rhiannon could be capable of these murders.
and still, during another coffee date (which become a habit between the two of you) she drops a casual line, mentioning a detail about your personal life you never told her: maybe the nickname your family used or an obscure detail about your childhood. when you press her about it, she insists that she read it somewhere or “just remembered” from one of your conversations. but her gaze lingers, enjoying how much she’s unsettling you.
rhiannon, who starts acting possessive over you without really noticing it herself.
out in public, she lets her fingers brush against yours. she’ll throw an arm around you casually, especially when she notices other people noticing. to rhiannon, it’s a game of establishing her claim, marking her territory.
after some time, she finally invites you to her place, claiming she wants to “return the favor” of all your coffee dates.
when you arrive, the atmosphere is too perfect, too staged, with dim lighting and chillingly specific music playing softly. every word she says feels more like a veiled confession, every look a taunt as she watches you grapple with the tension between attraction and horror. it’s not until you see a framed newspaper clipping of one of her murders in the hall that you realize she wanted you here for more than a simple dinner...
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nadas-dirthalen · 21 hours ago
Text
I Chose the Wrong Romance in a Game About Regret, and It Made the Game Better
A love letter to BioWare about Dragon Age: the Veilguard.
I don't have the thoughts in me for a formal review of all the aspects of gameplay at this time, nor do I have the brainpower for dissecting my every theory just yet.
But tonight, I want to write to you about the thing that stuck with me the most about Dragon Age: the Veilguard. And that is... I chose the wrong romance for my Rook, and it made the game unforgettable.
Veilguard endgame spoilers below the cut.
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(I just liked this tiny screencap, okay. This specific dialogue isn't what I want to talk about.)
For a few days now, I've been trying to think of how to phrase what I want to say. The emotions I felt in the endgame of Veilguard were massive—to the tune I became dehydrated. To convey why that was, I think I have to start at the beginning.
This is the story of Winged Death: the party, the romance, and the headcanons that formed a nightmare combination to break me emotionally.
Meet my Rook: Thenera Sa'renan Aldwir, or Nera for short. A Veil Jumper who lost her mom to blight sickness when she was a teen; who tried to find the Wardens at Skyhold only to learn they'd been exiled; who joined the Veil Jumpers to protect people, but also honor her mother's memory. (Yes, all of this becomes relevant.)
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Her name is taken from elven: Thenera from theneras (dream), and Sa'renan from sa (one; one more) and renan (voice). I used the patronymic system outlined in Project Elvhen: Sa'renan was her mother's name. I chose all this in late August, long before I'd really theorized anything substantive about Veilguard.
I did not know how much it would hurt.
All through the game, I got more and more into Nera's head. This was helped out a lot by how much footage I'd seen in September, how I knew Nera would be the "throw a chair while beating up an entire bar" Rook rather than try any attempt at diplomacy. How I knew she'd punch the First Warden without second thought, despite not knowing what the First Warden had done before Weisshaupt. She was always the "hit things with rocks to fix them" Veil Jumper to me, just like Bellara's dialogue references.
It also meant that I felt a lot of her insecurity in the early game: her doubt in her own intellect; her insecurity in her Dalish identity from being kicked out of her clan as a child and living in Wycome as a young adult; her acute awareness of her own trauma and fear around all things blight. To mirror my Inquisitor, who had Dirthamen vallaslin, I gave Nera Falon'Din vallaslin, to signify that she had seen too much death at far too young an age.
I even picked a party for her "default" group: Lucanis and Davrin. Because of Nera's Falon'Din vallaslin, Lucanis' demon wings, and Assan's battlefield presence, I gave my group a name: Winged Death.
And I loved them.
But just like I'd headcanoned a lot of Nera's backstory, I also hypothesized a lot about the Lucanis romance. And, to put it briefly... the game did not match what I expected, and the Lucanis romance was not to my enjoyment, personally. (If you like it, good! I'm glad you do! This post is about Nera, though.)
Right away, Lucanis asked about Nera's favourite drink. When she said tea and he made a disgusted noise and nothing else, I reloaded, choosing the "better" answer of liking the same coffee as him—something that prompted more dialogue. For me, in hindsight, this was the first moment I should have seen that for all Lucanis' charm, he would not fit my gruff, chair-throwing Veil Jumper. But I'd committed, and I was determined to see it through just once.
I didn't want Veilguard to be the story of an elf romancing an elf—for me, that was my Inquisitor's story. I wanted a new flavour.
Only... Lucanis' romance, for Nera, did not pick up much from there. Almost the entirety of act 2 was silent—and that was after saving Treviso. Lucanis seemed to care more for Neve and Minrathous than he did for Rook, in my perception. By then, I'd sunk into Nera's headspace, and I could feel her feeling neglected. I could feel her insecurities rearing their ugly heads: was she too blunt? Not intelligent enough? Somehow too elven, even for a Crow, whose organization is made up of so many elves?
You know who she constantly found acceptance in, though? Whose approval triggered almost every time Nera answered a question honestly, in the stern way that she was predisposed to do?
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Davrin. The other half of Winged Death. The one who, now, was bickering with Lucanis almost nonstop in party banter, each constantly jabbing the other about how death would come for them, death would claim all they'd known, their choices would bury them.
Lucanis had precious few opportunities to discuss Nera being an elf; an elf Rook facing down their own gods. But Davrin? Davrin talked about it so much, he would know the horror of being called Da'len by Elgar'nan.
Together, they survived the Cauldron. And where did they shelter? In the ribcage of a slain archdemon. But not just any archdemon.
Zazikel. Who has been confirmed now, in a Veilguard codex, as Falon'Din's archdemon.
And where were the griffons allowed to go, at the end? Arlathan.
I could never have foreseen those parallels, and yet? There they were, piling up too late. I'd already made Nera's choices for her, and I'm not someone who would normally attempt a love triangle.
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(She's so pleased with their shenanigans. Just look at that totally carefree and happy face.)
Lucanis' content dried up for Nera, but stayed pretty consistent for Neve—to the point that she had begun to feel sincerely cast aside. I began playing her with that mindset: as if she'd been set adrift, even as she locked in Lucanis' romance.
Around 45 hours into my ~60 hour playthrough, I found myself thinking... maybe I try the Davrinmance next game. Maybe I reroll Nera, even as a Veil Jumper again, to see those griffons in Arlathan. To see two Dalish elves haunted by the same ghosts, and see how they grow. I talked to friends about it. I even headcanoned some more, trying to see how Nera's narrative and personality might slot in with Davrin's questline.
In my head, that looked a little like Nera realizing she felt stronger kinship and connection with Davrin, but denying that to herself. She was, after all, locked in with someone else.
I let myself laugh at this, taking more screenshots of Nera and Davrin than of Nera and Lucanis, right up until the beginning of act 3.
And that's how BioWare got me.
If you're here, you know what comes next. I didn't.
I thought I needed Harding to potentially face down Solas, thanks to her line about wanting to look him in the eye after one of Solas' memories. I thought, maybe, some dialogue would unlock by having Harding in the party during any potential final confrontation.
This was the second time I went against Nera's own character: I chose to keep Harding at Nera's side, rather than Davrin. I did it for my Inquisitor.
And at first, I thought Davrin was surviving my choice.
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I even felt happy—proud—that I freed him during the Ghilan'nain fight. I thought if I delayed too long, he might die to the fight's mechanics. But he survived that, too.
Then, the worst played out before my eyes: Lucanis going to take the shot at Ghilan'nain. Being caught. Davrin, racing in to defend. Being impaled. Lucanis hitting Ghilan'nain, only to appear suddenly dead—dead, somehow, how could he be dead, I'd just seen him?—seconds later.
Because of Arlathan, I'd thought this was just another Elgar'nan trick. Solas would come to save us soon. He had to. This was just fake-Solas, conjured by Elgar'nan to make Rook lash out or feel lost. Right?
It didn't hit me until I was in the Fade, and Solas was gone. Until Neve's statues were everywhere, because Nera had chosen Neve to risk that dangerous magic. Neve, who was her very antithesis; who was human enough and sophisticated enough and eloquent enough in ways my spellblade had struggled with reconciling since her teen years.
Saying it was my fault, that my Rook chose this for her—and she had. Her decision was motivated by her favour for Bellara.
I think this is when my Rook stopped denying things to herself. Right here.
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This was the person she was closest with in her own party. This was the person who shared her feelings on both her culture and the blight. This was the person who brought joy to her days, with more meaningful dialogues (in Nera's opinion!) than Lucanis had had since act 1.
It is hard to put into words how hard this moment hit me. She had chosen wrong—and I had chosen for her. I was reminded of Taash's line from after Memory #2: "There was stuff he wanted to tell her. But he waited too long. And then she was dead."
And then she was dead.
My Rook knew why Fade Jail held her so well, in that moment. Even before the Varric reveal that had my tear ducts begging for mercy.
The game's mechanics had done that to her. Locked her into a romance with Lucanis (my choice, hellbent on seeing it through), didn't let her leave, didn't allow for her to say anything akin to, 'Hey, Davrin, not in this worldstate... but how about the next one?' (and all of those, for the record, are 100% understandable, and just the nature of video games!)
Lucanis continued to have little in the way of content that fit Nera, and was First Talon, to boot. Nothing in the game could change that; games aren't designed that way. He was destined for a life she was never going to enjoy, locked in to that choice—and she, and I, should've figured it out sooner.
We didn't. Varric was dead. Everything had been a lie. We'd been duped; played. We were never smart enough; together, we were doomed all along.
Every insecurity I'd imagined for Nera came crashing down. And all of them, I'd gleaned from hints in Companions Week. From the footage that released on September 19, showing Rook's backstory choices. From the overall tone of the promotional material we saw, and the strong emphasis on companions, and the declaration of the theme of regret.
And it culminated in me crying harder than I have at any piece of media.
Ever.
Ever.
BioWare gave me every hint I needed to make a fitting Rook, and every single choice they showed me I could make was a weapon. That's why I not only accept, but appreciate the 'spoilers' that we got from Bioware beforehand. That's why I am so far from jaded about the Lucanismance. I could not denounce this experience if I tried, and you know why?
Because through Lucanis' continued flirtatious banter with Neve, the way he stays continually animated so close to her, and the way he gives the same mid-combat praise to Neve as to Rook, my Rook felt like a woman scorned. And it made the game BETTER.
I wouldn't have cried so hard, for so long, if Nera was allowed to be happy. I wouldn't have been shaken to my core as a Solavellan, wondering if there really could be a light at the end of this long, dark tunnel.
The game wouldn't have hit me like it did if Lucanis hadn't come to Rook to declare his feelings only after she had spent time mourning Davrin and Assan. It wouldn't have hurt so good if Lucanis' dialogue afterward never mentioned his worry for exclusively Neve, and not the loss of Davrin—who he'd travelled with all game long.
But Solas had done it: he had molded Nera into a creature of pure regret.
And I, through my determination to try a romance that turned out not to fit my Rook, had let him.
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The way it was structured, Lucanis' every sweet word rang hollow after Nera was freed from the Fade, and it made Davrin's, Varric's, and (what I thought was) Neve's deaths hurt that much worse.
There was nothing that could fix the pain in Nera's heart, the pain of her wrong choices not just in failing to romance Davrin, but failing to question Solas, failing to notice peculiarities about "Varric" in the Lighthouse. She felt like she failed, and she had. Undeniably. Because no matter where the conclusion of the game would take us, she'd never end up happy. She'd never want the life of a First Talon's spouse.
Every piece of her character lined up with regret, all at once. It all clicked into place, all in two soul-crushing hours.
Her name is Thenera Sa'renan Aldwir—and she was the victim of a dream of just one voice. She wears Falon'Din vallaslin, and was given a moment to spend time alone with the many, many dead.
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Falon'Din: friend of the dead. That was what Nera had become, wasn't it? Because her closest party member—and what might have been her truer love—would not be coming back. Because I could feel that a part of her did not want to leave Fade Jail, and that Emmrich really did have to pull her out.
Winged Death destroyed her.
She rained down fire and lightning all through parts 13 and 14. She became Wrath and Thunder. I let her hit enemies harder than she had to, wasting her mana at every opportunity. Let her vent her every frustration. All I could think of, through the hurt, was this codex.
Elgar'nan, Wrath and Thunder, Give us glory. Give us victory, over the Earth that shakes our cities. Strike the usurpers with your lightning. Burn the ground under your gaze. Bring Winged Death against those who throw down our work.
Nera became all that was left of Winged Death, having let Lucanis fight with the Crows, taking Taash and Harding instead.
Elgar'nan was resistant to all her magic in that final fight. She was weakest at the end, and I didn't want to change her specialization to avoid that fact. She was broken, deep down. Solas' happy ending did not fix what the game had done to Nera's heart.
She, the other half to my Inquisitor, ended up with the opposite fate. Where my Inquisitor's journey on the din'anshiral was ending (or at least, was no longer alone), Nera had thought she had the companionship she wanted, only to wind up on the din'anshiral alone, with no way of recovering Davrin.
Which brings me to her last parallel: Solas' devotion to Mythal. Saying that if he did not tear down the Veil, then "I—she would have died for nothing."
To love someone and say nothing; it twisted them both up inside. Rook and Solas, always intended to be mirrors. One death, enough for each of them to bring the Eldest of the Sun to his knees. To change the elven pantheon forever.
I don't know how I managed to stumble upon this level of pain, but I could not be gladder that I did.
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So, at the end of this extremely long post, here is my praise for BioWare. You mad geniuses, if any of you ever, ever see this... you wove regret into this game so well, so deeply, that my own passing thoughts about romance beats and game mechanics wound up stabbing me an additional time in Fade Jail, just as deep as the wound of Varric's death.
So well was this narrative constructed that I found my Rook in every corner of this story, even its tiniest references twining with every headcanon I had made.
Veilguard is so good, so profound, that a romance that did not work for me made the game better. That, to me, is the mark of a kickass narrative: one that fits almost any headcanon while still delivering on a deep, resonant theme.
BioWare couldn't have known that my party would be "Winged Death." Couldn't have known Nera, or her position as a Veil Jumper, or her doubt in her own intellect and her own ability to love. Yet, that is the beauty of Veilguard and of Dragon Age in general: they don't have to know. The writing is brilliant enough that it fits as much as one single story can in terms of possibility, while still hitting home with the same theme for everyone.
So thank you, BioWare. Thank you to every writer, to every animator, to every amazing, talented human whose hands and minds touched this game.
I needed the cry after a hard year, and you all delivered in the best way. I'm doing the Davrinmance now—because I think it's right to try it, and I think Nera deserves it—but this run will always hold the dearest place in my heart. The one where the regret bloomed, in part, because of jokes and headcanons I had made in the middle of a romance I did not enjoy, wishing for a different second playthrough.
The one where it all stabbed me, all at once. You bastards. (affectionate)
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scary-grace · 1 day ago
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Shigaraki x Reader WIP Poll
I started but didn't finish a bunch of fics for Halloween, and in an effort to distract myself from everything I'd like to get into them! Below are excerpts from four fics I got a decent start on. Once you've read them, vote in the poll at the bottom for which one you think I should finish first!
Necromancer Shigaraki
            Tomura stares at your body, torn. You’re just barely dead. He watched you take your last breaths only seconds ago, and he knows even without touching you that your skin’s still warm, your blood still liquid, your brain still alight with electrical impulses. You’re the perfect candidate for a resurrection, and Tomura needs a perfect candidate, or it’s not going to work. Spirits of the restless dead might be drawn to Tomura like moths to a bug zapper, but the real money in necromancy comes through resurrections, and Tomura’s never done one successfully.
            That was fine while Tomura’s master was still in charge, but when he was captured, his guild disbanded. Tomura and his friends had to find a new home, and their new guildmaster gives zero shits about potential and all the shits about results, which means that Tomura’s inability to manage a complete resurrection has gone from an awkward conversation to a significant problem. Tomura’s friends have made themselves useful to the Hassaikai guild already. If Tomura can’t, he’ll be out on his ear.
            He needs to resurrect somebody, and he needs to do it fast. You’d be the ideal subject if your last words hadn’t been a demand to do the exact opposite.
Demon Shigaraki
In all of Tomura’s depictions, he’s missing something – his index and middle finger off his left hand. Offering him yours should get his attention. You adjust your grip on the handle of the knife and speak. “I conjure you, Shigaraki Tomura, instrument of destruction and symbol of fear. Come to me.”
            The circle hums to life around you. The book said it would do that. The book also said to explain. “Someone took everything away from me. I want to pay him back, but I can’t.” Bitterness fills the back of your throat, stings your eyes. Your hatred for Keigo chokes off your voice for a moment. “Shigaraki Tomura, spirit of entropy, dominion of grief, vengeance is mine. Help me claim it.”
     You set your hand on top of the ninth symbol, spreading your thumb, fourth, and fifth fingers wide, leaving a clear strike at your index and middle fingers. Seeing them there, isolated on the red-chalked concrete floor, turns your stomach. How hard will you have to strike to amputate them? What if you can’t do it? This is insane. You need to move on. Move towns, move countries, dye your hair and change your name, go under and surface again somewhere far from Takami Keigo, where you’ll never hear his name again. Is vengeance against the guy who did you wrong really worth mutilating yourself? Do you really hate him that much?            
Yes. You do.
Crossroads Demon Shigaraki
Tomura doesn’t know how time passes for humans when they’re alive, but he knows how it passes for you because of how you wake up. Most of the souls at Tomura’s crossroads were dead before they knew what hit them, and they wake up slowly, peacefully. They seem to know they’re dead already. They get up fast and walk faster, dissolving into nothingness past the edge of the crossroads before they even realize that Tomura’s there. But you knew what hit you. You know something went wrong. Tomura knows, because when you wake up, you lurch upright, clawing at your chest and struggling to breathe.
You’re dead. You don’t need to breathe. You don’t need to shiver, either, but your spirit’s shaking all over as you press your hands against your chest, touch along your arms and legs, reach up to the back of your head and press down hard. Tomura remembers what your body looked like on the road, and you must remember, too, because with every injury you can’t find, your panic increases. Your hands keep returning to your chest, the back of your head, like you’re trying to hold your body together.
You don’t have a body anymore. There’s nothing there, and Tomura doesn’t like the way watching you makes him feel. “Hey,” he says, and you freeze in place. “Pull it together. You’re dead.”
Cyborg Shigaraki
You work your fingers beneath the net, pulling it up and away from his neck so you can cut it away without getting the knife anywhere near his skin. Once you’ve made the necessary cuts, you get to work unwrapping it, sliding your hand behind his head and lifting it as gently as you can manage as you tug the net free. He’s almost dead weight, but not quite. When you lower his head back to the sand, you take a moment to move his hair out of his face.
            You get a shock from there. His eyes are open, their irises blood-red, and there are scars over his eye and the corner of his mouth. As you watch, he blinks slowly, then focuses on you. The voice that passes through his cracked lips is raspy and quiet, so quiet that you have to lean in to hear. “Leave me.”
            “I can’t do that,” you say. You can’t call for an ambulance – there’s no cell service down here, and in the time it would take you to get back in range, it’ll be too late. “Nobody should be alone when they –”            
“Won’t die.” He coughs, and a spatter of blood exits his mouth. Blood wells up around the driftwood spar, too. “Once I take it out.”
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