#except for when he's not but that isn't the point

[heeluvv]

𝐃𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 ཐིཋྀ

pairing ⟡ ݁₊ . teacher heejake x bratty student genre ⟡ ݁₊ . smut warnings ⟡ ݁₊ . degradation kink, p in v, fingering, oral (m receiving) etc. natty's notes ⟡ ݁₊ . mdni, hate comments will be deleted.

you've been here before.

not in this exact classroom, not in these exact seats, but in detention? oh yeah. detention and you are well-acquainted, practically best friends at this point. it's almost pathetic how often you end up here, but really―can they blame you? they make it so easy to cause trouble.

except this time, things feel different.

maybe it's because instead of some bored, underpaid teacher barely paying attention to you, you've got mr. sim and mr. lee watching your every move like you're some ticking time bomb.

which, to be fair, you kind of are.

mr. sim jaeyun―the one everyone loves, the "cool" teacher who lets students call him by his first name. he's too soft, you think. it's too easy to get under his skin.

then there's mr. lee heeseung―the strict one. rarely smiles, grades harsher than necessary, has zero patience for bullshit. he should be fun to break.

you lean back in your chair, tapping your pencil against the desk, waiting for one of them to scold you. it doesn't take long.

"you're already testing my patience," heeseung says, not even looking up from the papers he's grading. his voice is smooth, but there's an edge to it, something sharp beneath the calm.

you smirk, shifting in your seat. "let's just get through this hour without any issues, yeah? detention isn't supposed to be fun."

"maybe not for you"

you hear heeseung exhale sharply through his nose. you wonder if you can push him just a little bit more.

but you start with jaeyun, because he's easier.

you stretch dramatically, arms lifting above your head, letting your shirt rise just enough to expose the bare skin of your stomach. not enough to be obvious, just enough to be annoying.

jaeyun's eyes flicker towards you before darting away, jaw tightening. bingo.

"sit properly," he mutters, scribbling something on his clipboard.

you sigh, shifting in your seat, letting your knee bump against the desk. "what, you don't like the view?"

jaeyun's eyes snap to yours. there's something unreadable in his expression, something dark that flickers just for a second before it's gone.

"you're pushing it."

you tilt your head, feigning innocence. "pushing what?"

heeseung finally looks up from his papers, and you're hit with the weight of both their gazes at once. it's intense.

"keep testing us," heeseung murmurs, tapping his pen against the desk.

"see what happens." a thrill runs through your body. you love a challenge.

heeseung is different. colder. sharper. harder to crack. but that just makes it more fun.

you start small―sighing dramatically, shifting in your seat, drumming your fingers against the desk until jaeyun scolds you for the fifth time.

but then, when you're sure heeseung is paying attention, you let your pen roll off the desk and onto the floor.

"oops."

heeseung doesn't move. he just stares at you, waiting.

you blink up at him. "aren't you going to pick it up?"

he scoffs. "you've got hands."

"but you're right there." you pout, tilting your head. "besides, you're the teacher. shouldn't you be helping your students?"

his eyes narrow. "shouldn't you be behaving?"

"depends. what happens if i don't?" you grin, the room completely silent.

the air shifts.

jake sets his clipboard down with a quiet thud. heeseung leans forward, elbows resting on his desk, eyes dark.

at first, they just watch―let you keep pushing, keep teasing, keep testing how far you can go.

but the moment you cross the line―the second you roll your eyes and mutter "you guys are no fun" under your breath―heeseung moves first.

"stand up."

your stomach flips. "why?"

"because i said so."

you glance at jaeyun, expecting him to interfere, but he just leans back in his chair, arms crossed, watching the scene unfold.

your pulse quickens.

slowly, you push back chair and stand.

heeseung follows, stepping around the desk until he's towering over you. you tilt your chin up defiantly, refusing to break eye contact.

"this is cute," he muses. "you think you're in control, don't you?"

you're breath catches.

his callused hand reaches up and his fingers wrap around your throat, a chill runs through your body. the pressure is just enough to make it difficult to breathe, but not enough to completely block off your air supply. you can feel the anger radiating from him as he speaks.

"i'm sick of you acting like a brat, walking around us with no consequences," he growls, grip tightening ever so slightly.

fear grips you like a vice as he towers over you, his rough hands gripping your wrists tightly. you can feel the bruises forming as he leans in closer, his voice a low growl that sends shivers down your spine. despite the fear, a part of you thrills at his dominance and the thought of him controlling you in such a way makes you ache with desire.

"what? can't talk now?" he hisses, his intense gaze locked onto you. as you fixate on heeseung, oblivious to your surroundings, you fail to notice jaeyun creeping up behind you. his rough fingers twirl your hair around as he leans in close, tracing a slow path down your spine and causing shivers to course through your body. "i think she needs to be reminded of her place, heeseung," he growls with dangerous smirk.

the moment hung heavy in the air, crackling with tension and electricity. heeseung's lips crashed onto yours with fervent urgency, his hands gripping your face tightly. jaeyun, standing behind you, placing his hands on your tits; squeezing them harshly as he pressed himself against you. your head was spinning, the heat of their bodies consuming you fully.

you could feel the power surging between them, volatile energy that threatened to consume you whole. you were caught in their embrace, a prisoner to their desires.

but in that moment, as their lips and hands roamed over your body, you felt alive. your sense were on fire, every nerve tingling with pleasure.

the sound of your voice wavered as you begged, "please..."

heeseung's lips trailed down towards your neck, nibbling your skin softly. jaeyun's hands were long and elegant as they tugged at your skirt's waistband, teasingly pulling it down.

"is this what you want, baby?" heeseung whispered in a low, husky voice. your body was already trembling with anticipation and need, your core pulsing for any kind of friction.

with a desperate nod, you gave him permission to continue. jaeyun wasted no time, his hand sliding under your skirt and past the barrier of your panties to touch your dripping arousal. in the meantime, heeseung continued to mark and worship your skin, using it as a canvas for his desires. you could already feel the heat buildling between your bodies, both physically and emotionally, as two men worked together to fulfill your deepest fantasies.

jaeyun's deep chuckle echoes in the small room as he feels the wetness between your legs, his fingers quickly becoming drenched in your juice.

"she's fucking drenched, lee.." he snickers, a mischievous glint in his eyes. you moan softly at the sensation of his skilled fingers playing with your swollen pussy lips, your legs already trembling from the sensitivity.

"you're such a dirty little slut...getting all worked up for your teachers," jaeyun teases, his fingers now gently flicking your engorged clit, sending shivers down your spine and causing your body to shake from pleasure.

"please...d―don't tease me.." you beg, desperate for him to continue and bring you to the brink of ecstasy. your breath comes in short gasps as you try to maintain composure, but it's futile under jaeyun's touch.

heeseung's fingers aggressively unbutton your shirt, his touch rough and almost painful as he plays with your nipple, twisting and pinching it mercilessly. "you're such a fucking slut," he sneers, his voice dripping with disdain. "did you want us to please you so badly that you had to act like a brat?" he takes your breast into his mouth, sucking on it with desperate need.

meanwhile, jaeyung takes advantage of the distraction to plunge two fingers inside of you, your clothes already discarded to give him easy access. "but now she's going to behave for us, right baby?" he taunts, his moans mixing with yours as he thrusts his fingers deeper. tears well up in your eyes from the overwhelming pleasure and pain.

"are you going to be a good girl and listen to us now?" he demands, his tone commanding and dominant. you could only nod in response, completely under their control and at their mercy.

with a groan, heeseung departs from your tits, his fingers fumbling with his pants, as he brings them down along with his boxers; he finally strokes his hard cock in his hand. his dark gaze meets your tear-filled eyes, a cruel smirk on his lips as he guides your head down towards his throbbing cock.

simultaneously, jaeyun moves away from you, removing his fingers from inside you and following heeseung's lead. his hand unbuttons his pants, revealing his own glistening length. he uses his thumb to spread the precum around his shaft, eyeing you with hunger in his gaze.

"you're going to take us so well, princess," jaeyun whispers hungrily as he aligns himself at your entrance. with a smooth thrust of his hips, he enters you, filling you completely. heeseung grabs a fistful of your hair, tugging it tightly as he taps his cock against your lips.

"suck," he commands with a low growl before thrusting into your mouth.

the intense pleasure that surged through your body was almost too much for you to bear. your whole being trembled with each powerful thrust from both of them, their movements perfectly synchronized. their moans blended together in a symphony of ecstasy, while heeseung's firm grip on your hair never faltered and jaeyun's hands grasped at your plump ass.

the warmth emanating from your body seemed to consume them, causing their teeth to sink into their lips in an attempt to stifle their own cries of pleasure.

in a sudden surge, jaeyun slapped your ass hard and increased his pace, his voice husky with desire as he groaned, "you're such a g―good fucking slut....aren't you, baby?" his eyes squeezed shut as his moans grew more vocal, lost in the intense pleasure of the moment.

your moans were muffled against heeseung's cock, the vibration sending shivers down his spine as he whimpered in pleasure. "f―fuck princess...you're taking my cock so good," he groaned, his eyes locked on you with intense desire.

his thrusts became more aggressive, his cock eagerly seeking it's release as he bottomed out inside of you. jaeyun was also close, both of them teetering on the edge of esctasy. "where did that bratty attitude go now, hmm?" heeseung taunted, a smirk playing on his lips as he saw tears welling up in your eyes. your hands gripped his muscular thighs tightly, the sensation of him deep inside you driving you wild.

your pussy clenched around jaeyun's cock, causing him to moan in pleasure as he continued to pound into you without mercy. "shit baby...i'm going to cum..." jaeyun gasped out between thrusts, his breath hot against your body. the intensity of their movements increased even further, both men desperate for release and pushing each other and closer to the edge.

heeseung's grip tightens, his pace relentless, his low groans vibrating against your skin. their pace grow desperate, both of them lost in the pleasure, lost in you―but you're right there too, the coil in your stomach winding tighter and tighter, so close you can taste it.

"oh fuck―!" jaeyun cries out. his breath stutters, a deep, wrecked groan spilling from his lips as he buried himself so deep in you, shaking his through his orgasm as his hot cum fills you up. his grip on your hips tightens, his warmth spreading, his body slumping slightly against yours as he comes down from his high.

"fuck princess―!" heeseung grunts loudly. his moans spilling into your ear, sharp and ragged, as his hips stutter. his hands tighten around your hair, his body pressing flush against your face as he rides out his release.

you're teetering on the edge, feeling so close but they completely stop.

"w―wait.." you whine desperately.

heeseung leans down, his lips brushing against your ear, his voice mockingly sweet.

"did you really think we'd let you cum that easily?"

natty's notes ⟡ ݁₊ . this might definitely be one of my longest one i fear, but i hoped you guys liked it !!!

[shanastoryteller]

Congrats on finishing See Something Say Something!! I checked the notification of the first AO3 email sent out and you initially planned on five chapters.

Would you say that the ending changed considerably since you started in October? Or has that stayed the same?

thank you!

it stayed the same lol. while my fics getting wildly out of control and becoming way longer than i anticipated is pretty common, i'm pretty much never changing overarching plot when this happens. the story that i become interested in telling is typically the story then i end up telling

almost every story can be made shorter or longer. it's less about what happens and more about how that information is conveyed. things that really tend to affect writing length are perspective and breathing room

the shortest fic i have on ao3 that's not part of a series is You Were (Not) Meant For Me (posted 11 years ago, jesus T_T). the premise is that claudia was a witch who intended trained stiles to be a witch and she arranged his marriage to laura hale, the future hale alpha. this is a traditional pairing as talia's husband was also a witch married to talia in service of the pact. except claudia died before she could train stiles or tell him about the engagement. stiles starts learning magic after scott is turned. derek falls for stiles and feels like he's betraying his sister by loving him, betraying stiles by not being the alpha he deserves and not telling him about the arrangement claudia made, and hates himself the entire time, but not enough to stop himself

that's a 100k fic easy

it's 1,696 words

it's extremely limited perspective (derek's) and it's made up only of limited snapshots of moments with very little context. there's no seeing what's happening, only told, which i think would quickly grow boring if it was longer and if the real point of the story wasn't derek's self hatred and how he fails to deal with it. that's the part of the story that isn't told, really - derek does think explicitly that he hates himself, but we're also seeing it in the way he talks and thinks about himself and the people around him

by contrast we have survival is a talent, which is obviously my longest fic. we're over 500k and we've got quite a bit to go

perspective doesn't just refer to character pov, but audience pov - are you being told a story, or are you experiencing the story? this is also tied into breathing room. there's no wrong way, i've done both and will do both, but one certainly requires more words than the other in my experience

siat is told only through draco and harry's perspective, but it's all happening in real time. the audience is being taken along for this story. the thing is that that things in real life don't all come tumbling one after another, not all questions have immediate answers. when depicting character growth and a plot unfurling, i think it's really important to include breathing room to give the audience time to feel that growth and change. i'm stricter about this with siat than anything else i've written, probably sometimes to its detriment. i want you and the characters to have time to feel the effects of emotional revelations and plot hints. i want you to have the time to question and wonder about things the same way the characters do

one time a friend criticized the good place for including the portion where they were alive again on earth because it wasn't as interesting as being in hell, but i disagree. we needed that breathing room both to live with the effects of character growth of going through hell and to have time for the effects of their actions on the plot to settle before they moved forward again. i stopped watching agents of shield because we weren't given enough breathing room - there was never a chance to see the characters not in crisis, the world was always ending, ect. the alchemyst book series has the first like 3 books taking place over a day and a half. i got tired of it after that. there's no breathing room

a story where i gave up on the concept of breathing room was build your wings on the way down. i liked that fic, but i wanted it finished, and to do it with i think optimal pacing would have made it twice as long as it was. so i said screw it, avalanche time, everything is happening all at once right now. there's very little breathing room there, which i think doesn't work too terribly in part because everything is so urgent and everyone is stressed so not being able to catch you breath sort of fits

See Something Say Something did not need to be 215k, although i'm not at all complaining. i feel very happy with how i told this story. but the basic premise - sam getting his powers early, getting involved in the large hunter world secretly from his family, and dean feeling misplaced and worried about how much sam needs/wants him - could have been told a hundred different ways and all would have pulled it off, so to speak

i considered doing the the entire fic from dean's pov (as a sam girl i love his pov because all he thinks about is sam and he's so insane about it) which would have effectively cut out basically the first five chapters. i thought exploring the slow realization of what's going on purely from dean's pov, with the audience having not insight would have been really interesting, just like what I did in dumb luck or good ghost with dean slowly figuring out that sam didn't die in the crash. another thing is the inclusion of all the side characters which i did to make the world feel rich and real, but we didn't need all these outsider povs to get the basic point across. very rarely is something vital being conveyed by an outsider pov, but it reinforced and adds to the main characters. i also initially didn't have wincest, which obviously added a ton of words. i loved exploring dean's self hatred and fear and sam's obliviousness, but bringing them to a place of ignorance to acceptance to happiness is a lot longer of a journey than just dealing with dean's propriety love as an unhinged co-dependent older brother. again, i'm sticking by all these choices, i made them because i thought it was the best way to the tell the story i was most interesting in telling, but my point is that you didn't need them to tell this particular story

it was also how i told the story. we spend a lot of time wallowing in character's emotions, especially dean's and sam's, but the others as well. part of this fic is convincing you that these two brothers should fuck, actually, and doing that effectively is going to take some time, especially at this point in their lives when things are pretty normal. comparatively, fucking your brother after starting the apocalypse is pretty small potatoes. i wanted you to understand these people, to feel what they were feeling, to not feel that it was inconceivable that jess would be willing to share her boyfriend with his brother, to buy all their relationships with each other in a way that isn't purely based on convenience

part of the reason i wrote dumb luck or good ghost before see something say something was that i felt i needed a firmer grasp on who the characters are before getting into who they were and who they could be - especially john, who i feel is exceptionally difficult to write without over excusing his actions or over villainizing them. the reason john doesn't get a single pov in see something say something is that while he's a motivating and underlying factor in much of the story, the story isn't about him. it's about the effect he has on those around him, and i didn't want to sully the pureness of that effect by introducing his internal dialogue, regardless of how persecutionary or absolving it would be. it's just not about him. it's how he responds to others and how they respond to him in turn

anyway! this is another example of something ending up longer than expected, but yeah. the plot of see something say something didn't change much from posting of the first chapter and my stories rarely do - i have plot points in siat that have been there since i posted the first chapter that are still relevant and happening. "harry and draco just. cut dumbledore's fucking hand off" my beloved

[r0-boat]

Satan NSFW Alphabet

Well shit You guys really wanted it...

Here you go.

Cw: rough sex, hitting, spanking, mentions of bruises and bleeding.

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Am I surprising you, but Satan is actually pretty good with aftercare? Satan will press his lips and look at any injuries he gave you. He'll hold you close and snuggle into your neck. You hear a soft rumble from his body, which he adamantly denies. He becomes incredibly protective and clingy for a while. Any King or not tries to rip you away from his arms we'll have a one-way trip to Lucifer's office. If you try to leave to go to the bathroom or get some water, he will always have his arms around you to the point where he's following you around like a clingy cat.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

As much as he hates to admit it, He agrees with Mammon's obsession with your ass. Tight, pert, and soft; enough flesh to sink his teeth into and leave red with his handprints. He likes the way he jiggles when he slaps it.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Yes. In you, on you, breeding you, in your mouth as long as He gets to empty his balls with his favorite stress toy.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Every demon has at least one dirty secret. Satan is no exception. As much as he likes to take pride in being your protector. He can't ignore his sadistic desires. To really mark your skin red and purple. To see The fear and pain in your eyes as you try to squirm away from him.

How badly he wants to make you bleed and lick up your blood.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

The way his hands clench when he thinks about slapping you across the face when you're sucking him off.

Satan had had lovers before and after he met Solomon. But once he had you, he kind of ghosted all of them. They're pissed, but honestly,, he could care less. You're all that matters to him.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Doggy style, cowgirl, face sitting, Anything that frees his hands to do more.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

No, Satan likes to lose himself during sex; if you break his concentration, he will get mad at you. If you have enough energy to school off with him while he's fucking you then he's not doing his job.

Satan shaves once every month or two and then lets everything grow out.

Personally, I feel like Satan should have more hair than he actually does (happy trail, facial hair, etc.), mainly because depressed people go through episodes where they just don't care about how groomed they are for days on end. He's not like Asmodeus, who purposely doesn't was; sometimes, he just can't bring himself to. If he isn't working, he's destroying his own stuff or killing angels for fun.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

He only started to care about grooming when you started living in Gehenna. Depressed Satan starting to grow a beard and mustache because you spent two weeks too long in Hades. Only to shave it all off and be happy as a puppy when He hears you're coming back.

Satan has no idea what intimacy even is. He practically froze up when you cuddled up against his body. Even if you tell him what to do what you probably have to He will be extremely hesitant out of fear of screwing up somehow.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

He doesn't jack off; I know it's surprising, but hear me out. He rather just have a body to fuck; He breaks all of his sex toys in minutes when he's using them and his hand just makes him even more pent up and pissed off.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Other than spanking, Satan has a massive sadism/masochism. Kink, You better hurt him like he hurts you. He doesn't want to have it any other way.

A huge brat tamer, if you try to tease him, he'll take that as an invitation, and trust me, you don't want to know what he's about to do to you.

Fucking loves Free Use

One time when you told him how big his cock was, he instantly came; he came so fast and so hard it bruised his ego, and he was staring at the ceiling thinking about what just happened.

New Kink unlocked🔓 Praise Kink

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Anywhere he damn pleases; He's the fucking king. In fact, he'd rather it be in public so he can give a message to other devils to fuck off.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Anger, His anger feels him up so full that it goes straight to his dick.

Teasing, he'll take it as a challenge. Satan always takes the bait, hook, line, and sinker. He can't help himself. You send one obscure image of yourself; he doesn't care where he is, in the middle of a war or in a meeting. He will be there in 10 minutes, approaching your location rapidly.

Satan 🤝 Levi jealous sex

Unlike Levi, Who stews in jealousy before acting; Satan just immediately explodes.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Get that softy fluffy sex shit out of here.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Sit on his face... Don't put 10% of your weight down; sit on it. SIT ON IT! MAKE SURE HE DOESN'T BREATHE!

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Fast and rough till you can still feel him for days.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Anywhere; everywhere; anytime, if he sees that ass and he's horny it's free real estate.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Oh yeah, of course, he'll experiment. It's not that he takes risks; it's that he doesn't care for them.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

As long as he damn pleases. Even if he is sore,, he'll keep going.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

No fuck those pieces of plastic bullshits; if he catches you using one, he'll use it till it breaks and then say. "I'm not replacing shit. You should be using me; I'm your dildo!!"

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Satan doesn't tease, and Satan does not like teasing. Teasing him is considered a challenge. Satan rather just fuck you till you stop pissing him off. If you really want to tease him you have to tie him down and pray the bindings don't break.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He growls like a feral animal; if Asmodeus fucks you like an animal in heat, then Satan fucks you like an animal with rabies; Yes, he does bite.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

As possessive as Satan is he actually doesn't mind sharing you with only a few people.

The kings if he's in a good mood;

Sitri; but he can't touch you; he must sit and watch.

Amy; Sitri must also be there for free entertainment; Satan will happily stir the pot and let Amy touch or fuck you just to watch the Sitri seething in jealousy and anger.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Satan is a shower, not a grower; As pale as mayonnaise, when his cock is hard, his tip flares so red. It's kind of fun to watch.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

His yearning for sex grows with the wrath inside him. You guys can do the math.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Very rarely he will ever feel exhausted enough to fall asleep but usually you guys are doing it all the way till morning.

[kaija-rayne-author]

Do whatever you want, believe whatever you want. And using Veilguard as any sort of source for anything remotely related to canon Lore is just ridiculous. It's so... awful, IMHO, to use it to defend any sort of point.

I'm not certain if this would be considered critical, so I'll put it under a cut. Potentially critical of Veilguard.

Though I'm really just talking about the Lore.

I point out 4 massive retcons in Veilguard that blew my mind and that I see people commonly using as arguing points. And yes, if someone wants to pay me for the time, I can prove all of it with sources.

What little canon Lore they actually used in Veilguard? They twisted beyond recognition.

Just a few examples.

1. The blight is NOT, in fact, (or even in Veilguard) 'everywhere in the Fade'. It has always been contained to the Black City, that floats disconnected from everything else in the Fade. It's why the previously golden city is black ffs! Even in Veilguard, it's really damned obvious that the Fade isn't full of blight. We hop in and out of the Fade throughout the whole damned game like it's a shopping mall.

2. The Fade is not full of demons. Demons are spirits (people) of emotion. What usually twists them into demons is coming through the veil! The only reason there was the big demon in DAI is because it was attached to Coryphyfish. There's probably some, but it's an arguable point that an emotion spirit of, say, anger, or spite is actually a demon. Emotions aren't bad. They wouldn't automatically be demons simply because they reflect a negative emotion.

3. The veil has been canonically choking the life and magic out of Thedas for thousands of years. If the veil didn't come down, there would be no Thedas. This is clearly spelled out in canon. The veil was never meant to be part of the world. At the end of Trespasser, the veil is as holey as my grandmother's doilies. It's not as they tried to depict it in Veilguard, a firm, whole wall holding hordes of demons and the blight of blights back. That's such a bullshit retcon, and I make weird faces every time I try to figure out the mental gymnastics necessary for someone to come up with that idea.

4. It's also a massive retcon that Solas lies. (Sigh. Yes. It really is. No matter what you believe.) He canonically does not. They rewrote his character for DAI so that he doesn't lie because it weakened the character. He was originally written as much more similar to Blackwall. They decided it weakened Solas as a character and made sure he doesn't lie. He obfuscates, misleads, doesn't answer, and is really good at letting people make assumptions or even leading people to make assumptions. Because that is what a Trickster does! But in all of DAI and Trespasser, he does not lie except once. At the Winter Palace when you ask him where he got the experience of court. No. A 'lie of omission' is not a lie by the definition or philosophical understanding of what a lie is. You, as the player, not paying close attention to what he says doesn’t mean he lies either! He is not the 'god of lies'. That's Epler's hate shining through. Throughout 3 games, many dlcs, books, comics, short stories, the Dread Wolf is known as the Trickster. The god of rebellion and sometimes the god of betrayal. He is never once referred to as the god of lies in anything pre-veilguard. It's. Bullshit.

And Solas is an absolutely terrible liar. He stumbles all over himself trying to do it in the winter palace. It's hilarious tbh.

There were more retcons. But I need to go help with dinner.

Just, even if you liked Veilguard, don't use it as a defense in any sort of discussion of Lore. Perhaps listen to us Lore fiends, instead? Because they shat all over the Lore for Veilguard.

Real talk? It makes you look ignorant to anyone who actually has been paying attention to the Lore.

FWIW? I'm not in the best of moods right now. Please think twice, then a third time before responding/reblogging in disagreement. (Unless you're polite and actually have sources I haven't seen. I'm usually willing to have polite discussions or answer questions. I'm also willing to stand corrected if people actually can prove me wrong with sources attached. A 'nuhn unh, Solas lies cause I believe he does', won't get you far with me.) Nor will using anything from DAV to support an argument. I've relegated DAV to the graveyard of not-canon because of the complete disrespect of the Lore.

And I'll just laugh at you if you try to attack me. Internet randos filling my responses with shit doesn't phase me, bother me in the slightest, or make me upset. I find it incredibly, laugh out loud amusing because I've lived through so much more than that in my life.

[singingrottenbones]

Kind of going insane about the different choices of bite masks for Will and Hannibal.

Transparent for Will vs. white for Hannibal.

At this point of the show, Will is in prison, but he is also needed at a crime scene because of his special autism powers.

His transparent mask is an interesting choice for that. People think that they have discovered his true nature. That he's a killer, a cannibal. That all along, he has been lying to everyone about who he truly is.

However, a transparent mask allows people to still see him and his facial expressions. Yes, he is being held back, but at the same time, he isn't hidden. It's all out there for anyone who has eyes and doesn't jump to a conclusion because it's the most convenient and easy option.

Those who choose to look, to really see him, can still do so, even when he's muzzled. In fact, Jack Crawford's first order of business at the crime scene is to take Will's mask off.

For Will, his mask doesn't take away from his essence, his character.

Now Hannibal gets a white mask.

Let's ignore the obvious associations of "clean", "sterile", "medical", and "Doctor". Instead, let's focus more on what the mask literally does.

Hannibal is at BSHCI on an insanity plea. At this point, people know who, or rather what he is. A killer. A murderer. A man who quite literally eats people. The metaphorical mask is off.

But at the same time, that is also what he is being reduced to. Hannibal the Cannibal.

This is where the mask comes into play. It hides his face. You can't see his facial expression. It's a shield, but it's a shield in both ways. It protects the world from Hannibal, but it also protects Hannibal from the world.

Even if you wanted to look, you can't. Everyone is locked out.

Everyone except for one person.

The one person in front of whom Hannibal chooses to take off his mask.

Will Graham.

[setmeatopthepyre]

fuck it friday

tagged by @trombonechurchill and @ambernotember <3 have some antarct-fic! I shared an earlier version of the first part of this scene before (for the wip titles game), but here's an improved and extended version.

-

“He dated Abby,” Tommy admits with a groan.

Lucy stares at him. “Who?”

Tommy frowns. “Abby.”

“Yeah, Tommy, contrary to popular belief, you’re not exactly an open book," she deadpans. "Abby who?”

“Abby Clark,” he says. “My fiancée.”

“Your what? What the fuck?”

“Ex-fiancée,” he clarifies, not really able to hold back his glare in response to her surprise.

“I reiterate: what the fuck.” She folds her arms. “Explain.”

He shifts uncomfortably in his seat. “I was engaged. To Abby.”

“Yeah, you big lug, I got that part. Context. Explain.”

Tommy lets out a long exhale, turning his glass back and forth on the table, noting vaguely how the stem of the glass looks way too dainty in his big, coarse hands. He lets go, suddenly afraid of accidentally snapping the thing in two, and settles his hands in his lap.

“We were engaged for two years before I broke it off.”

He's expecting a quip, or an eye roll, but that's not what he gets and maybe that's not fair, either. He knows Lucy better than that. Knows she doesn't lie about what she thinks and that she's serious when she has to be. And she's serious, now. Her eyebrows drawn towards each other in a frown, head tilted slightly, dark eyes studying him over her own drink, waiting for him to continue.

So he does.

“When I say broke it off, I mean I told her I was gay and then I dumped her. Not necessarily in that order.” His throat feels rough, suddenly, so he downs the rest of his drink – avoiding the far-too-dainty stem – and sets the glass back down with a clink. “Then Abby, apparently, rebounded with...” he waves his hand.

“Buck?” Lucy hazards a guess.

Tommy nods. “He's the himbo,” he huffs, and Lucy mutters something that sounds suspiciously like and he's not the only one, but she doesn't repeat herself when he narrows his eyes at her and he... appreciates that. Lucy looks out for him.

“You look out for me,” he tells her.

“You're drunk.”

Lucy says it as if it's a counter argument. Normally he'd take some time to point out to her that it isn't, except that he can't forget they were talking about Evan, and wallowing over Evan takes precedence. Especially when Tommy's... Fine. Yes. Tommy's a little drunk.

“Hmm-hm.” He hums, twirls the stirrer around in his glass. Stupid, dainty glass. “He said their relationship was transformative.”

Lucy's eyebrows tick upwards. “Okay?”

“And then he said our relationship was transformative.”

Lucy's face does something complicated. It's subtle, because Lucy isn't usually particularly expressive, but Tommy knows Lucy and he knows she's trying really, really hard to school her features into something supportive and appropriately concerned. It's nice, that she cares enough to do that. Lucy is so nice to him. He should be nicer to her.

“So,” Lucy says, her voice doing something he thinks might be trying for polite curiosity. “How, uh. How does that make you feel?”

He snorts. “Jesus, Donato, you're bad at this.”

-

no pressure tags for @sugarpenchant @geddyqueer @beanarie @agentpeggycartering @screamlet @rcmclachlan @peppermintquartz

[isagispuzzle]

you fall in love with yukimiya like the first snow: slowly, softly, silently.

you don't remember exactly when you started to like him. it must have been the way he would say good morning to you with a smile everyday without fail, or the way he would patiently wait for you to pack up after school to walk to the subway station together, or the little things he would give you after receiving them from his modelling gigs; at some point, yukimiya had melted the walls surrounding your heart and burrowed deep within it.

you rehearse for weeks and wait till the last day before the winter vacation to confess to him. since he doesn't have soccer training, you can ask him to take the long route home, and at the quiet bridge that no one ever passes by, you can tell him how you feel. what's more, if he turns you down, you can spend the two weeks away from him to recover from the embarrassment. it's a perfect plan.

except, yukimiya doesn't wait for you after school that day. he isn't even in the classroom when you're done packing, so you ask around and find out that another girl had asked him to go somewhere else with her. she must be confessing to him, you hear your classmates giggle.

you spot yukimiya and the girl in the courtyard on your way out of school. yukimiya says something, and the girl forces her lips into a tight smile. then, before you could look away, yukimiya glances at you. his eyes lock on you as if he knew you were there, and he smiles. he bows slightly to the girl and jogs towards you with light footsteps.

he falls into step with you, as he always does, and apologises for making you wait. you study his smile, carefree and innocent as if he hadn't just broken a girl's heart, and you second guess your plan. perhaps two weeks wouldn't be enough to get over the rejection.

your plan further falls apart when yukimiya asks to take the shortcut to the subway station, because he's meeting some friends for soccer and dinner. yukimiya tells you all about the most recent gig he had as you walk, but barely anything registers in your jumbled brain.

the first snowflake falls when you pass by the convenience store, so you and yukimiya stop to savour the moment. everyone around you slows down to admire the first snow of the year. just as unpredictably as the arrival of the first snow, your feelings spill from your lips.

everything falls so silent that you almost think you can hear the snow absorb the sounds of the world. you're vaguely aware of the glance a passerby gives you when he overhears your confession, but what you're focusing on is yukimiya. his eyes are wide, but not shocked. you recognise his expression and think, oh, he's been waiting for this.

like a plum blossom, a smile blooms across yukimiya's face. he takes your hand, freezing from both the weather and your nerves, and puts it into his pocket. his touch kindles the fireplace in your chest, and his gentle words envelop you like a warm blanket.

[your-unfriendlyghost]

No Class

 Aka making Stevepop fight

this fic comes from the h/c I have that Steve’s not really close to anyone at school except Soda and Evie, so when Soda drops out, Steve gets frustrated. I’ll cross post this to Ao3 later I think.

All the Stevepop here is platonic technically but they’ve definitely got…something goin on idk- any way you slice it they’re each other’s person ok? (This is also pre-meeting Evie, that’s why she’s not mentioned lol.)

(edit- wait no i did mention her apparently?? Idk I guess it isn’t pre-Evie??)

There’s also a little inspo here from this post by @dallasgallant - they posted it ages ago but yk I think abt it still lol. I dunno that I really did the concept justice here, as I don’t go….deep into it or anything, but it’s definitely present

-

“You can’t drop outta high school, man,” Steve says weakly. “You…you can’t.”

  Soda sighs, tilting his DX cap down over his face. “Stevie…” he murmurs, voice soft and pleading. “What the hell am I supposed to do?”

  Steve shakes his head. He can’t wrap his mind around this. Soda can’t- he can’t just leave!

  “God, I dunno, take some of my shifts? Or make Ponyboy get a job?!” Steve says, running a hand down his face. “He’s thirteen, don’t shelter him like that-”

  “Jesus,” Soda mutters, as if there’s something obviously wrong with that that Steve isn't getting.

  “What?!” Steve snaps.

  Soda gives him a dull-eyed stare. “C’mon, he ain’t sheltered.”

  Steve scoffs. “Yeah, right- I’ve seen him cryin’ like a girl, and y’all just let him be a wimp. He's sheltered as hell. But Soda that ain’t the point-”

  Soda’s jaw clenches. “Aw, watch it, man.”

  “No! No, you can’t just leave, I won’t- you can’t- Oh, c’mon, we just have a year left- I mean, believe it or not, Ponyboy can pick up some slack ‘round here too-”

  Now Soda’s eyes flash, and he audibly snorts. “Shut it, you ain’t really one to accuse anyone of bein’ sheltered, Randle.”

  Steve freezes. “The hell does that mean?!”

  Soda shakes his head. “Nup- I shouldn’ta said that. Never mind,” he sighs. 

  “No! No, you tell me what ya mean!” Steve says, painfully aware of how shrill he sounds.

  “Naw. I shouldn’ta opened my damn mouth’. Just…just forget it, Stevie,” Soda insists.

  “Tell me what you mean, man, you said it, you gotta explain it!” Steve argues.

  “No! I don’t wanna talk about this right now, man!”

  “Spell it out for me, why don’t ya?!” Steve says, getting up in Soda’s face now. “‘Cos as far as I know, gettin’ kicked outta my own house all the time sure ain’t sheltered!”

  Soda shoves him back a bit, gently. “Jesus, I never said you was sheltered, I just said that Pony ain’t!”

  “No, no, I heard ya, don’t you go lyin’ to me now, Curtis,” Steve hisses.

  “Fine, ya really wanna know?!” Soda growls. “All I’m sayin’ is that you’re the only grease I know who’s got a three-story house, whose papa still makes good money, and who always has a wallet fulla cash! Yeah your ol’ man ain’t so great, but ya always have new clothes an’ shit-”

  “AIN’T SO GREAT?!” Steve yells, voice booming. “I SLEEP AT YOU AND DAL’S PLACES HALF THE TIME!”

  Soda flinches. “I know! That’s why I took it back! All I’m sayin’ is that you got opportunities that me or Pony’d kill for, and I dunno if ya even know it- but I know you ain’t sheltered, shit, man, I know it, okay?”

  Steve can barely hear him over the angry hot buzzing in his head. Opportunities?! Yeah right, what opportunities?! And the third floor ain't even a third floor, it’s just a damn attic room that Steve moved into for space! Ponyboy’s never been struck by his papa- and sure, Steve hasn’t either, least not after the age of five, but he’s been shoved hard which ain’t so different! Mr. Curtis never looked at Pony with a look burning in his eyes like he hated him. Mr. Curtis never looked at Pony with horror, realizing he’d hurt his son- Mr. Curtis never said GET OUT, because he couldn’t resist hurting him and needed him gone- 

  “Soda-” Steve says, voice high and loud, louder than he means it to be, “fuck-” 

  Soda looks at him, eyes wide, and Steve realizes he’s grabbed the front of Soda’s shirt.

  He huffs and lets go, stepping back and shoving his hands into his pockets.

  “I’m goin’ to Dally’s,” he grunts, slinging on his leather jacket. “Don’t wait up.”

  Soda, now tired again, says “Didn’t plan on it.”

  “...Good,” says Steve as he shoves the door open, because he can’t think of anything tougher to say. 

  “Steve?” Soda says, flatly.

  For a second, Steve thinks he’s gonna apologize, because Soda always caves first. He glances over his shoulder at him. “What?”

  “Don’t talk about my brother like that,” Soda says, voice low.

  “Yeah? Well maybe you shouldn’t be so sensitive,” Steve bites back. He slams the door.

  Boy, he wishes Soda had just apologized.

-

  On the drive to Dally’s, Steve feels sick. His stomach twists as he replays the conversation in his head.

  Who is he to call Soda sensitive? Steve’s as sensitive as they come. Well, not sensitive, he’s no Ponyboy. Reactive, maybe. 

  But then again- what was Soda on about?! Dropping outta school?! Just to coddle the damn kid?! Steve swallows feverishly at the thought of school without Soda. 

  What about him?! Doesn’t Soda care? It ain’t hard to work at thirteen, Steve started at sixteen but he knows plenty of guys who started younger- Why should Soda bear the burden of leaving school? Why does Ponyboy get to stay?! Sure he’s leavin’ junior high a year early, but he can do school and work at the same time, can’t he?!

  Why’s Soda always gotta sacrifice himself for a spoiled little kid?

  Steve turns a corner too fast and gets honked at. Dammit. He rolls his eyes.

  Doesn’t Soda care about the fact that Steve’s gotta stay in school, and he can’t do that without Soda?!

  And yeah, the Curtises are low on funds, and yeah, Steve isn’t, but he ain’t a Soc either! He doesn’t- he doesn’t buy new clothes all the time- well, sure he has three leather jackets, but he got those for cheap at the charity store! 

  Plus, it was with money I earned from sleepin’ in the lot- Pony’s never had to sleep in the lot, Steve thinks madly. Neither has Soda- he just don’t get it…

  Steve’s not even sure who he’s fixin to complain to about it now. After all, if Soda don’t get it, no one else will.

  But Dal works. Two-Bit too, probably.

-

  Sometimes at night Soda paces. Back and forth, back and forth, in awkward dizzying figure eights. He flicks on the stove and walks to the icebox, turns around and walks back to the threshold where the kitchen meets the living room, and walks to the icebox again. It’s been a day since his argument with Steve.

  Two-Bit’s watching some show on the TV, maybe the Twilight Zone, although Soda’s not rightly sure. Two glances at Soda’s pacing, but doesn’t question it- maybe he would have, normally, but he’s half asleep as is, and besides, he’s probably seen this display plenty before anyhow.

  “Did you just turn the stove in with nothing on it?” Two-Bit asks instead, blinking.

  “Huh? Oh,” Soda says. He puts the kettle on the fire. “Oops.”

  “You gon’ remember to turn it off, ya airhead?” Two-Bit grins.

  Soda grins back, a little sheepishly. If the comment had been from anyone else, it woulda stung. But Two-Bit gets it. He knows the score. After all, he’s a month away from eighteen, yet he’s in the same grade as Soda.

  “You gon’ remind me?” Soda replies, cocking his eyebrow.

  Two snorts. “Naw- leave that to me, an’ you’ll end up with your whole damn house burned down.”

  “Aw, well, that’s just as likely if it’s left to me- I mean, I’m the dumb one, ain’t I?” Soda laughs, but he must’ve done a pretty lousy job at hiding the hollowness in it, ‘cos Two-Bit’s eyes soften.

  “No you ain’t,” Two-Bit sighs, tilting his head back.

  “Sure I am,” Soda spits. “Y’know, sometimes I gotta ask Ponyboy for help on my goddamn homework- you know that, right?” he says, whirling around and walking back to the sink, and then the icebox.

  Two-Bit’s shoulders slump. “Stevie was sayin’ to me and Dally the other night that you was fixin’ to dropout.”

  Soda stiffens. “He did?!”

  “Sorta thought he was just bein’ dramatic at the time, you know how he is…but I reckon he wasn’t after all, huh?” Two says pointedly. Two knows he’s right- when it comes to real knowledge, Two-Bit’s only wrong when it’s funny. He just wants to hear Soda admit it.

  Soda clamps his jaw shut. “That ain’t fair. Ain’t none of his goddamn business. Ain’t yours, neither.”

  “Okay, sure, I reckon that’s a fair assessment,” Two-Bit says easily. “You ain’t gotta tell me nothin’. …You will though, won’tcha.” He says it like a statement, and cocks his eyebrow.

  Soda scowls and opens the cupboard, getting out a box of cereal. “I ain’t got nothin’ to say,” he says, shoving a handful of cocoa pebbles into his mouth to prove he really doesn’t.

  “Right, you don’t,” Two-Bit says sarcastically.

  “I just don’t get what Sth-teve is so hung up ‘bout!” Soda lisps through the mouthful of cereal.

  Two-Bit smirks, like ah there it is.

  “Sthut up,” Soda groans.

  “Hey hey, my lips are locked, bub,” Two-Bit says innocently.

  “I mean Chrisht-” Soda pauses and swallows the last of the cereal- “he knows I ain't bright, what’s goin’ to school even doin’ for me?! It’s just a waste of time that I oughta spend makin’ money, makin’ myself useful! It ain’t like it’s some damn tragedy, I ain’t Darry!”

  “Hey, no one is,” Two-Bit says, patting Soda’s shoulder.

  “You know what I mean- I mean, I ain’t…I ain’t got no…what’s the word? For when ya could be somethin’...polenta?”

  “Potential, I reckon,” Two-Bit says. “I only know that ‘cause of how often Ma says I’m wastin’ it,” he adds hastily.

  “Yeah, well, I ain’t got none to waste,” Soda sighs. “I ain’t a sport, I ain’t a brain, and the only classes I’m passin’ are gym and shop. What the hell is the point? Steve oughta know that!”

  “Steve oughta know a lotta things he don’t know,” Two-Bit says, wiggling his eyebrows. “Y’know?”

  Soda blinks. “...Maybe I’m slow, but…ya lost me.”

  Two shrugs. “Well, Stevie-boy ain’t got the same problems as you and me, that’s all.”

  “Right, ‘cos he has more money.”

  “Well, kinda, but I mean he ain’t got no one he’s…lookin’ out for the way we do. He’s just got himself and his folks.”   “Just his dad, really. His mama ain’t been home from the hospital since we were like…fourteen,” Soda corrects on instinct.

  “See?”

  “So? He still can use his heart a bit, can’t he?” Soda protests. 

  “Sure. But when have we ever known him to?”

  Soda wants to protest, ‘cos that isn’t true, not exactly. When Mom and Dad died, it was Steve who held him, who didn’t need him to keep it together. It was Steve who signed up with him for double shifts on the weekends, because Soda needed the money but hated working alone. Steve watches out for Evie, too- when she needs a place to stay, to get away from her stepfather and her mom, she hides out at his place. 

  But Steve’s always disliked Ponyboy. Maybe Two’s right. Maybe Steve just can’t get it.

  But it isn’t like Steve hates the kid, either, right? He just cares more for Soda’s company than he cares about Pony’s grades.

  Soda chews his lip. It isn’t like he’s not sad to be missing out on time with Steve, either. Sitting in class, tossing notes at Steve, sneaking off campus with Steve, wrestling Steve in PE… They’re like the highlight of his school experience. 

  But he’s sixteen now. And unless he plans on getting back into riding rodeos any time soon, his future’s just gas stations, and maybe the army if he gets bored of gas stations. There’s just no point in putting it off if it’s coming either way.

  So yeah, he’ll miss Steve, but Steve’ll just have to deal…right?

  “He just keeps sayin’ it isn’t fair, ‘cos I reckon he’ll miss me,” Soda mutters.

  “Well it ain’t like you’re abandonin’ him,” Two-Bit shrugs. “He’s bein’ dramatic.”

  “He is dramatic,” Soda sighs. Steve’s always been dramatic. 

  But Soda…kinda gets it.

  Steve’s a pretty lonely guy. He’s got Soda, sometimes Two-Bit, sometimes Dally. And he’s got his old man, and his ma, but only when she’s conscious enough to talk.

  Soda puts the cereal box away. “Hey Two, tell Darry I’m at Steve’s place, yeah?”

  Two-Bit smiles faintly. “What’re ya gonna say?”

  “I’ll figure that out when I get there.”

-

  “Hey Steve, come on a walk with me?” Soda says. He’s breathless and red-faced, like he ran here, and is cupping his hands ‘round his mouth to yell up from the backyard.

  He’s gotta do that, ‘cos my room’s on the third floor, Steve notes miserably. He really is the only greaser he knows who lives in a house with three stories. 

  He wants to fly out the window and throw his arms around Soda. Sure, Soda’s wrong, but still…

  He resists that urge though, and instead, he leans out the window and says “I’ll meet ya downstairs.”

  “Tuff.”

  Outside, Soda gives him a little smile. “The uh…weather’s nice, huh?”

  “It’s May,” Steve says. He cringes. He didn’t mean to sound smart-mouthed.

  “Yeah,” Soda says, scrunching his nose. “I guess.”

  “I ain’t…I ain’t a Soc, Soda,” Steve mutters. Sure his old man has a good job and a college degree. They still live on the East Side. Steve’s still never gonna get outta Tulsa.

  Soda nods. “I know that, Stevie. I shouldn’t have said that to ya. I’m not sorry for it though.”

  Steve scowls. “Then what’re ya here for?”

  “To take a walk with my best buddy,” Soda answers, tossing an arm around Steve’s shoulders. “C’mon.”

  He leads them down the street, out towards the empty lot. 

  “I don’t like school, Steve,” Soda says, running his hand along a chain link fence. “You know that.”

  “No one does,” Steve mumbles. “That’s why they gotta force ya.”

  “Pony does,” Soda says, nudging Steve’s shoulder. “Pony digs school pretty okay.”

  “…I guess.”

  “And y’know, he’s pretty damn good at it, too. Gets all As n’ all.”

  “Except in math,” Steve corrects. Ponyboy definitely got a B- in math last semester.

  “Except in math,” Soda says, smiling. “But the point is, he’s got somethin’ special. He’s got a brain. And he’s gonna get outta this town someday.”

  “Yeah, he’s a real Einstein, huh,” Steve grunts, a stab of irritation in his gut. All hail Ponyboy, child genius, better than downtown hoods like Steve and Soda. “We get it.”

  “C’mon, I gotta be able to support that, y’know?” Soda says, ruffling Steve’s hair. 

  Steve swallows. Fine. Sure. He gets it. He does.

  “But that don’t mean I don’t wanna be ‘round you, you dig?” Soda says.

  Steve’s breath hitches. “Oh- Soda, ‘course I know that,” he says, although he’s not rightly sure he did a second ago.

  “Okay. Fine,” Soda says, amusedly. “But you get it, right? I mean, you’re the only thing I’m gonna miss about that damn school building, savvy?”

  Steve smiles. “Yeah?”

  “Yeah. Just ‘cos we ain’t gonna have class together don’t mean we’re gonna not…stick together, okay?”

  “It’ll be different,” Steve says, maybe just to be stubborn.

  “Yeah, but not really. You’ll have Two and Dal and Johnny.”

  “Not really. They got other buddies. And it ain’t the same.”

  “Of course it ain’t. Ain’t no one in the world who I like the way I like ya, Stevie. You’re special, and I reckon I’m special to you in the same way, huh?”

  Steve nods, looking at the cracks in the cement under his shoes. 

  “You’re my best friend, Sodapop,” he murmurs. He’s also Steve’s only real friend.

  “You remember how when Dal showed up, how you got all angry?” Soda says, squeezing Steve’s shoulder.

  Steve shrugs, even though he remembers it perfectly. 

  “Yeah, you acted like I was replacin’ ya or something,” Soda grins.

  “You both liked horses. I felt all left out and whatever. Sue me, I was eleven,” Steve says, flushing a bit. 

  “Well I stuck by ya anyhow, even though you’re scared of horses and we all know it.”

  “I’m cautious ‘round horses, not scared,” Steve protests, smiling a little.

  “Sure ya are,” Soda humors him. “The point I’m gettin’ at though is that it was different after Dal met us. Things were different. But I was still me, and you were still you, y’know?”

  Steve nods. “Yeah. I guess,” he says, leaning his head into Soda’s shoulder.

  “So you ain’t mad that I’m droppin’ out then, yeah?” Soda says softly.

  Steve sighs. He is. It’s illogical and unfair, but he’s a little mad still. He lets that throb and die though, in the back of his mind. 

  “I just…I’m gonna miss ya,” Steve says.

  “I’m gonna miss ya too. But we’ve always got work, and the weekends, and hell Stevie, it’s nearly summer, so you ain’t gonna have to worry ‘til September. And then after that, you’ll graduate and we can be free to hang whenever we want for the rest of time.”

  “I wanna hang with ya for the rest of time,” Steve says, so quietly he almost can’t hear himself.

  “Good,” Soda grins. “Me too.”

[mylittleredgirl]

look. look. there was a livejournal comment ficlet i wrote once for stargate atlantis. i couldn't find it when i first made a fic index on livejournal in 2011. looked again when i started archiving on ao3. searched again every time i remembered that i still have a livejournal. i'm telling you this thing stuck in my memory banks for no reason except that i could SEE IT i KNEW it was in my journal and not someone else's and i could. not. find it. it's like 500 words of angst and i remembered it being even shorter, like it was not worth all of this!!! but it was symbolic white whale of all the long-lost livejournal comment ficlets.

and today i decided to organize my browser bookmarks for the first time in living memory and it was in there the entire time.

(ao3 link below, but in the spirit of ephemeral livejournal comment ficlets it's also below the readmore)

--

Brother

(579 words, gen, angst, elizabeth weir lives)

Ford hesitates before saying, "I found something you might want."

--

They don't bring Aiden Ford home. He brings himself back after almost six years. When he looks Sheppard in the eye, John thinks the man might throw a punch. And he is a man, not a kid anymore. His face is scarred. He's been clean two years. He knew the location of Atlantis almost all that time – It's not as well-hidden as you think – but it took this long to choose to come home. He lets Beckett – the new Beckett – examine him. He tells Woolsey and Sheppard where he was, what he did, helping a few different worlds, militia to militia.

Sheppard can't feel a thing – relief, guilt, confusion, nothing. He hasn't felt much in a while, going through the years by going through the motions. Even with that, he's aware that this is extreme. Normally, he can at least feel anger. This man was his second-in-command, his enthusiastic right hand, his responsibility. He didn't come home, not even when he could. Not even, he learns, when Ford saw them on a planet, Sheppard and McKay joking around, Teyla and Ronon walking the perimeter. Teyla presses her forehead to Ford's. He lets her. It doesn't soften the glare on his face. "Why now?" John finally asks. Ford hesitates before saying, "I found something you might want." He found Elizabeth. At first, Ford only lets Beckett see her, and only on the planet where he's holed up in a Wraith-damaged village where they treat him like one of their own. Teyla pieces together the story. Ford found out about her, bribed and threatened his way across the galaxy for information. Rescued her, with these natives and their antiquated weapons. Brought her here. "He must not have known that she's dangerous," McKay assumes aloud. The enemy is inside her and can't be taken out. John shakes his head. Ford was at the SGC when the human-form replicators first appeared on the scene – different than the Asurans, but the same. Ford knew, and he did it anyway. Ford won't let them in the hut without handing over their weapons. "We're not going to hurt her," John snaps, insulted at the implication, but if that were a guarantee, it would be easy to disarm. She's dangerous. Beckett says she's unconscious – malnourished, close to organ failure, mental effects unknown, but the replicators inside her aren't actively replicating. Ford fed her the same Wraith toxin that nearly killed him, and her drug-bolstered immune system and the replicators fought each other to a stalemate. She'll suffer withdrawal, according to Beckett, just like Ford did. That sounds like the least of her problems. "She's my responsibility now," Ford insists. McKay obviously winces. John doesn't. "You need our help to cure her," John points out. "Beckett's help." Beckett, who still isn't the same. Ford, whose motivations are foreign, and who wants them unarmed on his terms. Elizabeth, who might still die. "But if you want to see her, no weapons." Without waiting for John's okay, Teyla hands over her gun and says, soothing, "You can trust us. And I trust you." John grudgingly hands over his weapons, one by one. He goes to follow Teyla into the hut when Ford's hand clamps around his arm. "I left," he says, low and dangerous and full of old betrayal. "I get that. No matter what happened to me. But this was Doctor Weir. And you left her." Right then, inconveniently, two steps from seeing her, John starts to feel again.

[thegoldenavenger]

musings about nyy's relationship to sqq and why i think one of the most interesting lenses to look at it is thru one where sqq did not explicitly abuse her the way he is accused of

so nyy who loves sqq because he's a source of stability and safety for her. nyy is the only female disciple (donghua only) (in any case the most important girl on the peak by a long shot) on a peak who's lord is capricious, aloof and rumoured lascivous who encourages his disciples to emulate him. being sqq's favored disciple carries with it safety and some privilege, perhaps financially but definitely socially on qing jing

sqq dotes on nyy by his standards. sy successfully argues that it is in character for sqq to help lbh (who he hates) on the basis that it will make nyy happy. this implies that there are instances where sqq gives nyy favors even when it makes lbh's life better (incidentally, mirroring qjl giving sj favors when qht wants it even though that ends up making sj's life worse later). the mission wasn't in pidw, we only know that og!sqq didn't put lbh in his carriage (or else it would've been important enough to include in the pidw text) but it is likely that nyy spoke up the same way in PIDW and sqq just handled it differently (perhaps letting lbh on nyy's horse and letting nyy ride in the carriage). (also, obviously, sqq picks up another disciple bc nyy asked for one once recreating the cycle of giving basically a dress up doll to a sheltered girl)

regardless, this shows that sqq does favor nyy in tangible ways and she isn't projecting the relationship. however, sqq does Not reciprocate or provide for nyy in typically paternal fashion. for example, the system says that it is in character for sqq to stay inside instead of accompany nyy to the market enough so it makes him tell her to ask literally anyone else (including lbh who he doesnt trust or see as competant) to walk around town while a murderer of young girls is on the loose.

i love interpeting this as some kind of terrible codependancy where sqq is using nyy to mirror and fix or overcome his past traumas by projecting qht upon her and replacing qjl as himself. now he holds all the power. and nyy imprinted on him, feeling the closest to him compared to her shixiong, as well as herself being likely isolated by sqq's favor, which leaves him as her closest relationship prior to lbh.

the thing with children is that, even for adults it's very hard to reconcile a person being nice to you, and then being mean to someone else. so for nyy whose whole safety system is sqq, and whose closest relationship was with sqq before lbh, it's no wonder she has a terrible time believing that lbh's treatment is cruel and unusual. besides the genre conventions of the premise and corporeal punishment perhaps (not confirmed) being accepted, nyy's own experiences help blind her to the reality of lbh's circumstances. because sqq treats her fairly, and she sees lbh failing at cultivating, being late to class (bc of extra chores or whatever), and she doesn't always see first hand him being punished or bullied, she automatically assumes the treatment lbh recieves at sqq's hands is deserved. this is compounded by lbh literally telling her to her face that sqq and his shixiongs are doing him a kindness aklsjfslka when she DOES try to help him

(obviously not his fault, her help often gets him into more trouble that she isnt there to see but it does help keep her believing the narrative that it's lbh's fault for making sqq mad or disappointed to the point of punishment.)

so we have nyy who things sqq isnt doing anything bad to lbh except that sometimes it makes her sad when lbh is hurt. we have lbh who turns to nyy for comfort even though that comfort often returns to him worse later. and sqq who is purpetuating cycles.

i also think, it would be very interesting if, to add to the weird ambiguous nature of sqq's and nyy's relationship, would be if sqq used her to help regulate his own emotions. i believe in the novel mf informs nyy when lbh gets punished by sqq (i am not sure if that's something im making up, sorry i dont have access to the novels rn) but regardless, i like to think it's because sqq is repeating behaviors he learned in the past, specifically, finding a calm in a girl nearby after letting himself go off on lbh for whatever reason. i like this reading for several reasons. the first: it adds another layer onto nyy and sqq's relationship that continues to make it suspicious and odd to outside viewers. the second: it reinforces nyy's believe in sqq's perspective of the narrative because she'd see sqq's aftermath before lbhs (due to cultivation and lbh's nature, giving him time to recover before nyy sees him). and third: it creates an unstable surface for nyy to stand upon.

sqq is her safety net but she is not unaware that he has lines that can be crossed that result in punishment. being a girl and sqq's favorite shields her from having to excel in swordsmanship and cultivation, but it can't shield her from everything and her closest friend being lbh who she knows is working hard but still gets punished all the time has to instil some sort of uncertainty upon her that if she steps wrong sqq may turn on her. she IS unaware that she could never cross sqq's line though, what with being a girl and sqq not believing that women have agency or are, like. people.

(RE sqq's benign misogyny: i believe that just doesn't. see women as fully realised complex human beings. i think his past as a slave really imprinted him the helplessness that girls are subjected to and even (to his perspective) foster. like? the girls he grew up with were taken advantage of, and then qht was so naive that she couldnt comprehend that sj's life might actually be a little bit bad when she wasn't looking. i think women, to him, are creatures to be pitied that cant actually harm him. he doesnt, as far as i remember, ever blame qht for her participation in his trauma. nor blame nyy for her participation in his trial whether her accusations were true or not. if he blames anyone it is the men he sees as manipulating them when he cannot be that man himself. so, there's that)

and then. the lingxi caves and the demon invasion arc. sqq murders liu qingge and fails to murder lbh. (allegedly)

i think it is heavily implied in the novel if not outright stated that the invasion arc was the turning point in lbh's views on sqq. previous to this he was holding onto the belief that he was doing something wrong and if he was just good enough sqq would praise him. that his shixiongs were mean but he'd become stronger for it. but after winning an impossible duel and his peers on the sect praising him, but sqq still hating him finally proves to him that sqq hates him and nothing can change that. that all this time sqq had just been cruel to him for no reason. (also, meng mo's influence upon him cementing that truth to him)

and on top of this we and liu mingyan, who sees lbh win and sqq's disdain of him and then finds out her only remaining family has been murdered in a cave by someone who should have been able to be trusted. AND. then watch as that murderer is pardoned by everyone.

so i think this is the point lmy starts hanging out with lbh and nyy. lmy and lbh bonding over sqq being a pos and lqg's murder and how unjust cang qiong is. i think it is possibly lmy that helps lbh see that it's not just sqq that's rotten, that the entire sect is aiding and abetting him. when sy wakes up in sqq's body and asks where lbh is yqy already knows sqq had him strung up in the shed. why? bc yqy was the one to find them and didnt do any thing about lbh? or someone reported that sqq qi deviated while punishing lbh and made the conscious decision not to tell anyone to let lbh down? whatever way it's obvious yqy has deferred to his shidi's decisions on his peak and seeings as yqy also did not pursue sqq for lqg's murder lmy would have reason to dislike him just as much as lbh, and perhaps help lbh see the dissonance between sect leader and his favoritism

so nyy's best friend lbh is now friends with a cooler, older girl who keeps talking shit about sqq. and i think, nyy could respond one of two ways. 1) distance herself from lbh and lmy and cling to sqq even harder. or 2) start becoming a little rebellious. lmy, raised on a peak of women for women who already is suspicious of and hates sqq, whose own brother talked about sqq's presence at brothels, would obviously be concerned about nyy's closeness with sqq. i think, either out of genuine worry and comeraderie or calculation, she could start pressing on nyy's relationship with sqq, with lbh helping

the thing is, i think both lbh and lmy could have genuine worry for nyy but i also think theyre both absolutely capable of manipulating nyy as well. just depends on the story youd like to tell. they both can be true at once, even.

anyways, nyy is jealous and in a precarious position, wants to keep her place as lbh's best friend and maybe be cool in her shimei's eyes as well, so i think it is very very plausible that she lets them talk her into also being a bit worried about her relationship with sqq. she's already living with the uncertainty of knowing sqq can be cruel, and now her two closest peers being suspicious of him all coalescing into unstable footing for nyy

THEN we have the immortal alliance conference and lbh's presumed death.

five years where nyy has to wonder if sqq killed her best friend and lmy is there to tell her, well. he killed my brother and hated lbh who would have stopped him? c:

five years of nyy wrestling with her grief as sqq spits on lbh's memory and lmy is there to comfort and grieve with her and protect her from sqq.

and then lbh comes back and nyy and lmy are there to be his inside sources at cqms (besides sqh who is. you know, another thing this isnt about him)

lbh comes back and can tell nyy to her face that sqq tried to murder him, that means of course he murdered liu qingge and this just. has to recontextualise everything for nyy. (at this point, lbh has also canonically dragged nyy into his dreams so, there is a fun additional element where lbh could have influence nyy's perception and memories through that)

by the time qiu haitang is added, and lmy and lbh can build an entire trial around her story, nyy is in the perfect place to join that testimony. she cannot refuse that lbh was mistreated, that lmy's quest for revenge is unfounded, she no longer can hide behind her doubts. :3 and qht, she's an older nyy isn't she? she was the innocent young lady who's entire world was turned upside down by sqq. she knows what nyy is feeling, her grief, the inability to believe sqq is capable of something like this! but he is! and she's there to help her.

so nyy, filled with guilt and not able to 100% trust her own memories, and still filled with a childish sense of justice… that's how she decides to testify against a man who has shaped her childhood regardless of whether he was, personally, intentionally, abusive of her. (though i do think even at his most charitable he was neglectful of her needs)

and i'm so ENCHANTED by the idea that she does this to help her friends lbh and lmy, and this stranger who she comes to know qht, get justice and then is shocked and horrified and betrayed when this leads to the razing of cqms, that this leads to sqq's prolongued and disproportionate torture. and i am ENCHANTED by the concept that she still loves lbh and cant blame him bc he's earnest and open and she remembers him as this sweet boy who came to her to hide from bullies and she still cannot rectify that a person can be two things at once, or, that she cant overcompensate for the difference bc look at what happened to sqq when she did that so she still loves him and closes her eyes to all his faults. he's kind to her.

this may be. my own bias but i like to think she blames lmy because everything was fine before she started hanging out with lbh and talking about how sqq killed her brother! maybe, if she hadn't convinced lbh that sqq hated him, lbh would have been a better disciple and sqq would never have tried to kill him and they could all be a happy family on qing jing peak. :)

and that's how nyy and lmy nasty hatefuck

uh addendum is how sqq gives lbh his view on women. that they're pitiable creatures who can't ever truly hurt him. by recreating the cycle that traumatised him, sqq also perpetuated his own view about the passivity of women, teaching lbh that. the way sqq never blamed qht for her complicity in his trauma, is the way lbh never blames a woman for hurting him and abusing him, instead folding them into his harem. lbh doesn't conceptualise women as real people, merely objects that have been acted upon by men and he should be the man who helps them. but that's a different essay i think?

[just-a-creep-babe]

What Makes You Tick - Chapter 5

(Ticci Toby x Reader)

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What Makes You Tick Masterlist

Divider by @plum98

You can't breathe.

You wonder if he can tell you're faking it. If he's just playing along because this whole thing might as well be some kind of fucked-up game to him.

Breathe in, breathe out, you tell yourself. Slow and steady, in through your nose, out through your mouth.

You wonder if, at any moment, he finally plans on killing you. And it's not the first time you've had the thought, but it certainly doesn't make it any easier to digest. It certainly doesn't make the threat feel any less real.

A nervous kind of energy builds in your system. The anticipation mounts with every passing second of him not moving, not speaking, not doing anything except watching. You dread thinking that he might've done this every night, and that you're only now realizing it because you just so happened to be awake.

Breathe in, breathe out.

You think back to the million and one things you could've done to avoid this moment. You could've slept in the bathroom. You could've screamed for help. You could've jumped out the window and risked a few broken bones. Hell—you'd risk so much more than just a few broken bones to get away from these men.

The bed dips next to you as your thoughts frantically rush by. Your first instinct is to throw yourself at him to push him off and get him away from you, but you quickly stifle the urge.

Maybe he won't do anything, you think. Maybe he's about to leave, and you shouldn't risk it.

Just breathe, you tell yourself. Breathe.

And after what feels like an agonizing eternity, you hear him shift, you feel it on the bed next to you, and then you feel something else.

His hand.

Soft and warm, it's like his touch sparks some strange kind of electricity through your skin. You try not to stir, try not to flinch away from him.

He brushes a strand of hair from your face. To distract yourself from what's happening, you focus on trying to figure out which man this is. He isn't jerking or twitching, as far as you can tell, so you assume it's not the one in the goggles.

The tips of his fingers ghost over your cheeks, trailing your jawline, tickling your skin.

You try very, very hard not to panic. Even when it feels like he's leaning closer into you, you try not to let the stress get to you.

The one with the white mask seemed way too impatient, way too angry to have this kind of gentleness to him. Leaving your last option, you realize, to be the one with the black mask.

But right as you mentally place your bet that it's black-masked man, you feel his thumb caress your lips.

Your body moves before you can stop yourself.

All at once, you open your eyes and shove him away from you.

But right as your hands connect with his body, he grabs both of your wrists and pins them down either side of your head.

It's, unfortunately, a familiar position, a familiar set of motions you've had the displeasure of experiencing before. And when your eyes adjust to the darkness, you understand why.

He's not wearing his goggles, but the mouthguard covering the lower portion of his face is as familiar as ever, even in the inky darkness of the room.

You’re about to keep fighting him off—about to start kicking and screaming and yelling at him for being such a creep—when your gazes suddenly lock.

His eyes are... breathtaking.

It’s the most you’ve ever seen his face without the opaque lenses of his goggles. And even though you can’t fully make out the details through the darkness between you, you can tell this guy’s a pretty boy.

His dark eyes are framed by long and equally dark lashes. Messy, somewhat curly locks of hair fall over the boyish angles of his face, and you hadn't noticed it up to this point, but his hair looks thick and soft enough to make a good amount of girls seethe with jealousy. He seems to be around your age, and the realization has a strange mix of emotions fluttering in your stomach.

There’s no way he’s a murderer, you think. No way someone with that kind of innocence in their eyes could do such a horrible thing.

There's no fucking way.

"There's a notebook," he says suddenly, his voice just above a whisper. And there's this strained kind of urgency in his words that has you snapping to attention. “The symbols in it—the symbols keep him at bay.”

“W-what? What’re you talking about?!”

“He’s—he’s watching—“

He cracks his neck, and then it looks like he’s about to say something else, but he abruptly cuts himself off and freezes.

And, at the same time—you feel it. Someone is watching.

You snap your eyes shut. In a split second, your body takes over, and you’re back to pretending to be asleep. You force your breathing to slow, force your muscles to relax, force everything to soften in a cruel mockery of the panic buzzing through your system.

You feel the brunet lift off of you, releasing your hands, and a tense beat of silence follows.

You can control your breathing, but you can’t control the thrumming of your heart. You wonder if it’s noticeable, even through the sheets covering your body.

The thought’s a welcomed distraction from the paranoia and confusion regarding just what the fuck is going on.

There’s silence for what feels like way too long, until you almost start to wonder if he was just fucking with you from the start, and you’d only imagined feeling someone watching.

But then you hear the ever quiet, ever-faint thudding of what sounds like boots on the floor.

“Hard time sleeping?” a voice, deeper, huskier than that of the brunet, hums over the footsteps.

Your whole body stiffens.

It has to be the black-masked man this time, you think. It couldn’t be the other one—you would’ve recognized the voice. And you dread the thought of another man—a fourth one—being involved in this whole situation, so you don’t even want to consider that option.

Your kidnapper doesn’t answer. And, for a second, your skin prickles with the possibility that he was addressing you instead.

But you still pretend to be asleep. You don’t move an inch, even when a hand—bigger, more calloused than the brunet’s—strokes over your cheek.

You almost stop breathing. Almost.

“She’s a cute one, huh?” And then there’s a brief pause before he adds, “just your type, isn’t she?”

You want to swallow down the lump in your throat, but you don’t dare.

“Fuck do you want, Hoodie?”

Hoodie?

His answer’s another hum, low and velvety.

It almost feels like the sound reaches somewhere deep within you, something that has goosebumps rising along your flesh. You hate the feeling.

“Nothing,” he states simply. “Just wanted to make sure there aren’t any secrets between us. For example,” he trails off, and when you feel his hand at your thigh—even above the covers—you nearly jump. Your pulse kicks up frantically.

“If you liked her…” he continues, his touch slow and lazy as he strokes the length of your thigh. “you’d tell us—wouldn’t you?”

“Fuck off, mind your fucking business,” the brunet spits. “And quit being such a-such a fucking creep while you’re at it.”

You hear him smacking Hoodie’s hand away. And then the warmth and pressure at your thigh leaves, and you nearly deflate with relief.

"I am minding my business, Toby. And you better start minding yours too, before Masky gets involved.”

You half-hope, half-expect the brunet—Toby—to spit out another retort. It doesn’t reassure you when he stays quiet, because it means that this Hoodie guy has a point. And you don't exactly know when you started rooting for Toby, but you don't even think it matters, at this point.

Another long second ticks by.

And then there's finally the sound of boots thudding away, leaving you with your kidnapper once more. But this time, you don’t dare reopen your eyes. You feel like an absolute coward, but even as yet another beat of silence passes, you just can’t bring yourself to move.

Sooner rather than later, you hear the door creaking open, then firmly clicking closed. And you know that you're fully alone again.

Toby, Hoodie, Masky.

You don't know what to think of everything that just happened. Quite frankly, considering the last few days of your life, you feel utterly lost, paranoid and fucking exhausted with worry. You don't even want to think about what that interaction implies.

Toby, Hoodie, Masky.

All you can do is cling to whatever shreds of sanity and normalcy you have left. And the easiest way to do that, it seems, is by mentally repeating the names of the three men over and over again.

Toby, Hoodie, Masky. Toby, Hoodie, Masky. Toby, Hoodie, Masky.

It grounds you—until thinking of their names is the only thing that eventually lulls you to sleep.

That night, you dream more than you have in a long, long while.

You dream that you're back home, but it's not the way you left it. It's dark, and it looks decayed, like it was abandoned years ago. Your neighbor's there, and even in your dream, you realize she shouldn't be there.

She should be dead.

She smiles at you like she knows what you’re thinking. Her teeth are black and rotten, with maggots squirming through the gaping holes in her mouth. And even in your dream, you tell yourself this isn't real.

It's just a nightmare, she can't hurt you.

She offers something—a book, you realize. And when you don't reach out to take it, she opens it in front of you so you've no choice but to look.

At first, you don't see anything. The pages are black like ichor, and when you try to concentrate on the pages, your mind is pulled into it. Like you're falling through a void.

You don't remember who you are. It doesn't even matter anymore. All that matters is that book.

There's a brief millisecond of clarity. You understand everything. You know the answers, know what needs to be done.

But just as quickly as that understanding—the meaning of all that is, all that will come to be—floods your mind, a loud, shrill abrasive sound snaps you out of it.

Your neighbor screams at the top of her lungs, and it’s the same sound she had made when she’d gotten killed.

She drops the book with a heavy thud, and all you can think about is no, not the book.

You need that book.

You scramble to grab it. But when you reopen the pages, they're no longer black, no longer imbued with knowledge you should’ve never had access to in the first place.

The pages are moldy. They're wet and rotten, and the writing is indecipherable. When you flip through it, the pages tear from the binding and disintegrate to ashes in your hands.

But the more you flip through it, the heavier it gets.

You realize, with a vile kind of lurch at your insides, that there are insects inside the book. It's just a small beetle on one page at first. But then on the next, there's a centipede and a few flies, and the one after that has a handful of worms and flies and maggots slithering around.

By the time you realize what's happening, you try to stop, but it's already too late. You're holding dozens—hundreds of insects between your hands. They’re writhing and squirming and wriggling between your fingers, crawling up your arms and slithering all over you.

You scream.

You’re so terrified that you don’t even hear how similar your scream is to that of your neighbor’s.

A spider—so much bigger than the rest of the insects—crawls up the spine of the book and onto the page. And the closer it gets to you, the bigger it gets. Until, next thing you know, it’s even bigger than you.

Its legs are thick and long, its massive inky black form towering over yours. You look up, and you get that feeling again.

That feeling that you’re going to die.

But you can’t run, can’t scream, can’t do anything except stand there, frozen, basking at the creature of death dominating over your form. Its front claws jerk and twitch in front of it, and that’s when you notice its head.

Except it isn’t a head at all. It’s a diamond. Pale, shimmering and impossibly beautiful, it seems to glint in a light that isn’t there in the darkness. It’s… mesmerizing. It takes your breath away.

The spider rubs its legs together, its mass convulsing and trembling, and then glittering webs of diamond are spilling out of it.

It’s, quite possibly, the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen. Strings of glittering gems hang freely in the air, like they’re suspended in time. And as you’re admiring it, the spider keeps weaving more and more of its web until you’re surrounded in it, surrounded in its trap, but you don’t even care.

You reach out, fingers extending. And as your skin makes contact, it bursts into flame.

You’re hot. You’re so unbearably hot.

You’re burning alive.

Your eyes flash open, a chocked gasp clawing its way out of your lungs.

You bolt upright to a sitting position. You’re sweating. You kick the sheets off your clammy skin and tell yourself to breathe.

Mouthful after mouthful of the stale hotel air eventually cools you down and clears the panic from your mind.

You look down at your hands. No diamonds. No burn marks. You’re ok. It was just a dream. Just a nightmare.

Still, you feel gross. You feel off, like something inside of you is inexplicably wrong.

You need a shower.

As you stand, you notice a few things on the wooden drawer next to the guys' door that wasn't previously there. There's a McDonalds breakfast trio, complete with a coffee and everything, and a change of what looks to be new clothes, along with basic personal care items like travel-sized deodorant and mouthwash—that kind of thing.

You're beyond grateful for the personal care items, but when it comes to the breakfast, it has you snorting.

McDonalds, you think, they must've been feeling fancy.

You don't know when they dropped everything off, but judging by how cold everything is—including the coffee, unfortunately—your guess is that it was at least a few hours ago. Still, despite the less-than-ideal temperature, you savor the sweet blessing of caffeine.

You spend even more time than usual in the shower. You don’t know whether or not the change of clothes is a good thing or a bad thing. Is it a sign they’re finally going to bring you back—or is it a sign that you’re doomed to stay here much, much longer than expected? You almost don’t want to know the answer.

Instead, you do what you’ve been doing best for the past few days; you cling to whatever thoughts hold your attention enough to distract you.

It has you recalling last night’s events. You think back to what the Toby guy had said—something about symbols and a notebook—and you shudder as last night’s dream resurfaces.

You push the memory back to the recesses of your mind.

It feels like you've been given pieces of a bigger picture, but no matter how much you try to focus, you can't possibly begin to understand what’s going on. And you're painfully aware that your ability to understand the situation might just be the only thing that saves you.

Besides, if you've nothing else to think about, you know your thoughts will spiral. You'll start thinking about your friends and family back home, and what they must be thinking right now. Are they ok? Are they being interrogated by the cops? Were they forced to return to work and carry on like nothing's happened? Have they already started grieving you?

You shake your head, and keep doing what you've been doing for the past few days now; you try not to think about it.

As you finish up your shower, the last question on your mind is why. Why did Toby bother telling you that information? Was it some kind of trick? A test to see if you actually know anything or if you're just bluffing?

You promise yourself you'll be more careful around him. But even as you do, you think back to that look in his eyes, and you wonder if his situation maybe isn't too different from yours. You think about ransom and coercion and manipulation, and it has you thinking about unlikely alliances and how chances of survival are always better with teamwork.

But then you think back to what that other guy had said about you being Toby's type. And you don't know what to think all over again.

You dry yourself off, comb through your hair with your fingers, and make good use of the hygiene products they left you with. The clothes, much to your surprise, fit you relatively well. They're relatively basic; a shirt, a simple pair of pants, and a pack of basic black underwear—which you couldn't be more thankful for.

They still smell like the store they were bought from, which is reassuring to know that they actually bought it, and didn't just steal it off god-knows who instead.

Once you’re done, you step out of the bathroom.

You would've never expected to see the three men in your room—waiting for you. But, lo and behold, as soon as you step out of the bathroom, the three turn their full, undivided attention toward you.

You're a dear in headlights. You're so, so incredibly thankful that you decided to get dressed instead of lounging around in your towel like you would've otherwise done if you were at home. But even then, even fully clothes, you, once again feel like a peace of meat dangling in front of three hungry predators.

The one with the white mask—Masky, you assume—wastes no time for pleasantries as he addresses you with an impatient huff.

"Took your sweet fucking time in there, didn't you, Princess?"

[barbitone]

Ridiculous Berencel AU of the Day

Sugar Daddy AU

Ancel and Berenger meet on a sugar baby site. Berenger has hang-ups about people trying to get with him for his money and this way at least it's honest, if still not exactly ideal.

Ancel lives in a different city, so mostly Berenger just sends him money and gifts and once a week they video chat over dinner because Berenger is lonely and sad. Sometimes Ancel video calls him while he's shopping with Berenger's money, and shows off all the stuff he bought, and asks what he likes. And Berenger always just smiles at him and says "whatever makes you happy."

Sometimes he visits Ancel's city for work and they meet up. But Berenger just wants to do stupid tourist shit and like. Go on hikes and to the museum and to dinner, and refuses to touch Ancel aside from like, offering his arm while they're walking somewhere. Maybe sometimes he has Ancel be his plus one to various work events he hates. He probably pays to fly out Ancel first class to- wherever. Maybe they go to other countries. It's always ridiculously luxurious and painfully chaste, even when they have to sleep in the same bed for Appearances.

At face value, this SHOULD be the perfect arrangement for Ancel. Except he falls in love, of course, and suddenly Berenger's prudishness is driving him crazy. And he's pretty sure Berenger likes him likes him, but then he just WON'T and ugh.

Maybe occasionally people assume (correctly) that Ancel is, essentially, hired for the role- but Ancel always shuts them down. Because if they're pretending to ACTUALLY be together, then Ancel can convince Berenger to make out with him, in public at least, for Appearances.

For reasons of being an immature petty bastard, Ancel decides to drive him away, because fuck him. So he starts raising his rates, basically daring Berenger to dump him. Except Berenger just agrees to it every time and how rich IS HE this is getting INSANE.

And it's so so much money. He doesn't need to keep his other clients, it's so much money. And he doesn't like his other clients anyway so he just dumps them all. And there's so much money, and all he has to do is just talk to Berenger once a week and he's BORED so he gets... a hobby that turns into a real job? Like? What? He'd never planned on getting a real job, but he's always been kind of into designing jewelry and he has to fill the time SOMEHOW.

And it TAKES OFF and he's kind of amazing at it actually? And suddenly he has his own money coming in, and he doesn't even need Berenger anymore, except he likes Berenger. He likes their video chats over dinner, and being Berenger's plus one, and the only thing wrong with it is he wants MORE.

And then at some point it's been like an EGREGIOUS amount of time. It's been like 2 years of this, and Ancel realizes he hasn't slept with anyone in that time, and the only person he wants is Berenger.

And then Berenger comes to town again, and they have dinner, and at the end of dinner Ancel dumps him. Insert the "we both know this isn't working" conversation in reverse. Berenger is, of course, devastated. Right up until Ancel invites him back to his place, smirking. Or maybe Ancel straight up proposes to him, because he is so done waiting by now.

And then they bang. A lot, probably. Bottom Berenger? Perhaps they were switches.

[emblemxeno]

I appreciate your input. I still disagree, but I don't mean it in an argumentative way, more of a discussive way.

---Smash Stuff: It's the retrospective stuff that irks me. I have seen that Schafrilla's video you mention, and it's partially why I get ticked off about Corrin's reaction in Smash. But when removed from representation issues, I would expect people to try and be more forgiving because Corrin introduced something very interesting and unique compared to both the other FE characters and other Smash characters. Like, disjointed range, a smash attack that hurts on charge, a counter that hits both sides, a paralyzing projectile that has a melee hit, and a pin move which no other character has to his degree. All in one character.

Byleth, while by no means wholly derivative, just... doesn't seem to offer as much in my eyes. Slightly more disjoints, aerials which are similar to other characters, a committal neutral special, a side special which is a Smash attack by a different name, a down special which is a weapon based-Falcon Punch, and an up special which, while functioning very differently from Joker's, still looks similar. The Final Smash is probably the worst example of a cutscene Final Smash (and I like those!), the Classic route is a "Lol look how many FE characters there are" joke, and... he has some cool alt costumes, except for the ones that only change the hair.

I would think that because Corrin ultimately offers more in establishing an identifying playstile (as well as represents dragons in FE), being technical and neutral heavy compared to Marth's finesse and Ike's power, that'd be better received than Byleth's item grab bag that sort of doesn't fit into the lore and functionally isn't that spectacular. But often, that doesn't matter in the face of "3H sold best so Byleth stays and Corrin goes."

---Marketing: What you describe here, is something I dub "The Telephone Game: FE Fates Edition." Fates marketing emphasized a choice, or rather, the choice. The Hoshido and Nohr conflict. Primarily, it was always advertised as, the story will radically change depending on which kingdom to back. The idea that it was advertised as a game filled with choices and ended up not having any, is most likely a combination of fandom ire and misremembering. It's also a petty semantics issue on my end because of my current education being an English Major, but still it matters to me that only the decision regarding Nohr and Hoshido was sold, and no other choices were promised.

---Writing: I take that as a challenge, and I will tell you that the Chapter 15 cutscene isn't bullshit. It's because of the underlying implications that the story expected you to keep track of. Since chapter 2, we see first hand that Xander and other siblings fear Garon more than they respect and trust Corrin, so the expected idea should be "this magic ball presented by a former Hoshidan hostage won't serve as definitive proof as of now (only working with Leo on BR because he was already defeated), so the only way to make the other Nohrians face the truth is to put it right in their face a la the throne. Do I like it? No, I'd rather the ball not be the thing used to reveal it to Corrin. But at that point of the story, the character reaction and interaction is consistent (at least in the JP version of the script), and Corrin does his best to mitigate the damage that Nohr does, changing the kingdom's reputation.

Takumi forgiving Corrin is also a localization exaggeration, it was much more mild and apologetic on Corrin's end in the JP script. I go into more of that stuff here. And the thing with Corrin and the canyon has gotten less and less egregious to me, given that other FE lords in the past have gone into perilous environments before simply because their companions trust them. Yeah, they weren't bottomless canyons, but this is also the same game that has a castles in land above cloud level and below ground level, as well as pocket dimensions and portal to other worlds. It's meant to serve as a "we trust you enough to follow you into peril" thematic element, not to be dwelled on its realism. And it's precisely why I don't like Byleth in comparison, because "being a good teacher for a year = I betray my home and family and am complicit in conquering them" is, to me, much worse than "After displaying good will by sparing enemies, not being antagonistic or destructive, and wanting an end to a terrible conflict, I choose to help my friend/sibling/liege on their path."

---Non-Byleth Lords: Continuing on, it's that non-active presence that makes it more apparent how Byleth's flawed in the story. Yes, the House Leaders have active roles and dynamic dialogue, but the story always, always makes sure that the praise goes to Byleth in the end. It's Byleth who gets the other Eagles to join Edelgard's conquest, it's Byleth who gets the Lions to stick together despite Dimitri's situation, and it's Byleth who gets the other Deer to unite as one despite differences. Not even implicitly, it's lines in the story that say, yes, it's chatterbox that is the primary connecting thread here. That juxtaposes with what we see in game, which is a comparatively blank character. What we're being told is at odds with what we're seeing, which is the biggest mark against a game's story for me.

---Reverse classism: I'll be honest here, I don't think most people care. If they did, than none of the house leaders would be as popular as they are, nor would Hector, Ephraim, or Sigurd for that matter.

You can have status and still be a character worthy of sympathy because of your situation. It's why main protagonists like Marth, Leif, Celica, Elincia and Sanaki are beloved. Yes, Corrin has servants and siblings, but he is, for all intents and purposes, a hostage and prisoner. Not even in the "gilded cage" way, but the literal "you're not allowed to be outside ever" way. And that background informs his perspective: living a sheltered life gives him a perspective that's seen as naive and childish, until others realize that, actually, peace isn't an impossibility and that people are no different from each other underneath it all.

Honestly, the idea that "people think Byleth is cooler than Corrin" is another part of my resentment, because it proves how surface level the one-sidedness is. "Byleth has a cool background and a cool design and a cool dad and cool powers and ugh look at how cool he is!!!" That's what strikes people when they first think about him.

But any further? Byleth's paranoid, alcoholic and neglectful father took him away from a stable life safe in a monastery because he had tinfoil conspiracy theories about Rhea; he has a connection to the god of Fodlan which give him terribly written ludonarrative time powers; and he has a sword that isn't actually all that special in gameplay beyond being 1-2 range and repairing itself despite the lore saying otherwise.

---Presentation of powers: The difference here is that the stuff you mention about Byleth is meant to be intertwined into the story, while Corrin's backstory is meant to be supplementary backstory material. The origins of Byleth, the Creator Sword, Sothis, and the Relics is all relevant to the current issues in Fodlan and must be found out in order to drive home the point that 3H tries to make regarding status, bloodlines and secrets/mysteries.

Fates plot, on the other hand, is about stopping a meaningless and seemingly endless conflict between kingdoms that have no good reason to fight anymore. Revealing who Corrin's father is, ultimately wouldn't matter, because on two of the routes Corrin can't access the Omega Yato, and the last route explains before the second trip to Valla that dragons go mad. It wouldn't be relevant, thematically it'd be hard to fit anywhere, and it wouldn't matter to Corrin as a character, nor the world of Fates as a whole. Anankos spearheading the conflict is supposed to be a nonsensical reason, he's representative of the idea "we've been fighting for so long that we don't even remember why, and it turns out the original reason is something we can work together on solving instead."

Oh, and the Yato is wielded by Corrin because all the divine weapons are inhabited by divine spirits who choose their wielders before being passed down. This is mentioned in the localized text, but the JP one makes it more obvious.

---Silent vs Speaking: Idk man, I just think it's a case where some people just need to suck it up. Corrin talks and acts, which, yeah! Good! He should! He's a participant in the story, and a major one at that. He should act on things, give his thoughts, fuck up, succeed, etc. That's an engaging protagonist. Byleth is written in a way where they're trying to have their cake and eat it too. Silent and blank enough to project onto and have the story guide them, but still the most important person in the narrative despite needing to be directed and never acting by themselves until part 1 ends.

And to me, that skews cheap.

It's 5am where I am so I'm no doubt gonna regret posting meaningless whining about my favs compared to other characters when I wake up but rn who tf cares

I'm still incensed under the surface about how Byleth gets a better reception than Corrin, and how Corrin specifically is represented in a grand scheme of the FE franchise, mostly with Heroes.

"Corrin gets positions and authority when he doesn't deserve it!" then silence for Byleth when he gets a teaching position, and later either the archbishop spot or outright becomes king of an entire continent.

"Corrin's dragon powers aren't used in the plot enough!" Byleth's powers are only ever plot device fodder, are mechanically indistinct from other FE protag powers before and after him, and have terrible ludonarrative applications.

"Too many people worship Corrin!" About 70% of the cast's morality when defecting from their home (and sometimes partaking in harming it) is dictated by Byleth having enough tea parties with them, after being enrolled in a job he wasn't qualified for

"Corrin's character and personality is bad" Byleth doesn't even have one, he's just a dialogoue choice generator

"Corrin is the worst FE rep in Smash, had the worst trailer, and is representative of FE having imbalanced representation" FE has a clone/Echo fighter problem and consolidating Roy, Lucina and Chrom into Marth as alt skins a la Bowser Jr. would auto fix that controversy given the Smash community's "if I don't see it, it doesn't exist" approach to character slots; there is no universe where a trailer showcasing one of the worst villains in 3H-and the FE series as a whole-is better than even the cringiest lines in Corrin's trailer; there is more unique properties and applications just in Corrin's side special than there is in Byleth's entire kit, which was really a mish-mash of different Smash archetypes, inlcuding ones other FE characters covered. Not to mention the fucking PNG Sothis Final Smash with the embarassing lip flaps, jesus.

Every problem that Corrin is accused of having, Byleth does it worse. Every problem that Byleth gets jabbed with, eventually gets redirected back to Corrin for "starting it."

And it's seen as justified, because why? Well, 3H is a "better" game of course! After all, it's the best selling one! If it sold that much and was so well received that means it must have done everything exponentially better than Fates did! (ignore the fact that Fates was the best selling game in the series before 3H please). Why wouldn't Byleth simply be objectively, immutably better than Corrin in every metric going by this logic?

And, like always, CYL is gonna reaffirm this again for everyone. Cuz why wouldn't Byleth get so many votes last year despite him getting a great Christmas alt just the month before? He deserves it after the female version already won after all! And why wouldn't he win this year when he's guaranteed an Emblem alt in the future, and most likely to be on one of Valentine's, Children, or Wedding banners?

It made sense for the Robins to win one after the other cuz they're cool and awesome and not weak and annoying, so it makes sense for Byleth too!

Why would Corrin get this "it's his turn treatment" when he's not a good character and the female version only won because everyone knows she's just dumb fetish bait 🤪🤪🤪/s

It's just... so infuriatingly transparent. Even Male Alear isn't hit with this quite as hard tbh, because at worst he had half the votes Female Alear did, whereas M!Corrin at best had barely over a third of F!Corrin. And that only fuels my perspective on how M!Corrin, for all his alts, always feels like his presence is treated compulsory and obligated, and F!Corrin is always sold with "she's hot, who cares" in mind.

FE fans made it clear that Corrin's character was hated, so the solution became to sell the Fem one for horny whales, and have the Male one just slightly behind in numbers to keep up the illusion of fairness (while always making him inferior in gameplay).

All that just for Byleth, a non-character, to get every excuse and love from a fandom that hated Corrin for the same issues he has. Crazy.

[fandom-susceptible]

So I've been thinking about where The Dragon Prince left things after Season 7, especially since they had to wrap it up so quickly and it doesn't look like they're likely to get full ten seasons.

I'm still very unsettled by Terry. I know he had his whole "Zuko here" moment and "redemption arc", but it rings hollow for me for a guy who spent the previous several seasons totally cool with a genocide against his own people as long as it was Claudia doing it. I super don't buy his shock and dismay at Claudia trying to kill the illusion of her mother after what he himself did to Ibis. I want to know where he came from and why he's okay with Dark Magic, just so long as it's not Aaravos.

Which is only loosely tied into a thought I wanna dwell on more, but is somewhat important background information for my thought process.

So at the end of Season 7, Soren, Corvus, Pyrrah, and Terry take off looking for King Harrow in the body of Pip the songbird. They wouldn't even know to look except that Runaan confirmed that King Harrow didn't fight back at the assassination, and instead just squawked, and Corvus put the pieces together.

Ezran is still struggling to forgive Runaan for his part in Harrow's death, which I think actually adds to his depth of character. He's no longer an innocent child - the "true soul", "death of innocence" theme from this season was strong, and Ezran is the peak example of it. He must find a way to balance his ideals with the pain that far more adult figures have been struggling with for years. Callum made a good point bringing up that he forgave Zubeia, and we didn't get to see Ezran's response, but imo his reaction to Callum's betrayal sort of fills in the blanks. It was Zubeia's mate and son that she thought were dead. I can see how that would make more sense for a kid like Ezran, who grew up with very strong familial bonds and values, than Runaan and the other assassins carrying out revenge for someone else when they have no personal grudge of their own.

Anyways. Consider.

Pip/Harrow's been missing for three years now. That bird could be anywhere on either side of the continent by now, though he is living with the mind of a king. He's also nowhere near Katolis, or Ezran would have found him already, from going to talk to "Pip" and finding that the bird is carrying an entirely different soul.

So imagine, in that time lapse in the final episode, Soren and Corvus come back and confess that they haven't found anything of worth. The last maybe-sighting of Pip was from some soldiers in Viren's army who thought they saw the bird following them into the Sunfire plains in Xadia. It's been two years, and they don't know.

So Rayla says she knows someone who might be able to help. The best tracker in Xadia. He can find anyone on the Xadian side of the border, and anyone he's ever tried to find in the Human Kingdoms too. He's diligent and has only ever missed one target. If anyone can track down King Harrow, it's him . . . but Ez isn't going to like it.

Runaan.

And at first Ezran doesn't. But Rayla makes a point, and Corvus and Soren aren't having any luck on their own or with Terry (if he's even relevant, tbh, if I write it he probably won't be because i am still disturbedd by that guy). So he agrees - with conditions, of course.

Runaan is hesitant when he's told the news, and when Ezran asks him why, he just delicately points out that a king in the body of a bird is also a bird with none of the instincts of a bird, and may not have survived regardless of the war, unless he's learned how to feed himself and managed to avoid all possible predators for three years straight.

Ezran acknowledges it, tells him that's something he's . . . preparing for. But Corvus gets to make the call that they've searched too much and Harrow is likely dead. Not Runaan.

So the terms are agreed to and Runaan ends up going on a road trip with Soren and Corvus. Please imagine the comedic value of dignified older assassin in the midst of a major cultural deconstruction trying to do serious business with Soren. Especially Soren and Corvus. And the flip side - imagine Soren and Corvus seeing what Xadia is like towards Moonshadow elves, especially ones of Runaan's description (tall, menacing, leader, broken horn, homosexual - am I talking about Runaan or Kim'dael). Possibly featuring an appearance from the surviving Dragonguard, and Runaan's reaction to Hendyr specifically, the Skywing elf who KNEW Tiadrin and Lain stayed to protect the egg and chose not to save it or to clear their names.

[evedaser]

i love how everyone in the merlin fandom woke up and universally decided arthur was a footy kid

[telemna-hyelle]

I'm a pretty big Twilight Princess Zelink shipper, so while I can't say I speak for everyone, I hope I can give a pretty good perspective.

Shared trauma is a large part of it--they both saw each other at their lowest points. They both had a close relationship with Midna, and after the end of the game, they have no one else who can understand all that they went through. Link, especially, seems to have the aura of 'ordon was saved--but not for me'. He's gone through so much, and there's no one else who can understand what he went through... except Zelda. There's a lot of shared grief and pain, and their love for Hyrule and the will to give everything to defend it--after the game ends, to me it seems incredibly likely that they would draw closer together. Of course, that isn't necessarily romantic, but it DOES have a lot of potential.

They also work well together, and to me, their personalities seem complementary.

Into the more my-personal-opinions/experience realm, for one, I LOVE the concept that Link and Zelda are kind of soulmates, from Skyward Sword (and potentially the First Hero and Hylia) all throughout time, always finding each other and falling in love in every life. I'm not adverse to other ships, there's plenty other ships i find adorable, but this is also a concept i enjoy, and it adds to the other elements i mentioned above.

And finally, and this is probably only true for me, but they're the Link and Zelda in Super Smash Bros and when i was little and was watching the SSB cutscenes, i thought their interactions was SO romantic. Especially when Link thinks Mario killed Zelda and rushes to avenge her----

anyway, yeah!

(also they would look GORGEOUS together, there's that too XD)

hey, hello, yes,

Zelda fandom, can someone please explain Twilight Princess Zelink to me?

*has not played the game but knows Zelda does not take a major role in said game*