#giving out recommendations and can't even spell recommend

[riddlesrose]

the small things he does pt. 3

w/ ace, deuce, jack, silver, kalim, ruggie, epel, lilia & sebek

part one | part two

ace cannot sit in chairs properly. at all. it drives riddle insane but you find it hilarious, he'll have a leg slung over the side of a velvety chair, perfectly placed so that he's almost touching riddle with his foot, inching the housewarden to early greys. (his words, not yours.) when ace is visiting the ramshackle dorm, you welcome him to sit however he pleases, but chooses to sit like he had a board glued to his back. prim and proper like you're riddle's evil twin who will punish him for sitting straight.

deuce is always humming when he's around you. you have no idea why or if he even knows he's doing it. most time it's songs from the wonderland that you don't recognize. you got him to start recommending you songs when he thinks of them, so now you've got a playlist titled 'deuces humming habits' that you listen to often. (and since you can't access music from your home land... :[ )

jacked and kind. truly. jack is a sweetheart, he offers to carry your bags, open that damned jar or grab a book off the taller shelves for you. him and his unyielding sense of mutual respect would have him presenting his jacket to you at the slightest drop in temperature. jack invites you to the savanaclaw dorm building but ends up having to steer others away from you constantly because they want to challenge you (for some reason??).

silver likes to gift you rocks. whether they're shiny, smooth, textured, patterned or colourful, if silver likes the look of them he'll shove it into his pocket to be gifted to you later. after the mandatory nap. he started giving you the rocks a while ago, so you've now got window sill's full of glittering rocks that reflect the sunlight, making silver one of your first thoughts each morning.

kalim's hobby and love of parties and celebrations gives him a knack for decorating. he once showed up to the ramshackle dorm with a box full of tame decorations, they look like he swiped them off the mantles and shelves of the scarabia lounge with their golden colour and shiny nature, but he assured you these were in storage for a long time. you'll also often find a small box containing a new decoration or accessory to brighten up your ghost-ridden dorm on your front step, scribbled with kalim's hand writing.

ruggie sends you a message each morning, usually around the same time. his excuse is that he’s already making sure leona is awake so he may as well make sure you’re up too. but you think he just enjoys getting to tell you something each day, whether it’s a good morning, a random fact, a cooking or cleaning tip, (he’s really good a giving tips or hacks about a lot of things!) there’s always a message on your homescreen. (though he doesn’t do it for a return, he’s more than happy to accept if you offer him donuts. or a kiss he’s not picky.)

epel sneaks away to the ramshackle dorm, escaping vil and his damned vice housewarden's freaky signature spell (or at least he hopes..) to spend time with you. he'll drop his pretty boy act, pick his accent up and recount stories of his hometown to you. the intense passion he has while sharing the stories almost make you want to go to vil yourself and beg to keep his accent.

lilia will go out of his way to see how long it takes for you to notice when he’s walking behind you. if you’re lost in thought or deep in conversation with a friend and he notices he’ll start silently start following you, chucking to himself when you really don’t notice him. (there was once he was able to follow you from the nrc’s main doors all the way down the main street, down to the horse pastures before you realized there was a certain bat-like vanrouge waltzing beside you.)

sebek's respect for you grows with each day, despite you being human (even though he's half..), he'll start to protect your name when you're not around, confusing everyone around him, especially lilia and malleus, since he's only ever cared that much for them before. when you appear at the doors to the diasomnia dorms for a visit he'll beckon you in, and let you tell him about your day before returning the gesture and recounting his day to you, while slipping in small praises to malleus and his greatness, but you wouldn’t have him any other way. a loyal boy.

made this one longer than the other two so i didn't have a rogue post with only three characters lol

masterlist

[mochinomnoms]

*reads the octa kinks post*

Omg. Mating season Azul got me in his horny tentacle grip.

Like omg. Just.. just... *squeals* the things I would let that man do to me.

Just imagine mating season comes and Azul is just so damn needy. He's taking you wherever and whenever he can. On his desk, over his desk, against his door, in the shower, in the tub. You find out how good his strength actually is when he's got you bent like a pretzel, fingers digging into your hips as he's got you hoisted up and working you over. If only he had this much stamina in his PE class. But you're just a way more fascinating topic I suppose.

Praise him, praise him and tell him how amazing he's making you feel. How much you love when he works his hands on you. He'll have you like putty as he prepared you. He loves it, he also loves it when you're so blissed out that all you can do is moan for him. Call his name. Do it.

Let's not forget he still actually has to attend classes so this mad lad is horny gripping through them. Maybe he gets so wound up that he sneaks you off to a random classroom for a quickie. Has you bent over a desk or you give him a blow job to help. Don't worry. The man knows a good cleanup spell(you can't tell me he doesn't) he's not so cruel to send you off reeking of sex. Although.... Maybe he enjoys sending you off with his scent lingering on your skin. Sends you off with a pretty scarf wrapped around your neck that has his cologne. What a lovely little reminder to the others that you're taken, and maybe it helps hide any little incriminating marks(if you're into that)

That's not even touching on his mer form yet. He has you in a shallow pool, or maybe he's given you a nice long air breathing potion because now you're in a small cove nestled somewhere safe from prying eyes. Maybe it's nice and dark and the only thing you can see is the pale blue of Azul's eyes or maybe you watch as the bioluminescent patterns dance along his skin(I love me bioluminescent octatrio) Don't worry, you've got eight strong limbs working you over, each one truly seems to have a mind of their own as they work you over. This man, he's leaning back and just seems to be enjoying the show until you're begging him to fuck you properly. Who is he to deny your wish, he's such a benevolent mate, now isn't he?

orz Azul just gimme one chance pls I BEG!

Azul's never had good stamina, in the sea or out, and it shows when you're intimate with him. It's why he focuses in on making you come via his hands and mouth so much before actually getting to the main event. Poor Azulito only has one orgasm in him before he tires out, but it's a very yummy one when he's with you, and by the time he's actually fucking you, your bones are all jelly, and you're blissed out.

It's a very pleasant surprise when his mating season first comes around after you two get together. When he was single, Azul would get a bit feverish, hot and bothered, and more irritable than normal. Usually, he'd just manage with some potions and rest, but once he's gotten a mate, it's like a switch flipped in his brain.

Instead of being mildly inconvenienced, his entire body is heated and sensitive to touch, yours specifically. It's as if he's taken a high dosage of an aphrodisiac and the only cure is your gummy insides. If you two never had quickies before, you sure as hell do now. He's using you over and over on any surface in his room, office, even in a nearby empty classroom if the need to breed (ha) hits. It's enough of an issue that you both get a stern talking to by the teachers, who are recommending that you two take a rest of his mating season off as to not distract the other studies. They'll make sure to have someone bring your work over, just please go back to Azul's dorm, the beastmen and fae students are starting to complain about you two and the scent of sex.

Once he's got you in the water after that, you're getting bred over and over again and again until he's positive his seed is taken (even if you can't get pregnant). So, uh, hope you have good stamina at least, or else you're gonna have a tough time.

[pandora-writes-one-piece]

The Meet-Cute - Kid's Story - 5

Source for pic

Imperfect 5 🔞

Word Count: 4531

Tags and Summary can be found here.

Special Warning: English is not my first language, I apologise for any possible spelling or grammar mistakes.

Notes: It seems like every new chapter I post from this story has a NSFW warning. Do I regret it? Not at all... But then again, and I can't stress this enough, let's just enjoy these chapters for a while!

Here's a Spotify Playlist I created for this story if you want to check it out!

Masterlist

Divider by @cafekitsune

Kid: Come over, Sparkles. I want to show u smth.

The text comes after lunch, at the time you usually show up at the garage. Kid must’ve realized you were a no-show and sent you the message. You don’t answer, ghosting him so he understands you’re still slightly pissed at him, but just the fact that he reached out means that he wants to move on. 

You actually consider not going because things with Kid are becoming frustratingly weird. You’ve been flirting since the first day you met, but it’s clear that all this tension needs an outlet. And if he’s not willing to let the attraction run its course, then it’s bound to explode. 

Plus, you still don’t know the exact reason he pushed you away yesterday, other than the lame explanations he provided. 

So, is it wise to be standing outside the garage in the middle of an infernal heatwave when you already know you won’t be able to control yourself near Kid? 

Probably not. 

But here you are. 

The air outside is stifling. There’s not even a hint of a breeze, and the newscaster recommended that the population remain indoors unless it was absolutely necessary to leave the coolness of your home. Is it absolutely necessary? 

Not at all. 

And yet, here you are. 

Because your reasoning is neither rational nor enlightened where Kid is involved, a heatwave would be no different matter. There’s a yearning inside you for this man that you don’t quite understand. Frankly, you don’t even want to give it too much thought, afraid of it being more real than what you’re willing to admit. 

You’re dressed in light clothes, thin material, and a lot of exposed skin, yet sweat is already dripping from your nape to your back, from your temples to your neck, and into your cleavage. It’s unbearably hot.

The garage gate and door are both closed, and you hope that inside, the air feels cool and fresh instead of damp and smothering. You quickly realize that it’s only wishful thinking when you push open the scalding hot steel door and are greeted with nothing but a waft of warm air. 

“Kid?” you try, ignoring the churning sensation in your stomach.

“Back here.”

Closing the door and taking a deep, calming breath, you walk towards Victoria, dropping your purse on the nearest workbench and reveling in the slight drop in temperature. You’re casually wiping the sweat accumulated on your neck when you see him. Kid is leaning over the open hood of Victoria, loud music blasting in the garage, and two fans blowing hot air around. 

He’s fucking shirtless. 

Denim jeans hang low on his waist, and his back muscles bend and ripple as he tweaks something inside the hood. He’s glistening with sweat, beads dripping shamelessly from his damp hair to his broad back. When he turns, the world tilts, and you stop breathing. 

You’re ogling. You know he’s going to tease you for it, but you can’t tear your eyes away. 

Most of the sleeveless shirts you’ve seen him wear allowed you to glimpse the extent of the scar that runs from his neck to his chest. What you didn’t know is that he has another one running from under his pec and across his stomach, disappearing into his jeans. 

How far does that one go?

And holy fucking shit, this shouldn’t come as a surprise, but he’s freaking ripped. All beefy, robust muscle with broad shoulders and defined everything! 

You have to swallow hard so you don’t drool, curse, or both, but Kid’s not teasing you for all the ogling you’re doing. He’s ogling you back. 

“Fuckin’ hot, eh?” he mutters, not a drop of amusement in his deep, rumbling voice. 

“Torrid.” Is he referring to the weather?

Are you?

A few charged seconds pass, but neither of you moves to alleviate the tension, so you speak. “What did you want to show me?”

That about breaks the spell, because Kid blinks twice, and then his shit-eating grin makes an appearance, making sure the kaleidoscope of freaking, stupid butterflies living in your stomach takes flight all at once. 

The hell? Why butterflies? Up until now, all the ‘stirrings’ had been located in your lower abdomen, or even lower than that. Butterflies in the stomach mean something else. Something you don’t want to face at the moment, so instead, you force your legs to walk forward when Kid moves to the side and points inside the hood. 

“We’re givin’ Victoria her heart today.” Your mouth slackens, and you let out an elated whoop before rushing the rest of the steps. Sure enough, inside the hood stands a beast of an engine. It’s so big, it looks like it barely fits. Tubes twist and turn from its sides like veins giving it life, and sure enough, it does look alive. Like a breathing, living part of Victoria. It looks powerful enough to roar on its own. 

“It looks good!” You wish you could add something, but you don’t know the first thing about engines, anyway. 

“Sweetheart, it looks better than good. It’s fuckin’ epic. This right here is a 426 HEMI V8.” You raise your brow, but the way Kid is talking about it must mean it’s a hell of an engine. “Loud as fuck, capable of makin’ the ground shake when ye start her up.”

You nod and smile, and Kid realizes he’s losing you. “It’s a powerhouse of a fuckin’ engine.”

You nod again and let out a strained chuckle. “Okay, okay, I get it.” You don’t.

Kid grunts. “Imagine this. Yer at a bar, drinkin’ a few beers–”

“Cocktails. I might be drinking cocktails if I’m at a bar. And who’s with me–”

“Don’t matter!” Kid sighs, his thumb and forefinger pinching the bridge of his nose as you stifle a laugh at how easily you always manage to rile him up. “Yer drinkin’ a few cocktails,” he grunts, “and a guy sits beside ye. He looks nice, a smooth talker, buys ye another drink, slowly tries to win ye over.”

You nod, biting back the amusement and the witty words, just to see where he’s going with this. 

“He’s okay, basic. That’s yer base engine. Finishes the job, don’t impress, yer not gonna call him back.” Kid winks, and you snort, leaning your hip against Victoria so you can stare at him. 

“Now…” Kid’s chuckle turns devious. “This mean motherfucker right here is the one that demands yer attention. He’s not nice, not even much of a talker, let alone a smooth one. He intrigues ye, impresses ye.” Kid leans over, the musky scent of his sweat overpowering the metallic scent that usually accompanies him. You have to force your eyes to remain locked with his instead of dropping to his lips. 

“He not only finishes the job, but makes sure ye finish first.” Kid’s eyes do drop to your lips, and your breath hitches. “And second… and third. Ye’ll definitely be calling him again.”

Somehow, you find your voice amid the suffocating heat - an impossible task since his words travel straight to your core. “So, your engine is the dangerous boyfriend you don’t bring home for the holidays?”

“Aye.” Kid’s breath fans your eyelids, and you catch a glimpse of his twitching hand. “And he’ll ruin all the other engines for ye. No other will measure up.” His jaw ticks and his throat bobs. “He’ll wreck ya.”

Fuck. You’re not talking about engines anymore, are you?

“I still want to try it…” you breathe out. As soon as you see Kid flinch and something dark cross his eyes, his body language already anticipating that he’s about to put distance between the two of you, you bite your lower lip in regret. Then, instead of giving him a chance to deflect and escape, you pivot. “Let’s hear it purr, then.”

He watches you for another moment with that unreadable expression in his eyes, then nods, pulling away and breaking the spell. 

“Grab yer panties, they’re gonna wanna drop.” You can’t help but chuckle as Kid sits in the driver’s seat, the leather creaking slightly and adjusting to his weight. You can’t take your eyes off him, though. His prosthetic hand wraps around the steering wheel while the other one finds the gear stick, wiggling it to neutral as his leg muscles tighten, pressing the pedal.

Then, his hand rises to the keys in the ignition, and he makes eye contact, a cheeky grin commandeering his mouth, though something darkens his gaze as his eyes meet yours. When he flicks his wrist and Victoria awakens, the whole garage trembles. 

It’s loud. It’s powerful. She’s a beast, just like he said she’d be. 

Kid presses the gas pedal down a few times, and you can practically feel the heat bursting from the engine. Her roar envelops you and sends a shiver down your spine. Her heart is beating to life, and fuck it, yours is right there along for the ride. 

“Ye hear her purr?” Kid gloats, his eyes darkening even more as he takes you in. 

“That’s not purring, Kid. She’s a beast trying to escape its enclosure.” Your hand makes contact with Victoria, and it trembles, sending shivers up and down your spine. You’re in awe. “She’s perfect.” 

Kid is still watching you, but his grin falters, and he lets out a curse so low you barely make it out. He turns off the ignition and gets out, stopping beside you, his frame towering over yours.

You look at him with flushed cheeks. Watching Kid handle Victoria like that was way more arousing than you thought it would be. With a shaky inhale, you press your thighs together to try and alleviate some of the tension there.

Kid notices. Of course he does. 

He grins again, closes the hood, and takes one step closer to you, his eyes never leaving yours. “Told ya ye’d drop yer panties.”

You can't focus on anything else now. There’s only Kid and the smoldering intensity of his eyes. Victoria feels warm to the touch, but it's nothing compared to the raging fire that's consuming your very being. 

“Kid.” His name comes out of your lips like a prayer. A whisper of a word, a plea. 

He hesitates, his eyes piercing you as his throat bobs. His hand is on Victoria's hood, and it's inching closer to yours. There's a battle somewhere inside him; you can see it clearly. His body inches closer to yours in agonizingly slow movements as his lips form a scowl and the lines between his brows tighten.

Then your hands touch. It's electric. 

Kid closes his eyes for a brief second and exhales deeply. “Fuck it.”

Both his hands find purchase on the back of your thighs as he lifts you up and sets you down on Victoria's hood. Then his flesh hand curls around the back of your neck, fingers entwining with your hair. Your breaths mingle, and he lets out a guttural noise, trying to hold on to any semblance of restraint. 

He can't. 

His lips crash into yours with longing and desperation, drawing a whimper from your mouth. Your hands grip his shoulders, leaving crescent-shaped indents on his skin. More. You need more. 

Kid slots himself in the middle of your thighs, and you wrap your legs around his waist, bringing him even closer to your core. You both groan at the touch as it sends shivers up and down your body. His fingers curl around your hair, and he grips it, tilting your head so that he can deepen the kiss. 

A flick of his tongue and a nibble on your lower lip have you panting, allowing him to explore as he takes your tongue in his. Your palms find taut, hard muscles, firm to the touch, and hotter than a furnace. When his prosthetic hand cups your breast, you roll your hips and grind your cores together, melting into another whimper. 

“Fuck,” Kid mutters against your mouth, and you pull him back into the kiss. You don't want to give him time to think this through, too afraid he'll push you away again. 

“Let go,” you whisper between rolls of your tongue, your hands expertly unbuckling his belt. Kid hesitates, pulling back, and you inhale sharply as your fingers tremble against the button of his jeans. 

Then he breathes, closing his eyes. When he opens them back up, it's all fire and desire again. Hands find the hem of your shirt, pulling it up and getting rid of it. His mouth sucks and bites your nipple through the fabric of the bra and you chant his name in a moan. He curses low against your skin, peppering bites and suckling on every bit of it, muttering in a voice so thick with accent so pronounced you can barely make out a sane word. 

You arch your back for a moment, melting into his touch, and then your hand slips inside his boxers. He grunts against your neck, and his hands tighten their grip on your waist when you squeeze him. He's hard as a rock, girthy and veiny, and you whimper with anticipation. “Kid, I want you.” Your words sound like a prayer again, like a hymn you want to sing over and over. 

“Aye, fuck, I want ye too.”

And any doubt you had about him pushing you away again vanishes as his hand finds its way inside the waistband of your bottoms. His breath hitches, and his words are like gravel in your ears. “Yer soaked.” You can only hum incoherently as his fingers stroke your core, pushing your panties to the side and pressing lightly against your throbbing clit. 

“Oh, God,” you moan loudly, tilting your head back and stroking him at the same rhythm as he fingers you. 

“Yer gonna scream my name?” Kid pants against your ear, and you barely register it. He's taking up all the space, his scent, his body, his fingers; God, his fingers. “Use yer words.” He pinches your clit with his index finger and thumb, and you cry out in pleasure. 

“Yes, Kid, yes!”

You're nearly there. The tension has been building up so high and coiled so tight, you know you're going to fall fast. Your head lolls forward against his shoulder as you let out a lot of incoherent words and pants. 

Almost… almost. 

BANG! 

“Fuck!” 

THUD! 

“Oh, for fuck’s sake!” 

CLANG! 

“Jesus Christ!”

Kid stops. You bite your lower lip, horrified. Then, you both look towards the entrance of the garage and freeze. Killer is covering his eyes with one hand, and the other one is outstretched, trying to find the garage door and knocking over gallons of oil, tools, and everything in his path. 

“For crying out loud, you two! Doors have locks!” His voice is about an octave higher than it should be, and he keeps banging into stuff until he lets out another string of curses and gives up. Opening his eyes, he finds the door and leaves, flustered, embarrassed, and stressed. Curses still flying about.

Kid groans and exhales heavily while you stifle your snickers against his chest. Unfortunately, the tension of the moment has dissipated in a cloud of comedic relief, but you know it won't take much to build it back up. 

Your eyes are still glinting with mirth when you look up at Kid, cupping his cheeks in your hands so he can look at you. 

Your stomach lurches and your heart nearly skips a beat with what you find there. Kid is withdrawn again. His eyes bear a detached coldness accentuated by the downturned scowl on his lips. You're already shaking your head before he even speaks. 

“This was a mistake.” Fuck. “It was the heat, the fuckin’ tension,” Kid grunts, running a hand over his face and handing you your top with the other. “We can't do this,” he hisses. 

There it is. He’s pushing you away again. 

“Why the hell not?” you counter, crumpling the top in your hands, demanding that he look at you while all he's doing is avoiding your gaze. 

“I told ye why before!”

“It’s not good enough! Don’t push me away, Kid…” You sigh. “We don’t have to commit to anything, and it also doesn’t need to be a one-time thing if you don’t want it to be. We can just take it one step at a time, see where it goes.”

Kid shakes his head, his eyes on your legs as he tries to find his words. “I…”

“Let’s just give it a go…” You place your hand against the hard planes of his chest. You mean what you said. You might be turning the order of things around and starting something at the end, but it’s okay. Kid doesn’t strike you as the type to commit to a serious relationship anyway. One step at a time feels like the right pacing. “What do you think?”

He sighs, his flesh hand raises up and hovers over yours. He seems conflicted, and for a moment, you believe he’s about to hold your hand in his, to let you in. But then he scrunches his brows, curses, and shoves your hand away from him. “I'm all dark, aye? Yer light! Yer good! I wreck things.” Kid disentangles himself from your legs, buttons his pants and belt buckle, and heads straight for the cabinet in search of a bottle. 

“That's not true.” Your words burn your throat as you slide off the hood of Victoria, following him. 

The bottle slams against the workbench with enough strength to almost shatter it as he turns to you. “Don't pretend to know me. Ye don't know who the fuck I am. What I'm capable of.”

You stomp towards him, eyes blazing with fury, the heat of desire replaced by rage. “That's not what I was implying!” Kid's jaw clenches, and his eyes lose a bit of their edge. “I'm the one who’s not like that! I'm not all light! Don't put me on a fucking pedestal because I don't care for the fall!” You dress your top with trembling fingers and can't quite tell if the prickling behind your eyes is fury or sadness. “God!”

“We can't happen,” Kid groans, taking a sip from the scotch. “It's too fuckin’ complicated.”

“You're the one making it complicated! What happened to fun?” But as soon as the words leave your mouth, you know without a shadow of a doubt that you don't want just fun. Somewhere along those lazy afternoons working on Victoria, you really warmed up to Kid. 

You like him. 

“We're friends, Sparkles. Let's not fuck that up.” There's a finality to his words, signaling the end of the discussion. You're fucking pissed. 

“Is that really the problem?” Kid doesn't answer you, his gaze hardens, and he takes another sip. “Fine.” Turning on your heel, you head towards the door. “I just think you're too much of a coward to give whatever we have a shot.”

-*-

Kid paces the garage back and forth. He tried to work on Victoria again after you left, but he couldn't concentrate long enough to do it. Your words echoed in his head like a beacon of clarity. 

A coward. 

A fucking coward. You were right, obviously. Every one of his hook-ups had been just that, hook-ups. Nothing flashy or big, nothing that makes him think or feel. Just a way to blow off steam. 

But you… Fuck. You make him feel everything. It's like you've clawed your way inside his chest and refuse to leave. It's like you're in every single thought he has, from the moment he gets up to the moment his head hits the pillow. 

He knows you're not just a fling. He understands that you're no simple hook-up. You're real. You're something so good he knows you're not for him. He doesn't deserve goodness. 

Not after what he did. 

Kid smashes the bottle of scotch he's been nursing against the far wall, not caring about broken glass or spilled liquid. His hand flies to his pocket, and his finger hovers above Killer's contact for a few seconds. 

He could vent. Killer is the best listener. But he's also the best at delivering hard truths, and damn it… Not tonight. 

He scrolls and frowns when he finds the contact he's looking for. He picks up after the third ring. 

“Well, well. Eustass Kid. It's been a while.”

“Cut the shit, Apoo. I need a location and the time it starts,” Kid growls into the phone, his hand busy tapping the workbench. 

“Motherfucker, you haven't called in months, and you think I can get you a slot, just like that?” Apoo snickers. 

“I know ye can. People pay good money for the show I put on.” 

He fucking hates Apoo. But he needs this, he needs him for this. 

“Fine. Midnight. Abandoned warehouse near the docks. You know the place.”

Kid doesn't answer in confirmation, he just turns off the call and throws the phone into the workbench. Gripping the edge of it with both hands, he lets his head hang, his eyes closing shut as the echo of your words blurs the edges of his mind. 

“Fuck!” Kid shouts, banging the workbench with his prosthetic hand and gritting his teeth. He allows himself another five minutes of mindless self-loathing. Then he grabs the keys to his bike and leaves the garage.

-*-

The first punch shakes him up. 

The man who delivered it is scrawny but as fast as a fucking mouse. Kid smirks. The pain from the jab spreads slowly across his jaw, rattling the bones in his head. 

It’s not enough.

The acrid scent of sweat is barely noticeable over the pungent tang of the iron - blood. For a moment, the sounds from the cheers drown out the echo of your words, and all Kid can focus on is the pain. 

“Finish him off, Eustass!” someone yells.

“He’s a fucking wimp!” another voice.

The crowd rounds up the blood-splattered ring. If, to some, the gesture might feel suffocating and overwhelming, to Kid, it’s just fuel to his rage. It’s exactly what he needs. 

The little mouse hits him with another uppercut, and Kid keeps grinning. He lets him have his fun, and it’s not until Kid feels like he’s not getting what he needs from this lanky piece of shit that he finally strikes. 

One punch from Kid, and it’s over. 

The crowd cheers, and Kid scowls. It’s not enough. “Next fucker!” he roars, and the crowd roars back with him.

They come and come again, sometimes in groups of two or three. And Kid finishes them off, one after another, until his knuckles are a raw mess of flesh and bruises; until his eyes feel heavy and his mouth is sticky with blood. 

He fights dirty. Not fair or pretty. He fights like a man who’s got nothing to lose - who already lost everything. 

And as the night wears on, he realises none of this is helping. He doesn’t feel better, he doesn’t feel relieved. 

He just feels empty.

-*-

“Why is he so stubborn?” You thank the waitress for the drink and then shove the straw into the plastic cup, ignoring the screeching agony it produces, sloshing the liquid around with it. 

Killer shrugs, his straw hidden behind the Metallica bandana he wears today, and you hear him slurping his drink before he answers you. 

“That’s the million-dollar question,” he mumbles with a heavy sigh. “I’ve known him most of our lives, and that’s a quality he was born with.”

You take out the straw and continue to stab the lid of the plastic cup as if it personally offended you. 

“I just don’t get it! He keeps sending me mixed signals. He pushes me away, but then flirts back. He doesn’t want to commit, but he also doesn’t want to have a little bit of fun. What does he want?” With one last stab, the plastic lid groans and breaks. You curse and shove the drink away, not really thirsty anyway. 

Killer leans back on the red plastic bench of the diner you’re sitting in. He was the one who called, but you started to vent about Kid the moment you both sat down. It’s like he knew you needed to talk. 

“Kid…” Killer seems to be gathering his thoughts before continuing. “He’s difficult. He doesn’t like vulnerability and avoids feelings like the plague.”

You grunt in agreement, having been a witness to his actions firsthand. 

“He’ll never admit it, but you’re good for him. I see it,” he lets out a small chuckle. “Hell, I’ve told him this.”

“Whatever,” you mumble and steal a fry from Killer’s portion since you told the waitress you didn’t want any. “He didn’t seem very interested in continuing whatever it was we started. I'm not even sure where we are in our friendship since I called him a coward. I’m so pissed at him.”

“He’s going to want to move past what happened without even addressing it. Next time you see him, it’s like nothing was ever wrong.”

“Wow, that’s healthy.”

“It’s how he always dealt with things. It’s his way of escaping, of avoiding.” Killer shrugs once but then pins you with his tantalizing blue gaze, your name leaving his lips softly, demanding your attention. “Don’t give up on him.”

The knot in your stomach tightens. You don’t want to give up on Kid, but does he want you to keep pushing?

“Why is he like this? He told me he was dark… that he wrecks things. What happened to make him think that?”

Killer turns to the window, watching cars wind by for the longest time. You keep stealing his fries, waiting for his answer. 

“I can’t be the one to share that with you. It has to come from him,” he says, and there’s a finality to his words that stops you from inquiring further, so you nod. “But he’s very hard on himself and doesn’t think he deserves good things. Prove him wrong, City Girl.” The small lilt in his voice tells you he’s smiling, even though you can’t see it.

You exhale deeply and snatch another fry. Killer’s shoulders shake with mirth as he pushes the basket of food closer to you. “So, you’re telling me I should just stomp inside the garage and kick some sense into his stubborn butt?”

“Yes. And if you’re going to actually do that, please let me tag along. I’d love a video.” You snort at his words and pop another fry into your mouth. 

“Prove him wrong…” you mutter, deep into your thoughts. This could go very badly. You know you’re already feeling much more than attraction for that stubborn man. If you keep hanging out with him, laughing and flirting, you just know that he’ll insert himself deeper and deeper inside your skin. 

If you keep trying and he keeps pushing you away… how long until he pushes so far that your heart breaks?

But what if he lets you in?

What if it works?

Tags: @rosidaze @beachaddict48 @armiliadawn @jintaka-hane @sprinkklz @baby5555 @hopelesslover06 @mars-mizuko @sleepykittycx @nerium-lil @eustasscapitankid @ren-ni @jqperi @elysian-asphodel @daydreamer-in-training @iloveyoushanks @thegalaxysedge22 @kyllium @keiva1000 @chibinasuu @my-name-is-heartache @laidenbreecatchall @moldychefboyardeecan @dazzlingstarlight23 @bearg-bia @babyboofangirl @praline357 @tremendoushorsepatrolgoth @traffys-heart @cherileecore @violetmatcha

Check out @igiulss sketch of shirtless Kid and wipe the drool off your chin!

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|Chapter 6|

[sereg0re]

MY GO-TO'S FOR EDITING.

I’ve decided to put together a masterlist of the resources I use, since I get asked about them pretty often. If you're somebody who can’t commission resource makers or you’re just wanting to get into editing or creating commissions yourself, I hope this helps.

pinterest. IMPORTANT NOTICE IF YOU UTILIZE THIS: avoid usings people's art; if you can get permission from an artist to use a piece, that's another discussion. Be warned there may also be ai mixed in, which I've personally got a good eye for spotting; i prefer to go by images i've seen long before the ai craze, since i've been on there for a while. your best bet is looking through miscellenous character boards. From there, you can choose images to blend or even make pngs out of, to give unique flare to your edits.

remove.bg + photokit. if you're looking to save time or don't have a way to cutout images manually ( i sometimes like to use my art tablet if I want to be really precise ), these are good ways to make pngs out of images you find, as opposed to png sites. i prefer this because ive caught adware on png sites before, plus there's also a lot of ai on those as well.

for screencaps, i use google images or youtube, since the quality is higher than anything on pinterest...though, psds are what normally cover up quality issues, from what i've learned. then again, it might depend on the psd. IMPORTANT NOTE IF YOU UTILIZE THIS: If you’re using google Images, searching for actual screencaps might lead you to blogs or websites dedicated to capping—many of which ask for credit if you use their content. Also, avoid reposting people's edits or gifs, since those will inevitably show up when searching faceclaim names and similar tags. on the off chance you find free-to-use faceclaim content, be sure to credit if/when asked !

photopea. it's a great alternative for those of us who can't be assed to learn adope, nor can afford it .

I know it doesn't look like much, but this is genuinely my go-to formula. I don't think there's any need for anything over the top. That said, if you guys have better alternatives or anything to add, feel free—this is just based on my own experience.

ADDITIONAL EDITING TIPS: If you find yourself stumped creatively or unsure how to approach using these, I’d recommend breaking down the character or setting you’re working with in terms of aesthetic. What are some keywords or imagery you associate with that muse ? Take a character like h/arry p/otter, for example—focus on individual visuals, important symbols, and signature colors. For him, I’d think of round glasses, lightning bolts, owls, candles, spell books, brooms, etc. Then, take each of those elements and explore them individually. I’d maybe start by looking up “owls” on Pinterest; from there, I might find images that can be turned into pngs. Repeat that process with every vibe or detail that comes to mind. You don’t have to limit yourself to making pngs either—feel free to experiment by blending different images together and building a look from there.

ADDITIONAL UPDATES/RECOMMENDATIONS:

Screencapped ( * will need an account )

VLC Media Player ( * good for screencaps / things you've downloaded from youtube )

[aboutcustardcreams]

I can't see the end, so I pretend it's sweet

a/n: while writing this chapter, I had "How It All Works Out" by Faouzia on repeat. I'm not kidding. The lyrics really captures the essence of everything happening here. It's a good summary so if you haven’t heard the song yet, I highly recommend giving it a listen, like right now. Chop chop! Enjoy <3

previous chapter

Rio waved her fingertips toward the tiny sprouts at Nicky's feet, watching as they slowly pushed their way through the grass. Muttering a quiet spell under her breath, those delicate shoots unfurled, transforming into budding roses. 

“Woah-” Nicky grinned widely. He leaned forward to graze at the flowers with the tips of his fingers. “Mama can do something similar, you know?” 

Rio hummed, a knowing smile tugging at her lips. She didn’t need him to say which mother he meant, because she already knew it was you. She knew your abilities, all of them. Perhaps even more than you did. Back in the day, when the three of you were together, she used to tease you, call you a second-class green witch and you’d huff, cross your arms over your chest and pout, but it never lasted more than a minute or two. The moment her arms wrapped tightly around you, her lips brushing a kiss just beneath your ear, the very spot she knew would make you melt like snow in the sun, your resolve would crumble. Rio smiled softly at the memory. She missed having such intimacy with you and Agatha. 

“Did she show you some nice tricks?” She asked curiously. 

Nicky nodded eagerly. “One time we were playing tag and I was winning but then I tripped over some really pretty flowers–” he grumbled, his lips pressing into a pout. Rio mentally ahwed, her fingers ghosting tenderly over his long brown hair. He looked so much like you when he pouted. “Their petals went flying everywhere, like dandelion fluff when you blow on it. And some of the stems broke, too. I felt so bad,” he sighed. 

Rio’s eyes softened. She nudged at him softly. “But you didn’t do it on purpose. It was just an accident.” 

He gave her a tight smile. “That’s what mom said, too. But I still felt sorry. So she did a thing. Similar to what you just did now. She used her silver– because her magic is silver–” He rushed to explain, as if worried Rio might not know that detail.

She beamed, playing along as if it were news to her. 

“She fixed their broken stems, then their petals floated back into place. They were whole again! It was incredible!” To give emphasis to his speech, Nicky waved his hands in mid air. 

“It does sound pretty impressive,” Rio said in agreement. 

“Yeah, her magic is the best!” His fingers grazed over flowers one more time, with extreme care and gentleness. “But yours is pretty nice too. I like green,” he added, clearly referring to her magic. “It’s my favorite color.” 

“What a wonderful coincidence–” Rio mused, wiggling her fingers with a playful flourish. A soft pulse of magic rippled through the air, shimmering emerald as it wove around Nicky’s face. It tickled his cheeks like a soft breeze, drawing an adorable burst of laughter from him. 

“Green just so happens to be my favorite color, too,” she added with a grin,  lightly pinching the tip of his nose.  

*

“You’re staring–” you muttered, glazing at Agatha from the corner of your eye. She shifted uncomfortably beside you, fidgeting as if caught in the act. Her blue eyes couldn’t dart from the scene unfolding just a few feet away– it was Rio and Nicky lost in their own little world, cackling, bonding, doing magic.

“No, I’m not,” she said with a huff. 

Your lips cracked in a small smile. Of course, she would deny that. Humming softly, you scooted a bit closer, leaning your head against her shoulder. “Sure, you’re not.” There was a hint of sarcasm in your tone, but no bite to it. 

Watching Rio and Nicky bond at last filled you with quiet peace, a feeling you couldn’t put into words just yet. You were certain Agatha felt the same way. 

It was nice. It felt right. 

And now, it was even easier to spot the similarities between those two, now that they sat so close to one another. The hair, the eyes, the shape of their noses… even the way they rested their arms over their knees, mirroring each other unconsciously literally screamed mother and son. 

Agatha said nothing, but you caught her looking at you, so you added, “There’s nothing wrong with that, mind– I do it too. How could I not?” Your lips spread into a warm smile at the sound of Nicky’s chuckle. Whatever Rio had just said, it had made him smile, and that alone warmed something deep inside you. Agatha’s eyes flickered back to them, as you whispered. “She’s natural at it, isn't she?” 

Even if Agatha didn’t answer right away, you knew she agreed. She wasn’t blind, nor was she stupid. Rio looked in her natural element. And Nicky, too, with her. It was just… hard for her to admit it outloud. 

“It’s just–” a hesitation, drawing in a shaky breath. “I don’t trust her. I can’t–”, her voice wavered as she said that. She wanted to, she really did, but there also was that nagging feeling at the back of her mind wouldn’t let her. 

You pulled away, giving her a curt nod of your head. “I know it’s hard.” Your hand reached out to grasp hers, your fingers curled ever so naturally around hers. “But I meant it when I said she is not here to harm Nicky. Not that it ever was her intention,” you noted. 

Agatha’s gaze flickered from Rio to your hands intertwined. Your apparent calmness was simply that… a mask. A carefully crafted disguise. You might insist you feared nothing, but Agatha could see through you. She could read you just as well as you could read her. And even if you appeared much calmer and composed than she was, she knew you had your concerns as well. 

“What’s on your mind really?” She asked, as she took in your side profile, only slightly scrunched up. “And think twice before telling me ‘nothing’, because I know you better than that.” Her voice carried a playful edge. 

A quiet chuckle bubbled past your lips at that. Slightly shaking your head, you batted your lashes a couple of times before locking eyes with her.  A beat of silence followed, as you thought about what to say, and how to say. It was true, you were worried, but you were also trying not to focus on that part, wishing to enjoy the present, the time you and your family were allowed to share together. 

You still believed she hadn’t come back to harm Nicky. Agatha didn’t break any rules, so the only one left ‘to blame over something’ was you. 

“I’m just trying to focus on the present, Agatha,” it wasn’t a lie, yet it revealed very little about your actual concerns. You gestured towards Rio and Nicky with a gentle wave of your hand, “that alone is incredible– It’s everything I ever hoped for them” Your voice wavered, thick with an emotion so raw and primordial, you couldn’t and wouldn’t brush aside. 

Agatha swallowed hard, her throat suddenly tight, as she clasped your hands in hers.

“Our boy’s happy and healthy, and that’s all that matters to me. I just feel–” you sighed softly through your nose. “I feel like I did good, Agatha. And nothing can take that away. No bad news, no setbacks, no…nothing.” 

Agatha swallowed thickly, her emotions threatened to overcome her. She hated the fact that she grasped the deeper meaning behind your unsaid words. “I don’t like the way you’re saying that–” she frowned, her grip around your fingers tightened almost possessively. “That tone– it feels like you’ve already made peace with something you shouldn’t have to. Like you’re bracing for impact instead of fighting back.” 

You pursed your lips. She wasn’t wrong, though it wasn’t entirely like that either. You were just trying to savor what you had in the moment, holding onto it tightly in case, just in case something unexpected came your way. And knowing how things often went, that something was likely. 

“Agatha–” you soothed.

“No.” She hissed. “Don’t baby me. If it ever comes to that, you fight, you hear me?” 

A small, partially amused scoff slipped past your lips. “I see no battle to fight here, Ags.” 

She rolled her eyes. “You know what I mean. Don’t play stupid.”

You unclasped your hands, then moved your palm over her knee. “I do not, thank you very much,” you said quickly. “I’m just… tired. Tired of always looking over my shoulder. Tired of living like I’m being hunted, that at any moment, something or someone is going to take everything away. Again. Aren’t you, Ags?” 

Agatha wanted to say yes. To yell it to the four winds, but at that particular moment, she didn’t trust her voice to do so. She bit the inside of her cheek, tears welling up in her already sore eyes. 

“And now that Nicky is safe, now that Rio isn’t here to take him but to stay—I just want to breathe. I want to stop fearing the worst. I want our son to grow up without shadows lurking behind him. I want to live without fear.” 

You didn’t miss the way Agatha’s lip quivered, despite having it trapped beneath her teeth. Her gut twisted with guilt because she saw it now—you were fighting. Not with fury, no, that was more her way. You were fighting to be a good mother, shielding your son from the weight of your fears, to convince him, Rio, even Agatha, that you had everything under control. That there was nothing to be afraid of. 

“So you do believe Rio’s here for a reason,” Agatha whispered. 

You nodded your head. “Yes, but contrary to you, I choose to believe she is here to protect us,” you told her honestly. “You can’t ignore the fact that she loves us, Agatha. I mean… you can see it a mile away. She always did, always will. Just like we will forever do, too. We made a vow.”

Another scoff slipped past Agatha’s lips. Her gaze darted to the soiled floor, her hands twitched, desperate to get a hold on yours again. “You make it sound so easy.”

You smiled then. Bowing your head slightly, you reached out, your fingertip gently tilting her chin until her blue eyes found yours. “And you make it harder than it has to be,” you teased, amusement flickering in your orbs. 

A quiet chuckle escaped her, low and breathy, yet undeniably real. It sent a warmth through you, filling your heart with something dangerously close to hope. Something you so desperately needed. 

Your hand lingered against her skin, savoring the warmth, the softness, the way she always felt right beneath your touch. And when you scooted closer, Agatha breathed you in, lashes fluttering at the same moment yours did. 

“I’m gonna try–” she finally said, her lips a few millimeters from yours. “Try to enjoy us– live in the present. But if I have to fight to keep it intact, hell I will,” you smiled then, proud of the natural force she was. Pointing a finger at your chest, her eyebrows arched ever so slightly.  “And you, baby girl, can’t take that from me. Nobody can.”

“Never wanted to,” you reassured her with a grin. “I enjoy that fire in you far too much to ever put it out.” Bringing it to your lips, you pressed a lingering kiss upon her knuckles. 

“Course, you do.” She rolled her eyes, but there was fondness even in the gesture. 

“We should talk to her tonight, after Nicky goes to sleep.” You observed. 

“We had different plans.” Agatha lamented.

“All in good time.” You said with a laugh, as you leaned on her. “And who knows, maybe there’s still a chance–” you teased, giving her a salacious grin.

Agatha scoffed. “You’re a creep.” 

You shook your head with a quiet laugh. “She’s our wife, Ags,” you pointed out. 

Saying it out loud stirred something deep in both your heart and Agatha’s. Rio was your wife, and she always would be. Your marriage wasn’t like anyone else’s. It was unconventional, yes, but that wasn’t the only reason. How many people could say they’d married a cosmic entity like Lady Death, bound their souls to hers, and sworn forever in front of those who stood at the helm of the Universe? 

Yeah… deep shit right?

Agatha had a distant look in her eyes, but only for a moment, before shifting her focus back to you. “Yeah. Yeah she is.” 

You side-eyed her. “Do you ever regret it?” The question sounded so small, fearful even. 

She grimaced. “No. I wish I did though,” she met your gaze and smiled wide as soon as she did. She was only teasing. 

“Right,” you hummed, a wave of affection washing over you. Maybe there was still hope after all. And the most reassuring thing was that you weren’t the only one willing to see it. Agatha was there too. For better or worse. 

“It’s gonna be alright. Maybe not now, but all in due time.” 

She pressed a kiss to the side of your head then, maybe as a way to hide the tears welling up in her eyes. “Ah, I’m gonna hold you to that,” she added, teasingly. 

You chuckled and snuggled closer, both yours and Agatha’s eyes darting towards Rio’s and Nicky as she showed him simple magic. “I would expect nothing less from you, Ags.”

*

Nicky tugged at Rio’s dress, calling out her name in a childish yet adorable whine, when her attention shifted towards you and Agatha a moment too long for his liking. She had noticed you deeply engrossed into a conversation, that probably– no most certainly revolved around her and the reason why she showed up in the first place. She blinked rapidly, her head turned towards that bundle of energy that was her son, and just when their eyes met, everything else faded into the background. She smiled. 

“What is it, buddy?” She asked, tone ever so playful. 

His lips tugged into a cheeky grin. “Do it again!” 

At that specific moment, Rio saw Agatha hidden behind his eagerness: hungry for knowledge, curious, and also quite impatient.

She arched an eyebrow at him, amusement brimming in her amber eyes. “I’m sure your mothers taught you better than that…” she teased, her fingers lightly spidering up his arm. 

He giggled again before, tumbling out, “pretty please, Rio– can you do it again?” 

A satisfied hum slipped past her lips. “Much better, pequeñito.” 

Nicky’s brows furrowed at the pet name. It was the first time he heard such a silly word. 

“What does it mean?” He had to ask. “Pequi– peque.. tino?” as he tried to pronounce the word, his tongue rolled weirdly, dancing clumsily in his mouth. He looked so adorable, Rio grinned, her tongue pressed into the side of her cheek. 

“Pequeñito,” she spelled it slower this time. 

His face scrunched up in concentration. He tried again, and this time by the absolute pride glimmering in Rio’s eyes, he realized he got it right. 

“It stands for ‘little one’,” she later explained, voice soft. She hesitated then, the next words lingered on the tip of the tongue, eager to be spilled, but a tad afraid to do so.  But his smile, the way he gazed at her– made it felt so easy and natural to give in. A quiet sigh escaped her lips then, as she slightly shook her head. 

It was strange really to feel so deeply for someone. Sure, love wasn’t new for Rio, as she had experienced it before, with both you and Agatha. But this was quite different. When she looked at Nicky, she felt something she couldn’t properly name, something vast, deeply rooted inside. 

She wanted to be good to him. More than anything else, she wished to be better. “I care a lot about you, you know?”

“I know. I do, too.” There was no hesitation in his voice, no second thought. He said that so quickly, Rio froze. Yes, she definitely wasn’t used to that kind of feeling. It was overwhelming– but in the best possible way. “That’s why I asked my moms to find you. I thought that since I liked you so much, they would like you too.” 

At that moment, Rio felt the weight on her shoulders—the guilt that had been tightening her chest shift just a little. It was still there, obviously. Nothing would make it go away, but Nicky’s spontaneity, his acceptance, the way he so easily would welcome her, made her feel... lighter. 

She paused, her gaze drifting from Nicky to you and Agatha, both still deeply engrossed in that conversation. There was a softness in your eyes, a quiet kind of understanding, empathy, your fingers curled around Agatha’s. But Agatha’s demeanor was different– her jaw was set, shoulders tense, as if bracing for something. 

Rio couldn’t hear your words, but by the way your lips moved, she could sense you were trying to reassure Agatha. The thought that perhaps you were trying to persuade Agatha to give her a chance, a proper one, sent a sharp, twisting ache in her heart. Why? Because once again you were unaware of what was to come. Rio knew that sooner or later she would hurt you all, again. 

“We’re friends, right?” Nicky’s next question pulled Rio out of her thoughts. 

“Huh?” She felt dumb, like she couldn’t form a sensible answer to that. 

The boy averted his eyes and started fidgeting. “Unless you don’t want to—” she could hear the slight disappointment in his voice. 

She swallowed a big lump in her throat, choking on her next words, struggling to pull them out, which was silly because all she had to say was ‘yes’, a humble, simple, immediate ‘yes’. She felt tears in her eyes, as a watery smile tugged at her lips. Yes, she was definitely dumb. 

“Of course I want to be friends, buddy. I’d be honored to–” 

When Nicky lifted his chin again, his pout disappeared, replaced by a joyful grin, eyes twinkling. It wasn’t hard to guess why—Rio was, perhaps, the very first friend he had ever made. Sure, Nicky had his pet goat, and he loved her, but that wasn’t the same of having a real friend. With the way his life had been, never staying long enough in any village to form real friendships, you and Agatha had been his whole world. Until now.  

Next thing he did, he pounced, wrapping his arms around her in the fiercest, most genuine, heartfelt hug ever. Rio tensed up only for a second, before allowing herself to melt into the embrace. She pulled him in her lap, buried her nose in his hair, inhaling deeply. Her lips twitched into a smile. Soft and emotional. When her eyes fluttered shut, a couple of tears slipped down her cheeks. 

When she reopened her eyes, she caught you looking her way, your smile soft with affection. Even Agatha seemed more at ease now.

She knew she’d need to have a conversation with both of you eventually, but not now. Now all she needed was to squeeze Nicky a bit tighter and breathe into his hair.

[someiicecube]

I had this post sitting in my drafts for a while and I was suddenly reminded of it haha. 

Anyway, we all know this line from the main character synopsis, right? 

Only humans?

Is this purposeful on the writer's part to specifically mention the curse can only affect humans? Or are humans the only creatures mentioned because that's all the main character has had the chance to... curse with their touch?

Can the curse affect monsters?

Currently, we can't know one way or the other. 

Even if we did touch Leander, bare hand and all, it's Leander. The main character is under the impression that, because he's such a strong and powerful mage recommended to us by the mysterious doctor Kuras himself, it's just something he can do apparently—  although, we as the players know that's not all there is to it... just what is it? Is it part of his supposed monsterous-ness? Does he really know a spell that can protect against our curse? What's Leander's Jungle Juice really made out of? We can't tell yet...

Chosing Leander in this context is such a strategical plot point because he cannot answer our initial question. Is Leander not affected because he cast his little protection spell? Or is Leander not affected because he is/has become a monster?

However, we still can assume that the main character doesn't have full knowledge on what they are capable of with their curse— ya' know, probably being mostly surrounded by humans and such. So, the idea of touching even a monster is probably not a theory anyone wants to test (unless you're a mage, then please do it on some random monster and not the LIs for funzies... unless you want to).

Could this be a seed the writers are planting? Maybe, maybe not. But leaving the question unaswered (by Leander), again, makes the player and main character cautious by nature.

But what if they did slip up?

What if they slipped up and it happened on accident? 

Your bare fist colliding into Ais' chest, skin-on-skin but still a solid blow. Your hand desperately reaching out for Kuras' own, just wanting to feel his warmth once more only for a moment. Your palm sweeping against Vere's shoulder, pushing him away, your skin brushing along the thin translucent fabric. Or your fingers digging into Mhin's wrist as their dagger hovers right above you, their pulse hard against your uncovered touch.

It's startling. It's something you didn't mean to do. Fear grips you immediately; dread rises as your stomach falls. You are as quick to let go of them as your eyes are to look them in the eye and...

Nothing.

While, it wouldn't come as a shock to either Vere or Ais. Kuras, who the main character wouldn't know is an angel at this point, and Mhin are another eyebrow raiser for sure. It didn't affect them, when you know it should. If it doesn't affect them... that would only make the MC raise many more questions about Leander in turn. Ah, what a dramatic way to reveal the fact that the person you fancy is a monster.

Other notes and thoughts:

While, yes, an interesting idea to think about. I'm torn between wanting the monsters to be immune and 'fuck it, this curse affects everyone, even your pet rock ain't safe'. I can't help but feel this idea also lowers the stakes of the MC's curse... if done wrong.

Let's say this, the curse doesn't have an effect on monsters, right? But for each monsterous LI there will be a catch. Say, Vere, for example; a monster who lusts for power beyond him... having a human like yourself with such a deadly curse, well, who's to say it wouldn't give him a few ideas on how to use you it. What? You're still planning on finding a cure? Oh no, but you have him now, don't you? Why need a cure when you have him, your curse, and your soon-to-be mindless worshippers at your feet?

(Won't lie writing some of Vere's points made me think of Leander, but that's manipulation for you)

Or think Kuras, a doctor, an angel who passed through the shroud to watch over humanity. How would Kuras feel if the person he's grown so close to decides their curse isn't worth getting rid of now that you have him— can't you see the danger in yourself anymore?

Or try with, like some previous theories once said for us touching Leander: it doesn't affect him now... but eventually he will devolve into madness like the rest of everyone. But don't just apply that to Leander, now think of everyone else. Imagine finally finding someone you can touch without consequences. It's something that gets your blood rushing and heart pounting with a feeling your haven't felt in a while! However... the more and more you do so, you've noticed they've changed. They're more irritated, they've been having more headaches than normal, and their once beautiful smile twists into something dreadfully familiar. Congratulations, you've made your beloved mad with love! Here's the bad ending! Yipee!

Really, in the end it's all a balancing act, the stake were there and you don't want to take them away before the climax. If you do, place something else in its steed— something to raise them even further than what was initially thought possible.

[huggywuggysuppy]

hi i just read your e!gem post (same anon) and yeah. e!gem is such a fantastic character 💜💚 i don't have much to say that you practically touched all the points as to why gem's pov and her character in empires felt so special to me 🏔

but now i'm interested in your traffic!gem thoughts, because she's also one of my favorite blorbos to think about; on one hand she's really difficult to crack because a lot of things don't really seem to face her (at least after secret life) and she like, barely creates attachment to material things. on the other hand, her relationship with pearl does help to know gem as a character better because of how uniquely they treat each other (both in sl and wl).

i definitely think she tries to put a facade of "i don't heavily care about death or anything because this is all a game" while also constantly bringing back secret life, almost like that season and what happened (end portal, eye taken 'against her will', a camel and the weight of leadership she never desired) haunts her to some degree that she won't ever admit outloud. some things she brings back are certainly remembered with fondness (her saving that camel during ep6 and then making sure it stayed safe in the barn... you could tell she missed pearl) and others are not (she does not like sacrifices after sl).

the idea that a celestial being, who had been boundless all her life and held control over every aspect of her existence, now keeps coming back to the games because she wants to recuperate what, for the first time in all her life, she lost during sl (her agency? control? freedom?) is an interpretation i'm a fan of rn, but ofc there's so many other things you can delve into (i could rant way more about how she actually is her own biggest enemy and that ties into her trying to not care too much about people and stuff after sl but it’s kinda late lol).

as for fic recs, i definitely recommend this series from dustaundonut (https://archiveofourown.org/series/2796937) basically a canon divergence that explores a reality where corrupted!gem isn't cured, roseblings are really nuanced and complex, shinyduo is shinyduo, and the world is still moving forward. updates for the main fic are slow, but it’s still soooo worth it for the great narrative. one of my faves ever

(also i do think someone should put all gem variants in one room and see which one comes out of the room as a better person and which leaves wanting to commit more crimes)

Hey !! Thank you for all of this !! I’m so proud of my Empires 1 Gem analysis, glad you enjoyed and extra happy you want to hear more :)

I'll do my best.

Traffic Gem’s theme is control. She is constantly fighting to maintain it, to get it back, to pretend she has it, while the whole world makes it their mission to take it from her. She’s a trophy, threat, leader, lover, and at the end of the day: she is and has lost. The tragedy of Gem is her inability to fulfill her full potential, how her situation leaves her no option but to resign, giving a glimpse into what could have been if she was allowed. And the triumph of Gem is when she rejects that, spins things around so her only option is committing, delighting not in the spoils but in the hunt.

Gem is wonderfully difficult to pick apart, with Traffic!Gem as the worst offender -- most of my #analysis were posted during WL trying to figure her out. But the fun is in discovering another aspect/layer that completely changes an interpretation. All to say: this isn't my first crack at Traffic Gem, and it certainly won't be the last. Written mostly in January, I was gonna wait till I had a companion fic to post with this (EDIT: now posted!) but Simple Life April Fools spelled soooo much out, I can't resist posting now. Enough disclaimers, let’s get into the great Gem analysis!

Traffic Gem, willingly or not, is the villain of everyone's story. Even her own.

Gem (and most other mcyts) are very utilitarian with adapting to what reputation is thrust on them: as it's the smartest decision if she wants efficient power/control over the situation. There's less legwork for her in establishing motive, skillset, tone, etc. and makes her very accessible to other players: they already know her story and can work around/within it. Her HC intro season having a cottagecore theme and really her cute girl aesthetic in general is fitting into a marketable stereotype that she can then go on to subvert. And this is the fun of CC's in general, especially for the audience! The difference comes in how freely they're able to act.

In every season Gem is sought after by others: defending them, being a target, challenging them to act. If she's standing near someone, she can't be ignored, and people are always seeking her out. Many other traffic villains (Scar, Martyn) don't try taking leader at the same time, and the few that have (Ren, Lizzie) dedicate their time entirely to managing it. Gem has the worst combination because she can't turn it off: she's too aware of playing the physical and social game (and playing it well) to not lead. Because of her skill she must be used and fought against. Funnily enough Scott has this same problem, which is why he usually attaches to someone with a similarly strong reputation (social and/or skill) to mask his movements. Grian also falls victim, but his position as gamemaster and first victor often takes the heat off: people trust him to prioritize lore and not overextend. Obviously Gem and Scott would also like to RP, have you seen them, but to individual players it's more tactical to be wary.

So Gem is caught in a terrible cycle. If she embraces her villain leadership status, she has power over the server, but will never catch a break or get to tell any other type of story. And if she tries to reject her reputation, an uphill battle on its own, she'll be targeted anyway for an entire season, without the allies to block the bullets. She still finds ways to thrive in subversion: Gem explicitly follows the rules of the Life Series to the letter: passive till it kills her, because everyone's expecting her to murder from the start. Gem loves playing the villain, her SL aesthetic lives rent free forever, but also longs for peaceful episode segments and initiating her own shenanigans -- which can only come when others are independent. Oddly, I think Real Life demonstrates her ideal vibe: everyone was a lot more laid back so while she was still feared and followed, it wasn't stopping her from having fun. Meanwhile, Simple Life is her nightmare. All this to say: Gem has a lot of complex emotions around embracing slash being forced into villainy and leadership.

Gem uses this reputation for her benefit. She doesn't have much choice.

Let's talk about how other players see her, and what she does about it. Gem was typecast as everyone’s antagonist before she even entered the games. Subbing in for Cleo with her only direction as “Kill Etho if you can” only cemented her reputation. In her actual seasons, she shows sportsmanship with her kills, but rarely seems (or really has reason to be) apologetic for them. Gem takes initiative to gear up and becomes a problem if left alone too long, all the while grinning behind honeyed words and pretty walls. And even regardless of any actions, she’s known for pvp and building prowess, cutting wit, and seemingly effortless control over most situations. If Gem's this deadly when she's forced to hold herself back, what is she like at full power? She can never be under the radar because Gem’s entire existence is a challenge.

The contrast between SL and WL is insane. SL feels like a joyride: she’s got her historically closest allies and they’re completely loyal, the server is entirely at her mercy either in competitions and dragon fights or actively hunted as prey, she even gets to rp toxic yuri with no consequences! And then in the final hour her hubris blinds her to both Scar and Pearl's feelings, and she dies in disgrace. WL Gem is significantly more skittish: narrowing her field of view to only a few goals and broadcasting how uncomfortable she is with everyone paying attention to her all the time. Making a point not to tryhard for kills, merely surviving out of obligation, Gem acts like she's given up everything. She's trapped by the narrative, so she stops fighting against the current. Obviously, at least.

And the other players are clearly off balance from this change. They're unsure whether to fear Gem's machinations as if she was at the height of her boogeyman army, or to hang out sympathetically at her base. Most opt to take the safe route and target her anyway: only to face tauntingly little resistance as she uses their attempts as evidence to her innocence. Is her head still a trophy if she stands still under your minecart? Why are you making her a more dangerous color? Gem admits she played "aggressively passive:" her offense was a manipulatively weak defense. It aims to disorient others and gain sympathy for herself. There's a clear rebranding effort at play, all to change popular opinion towards Gem into something favorable.

Lifelong Allies (by accepting they all want you dead.)

After SL, Gem changes targets from directly winning to interpersonal goals. She’s already demonstrated her strength, though learned the hard way that nobody will ever leave her alone long enough to safely take her win. And since she's joined late, there's no foundation of trust or love to fall back on -- if anything, she's almost ostracized -- so now she chooses to build one. Gem needs strong allies, but even stronger ties to her enemies. If Grian and/or Pearl hadn’t intervened, had they gone for the other enemy instead, she almost certainly would’ve been crowned. Don’t be fooled by her facade: Gem never gave up on winning. Everything she does in WL is setup for her next Red rampage.

If there’s anything she learned from Scott, it’s having relationships everywhere. She wants to have a stronger tie to them so that when it comes down to a 2v1, the worse side isn’t Gem. They don’t have to love her or even want her to win, they just have to want the other person to lose more. To do this, Gem butters up every player -- she only truly denounces the G's, everyone else receives kindness and civility. She also constantly calls out the enormous target on her back, both for sympathy, but also making every attempt on her life impersonal. If everyone’s targeting her, she has no reason to be enemies with you even if you do kill her. She's friendly, if blunt, and competent enough to deserve the win, if only everyone would leave her alone! Boldly, to an almost insane degree, Gem is trying to circumvent her reputation as "Biggest Threat" into "Enemy Of Your Enemy."

Why team with Joel? As she's building bridges with all players, she also covers her tracks with the other greatest threats. Among Grian, Scar, Martyn, and arguably Etho, (all of which she also dedicates extra time to befriending,) Joel is the best fit for her mission. Loyal to the grave, there's no risk of a surprise betrayal. He doesn’t put much effort into peace talks or reputation, so he’s a perfect contrast against the smiling, hands up, ‘peaceful’ Gem. Although aggressively lore-phobic: often off-setting the tone of her story moments (most glaringly trying to kill Pearl in the finale while they’re talking,) even that demonstrates her being a storyteller instead of a sweat. He’s also competent and the perfect Champion: their team does win as a group effort. She directs him towards targets, quietly takes heat off him, and they keep each other alive to the finale. Gem more or less succeeds with Joel, and establishes her position as unfairly targeted, mostly harmless, maybe there's someone better to go after...

But Gem can't befriend everyone. …Unless (and they never got off that camel.)

Singling out the G’s fits perfectly into her “enemy of your enemy” plan, since EVERYONE can get behind stopping GGG. The G’s are the only other team that faced constant sweat allegations, despite their clear intent to infight and do lore -- something Gem clocks as she's experiencing the same thing. Also, the G's have an arsenal of messy dynamics with everyone from past series and many would target them before Gem. Beyond that, it's implausible to befriend everyone, nevermind the stigma when you're called out on being a floater (BDubs, Impulse.) But more than any convenience or necessity: Gem loves a nemesis. To say nothing of entertaining content: if her attention seems focused on someone else, she's not aiming for you, and they're both getting weaker in the process. Though, that only actually hurts Gem if her and her enemy are properly fighting.

Pearl sees through exactly what Gem is doing. If anyone's an expert on being trapped by the popular narrative, it's Pearl. As such, Pearl doesn't want to win, and only really cares about uplifting her loved ones -- and having chaotic fun while she's at it. She's the only player (except maybe Grian) who doesn't want to kill Gem, for reputation or for a safe victory. Sure, she's pressured into it by Gem's promise of a 1v1 on red, but that’s all in service of murder camel reuniting. Her attempts are half-hearted, and Gem only fights back when a third party gets involved (poor Impulse), maintaining the enemies illusion while functionally just having fun/RP. (Not that I think Pearl ever wants to be bloodthirsty 5 AM again anyway, although Gem sure does.) Pearl also takes a “yes, and” attitude to everything Gem does ever, and willingly slides into the role she needs Pearl to be: pulling more attention than Gem, and (depending on what the players/you're looking for) villainous and/or heroic while she’s at it. As long as Impulse is off the radar (and he is compared to the dramatic GGG), Pearl is fine with whatever. And Gem serves her in return: an undeniable threat to target despite Pearl’s allies’ objections. There's enormous flexibility in the storyline too: since neither of them really care about the 2v1, or trying to win this time for that matter, they can spend as much time as they want taking it in any direction. In a quiet, twisted way, being Gem’s nemesis is the best way Pearl can help her.

(Eternal dynamic of Pearl, willing to jump headfirst into whatever Gem's up to, not caring about what'll happen to her own reputation, or even fate, so long as it helps Gem and makes her happy. That unconditional safety allowing Gem to reach higher, unleash her full potential, and having a safe place to land if she falls. And she uses that power to take care of Pearl in return ohghghhh. For the shippy interpretation, I direct you to my ao3 :)

Of course there are consequences to this playstyle. The G’s are very scary on their own to be enemies of, although Gem has unusually strong relationships with all four, so they probably won’t hold a long lasting grudge. Maybe. Moreover, Gem is publicly called out for her unreasonable beef with Pearl, the consequences of which may create an actual enemy in the future if Pearl ever lets herself properly hold her exes accountable. Most of all, it makes Gem look cruel or — worse — sloppy, both of which discourage others from working with her / being on her side. But even with all these downsides, Gem vs. the G’s succeeded in balancing her reputation. And it’s undeniably a highlight of WL.

Yet a villain needs her thematic demise :/ or “what is a victory but other people?”

The best Gem moments and stories are when she gets to have fun doing what she wants. The Boogey Army, lore with Pearl, even the moments of peace at her base where she talks to the camera about her process. But the most disappointing is when she’s forced physically and narratively into a box. Gem is constantly pushed into passivity because it’d be ‘unfair’ — also punished by the rules, unable to instigate until the gimmick (inconsistently) or other players send her to yellow/red. But in WL, Gem had organized things so that when she finally went Red, the most compelling and coherent option was murdering those who wronged her, finding long awaited closure with Pearl, and a satisfying final death that laid groundwork for next season. Unfortunately, by nature of the game/rules, they didn’t have the time or space to execute that throughout the season let alone the finale, resulting in her hard work falling flat.

And isn’t that frustrating? Her playstyle is dictated by the rules and, despite appearances, puts control of her actions/storyline in other players hands. SL worked because Gem could satisfyingly get herself on Yellow and interact with/terrorize other players within the rules. But WL left no time or room for either. She’s a villainous character — decided for her and embraced for maximum effect — and so it’s agonizing to take all the heat with none of the payoff. Gem always finds ways to work with it: building relationships, supporting Joel and Scar and others in getting kills, salvages a rushed makeup with Pearl, but it’s not her lore, her joy, her victory. It's dying to a mob, alone at her base, with only a sardonic outro as closure. And yet she keeps on trying anyway.

The stakes are too high for Gem. She wants to win so badly, in spite of the target on her back preventing her honest victory. So she weaves her own story into the villain narrative: an underdog, or at least a lesser enemy, that treats you kindly and deserves the win. Gem creates a rival in Pearl to showcase her innocence and a weakness so others let their guard down. All of this to promise that, when she goes Red, she can finally get some murder -- some control back. Yet Gem falls, unsatisfied and unfulfilled, before she can take her moment to have fun and thrive. Traffic Gem is constantly fighting for control, and we yearn and fear for when she finally realizes her hunt.

E1 Anon thank you for the ask !! I've been preparing a major Traffic Gem analysis for a while, and your prompt was the perfect jumping off point. There's still so much to talk about, but I think I've covered the major points here, at least until the next ask. So excited to see what develops next in Life Series that’ll add even more depth :) Thank you for reading!

Bonus Thoughts: Real Stakes cc!Gem, Meta Worldhopper Gem, and Taking Her At Face Value c!Gem

No Gem character is complete without intense interconnectivity between her worlds. Everything above is the Traffic Gem intent/action analysis, as seen and interpreted by other players. But here are some other more Gem centric ideas that I'd be remiss if I didn't discuss.

Traffic Gem is intense because the stakes are real.

Life Series is a microscope for mcyts. It's a Situation with just enough guidelines to build a cohesive story, a finite time limit incentivizing risks, a sandbox of character dynamics and with players they already have history with to utilize and alter. Part of the lightning-in-a-bottle value is seeing the mcyts at 100%: using their full arsenal of improv, relationships, production, and lore, on the most elite stage they have right now. One's content, brand, fandom, their very legacy, is indisputably shaped by Life Series. It’s an insane level of pressure even by mcyt standards. And Gem enters that as a newbie four seasons in, with all eyes on her.

If Wizard Gem is a collection of her themes into one masterpiece, Traffic Gem is the refined core of GeminiTay: who she is without any structure to fall back on, how she operates in the middle of chaos, and what she fights for when she can't have everything. It’s an ornate quilt versus a knight’s sword: you admire the comfort and handicraft of the quilt, but the sword challenges anyone to wield it — with varying levels of mastery. That's why Traffic!Gem is such a beautiful challenge compared to all her other characters: she is overpowering and raw, and her very presence challenges you to investigate deeper.

CC's often say their characters are exaggerations of themselves, but Gem's Traffic character is directly interwoven with her general CC struggle. Sorted into a box of "scary, competent, cottagecore," it's interesting that much of her battle is breaking out of her reputation. Gem loves playing around with perception, it's "how she gets away with things," and Life Series demonstrates both the strengths and weaknesses of her openly deceptive brand/playstyle. (I also consider False and Keralis this subtype, and can rant about this endlessly.) While she's soooo careful to not overextend, Gem is constantly beating back the "too good at PVP/minigames/etc." accusations, often to the point of handicapping herself. The more actions she takes, the closer she gets to winning, the louder the outcry to stop her -- even in the name of "fairness." And she subverts expectations by embracing that role for her own ends. I think that's beautiful.

Worldhopping! Yippie!

I could go on about the delicious c!Gem lore around an eldritch creature originally delighting in the death game, until struck with the horribly real betrayal woven into every single player, having a nihilistic and desperate attitude in every game afterwards. But this post by rainecreatesstuff already covered that beautifully. I think this is 100% intentional on Gem’s part: she keeps a lot of her machinations behind the curtain but loooves character building and consistency. Her "its fine" mantra fits perfectly in anyway. Similarly, much to appreciate from the Watchers specifically choosing her to join the games and cull the herd. Gem carrying on the eye-lost-to-portal plot is a fun nod to that interpretation. Imagine if she gets to boogeyman again in the future. Personally, I love a Worldhopper Gem who actively seeks to change events -- as opposed to simply enjoying the chaos and/or getting her feelings sent through a woodchipper by the Watchers -- but both interpretations are great.

An important aspect of Worldhopper Gem for me is how she actually cares way too much about every world. You’d think remembering tons of them and knowing it’s all roleplay would make her detached and here to have fun, and oh how she tries, but she can’t stop loving everyone too much and is always punished for it. Her fondness for Impulse, Scott, and Pearl, is thrown in her face in SL. Despite calling in dragons and fighting tooth and nail, Empires 1 gets raptured. Everything always ends. and Gem knows it from the start, and still she cries for every fallen world. Something to be said for loving her friends in every universe too!

Grumpy, impatient, and hurt Gem - what does she actually want to happen?

While I subscribe to a very tactical and intentional Gem — targeted actions influenced by her emotional priorities — the spiteful pure emotions Gem is worth discussing, especially regarding Pearl. Things like laughing as the barn burns, SACRIFICES, "did you even look me in the eye during our murder camel... happenings?" Gem is CONSTANTLY using whatever's being done to her and trying to manipulate it into something she can accept. She desperately wants to go on a murder spree with Pearl again, camel included, but doubled down on playing hard to get so now they're circling each other like (pathetic, wet) cats. It annoys her to no end that she keeps getting interrupted by murder attempts and base visitors, so she hides her irritation and pretends she's already given up on a safe, intact, quiet base, all the while grumpily snarking and retreating to the woods. Part of the fun on SL was being a yellow name and too scary to approach, getting to menace others just by standing next to them, so why is it taking so long to get there this time? Surely somebody should be able to kill her on their own. Gem is perpetually unsatisfied, and not even hiding it all that well, yet players seemingly refuse to see past her evil cottagecore facade. Much to be gained and appreciated in a grumpy, pretending to be detached Gem, who cares a lot, actually, and would appreciate if somebody would take the hint and let her murder already!

Thank you again for reading!! Stay tuned for the companion fic going up on my ao3 sooner or later :)

EDIT: now posted!! take a look!!

[satellite-evans]

closure

Pairing: Carlos Sainz x ex!reader

Summary: you don't need Carlos' closure.

Word count: 2k+

Warnings: angst, based on the Taylor Swift song

A/N:

This my third fic for the folkmore series, and it is with none other than Carlos Sainz! This is my first time writing for him so I was quite nervous, please tell me what you think!

English is not my first language, so I apologize if I made any (grammar) mistakes. Feedback, requests, talks, vents, recommendations or just simple questions are always welcome.

Happy reading xxx

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site.

It arrives in your inbox at 2:17 AM, the timestamp almost mocking the stillness of the night. The world outside is quiet, the kind of silence that fills your room with its weight, pressing against your ribs as if the very air knows what’s coming.

The email subject line is simple.

Just wanted you to know.

For a moment, you just stare at it. The words are innocuous, almost casual, but your heart knows better. You’ve seen that phrase before—at least in the way it echoed in your mind, in the way you tried to convince yourself you’d be fine without any more explanations.

And for some reason, you already know what it’s about. You don’t need to open it to feel the heavy, familiar knot tightening in your stomach. The ache in your chest that had dulled over time, the one you had worked so hard to ignore, throbs with renewed intensity, as if it’s alive and remembering the shape of old wounds. It’s as though your body recognizes him before your mind even does, and it reacts accordingly—a reflex you can’t outrun.

Your hands tremble slightly, the familiar sensation of fear and longing mixing in your veins, but you can't bring yourself to look away. The old ache becomes a weight in your throat, too, and for a moment, you're almost paralyzed by the gravity of it. You know this isn’t just a message. This is a door opening, an invitation to face something you buried deep. But you click on it anyway, drawn in by something you can’t explain, a part of you still hoping that maybe—just maybe—this will be the thing that makes it all make sense.

I just wanted you to know I hope you're doing well. I know things ended messy between us, and I hate that. I really do. I never wanted to hurt you, and I know that I did.

I’m sorry for how I left. For not saying enough. For saying too much. For everything in between.

I hope you’re happy. I really do.

- Carlos.

The words stare back at you, flat on the screen, sterile and detached. They sit there like a sentence of finality, as if they’re not even meant for you, but for someone who doesn’t carry the weight of your history with him. It’s just an email—another digital scrap of text sent into the void of the night. But after everything, after all that’s passed, this is what he gives you? Does he think that you’re just a situation that needs to be handled? A string of hollow words with no breath behind them, no warmth, nothing that even remotely resembles the person you once knew. No, not even that. The person you thought you knew.

It was almost ironic how the shape of his name still spelled out pain. Every letter, every syllable, carried a weight that dug deep, as if each time you thought of him, the wound reopened. It was strange, how someone you once loved could still manage to hurt you, even in their absence. Everything about him—his words, his actions, even his silence—had caused so much damage that it was honestly a little concerning.

You hated him. No, despised him. The anger simmered under your skin like a constant burn, always just beneath the surface, ready to erupt. The audacity he had, the way he thought he could just walk away, leaving destruction in his wake—it was almost unbelievable. He was wrong in so many ways the day he broke up with you. The way it all went down, how he acted like it was the easiest thing in the world, how he twisted every word you’d said into something it wasn’t—it was wrong, all of it. And by the looks of it, he probably knew by now. He had to. The way time had passed, the way people talked, the way you’d changed—he had to know the damage he’d done.

Your mind replays the last time you saw him. You can still picture it so vividly—the way he had stood in the doorway of your apartment, arms crossed over his chest like a shield, his eyes dark with something you couldn’t read. He looked smaller somehow, the exhaustion wearing him down, hanging off of him like a second skin, like he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders, yet he couldn't find it in himself to care about you anymore. The lines in his face were deeper, like time had been more unforgiving to him than you ever realized. The way his jaw clenched so tightly when you had begged him to just talk to you, that desperate plea falling from your lips like a prayer, but he wouldn’t listen. His silence had cut deeper than anything he could have said. The way he hadn’t looked back when he walked away. Not once. Not a single glance. Like you didn’t exist. That was when you realized he had put a distance between you two ages ago that you were finally seeing—a sea you were too tired to cross.

The door had clicked shut behind him with a finality that shattered you into pieces you weren’t sure you could ever put back together. That sound—the click of the lock—wasn’t just the end of a visit, but the end of everything. The end of any future you thought you’d have together. You didn’t just lose him in that moment. You lost the life you’d built around him. And you’ve been trying to rebuild ever since.

And now, months later, this. This email. A quiet, late-night message, sterile in its simplicity, like he was trying to offer a neat little bow to wrap up the wreckage he left behind. But there’s no ribbon to tie, no neatness to this. What he gave you wasn’t closure—it was a reminder that, for all his talk of wanting to make amends, he’s still incapable of meeting you where you need him.

You slam your laptop shut, too quickly, too harshly, as if the words might physically reach out and strangle you if you don’t. For a moment, your fingers linger on the lid, shaking, the intensity of your pulse drowning out the quiet hum of the city outside. The night has become suffocating, and you can’t tell if it’s because of the email, or because you’re finally confronting what you’ve been trying to ignore for so long. The pain hasn’t gone anywhere, and neither has the ache. It sits with you like an old friend, one you can’t seem to shake.

It’s almost laughable, really. You can’t help but chuckle bitterly to yourself as you stare at the screen. He thinks he’s giving you closure. That this carefully constructed email, this rehearsed apology, is supposed to fix something, to heal the rift that’s been eating away at you for months. That it will somehow mend the fractures in your heart as if it’s something that can be neatly patched up with a few well-chosen words. But the truth is, it doesn’t even come close. No, this isn’t closure. This isn’t even an attempt at healing—it’s just an afterthought, a last-ditch effort to clear his conscience without ever truly facing the damage he caused. And it’s almost insulting.

Closure isn’t an email at 2 AM, casually dropped into your life as though he’s just checking off a box. It isn’t a collection of words stripped of warmth, void of real feeling, written at a distance, with no regard for the time, or the place, or the person it’s supposed to reach. Closure would have been a conversation. A real one. A face-to-face moment where he would have stayed, where he would have stayed long enough to listen, to hear you, and not just walk away the moment it got hard. That would have been closure. But he didn’t stay. He left you behind with nothing but the echoes of your unanswered questions.

Your breath catches in your throat, and for a moment, you struggle to steady yourself. You take a deep breath, but it shudders on the way in, uneven and sharp. It feels like your lungs are betraying you, like they can’t hold the air in anymore, and you’re left gasping in the void between anger and heartache. Your throat is thick with unshed tears, but you refuse to let them fall. Not again. Not for him. You’ve cried enough tears for him already, enough for a lifetime. You promised yourself you wouldn’t do this anymore, that you wouldn’t let him be the reason you hurt.

You want to reply. You want to scream, to let him know how deeply he’s failed you, how his absence is still an open wound, festering in the corners of your mind. You want to tell him that, even now, you still wake up in the middle of the night, expecting to hear his voice, expecting to feel the weight of his arm around your waist. You still reach for him in the dark, your fingers grasping at air, and you realize too late that he’s not there. You want to tell him that every time you see red—Ferrari red, that damn red, the color of his car, of everything he used to be to you—you feel like you might break all over again, like all the pieces you’ve tried to pick up and put together have shattered into even smaller bits.

But he's not Ferrari red anymore. He's Williams blue now. You’d probably be a new wrinkle in his life, a person who wouldn’t fit. Heck, you didn’t even fit when he was in Ferrari. You could answer him back, tell him you forgave him, that you both could be friends again. Maybe that would iron everything out nicely.

But you won’t. You won’t give him that satisfaction. You won’t give him the power to pull you back into this mess, into this space where you lose yourself every time you think about him. He doesn’t deserve that. You don’t deserve to let him keep doing this to you.

The frustration, the hurt, the unanswered questions—they all feel like they're swirling in a storm that won't quiet. You crawl into bed, pulling the blankets around yourself as if they could offer the protection your mind and heart desperately crave.

You are fine. Everything is fine. You had your beers, your occasional crying sessions, your candles. You were doing so much better without him. You had to.

It cut deep, knowing him, all the way to the bone. The breakup had been necessary. It had to be. You were healing, getting better, moving on. Or at least, that’s what you told yourself.

But the ache in your chest and the rapid, shallow breaths you couldn't control told a different story. It was one you knew the ending to but didn’t want to face. His email was oh so unnecessary, cruel even. He had broken up with you months ago, and yet here he was again, trying to reach back into your life. He shouldn’t have contacted you. He should’ve left you alone.

And you definitely should’ve stayed in bed.

Hatred and regret twisted inside of you, each trying to take the lead, but you were too exhausted to figure out which was winning. Still, you knew you had to respond.

Your gaze lingered on the laptop screen for what felt like hours, your mind scrambling for the right words, something that could strike him, something that would hurt, something that would linger with him forever the way he had lingered in your life. But nothing came.

Instead, what you found was something deeper—something far more painful.

Acceptance.

Acceptance was the true winner in the battle between your emotions. It was the thing you’d been running from, the thing you’d fought so hard to avoid. You had accepted it.

It was over.

So, with a steady hand, you typed the final words you’d ever send him and blocked his email so he could never contact you again.

"I don’t need your closure."

[selfaware-bungou-stray-dogs]

Dazai Osamu is in your bed, and he demands love, protection and cuddles

Self-Aware! Dazai Osamu x GN! Reader

Description: You really should have think twice, before giving kids "Clifford, The Big Red Dog" book and ask Dazai to look after them.

|Next part | >

Follow up

Warning: OOC. English is my second language. Fluffy.

_______

You can't tell, for sure, how long you have been in a shower. But, you have a feeling, that it wasn't that long. Still, somehow, Dazai not only managed to get into your room. He also managed to stole your blankets, and hide them somewhere in a house.

"How?" was the only thing that you managed to say. You know, that you were supposed to feel angry, or, at least, irritated, but, you have your curiosity, and you want to satisfy it.

Dazai, dressed in his pajamas, and who was now laying on your bed, looked into your eyes. At least, tried. Because you, in return, try not to look at him.

"I have my ways, Iris Flower. So, listen to my demands, if you want to see your blankets again!" Dazai patted the mattress near him. "I demand cuddles, love and protection! If I didn't get them, you will never see your blankets again!"

You probably could go to someone else's room and ask to spend a night with them. Then, in the morning, go with Fitzgerald and buy new blankets, then ask Oda to help you install a locker on your wardrobe, where you kept blankets. For a few hours your blankets will be secure. Then Dazai will pick up the lock and everything will start again.

Dazai reached his arms towards you. His smug grin was replaced with a pout.

"Please, My Kind Iris Flower, I was searching for a sanctuary! Please, let me stay! And give me love and cuddles! Come on~ Look at me~!"

You rubbed your temples. You need to stay focused.

"Why do you even need to a sanctuary?" asked you, looking at your chair. It was a good chair. Interesting chair. You will look at the chair. And not at Dazai.

"Well…"

__________

Earlier, today

__________

"Uncle Dazai, can you read us this book?" Sakura was holding one of the books you recommend Oda to get for his kids. Yuu, Katsumi, Kousuke, Shinji and Aya were standing behind Sakura, making their best puppy dog eyes. Dazai rolled his eyes, but took the book from Sakura. You asked him to babysit kids, and he will do his job perfectly. For you.

"Clifford, The Big Red Dog." Dazai read the title.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was the bad. This idea was on his mind ever since he started reading that book. Bad idea. And a golden opportunity.

Dazai smiles, looking at kids.

"Kids, you know, that Clifford became big, because Emily Elizabeth loved him so much? Do you want to help a red chihuahua pup became as big as Clifford?"

Kids eagerly nodded, waiting for Dazai's instructions.

______________

"You asked kids to pamper Chuuya?!" You turned your head towards Dazai, staring at him. Big mistake.

Dazai came to you prepared. He did his best to look adorable and cuddly. He brushed his hair, and it looked extremely fluffy. His pajamas have a cute cat paw print and looked cozy and warm. He was constantly doing a puppy dog eyes, pouting a little. You could swear, that Dazai apply something, to make his eyelashes look extra thick tonight. And on his cheeks. Otherwise, you can't explain, why he has blush on his cheeks. Dazai rolled on his back, opening his arms for a hug. He stuck a tip of his tongue.

He literally made a "blep face". Is it your payment for comparing Dazai to a cat?

"I knew, that Chihuahua Nakahara won't yell at kids~ And the opportunity was rare and golden! Yet, I didn't expect kids to get busted and told Chihuahua about me!"

Dazai smiles, closing his eyes. You probably should look away and broke the "Dazai's cuteness" spell. But you can't! His hair looked too fluffy! His chest looks too comfortable to lay on! He looked squishable!

Now, you will say no to him, you will get him out of your room and make him to deal with the mess he has created!

"Comfy, [Y/N]?" asked Dazai, stopping showering you with kisses. He was laying on top of you. His body pressed tightly against yours. You were trapped. You can try to wiggle out of Dazai's grasp, but he has you pinned firmly enough down that only a burst of effort could free you. And you don't want to hurt him. Or stop cuddling.

"Mhm" mumbled you, running your fingers through his brown hair. With your second arm around his waist, you move your hand down from time to time to dance across his side.

Dazai's grin became bigger, and he returned to showering your cheeks with kisses.

"Good. I can't let my benevolent savior be unsatisfied with cuddles."

Suddenly, Dazai rolled down from you, laying on the opposite side of your bed. He, asked, looking deep into your eyes.

"Now, it's your turn. Remember, I still hold your blankets hostage!"

He lay his head down, looking at you. His eyelids were half-closed.

"Be grateful, that you are cute." You huffed, getting on top of Dazai. Now you were pinning him firmly against the mattress. Dazai's quiet laughter was your answer.

You nuzzle against his neck, leaving a trail of kisses. Dazai's laugh end in a cough. You knew without looking, that now he was blushing again. You lift your body a little, so you can put both of your hands on his tummy, while having access to his neck and face.

Your hands roam around his chest and stomach, while you planted kisses on Dazai's cheeks, temples, nose, forehead and chin. Dazai left out a soft moan, before putting his hands around you, pressing you against him. Dazai turned on his, still holding you.

You two were laying face to face. Dazai's hold on you was firm. You can feel the warmth coming from him.

Dazai pull his face into your hair.

"Heaven..." whispered him. "True bliss..."

He yawned, pressing you even closer to himself.

"Thank you, [Y/N]."

You also yawned, nuzzling against his neck.

"You are welcome. Good night, Osamu."

In the dark of the night, quiet words were your answer.

"Good night. I love you."

[cordjefferson]

Hi! Not sure if you still answer questions on here, but I feel lost as a screenwriter right now. In my final year of film school, I’m afraid the “industry” we are about to be let out into no longer exists. I don’t want to go back to journalism, but I also don’t want to fail at screenwriting in vain. I’ll keep going, but just wondering if you’ve ever found yourself in a similar place. Hope you’re well.

A few days after Trump was elected the first time, I called my dad to complain and commiserate. He listened to me worry for a few minutes and then he said, "You know, when I was a young man, it was common to wake up and find out that Medgar Evers had been killed or that Malcolm X had been killed or that Martin Luther King Jr. had been killed, or that another person had been lynched somewhere not too far from where I grew up. It was terrible, but we had to go on living our lives."

It was a helpful reminder that shit's always sucked -- in many ways it used to suck worse. That doesn't mean your fear is unfounded. You have every right to be afraid as all the world's ghouls circle their wagons in an effort to eternalize their wealth and influence, thus making our already intractable problems feel even more intractable. But the great news is that now is the perfect time for you to make your art.

Hard times can make for excellent work. Consider that punk rock and rap blossomed under Reagan. I'm currently in the middle of a novel called The Oppermanns, which follows a trio of German-Jewish brothers in 1933 Berlin dealing with the rise of Nazism. It's a great book on its face, but the whole piece becomes even more interesting when you discover that it was written by a German-Jew in real time as the Nazis rose to power.

Even if what you write isn't taken seriously at first, making art is never a failure. Artists aren't athletes, meaning you don't need to produce your best work before you turn 35 and your knees give out. Creativity is a lifelong pursuit. You'll only get better at it the more you live, learn, and grow. And because the winds of industries and the world are always changing, allowing their vagaries to scare you into inaction would be a death sentence.

I had a very long dry spell in the year 2014. I went to meeting after meeting trying to get into a TV writers' room and was rejected over and over again. After almost nine months of being told no, I finally emailed my manager one night to say that I was going to quit "working" in TV and go back to what was left of my journalism career. He asked me to stick it out for one more month, and two weeks later I got an interview with someone who hired me. Work has fortunately been pretty steady ever since. So, of course, stubborn persistence is also a valuable tool in all of this.

I can't imagine I'm saying anything that you don't already understand somewhere in your heart. You know that you've picked a challenging career. The arts are infamously cutthroat and chancy, and many of your contemporaries are going to quit somewhere along the line. It's a tough road to hoe, and the only thing that makes it at all tolerable is the ability to find value and joy in the making of your thing, whatever that may be. If writing something feels like it's been done in vain because you don't sell it or it doesn't become a hit TV show, I recommend you don't do this work. Only do it if the doing of it is what sustains you, because the doing of it may be what has to sustain you forever.

I'm rooting for you from afar. XO

[panelshowsource]

i have a lot of episode requests i'm working on so i'll make another post with those shortly!

———

this is such a fun question — i wish i had an answer! most of my "conspiracy theories" have more to do with certain comedians being misunderstood (in both good and bad ways), as people tend to want to like who they like and hate who they hate out of selfishness that is somewhat at odds with reality. at times. like, for example, not a lot of people want to talk about how many comedians actually didn't like sean lock at all in the early 00s because of how cutthroat and competitive he was on panel shows (mock the week flashbacks, anyone?); we don't enjoy thinking about that because, as fans, we all like sean and think he was a hilarious, honest, decent person. i could talk more about this but tbh defending someone i think people misunderstand or tearing down someone people love is kinda...not the kind of discourse i'm trying to do on this website 😅 anyways, that's where most of my theories lie (that and dating theories? maybe?), but that's not enough to call them conspiracy theories ig? this isn't a conspiracy theory, right? because i so passionately believe everything i said there hahahaha

do you have any you'd share? 👀🌀

i think argumental is probably the most underrated to me, because as much as...no one...talks about shows like duck quacks don't echo and rhod gilbert's growing pains, they've had enough high-profile or just popular-within-britcom guests that people have checked them out even for just one specific episode. but i feel like no one has watched argumental!!!!!!! which, i get it, it's a lot of straight white guys standing around doing fake mainsplaining lol (please remember that before, like, 5 years ago, that's about all panel shows were) but i think the premise of impromptu debate is really funny, some of the formats really bamboozle the debaters which leads to funny banter and improv, and it was so fun to see sean lock in menace mode as host 😋

i can't say it's the best ever made or anything — because, like series like there's something about movies (jennifer saunders i love you!!!!), rob beckett's smart tv, etc it's just two opposite panels answering kinda boring questions — but if you love david tennant and i know you do because everyone rightly does then you should try comedy world cup! he's such a wonderful host and there are a lot of panel show faves as guests

and on the topic of meh-to-decent formats with A+ hosts and big name panels, have you ever tried was it something i said or insert name here? they each have their moments for sure, i think a lot of people wanted to see wisis come back (maybe we're all just obsessed with david 🤷‍♀️)

you MUST listen to the unbelievable truth if you haven't, it's such a stellar radio show

another required panel experience is the recent series guy mont spelling bee and i'm holding a gun to your head when i say this watch it and watch it right now

as many of you know i'm not a fan of a league of their own but the road trip series are def some of the better episodes so if you like the panelists you can check that out for sure

does that help a little? tbh most of what i WANT to recommend isn't panel shows but scripted series or tangential reality shows (like travel man), but you asked about panel shows specifically so i stuck with them!

i haven't, and i surprise myself because lily savage was so iconic and i am sure i scrolled past her era a bunch of times back in the day. i'd give it a try if an episode had the right amalgamation of guests, so i'll check it out!!

omg there are so many moments from so many series — and i added quite a few to these random panel shows moments posts i did last year so i'll try not to repeat myself — but let me rack my brain real quick...

as i always say THIS is my favourite wilty clip ever and i stand by that

david the tortoise

yoshi the actual tortoise

"if this turns out to be a lie you are a shamless little light entertainer"

tell 'em david!! cuz she really does have horrible views lol

the elephant :/

for the last six months i've been secretly liasing with david's wife behind his bak

obviously the horse story

omg and the THERE'S NOOOOOO UNIVERSITY story

and on the topic of classics this was always my bob mortimer fave maybe because of the genuine awe of the panel in the end lol

and on the topic of genuine awe definitely this one

this miles jupp car crash

bermuda

i love rhod's potato tattoo and it's so funny that denise is like 'why have you got that??' so sincerely she was so astounded lmaooo

i was genuinely invited to harry and megan's wedding today but i said no because i had to come here and do this

i once shared a tent in kent with susie dent

another recent fave is this adorable one<3

oh man anon there are soooo many more maybe i can work on a masterpost of both funny moments funny whole lies/truths, or a youtube video or something (i said i'd get back into making videos). did i mention even one of your faves?? hehehe

omg anon you must watch this if you haven't the ben whishaw obsession is NOT a drill

he also talks about it in his book!

god he's so relatable

OMG I DID the nostalgia...

the way they didn't want to just talk about popworld but they didn't go one whole minute without saying popworld hahahaha they're soooooo cute

richard the popworld horse mentioned!!!!!!!

miquita being a whole child when she got cast for popworld, like it's so wild to think about

"has it been clear from what we've discussed that i'm a reclusive genius and master of cinema?" + "we pretended to be pretentious directors in berets...and i have become that guy now"

i know they were 98% kidding but the 2% of them that would go through with the popworld baby?? CAN YOU IMAGINE

you can't be surprised that a guy who wears false teeth in the name of absurd comedy for a living enjoyed a film about a man who wears false teeth in the name of absurd comedy!

a friend of mine gifted me a while of nordvpn, so that's what i've been using lately, but it depends what you need a vpn for. for example, if you're torrenting and need to seed content (for ratios or whatever), you'll need something with port forwarding like airvpn. if you're just trying to find something to switch between countries' netflixes or abuse streaming services, surfshark is very popular but i'd say expressvpn comes more highly recommended. once you pick the vpn you'd like to use, it's easy to find tutorials on youtube!

aww you're too kind 🥹🫂

———

☆ FAQ ➜ PANEL SHOW WATCH LINKS • NON-PANEL SHOW WATCH LINKS ♥ https://ko-fi.com/panelshowsource

[sallysavestheday]

First Lines Tag

Thank you to @dreamingthroughthenoise @starspray and @queerofthedagger for the tag!

I do like this one, as a writer of many little one-shots, because it always turns up something new.

The task: Share the first lines of ten of your most recent fics and tag ten people. If you have written less than ten, don’t be shy and share anyway. (I will adapt it to say you can also post the first line of your last several chapters, for those who, unlike me, write longfics - there's no reason you shouldn't also get to share!)

I had a bit of a dry spell after getting whacked by DOGE in January, but I'm back in the saddle again...mostly. Even cranked out some cheery bits this week in anticipation of upcoming fandom events. Resilience, dammit.

So here we go with the most recent 10:

1. For the Eldar in Aman in the Years of the Trees, death was an infrequent occurrence.

With All Due Reverence (G: 1,900 words). A little faux-academic reflection on funerary rites among the Elves, ostensibly researched and written by Erestor and Pengolodh. For Silm Epistolary Week.

2. Fist-sized lump of malachite layered with copper ore, from a deposit in the hills behind Mahtan's forge.

Contents of Nerdanel's Strongbox, Preserved When Her Studio Burned (G: 176 words). What it says on the tin. Also for Silm Epistolary Week.

3. Ammë, do you remember how, when I was small and fractious, you would break coimas into the bright blue bowl and add a little water from the springs of Taniquetil, blessing and softening the crumbs?

Tender on the Tongue (T: 1,200 words). Excerpt from Lalwen's journal of the Helcaraxë, written as a letter to Indis. ALSO for Silm Epistolary week. Great event! You should try it next year!

4. It is Celeborn she asks to prick the memorial marks.

Steady Hands, Certain Heart (T: 425 words). Celeborn declares himself to Galadriel.

5. Idril has shed her shoes in their flight to the tunnel’s mouth.

A Bitter Premonition (G: 1,000 words). Idril and Glorfindel, at the Fall of Gondolin.

6. Fingon has never looked more like his father, Maedhros thinks, and winces.

Lodestone (T: 2,000 words). Fingon's plans to marry break Maedhros' heart.

7. The night’s storms have torn the canvas covering off the skeleton of the ship and blown sand around and through its standing ribs.

Hear Me in the Song of the Waves (M: 1,700 words). Sexy Tuor/Voronwë, with feelings (OK, mostly about feelings), for My Slashy Valentine. Honestly a new personal fave.

8. It is hard not to shout their joy to the heavens when they are all still grieving their losses.

Settling in My Bones (T: 300 words). My annual Valentine's Glorthelion, as the latest installment of The Flower and the Fountain.

9. Not even a direct order from Manwë himself could have persuaded Gildor to be King.

No Lark So Blithe As He (G: 730 words). Gildor Inglorion backstory, tra la la lally!

10. Tornel is taken young, swept into the nets of the Enemy’s forces as they descend on the wanderers’ camp.

Your turn, @tobermoriansass @melestasflight @polutrope @grey-gazania @eilinelsghost @idleleaves @shrikeseams @hhimring @dragonridersofficer-fiammag @katajainen. Give us your last 10 openings - old, new, chapters, fics, whatever. I can't wait to read!

Dream Dust (G: 1,500 words). Another Gil-galad origin story, and my first OC-centric fic (with a tiny peep of Maedhros at the end). For the 2025 Poetry Fiction Challenge - another event I highly recommend! This year's inspiration was Langston Hughes.

[fakescenariosbeforesleepblog]

You're not alone, Y/N.

König x reader (y/n)

Dealing with our own minds can be exhausting and overwhelming, we don't have to do it alone and König knows it.

Warning ⚠️: mentions of mental health, anxiety and depression (my own description about how I experience them, I understand is different for everybody), grammatical and spelling errors.

📢 Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.

The credits of the image used goes to the Pinterest user: Bc_its_Rengoku. I am not very sure if she's the creator tho.

Note: I hope this story helps someone out there, I've been having a hard time and my psychologist recommended me to find a support network or a friend who can help me. And to be honest, To think about someone supporting me and being my safe place even if it's a fictional character has been helpful. If you're struggling with your mental health, if you're having a hard time I hope you know you're not alone, I hope you know you're stronger than your thoughts and every dark moment you're going through has an end, I'm proud of you for continuing trying.

It's early, too early, you know you have to leave the bed and get ready. But you can't, it was a long night for you, the thoughts and memories, the overthinking wave arrived unexpectedly, your body feels heavy as a rock, your hands are tense, you've been trembling all night, breathing heavily, crying and sobbing uncontrollably, your anxiety wants you to stand up and run away but your depression says you have to stay and rot In your bed.

You found the strength to send a message to one of your teammates, to inform him that you wouldn't be able to work, you made an emergency appointment with your doctor telling him you would need to adjust your medication because it's not working well lately.

Your teammate will replace you in the next missions while you recover, « Don't worry, I get it » that's all he said, you try to take a shower before your appointment with your medic, it has been hard, exhausting so you finally could take a nap.

Meanwhile the rest of your teammates are in the meeting room to talk about little details about the mission, König notices your absence.

- Does Someone know where Y/n is?

Suddenly your teammate appears in the doorframe, he was late for the meeting.

- Sir. I'll replace y/n for this mission, maybe the next one too.

- Why?

- Y/n is not feeling well. But the medic will inform you about the situation later.

König nods and continues explaining. You're good and always giving your best, he's proud to call you a member, a friend, but this is new and he's worried.

After the mission, he comes back, changes his clothes and walks directly to your dorm. Once he's out of your door, he knocks a couple times, he can hear the sound of the shower, but that's all, there's no response from you, quietly he opens the door and before entering he calls your name. No response. He finally gets inside, there's nothing that looks out of place, except for your bed sheets that are around the floor, your phone is dead, over the nightstand beside the bed.

He's feeling like an intruder, deciding to leave your room when the sound of someone sobbing, alerts him.

He walks to the door of your bathroom, the sounds of water and sobbing are louder. He knocks the door softly and after a few seconds he opens the door slowly.

There you are, sitting on the floor of your shower, the water is falling over you, your pajamas are wet, he wonders how long have you been there, but when he notices the way your breathing, trembling, lost in thoughts that you don't even notice he's there.

König doesn't need to talk and question you about your health, he knows some of those sensations you're experimenting with, he has been there before.

Carefully he kneels down to be in front of you, trying to catch your attention, successfully you do it, he opens the glass door of the shower and without hesitation he sits at your side, the water is cold, but is tolerable, feels refreshing, both stay in silence for a while, eventually he takes your hand in his, your breathing is fast and loud, he knows that sensation about feeling a lack of air so he starts to breathe and exhale loud enough so you can start to take some control of your breathing too, and you do it, now you and him are breathing calmly, he doesn't want to invade your space, when he's in this state, he deals with it by himself and knows that sometimes he would like someone to support him, to hold him, the fact that your hand is still in his tells him you will be okay if he puts his arm around your shoulders.

After a few minutes, he finds the courage to speak, he doesn't want to know what's going on or why you are feeling in this way, he only wants to know if you're getting better, if there's something he can do to help.

Your head is resting over his chest and his shoulder, you don't talk but you're nodding or neglecting with your head, at this point you agree to leave the shower, he stands up and gives you a towel.

You're still crying and trying to talk or say something but he tells you you don't need to say anything.

« it's all alright Meine Liebe, you don't need to say something, I understand. »

Your body is tired after all this time tensed, your body begs for some rest, König is helping you to stand up, to dry yourself as much as possible, he brought you dry pajamas, he asked you if you could change your clothes alone or if you needed help, you agreed when he offered his help, carefully and with all respect he started to help you, once you were dress, he let you sitting on your desk chair while he was doing your bed and connecting your phone to the charger.

He understands what you're going through and probably what you're thinking, perhaps you're feeling like a burden, weak, perhaps you're hating yourself for being in this way, but somehow it is possible that you're feeling grateful that someone is there to support you, to take care of you without making comments, judging or lecturing you.

As soon as he finishes, he offers his arm to help you to arrive at your bed, he asks if you're comfortable, if you want something to drink, he even asks if you want him to leave already.

You didn't want to be alone, it felt good to have company, to have a hand to hold, at this point you're finding your voice again, you're able to talk but the only words that are leaving your mouth are 'Thank you' and 'sorry'. König is very kind and insists there's nothing to thank and either something to apologize for.

He sat in silence, close to your bed, you're watching the ceiling of your room, he's just observing what is around both of you, he saw some sticky notes, it's not your letter and each one has a sign 'with love, mom & dad' but for being motivational quotes, there's nothing that can motivate someone. 'busy person, busy mind, zero drama' 'Keep yourself busy, kid' 'Remember, no time for dramas' 'always strong, never weak' 'no time for tears'.

Now he understands why you didn't say anything about your health, he can't blame your parents, some people don't know how to handle this situation, that's why you, just like him, have been dealing with this war with your mind alone, he feels guilty for not noticing it before but now that he knows what you're going through, he will not leave you alone, both are allies, both will support each other.

While you're still in bed, muttering apologies and thanking him for the help, he holds your hand and caresses your hair. Softly whispering.

«You're not alone, Meine Liebe, you will never be alone»

He stayed at your side all night, he even held you between his arms, until you fell asleep, he didn't care if he wouldn't have enough energy for the next day, the only thing he cared about, it was you, it was to see you well.

[sheegons]

OKAY SO WHO ASKED FOR A POST THAT DETAILS DAMIANS CONNECTIONS TO MAGIC?.. nobody? oh okay.

(be forewarned, this is long)

now after ignoring batman 666, let's see what we have.

ROBIN: SON OF BATMAN (2015)

now, in robin: son of batman #1 It's confirmed that after his death in batman incorporated, damian went to hell. Hell is usually connected with the more magical side of the dc universe, but that's not it.

The entirety of the comic delves into damians connections to more mystical things. mythical swords and magical ancient towers, weird extinct bat-dragons, magical cults that want to destroy the whole world, etc etc.

this is easily regarded as one of damians best comics and having peak damian characterisation, so obviously Damian being magically inclined can easily work well with his character.

Now, after a barrel load of compliments, let's get to the extremely negative side of things.

TEEN TITANS (2016)

Damian's cloned brother has magic and that sentence is about as much as i care for this book. Moving on.

BATMAN (2016)

Again, dog shit damian characterisation, but here we go. Damian here actually shows an ability to use a binding spell and has a wand, making some sort of deal with a random demon, but a far cry from damian apparently selling his soul in batman 666. Moving on finally out of rebirth because that was a bad time for Damian's character.

ROBIN (2021)

Now we go back to the good. Apparently from the maternal part of damians family, magic is more commonplace. ra's even having a whole spell book to his name. Robin 2021 kinda toys with the ghul family and the lazarus pits magical and devilish side which isn't new... but it's new to involve damian!

In the final parts of this story, Damian's heart specifically is used as a plot device, lord deathman even dubbing it as "the bloodstream of the demon" and ruh (ra's' mother) uses it as a power source to fuel demon summonings, which started the Lazarus rain event.

TEEN TITANS DARK (Unreleased)

Back in early 2023 (i think) dc teased a sort of "teen titans dark" with damian, black alice and monkey prince. The "dark" moniker referencing Justice league dark, a magic team made up of magic users that solve magical bullshit. It's a good book, recommended read, i just thought I'd add this to the pile.

Detective comics/Knight terrors

Now, including these two together because they're about the same topic: Dreams.

damian is confirmed to have some sort of control over dreams and sleep, defeating demons that show up in his sleep, yet never actually disappear when he wakes up. He also has an ability to stay awake after a massive worldwide phenomenon causes everyone, even the dream masters that taught damian, to sleep and experience night terrors.

Dreams are, again, connected to the magical side of the dc universe. Now I'm not going to pretend like i actually read sandman to you, i can't lie on ramadan, so let's all give me a pass here for my lack of understanding of all that.

Batman and robin (2023)

In this, damian mentions a bit of off screen monster hunting with Frankenstein and lays a trap that lights someone on fire. I used to think this was some sort of hex but this artwork is extremely unclear, but since Frankenstein is mentioned and from my knowledge dc's Frankenstein is magic let's pretend this is some sort.

As an extra note: this guy definitely died. There's no way about it, he got lit on fire with nobody helping him. He's gone. Damian just killed a man.

Extra Extra notes:

talia using magic!

now, i haven't included these examples in the "the ghuls have magic" segment because uh...

(batman: the doom that came to Gotham/dc bombshells)

yeah...

Not only are these interpretations of talia EXTREMELY orientalist but also just generally out of character and could've been done with any randomly introduced characters.

For the unknowing white american people in the crowd: arabs actually don't only dress in revealing "belly dancer" outfits and lanterns. i know, shocking, we actually wear normal clothes.

And just to add again, there's a lot of stories that include ra's having magic, but I'm not the biggest ra's head (lol) so i didn't read them all, i implore u to do your own research because I'm not doing it.

this about wraps it up. thank you to the magic damian believers may we all win someday.

[cryptidsmagick]

Collecting Familiar Spirits

Sometimes, a witch can't afford a pet, or their pet just isn't a familiar. It happens—there's no guarantee that every cat you encounter will have the magic touch. Or they don't have the heart to face the possibility of their beloved companion passing away. That's perfectly okay! Familiar Spirits are always an option.

A Familiar Spirit is a spirit, normally taking the form of an animal, that assists you in spells and rituals. They are not your spirit guide and should not be mistaken as such.

Familiar spirits can be caught on the Astral Plane or purchased from a shop. When purchasing them, you might find that the spirit is bonded to a vessel, normally a crystal, wood carving, or other charm. That's because this serves as the spirit's anchor to keep it with you.

It's important to note that familiar spirits are incredibly intelligent, and some are even capable of speech. When catching one, you should always ask if it wants to be a familiar, as it's bonded to the vessel until it's either released or the vessel is permanently damaged, ending the contract.

Catching a familiar spirit requires the ability to enter the Astral Plane safely and effectively. Once you are on the astral plane, you are to search. Keeping your intention in mind will help guide you. You might not find one on your first voyage, and that is alright.

Once you find a familiar spirit and gain its consent, you might not have a vessel immediately at hand. There's two things you can do:

Use a temporary vessel. Like a stuffed animal (plushies and dolls can be permanent vessels if you wish!) or other items.

Place an astral anchor in the spot you found the familiar spirit. This is an item or energy you visualize to easily come back later.

Some witches are naturally adept at working with spirits and can imbue the spirit into an object. Others might need a little help from a ritual or spell. Regardless of your personal method, the goal is the same—guide the spirit into an object.

Now that you've guided the spirit into the object, you can have them assist you in your craft, or you can gift or sell the charm to another witch. However, if you intend on selling these charms, please make the familiar spirit aware of this. Some will be happy to help you earn funds to make your way in life, others will be infuriated, and some might view it as a violation of your contract (and potentially refuse to work with whoever purchased the charm). In the case of the latter, this can cause some issues for your shop as refunds may be demanded for the "dud."

Evidently, as some people sell them, you can catch more than one! You can have multiple spirits help you in spells, which is good for people with less mana or difficulty using magick.

Other Tips

Sometimes, the familiar spirit chooses you, you don't find it. This happens with corporal familiars too. When the familiar chooses you, it will be yours, and only yours. They aren't exchangable.

Familiar spirits, rarely, are not always animals. Fairies and demons and other creatures might offer to be your familiar. In the case of specific beings, you have to be careful and have knowledge working with them. Especially to avoid being disrespectful to them. If it's more than you can chew, decline.

You should always clearly write out your contract/agreement. If you're selling it, give the buyer a copy. Keep a copy for yourself in case they return it, or in the case they release it and the familiar comes back to you, you know how to handle it.

Releasing the familiar can include a spell or none at all. It depends on the witch. If you're selling a familiar spirit, I recommend writing the spell down clearly and including this alongside the contract for the buyer to have at hand. After releasing your familiar, cleansing the vessel may not be possible. Sometimes it becomes too tainted with energy. In this case, burn or bury it.

[annawritesblog]

Eyes off you (c.l.)

Summary: Y/n and Charles have been together for 2 years and Charles has a special surprise for her.

A/N: I wrote this a long time ago so if there’s any mistakes in it, feel free to tell me:) Also, English is not my first nor my second language so excuse my spelling and/or grammar errors. I recommend listening to the attached song as it plays in the background later in the story. Enjoy🤍

Charles' P.O.V.

Are you still at home? Came the message from Arthur.

Yes, we're leaving in 15 minutes, come in about 30. I wrote back.

I put my phone in the right pocket of my suit pants, the left being full with the red velvet box. I took a final look in the mirror and after a few quick breaths, Y/n appeared from the bathroom.

"I'm ready." She says and puts a lipgloss in her purse. Her purple dress showing her curves just right, like a princess.

"My God. You look absolutely stunning, chérie." I say and wrap my arms around her waist leaving little kisses in the crook of her neck.

"You don't look bad yourself." Smiles the girl I've been in love with for almost 2 years. "Stop." She warms as I still kiss her neck slowly moving down to her collarbone.

"Can't we just stay home?" I ask, but I realize that that would be the worst idea ever, considering that in less than 30 minutes my brothers will be here. "I mean, no. We should really go, hurry even."

She turns around and furrows her brows. "Everything okay?"

"Everything's wonderful, love." I grab her small hand and guide her out of the penthouse. After locking the door, we take the elevator to the underground parking house. Opening the door for her, she sits in the black Ferrari.

The ride is less than 15 minutes, but it feels so much more than that. She talks about how happy she is that we're going to this birthday party, but I can barely process anything she's saying. "Oh, I left my phone at home."

"Are you serious?" I ask and she nods worriedly. "I can't turn around."

"Why?"

"We're already late, Carlos will kill me if we make it there after Isa." I try to lie, hoping she doesn’t suspect anything.

"Okay, you're gonna have to take pictures then." She lets go easily.

A few minutes later we arrive at the beautiful venue in Monte Carlo. We walk inside, hand in hand and see that almost everybody is there.

"You were right. We really are late." She says and we giggle a little, just the two of us, our little private space.

"Sorry, mate. We're here." I half-hug Carlos, who just shrugs it off saying it's fine.

"Okay, okay. She's coming." Carlos tells us and when his missis arrives we all scream happy birthday to her.

Y/n and I spend a little time talking to Isa, but I excuse myself to another table where some strangers sit. I open the last texts from Arthur, saying that they have arrived about 10 minutes ago. I quickly text some informations, although I explained everything to them yesterday, but I want everything to be perfect, she deserves nothing less.

"Boo." Y/n says behind me, which does scare me. How long has she been staying there? Hopefully not long at all. "What are you doing?"

"Answering some texts from the team." I say and she gives me a dissapointed look. "I know and I am sorry, chérie. That was the first and last, I promise." I put my phone in my pocket and I kiss her hand sweetly. We walk to Carlos' table where he gives me a reassuring look.

"Y/n, come, you have to look at this." Isa grabs her arm and drags her away.

"How are you feeling, man?" The spaniard infront of me asks.

"Nervous."

"You don't have to be, she'll say yes." Carlos comes closer to me.

"What if she won't? Maybe she's not ready yet. We have been together for almost 2 years, that's soon, isn't it?" I go in full panick mode.

"What? It's not too soon, if you're ready, than nothing's too soon." He pats my shoulder. "They're coming." I look behind me and I see Y/n and Isa walking towards our table.

"Look what we found. Chocolate covered fruits, this is the best day of my life." Isa says with a full mouth and my missis just laughs next to her. I wrap my arm around her waist, securing her close to me.

About 2 hour later, after I got a text from my brothers saying they're done with everything, we decided to go home.

"Excuse me, I need to use the restroom." I whisper in Y/n's ear, letting her go from my embrace.

"Okay, I'll be here." I give her a peck on her cheek and walk towards the restrooms.

Kicking the door open with my feet, I rest my hands on the sink trying to catch my breath. I promised my brothers that I would call them before we start heading home. After 2 rings Lorenzo picks it up. "Hey, what's up?"

"We're just leaving. Everything ready?"

"Yes, everything's disgustingly perfect." My little brother yells and drops something.

"What was that?" I ask immediately.

"My phone, fuck."

Lorenzo sighs and says something to him that I don’t hear. "Are you okay?"

"Not really, shitting my pants right now." I sigh.

"You don't need to be scared. She's gonna say yes, I'm sure." My big brother says.

"One hundred percent. Who wouldn't wanna marry you?" Arthur laughs in the phone.

"Thank you?"

"I was trying to lighten the mood." Arthur says and I let out a little laugh.

"Listen. Do you remember the Australian GP? How nervous you were? For days, you couldn't think straight you were that scared and you ended up winning it. Think about this as a race. You're nervous before it, but the outcome will be perfect." Lorenzo says and I can sense that they're both smiling.

"Thanks, both of you. I owe you both."

"You don't owe us anything, this is what siblings are for." Arthur says and we hang up. I go back to the main room and after a few short goodbyes, we get in the car.

"It was so much fun!" Y/n exclaims and I put my hand on her thigh.

"Yes, it was." I agree.

Se turns her head my way as I start my car. "Where's your mind?" She tries to be cool about it, but I know she's worried.

"In Australia." I answer with a smile.

"Oh, really? What kind of mistresses do you have there?" She smirks and I slow down a bit. We can't be home, before they've left. For once I'll keep the speed limit in mind.

"One, only. I spent like a week there with her. She was wow, like she had a blue lingerie set that she wore after I won. That was something, kept me up all night." I smirk smuggly and my hand travels further up her thigh. She lets out a shaky breath and looks at me.

"Do you remember that?"

"I think I'll remember that forever." We stop at a red light. "Where's that set, anyway?"

"You might see it around this weekend." She looks out the window, clearly blushing.

"Then, I'll have to give my best in this race." My hand travels even more north on her, already feeling her warmth. Althought, this is not going anywhere for a little while.

"You better, mister."

"You already know I will."

"Mrs? I'm not married." She says followed by a few giggles. I messed this up.

We spend the rest of the car ride listening to music and talking about the party. By the time I park the car, I'm sure that my brothers are already home.

I take my keys out and try to put it in the keyhole, but it falls to the floor. I pick it up and place it in again, only for it to slip out of my hand again. "Merde." I curse as I pick it up from the floor.

"Okay, babe. What's wrong?" Y/n asks as I can finally open the goddamn door.

"Nothing is wrong, love. I drank too much coffee." By this time I'm sure she doesn't believe a word I'm saying, but I can't just tell her that I'm nervous she'll say no to marrying me. She'll found out soon anyway, I won't blow it at the last meters.

"We really have to stop drinking so much coffee it's not-" Her words are lost. She looks outside our balcony and slowly back to me. "What is this?" She starts walking towards the table full of her favourites.

I wrap my arms around her waist, while she wraps her hands around my neck. "You deserve it. You've been next to me, when I was at my worst, especially nowadays. Thank you, chérie."

I kiss her passionately and she fumbles with my hair.

"You didn't have to do this, Charles. I will always be there for you." She sits on one of the chairs and looks at the beautiful view of the city. I sit in front of her and start the light music from my phone.

"Oh my God. Macarons." She exclaims and pops one of them in her mouth.

"It's from the bakery you like so much." I say and just watch her face light up. I don't know if it's because of the lights or because I'm obsessed with her, but she's glowing. Just as beautiful as she was when I met her on the streets of Monte Carlo two summers ago. Walking up and down confusedly in her white sundress.

"What is it?" She asks looking deeply into my eyes

"I'm just so in love with you." I take her hand and rest it on top of the table. "That simple."

"You're gonna make me cry."

"Don't cry, baby." I lock our fingers together. "Let's dance instead." I guide her to the end of the balcony where there's space for us to dance. I wrap my arms around her waist, pulling her as close as I can and rest my forehead on hers. Eyes off you starts playing just in time. Just like I planned it would.

It's our song. It played in the restaurant I took her to on our first date, only knowing each other for 3 days, a few days later when we first kissed and I played it when I asked her to move in with me in Monaco. And now when I propose to her.

"Do you think about the future?" I ask her slowly swaying her to the music.

"I'm only thinking about the future." She giggle then adds: "But yes. Although it's pretty foggy, you are crystal clear." She says sweetly which makes my heart melt. How did I deserve her?

"Same here. You're light as the bright sunshine for me, angel. Always be with you." I lean in closer and whisper in her ear. "This song is gonna play at our wedding."

I can tell she doesn't know where to put this information, but she nods slowly. I step back from her and I can tell that she has realised what's happening. With shaky hands I take the velvet box out of my pocket and get on one knee. She covers her mouth with both of her hands and tears have already filled her eyes. "Chérie. You don't even know what you do to me. For almost two years now, you're the first thing on my mind when I wake up and the last when I fall asleep. I have never even dreamed that I would end up next to someone as perfect as you are." She now covers her whole face with her palms and silent sobs leave her mouth. "Look at me, angel." She looks at me and I can already feel my eyes watering. "No matter what happens, you will always have me, I promise you. I promise to give you everything your heart desires, everything you need. So, my love, will you make me the happiest man ever and marry me?" I open the small box revealing the rare diamond ring.

"Yes, yes. A thousand times yes, Charles." She says and I hug her closely. We only part for the few seconds it takes to put the ring on her finger. Without hesitation, she kisses me and I caress her cheeks with my hands. A few minutes later we pull away and I wipe away tears from her cheeks.

"Don't cry." I say.

"You're crying too. It's allowed." She laughs which makes me too.

"Look at you, already acting like a wife." I pull her close yet again and breath in her scent. My fiancee's scent.